Been chuntering like a train over the Front Field. Scything, that's what I have been doing. Done quite a swatch. Even bigger swatch still to do. Nine DIY mini hay bales we got off the field yesterday. That makes eighty three in the hay stack in the barn. If I keep going and do manage to get the fields cut, then we are going to run out of room for the little hay bales.
To test to see if the sheep will eat the hay I sometimes give them a spare bale to have a munch on. So far, they have partaken of what I have offered them. Not sure if they will like the new hay bales though. They are more strawy in texture. Need bedding though. They will do for that.
Am up early this morning. Up at the crack of dawn, only dawn has not arrived yet. Thought I would get a quick blog posted, just to let you know that we are still here. Spend most of the day out on the field or browsing through borrowed music books, or music sites, on the Internet. Seems like music is starting to play quite a part in our lives. Hubs wants to get his violin mended, and wants to get a guitar, banjo and mandolin. I have an electric keyboard and a bodhrum (small drum) but would like to learn to play a squeeze box. I always used to play only classical pieces back in the UK, on my piano, which was left there. Had a keyboard, which I used to play in an old church out on Sheppey Marshes (in Kent) which didn't have any electricity. For a while I played on an old pump action organ, but the peddling action to get the air into that organ used to puff me and the organ out so we would both be wheezing at the end of the hymn, hence the purchase of that keyboard. Didn't play it much in the UK though, but it has come into its own here, now I am without a piano. I was sad to leave the piano behind, but it would not have survived out here, but having been forced towards the keyboard has also made me leave behind the classical music. It would seem that I am moving towards daft songs, like 'I'm forever blowing bubbles', and folky type songs plus Irish and Celtic. Life continues to surprise me. I never thought I would be singing either. Did a solo verse of The Old Oak Tree the other day in an old church which had the most fascinating tromp d'oill ( don't how to spell it, but it is when something is painted in a 3D effect, in this case it was the huge ceiling and by crikey it was a marvel to look at). Anyway I sang a verse, and surprised myself that I could actually do it. I keep surprising myself. At 65 I find that a fascination too, that I am constantly doing things which I have never done before. Coming to France has given me that. Thank goodness we came. Thank goodness we took the plunge. And God bless Hubs who still has to spend many hours at his PC so does not have the time to discover his hidden selves but hopefully in time he will be able to do so.
Anyway, I have rambled on. Snakes. In the field. There aren't any. But there might be. When it is bright and sunny I am not so aware of the awareness that there might be snakes. But last night I was out as the day started putting itself to bed, determined to try to get the far corner of the field cut before I put the scythe and myself to bed. It was tough going. I am still working with a 40cm bush scythe which is not recommended to cut grass with because it is made of too thick a metal, but it is the only one we could buy locally so it has to do until my new blade arrives. The grass slides beneath the blade if it is not in the correct position, that is the problem, so I am cutting about 95% of the grass, making the recently cut field look like it is sprouting a sparse beard. Oh well, I'm doing my best.
Anyway, snakes. So, like I was saying, I was out in the far corner. The sheep seem to have given up with going over as far as that. The grass is lush. Whoopppeee! Should manage to get some decent hay off it. However, snake-thoughts started easing themselves into my mind as I scythed my way into the thickness. But I so wanted to get the corner finished. But I didn't. My feet seemed to steer me and my scything action in a different direction, which was out towards much thinner grass stems. So I gave up for the day, taking pleasure in thwacking some tall 'ready to flower and then to seed' thistles along the way. Thistles are 'pricklies'. Anything can grow here, but not pricklies. They are thwacked.
Anyway, must close now. Dawn has come and I must go.