Showing posts with label Shropshire blogger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shropshire blogger. Show all posts

12.10.18

Cakes and calves



A couple of days ago, Joe went to town with Jean-and-Brian-next-door, to get his hair cut. He returned with a 'present for both of us' and produced a pretty box from Patisserie Valerie. It's been so long since we could afford a little luxury such as this that  - and was such a lovely surprise - that I found myself getting a little teary eyed.


We decided to save them for later and I went into the garden, to plod on with my weeding. Glancing over at the adjoining field, I spotted a large, dark lump being nuzzled by a couple of cows. My first thought that it might be something dead, perhaps a fox, but realised it was possibly a calf. Then I saw an ear twitch. I called Joe  to come and see and rushed to grab my camera.

 
They were on the far side of the field, so my zoom was stretched to its limit,  but you can just see it lying behind the hind-quarters of the cow in the foreground. I think it had probably been born within the last half hour.


I've never seen this in the six years I've lived here. Knowing that the farmer usually likes to handle such events under cover, we walked up to the farm to let them know what had happened. As it turned out, 'young farmer' was in bed, sick, so we told the older farmer's wife who was holding the household reins.

We returned to see what would happen. The calf must have wobbled to its feet, as it was now in the close shelter of the hedgerow, surrounded by other members of the herd who were obviously shielding it from potential harm. 


A farmhand came down to check things out (maybe to make sure we weren't seeing things that weren't there). He was soon surrounded by most of the small herd.


Later, he returned with 'old farmer' and a wheelbarrow. The new born was placed carefully onto a nest of straw and so began a long procession up the field, towards the farm; the calf in the wheelbarrow, a line of cows trotting alongside and 'old farmer' bringing up the rear. We could just see the head of the calf peeking up as it was wheeled up the field.



After some commotion at the farmyard gate, the calf was transported away with its mother following, where they will have been settled in a shed together. What drama!



 

I spent a quiet few hours with my laborious weeding, having hit a patch of clay which is the very devil to dig and clear. Next door, the herd continued quietly grazing in the mellow October sun.


Later, we enjoyed our tea and cake, still glowing from being the first to lay eyes on the newest addition to the farm next door.





18.9.18

From grey clouds to blue skies




I have been steadily working for some time, working on my first online needle felting project, which means a lot of time spent with my camera and computer. So last week I decided to get out and about, even if it was only for an hour or so. My poor bike, Marjorie, had flat tyres from languishing in the porch for months, but once they were pumped up, she was ready to go. 

 
The lane outside the cottage looks peaceful and idyllic here, but after taking this photo, a busy red car came up behind me, and a high sided lorry came up the road soon after, which is normal. So I was anxious to get onto a quieter side pathway, a mile further on.


The skies were a flood of brisk grey clouds, blowing over from the West. On the far horizon, the Shropshire hills were just visible, blue and brooding.




It was a gentle, pottering cycle ride, with many stops to take snapshots and take in the views. And rest my legs.


Autumn is the time of hedgerow treasure and I found shaggy parasols mushrooms. I have eaten these in the past, but they were so pretty I left them alone.


Brambles and hops draped themselves artistically along the road, still green as autumn has not yet changed the pallet of the countryside.


This is my favourite lane. It gently winds into the distance and slopes away uphill; I know exactly where it goes, and still it maintains a delicious mystery.


It is past harvest time and hay stacks are everywhere - some are so large that I wonder how they stand upright.


The odd thing about this lane is that I always anticipate a left hand turn to take me back to the nearby village. Yet it actually curves round so gently that before I realise I'm there, I am already in front of the imposing gates of what used to be 'the big house' of the village. It's still technically 'the big house' but is now a commercial venture. And this is where my return journey begins.


A few months ago, a large old oak tree blew down in a gale and already nature is taking over. I have a feeling this imposing fungus may be 'Chicken of the Woods', but I know it to be typically a yellowish colour, whereas this was mostly white. It was the size of a large cat. 


As I neared home, the fickle wind blew the cloud cover away to reveal a piercing blue sky.


 

Ahead and in the far distance was the blue hump of the Wrekin, which is the main view from my studio window. As the road twists and turns, it seems to be situated first to the left, then to the right, then to the left again; I like to think it is quietly shuffling around like a great, shy prehistoric creature, trying to hide unsuccessfully.


I am one of those  for whom home is never so beautiful as when I am leaving or returning to it and there, in the distance, to the right of the farm, is the dear cream wall of the cottage. A short journey, but with so much to see.