Friday 24 December 2010

Season's Greetings

Just wanted to wish you all a Joyeux Noel.
And take time out to recharge your batteries,
So that you can be ready to hit 2011 on the chin,
And have the courage to make those decisions which have been put off for too long.
'I can do': let that be your motto for the New Year.

And today we found a stash of eggs, hidden away behind the wood being dried in the gateway. Unfortunately Gus and Bools raided the hideaway and got to the eggs before we remembered to pick them up. Message To Selves: Always pick up eggs when first we see them as other members of the household will seize the opportunity for a snack.

And so it came to pass, that in the Land of the Chicken Hut unrest began oozing into all who resided there. A voice began to speak. A voice hitherto without shape or form. Just a gargled croak. A couple of coughs really. That was all. But this voice started growing, each time a little bit more. And The White Cockerel took umbrage at this strange sound. For was not he the King of the Patch. The Chosen One. The One who had The Voice. And so he felt driven to speak out about his kingship. At many moments of the day he felt the need. And still that odd sounding voice did speak. And over time it began emulating the flow of The White Cockerel's voice. But not the sound. The White Cockerel's voice was high and bright. T'other one was dark and gruff.

But who was the one who was making this sound. Who was the usurper to the kingship. Which princeling had arisen from out of the flock, because that is what that sound was saying. 'I am a king in waiting, and dare you to upset me oh White Cockerel, and I will take you down'.

'Twas not good. But who?

So Her and Him started keeping an eye on the members of the Land. And it was observed by Her that the young black chicken was the likely candidate for the mischief, Her noticing that he was starting to grow quite a fancy dancy tail, and a bright red flash of flesh upon his head. Him was not so sure. And he was right. For he espied Young Black Cockerel's friend, the Plump Brown Chicken suddenly raise up 'her' head and make that deep dark song.

But what is this now! How can this be. For was this not the next canditate for the egg laying championships? Was she not oozing feminity, with lovely plump thighs, and a partly bushy bum. I say 'partly bushy' because Her had become a little fazed by the sight of two cockerel-type feathers swishing up from out of the chicken's rear which no other girls in the Land sported. And so where was the red flash of masculinity on the head as well! No, this was a Hen in waiting to start laying, this is what Her said. But Him said, "No. She is a He", his assessment justified when 'She/He' did that song.

Uno problemo now in the Land. The White Cockerel holds pole position, but the Young Black One-eyed Cockerel ('one eyed' because he got poked about at birth after his early eviction from the nest) seems to be an up and coming princeling. However. It would appear that there is another princeling, who is more like a princess, who is coming from out of the ranks as well.

Uno questiono: Should the Black One-eye be allowed to stand up to the White Cockerel? Or should Whitey be allowed to keep tending his girls? And should Brown CockHen be allowed to develop whatever sexuality he/she has, even perhaps becoming the King, or Queen? Or should he/she be put into the pot. Along with One-eye, who is a nervous wreck because he is unable to see incoming attacks from the others when they have a mind to put him in his place as a very, very, under-princeling. For some reason, the others do not do this to Brown CockHen.

These questions, my friend, will have to be answered if peace is to reign once more in the Land.

And why, pray tell, is the Land being attacked from below. For of late there has been uprisings in the earth beneath their very feet. Fresh soil is seen in new piles daily. Is this a manifestation of the unrest within The Flock? Princelings, you see, make the Chosen One want to reinforce his position as king. This he does frequently. From 5.30 in the morning. Sometimes earlier. Is this why the soil is in revolt?

And is this unrest within the very soil the reason why The White Cockerel has seen fit to relocate the Land.

And this is his chosen residence. Or so he would like. For has he not taken one of the Virgin Hens to a new nest site especially chosen by himself and just inside the huge new house of the Land. And did she not unvirgin herself and lay her very first egg in that chosen spot. Is this not significant for a renewal of life in a new Land.

But then a dreadful noise was heard, and the White Cockerel and his ladies became dire afraid. And fled they back to the old Land, complete with its unrestful soil. For another Him had come, and he did have two appliances: one which made musique loud and strident to Whitey's ears, and the other made rumbles which jiggled the very toe nails on his feet.

But let us not feel sorrow for the woes of the Land. For as is the manner of all things, these troubles will pass in the fulness of time. Dark though that voice is, the lightness and brightness of Whitey's voice will hold sway. For the time being. Him and Her watch.

So wishing all in the Land of the Chicken Hut, and all in the Land of the Humans, Joyeux Noel......xx

Thursday 23 December 2010


Plenty of wagging tails, friendly licks, and doggy romps between Springer boy Bools and Springer girl Ella.  Would they, or wouldn't they make babies. No, they wouldn't. When Bools was willing, Ella wasn't. When Ella was keen, Bools was off the boil.

Not to worry, I got to have an adventure, paddle in some snow, and have a proper shower, the first for a very long time.

So where did I go? Across to the Ari├Ęge, four hours drive time away, or three hours if car driven by someone else, only I do have a tendency to dawdle along because I like to look at the scenery as I travel, being of the opinion that since I might not travel this way again, that it is best to pay attention. Get maximum benefit. Enjoy. Could do a rush and be fixated by time and the need to arrive. Not me.

Not sure about the logistics of getting Bools and Ella into parenthood, though. For now, at any rate, they remain friends only.

It was a good trip.

To return was even better.

Sunday 19 December 2010

And then were three!

Ahha! First efforts at doing a vid! Cuts off a bit quick at the end, and the vid is a bit blurry, but at least I had a go! Also might take a while to upload. Hubs /Head IT Man, says I have to 'compress the file'. Clueless as to how I should to that, so left it up to Google to sort out. Any helpful hints in regards to uploading vids would be much appreciated. Also any help with the picture quality would also be appreciated. Thanks in advance!

You could also try:

But most importantly: Lookee here: (You will need to make the photo larger though)

So: House in the background. Tall Barn to the right, roof almost finished.
In front: The sheep. In centre of photo the two new born lambs, doing a frolic. Swing your eyes right towards the two sheep far right. What do you see? sheep plus (yes, - go one.....) another lamb? CORREct!!!! Trois enfants!

Into the Sheep Barn yesterday went Hubs / Head Honcho SheepMan. Saw one lamb. Looked for the other one. Good. Survived their first night outside in Sheep Barn and not inside the Half Barn. Mum OK. Hubs sinking into his early morning fugginess. Jolted out of his fug  he became though, when he saw a third lamb. Thought his eyes were playing tricks on him he did!

So where had this new one arrived from? Well, from a ewe we thought not to be in expectant mode, having remained very trim and looking so different to all the other sheep who are, quite frankly, getting to be a bunch of tubbies. Anyway, she surprisingly gave unto us another infant. So that makes three! Crikey!

Can't stay too long writing this, only we have had an urgent phone call from Catherine down in the Pyrenees. Prior arrangements in regards to Ella. Needs help with making the future generation. Time is now.

So off in the car I go to help out, taking Bools with me. Reluctantly he will sit in the back seat, looking forlorn and miserable. Four hours later (with a bit of luck and no snow blockages) he will suddenly become bright eyed and full of 'I can do this job you have given me to do'. So wish Bools good luck, as he journeys forth with me as his chauffeuresse, down to Ariege to go courting Ella, a lovely Springer Spaniel just like he is.

Thursday 16 December 2010

Oi! What yoos doing in ma hoos!

And so a member of the Labartere crew moves into the Half Barn. The same snuggly, draft free, insulated space, which has been designated as the sleeping quarters for us, The Head Honchos. 

Look! Here she is again! All toasty and warm. Because, at dawn yesterday, on the most freezing of days (-5) she decided to deliver unto us these:

Aw! Two littl'uns. So here we go again! Only this time we are wiser and more experienced, so we acted quickly. No time to dawdle. Get them into the warmest space on the property. And so the Half Barn it was.

She didn't go too much on the idea, though, but followed her babies as Head Shepherd & Co carried the littl'uns out of the Sheep Barn and into the Half Barn, despite Bools and Gus romping around getting in everyone's way, and the chickens clucking and flapping in horror at this hugest of animals which seemed to be invading their space.

A tarp had been laid down on the floor, straw piled upon it, the builder and gardening paraphanalia shoved back to make floor space, and fencing wire stretched across wall to wall. There! Home for now!

Sunny afternoon: out she went to stretch her legs and get some grass.

And so the cycle of life continues on.....

Last Sunday I did a 'down day'. Floated around in my dressing gown until lunchtime. Even laid outside on the garden bench to get some sunshine to my legs. (Pardon my odd socks!) It's not so cold today either. Until one starts unpeeling the layers. I have seven on up top. Plus hat. Plus scarf. Just three layers on the lower half. Two pairs of socks. Boots. And that's indoors! So I don't feel cold. But try undressing to go to bed at night, and that is another matter! Boy oh boy is it chilly! Not to worry. Sunny days do appear, and the bod can then get some heat into its bones when it does. 

According to Jean Pierre, our roofer, who has had all his appendages frozzled whilst clambering about on the Tall Barn roof, it is going to snow tomorrow. Not to worry, though. We are plodding through winter, nearly Christmas and therefore half way through the long nights. I am not wanting to wish my life away, but every day of winter that one gets through is another step towards Spring.

Am out tonight. Have joined a choir, and we are having a practice tonight. Concert on Saturday. It is partly English, but mostly French. The English are singing English carols, and the French are singing French ones. Then we sing some together. Normally the choir sings as a whole unit, and in French. Should stretch my ability  in regards to the French language. Might improve me. I can only hope! Sang with the English contingent in a Maison de retraite. (Care Home) yesterday, up in Castelnau village. Seemed weird singing in a French Care Home for the elderly. Still seems surreal, me being here, in France.

So jobs to get on with: break the ice from the water containers for all, drizzle some hay into the pig arbre so they can have a mid-day snack, have a hunt for some eggs (chickens been clucking about all morning. Sounds like they are recce-ing out some new nest sites, but have been finding two eggs per day for the last three days ), check on the new mum and her lambs who are out in the field stretching their legs, tea to warm Jean Pierre up, tea to warm Hubs / Head Shepherd/ Keeper of the Fire up ( we have our log fire on today. Normally light it at six in the evening, but Head Fire Keeper decided that enough was enough, and so he lit the fire at ten this morning), and I thought I would put the Christmas tree up. The same Christmas tree which had not seen the light of day for at least seven years, having remained boxed up both in the UK and here. But it fell out of its box the other day, and is residing on the floor in what will be the kitchen. Thought that it was telling me to get my bott into gear. Like an omen. 'Get me dressed up, or else....'

Oh so now all I have to do is find the Chrissy decs.........

Hope you remain in good spirits. Hope the winter cold is not getting you down.

Saturday 11 December 2010

R. I. P.

I went to a cremation yesterday. Didn't have to go far. Just a few metres. Stayed in farm gear: wellies, woolly hat, thermals, - the usual.
There was a bit of a bang when the match was thrown, though. Actually it was more like a mini explosion. It was the petrol, you see. Makes quite a blast when combined with an open flame.

Hubs kept me company for a while, then off to Plaisance with the car for its two yearly MOT. It failed. Now wears a label saying that it is an illegal car. Ten things wrong: windscreen crack, a leak somewhere in the internals, head lights, etc. Costly. So there goes the rebate he has just had from the Inland Revenue.

I attended the cremation for a while afterwards, though. Reflecting on life. Of the frailty of it. Of having to take decisions that are for the best, but are, nevertheless, still hard.

Wobbly lamb? Making good piles of little round balls of poo two days ago. Had a good day of feeding off milk and hay. Head up. Legs still not working. But wagging his tail at me. And calling for me when he knew I was nearby. Next morning: poo making a return to its watery state. Head laid down.

We got him up, supporting his weight. His body has changed shape. Got more pudgy round the middle, legs looking spindlier.

He took his weight on his front legs. Oh good. They seemed to be working. But what about his back legs. Why did they remained curled, disinterested.

And it came upon us the knowledge that perhaps all of his four legs were never going to work again as they should. Two in front looked like they were willing, but the back two, no.

We laid him down. His head flopped over. His eyes closed. All effort expired. So we expired him.

It is no good to keep pushing life into a living creature that has not the spirit to meet you halfway. That living creature must want to live, must want to keep in life, and you must see it in their eyes if you are going to keep up with the support work.

So we stood as a team, and expired the lamb. And it was to his cremation I went. No recycling into the freezer for him. Just a fast despatchment in total.

And so the steep learning curve continues.

RIP little lamb, and thankyou for contributing to that learning curve.

Thursday 9 December 2010

The wobbly lamb

One of our lambs is not doing so good at the moment. Came off his feet on Sunday and has stayed off his feet ever since. I think he gave up after spending an hour or so in a ditch Sunday afternoon and we didn't notice, being too busy elsewhere. He isn't injured, but has a runny tum. Have put him back on his bottle of milk, and prop him up despite his tendency to flop over, and pack him around with hay to nibble on. I do physiotherapy on his legs to remind him that he does have four legs, and keep changing his position so he doesn't get bed sores. If he wants to give up, he can. But not on my watch!

Up on the Tall Barn roof, all is well. Up and down the ladder Jean Pierre and helpmate Tony go, carrying the roof tiles on their shoulders. Crikey but that ladder has a million rungs on it! Those men must have strong thighs. Might be a good idea if I did a bit of ladder climbing. Haven't climbed a staircase in ages, and I think my legs will have a hell of a moan when they are next confronted with anything going upwards which has more than one step to it!

It has been summer here the last couple of days, and this morning it was as if spring had arrived. But then the weather decided it would stop messing about, and it has turned chillier the last couple of hours. The last couple of days, though, coming into the house has been like walking into a freezer, with the outside temperatures high enough to require a removal of the top several layers of clothing.

Ahho....chickeny sounds in the hallway. Better go shoo them out. Just a minute.....(a little while later) No, they weren't in the hallway. They were having a recce in the kitchen! And that is where I ought to be heading, with an empty space in my head where 'cooking thoughts' should be. So homemade pizza it is today!

And the lovely weather has given us some respite from the coldness of winter, and I am hoping that this might inspire the chickens to donate more than one egg a day, which is all the effort they are making at the moment. Fifteen chickens, one egg between the lot of them. Not good.

It's no use, can't spend any more time chatting to you. Just remembered I am supposed to be having a rehearsel this afternoon with the French flute playing lady, so had better get a move on.

Bye for now.

Friday 3 December 2010

So what I am doing is...

So what I am doing is trying to get back in the saddle with my writing. I have a huge list of book titles to work through, all coming into my head at odd times over the past few years. All I now need is the words to fill in those books. Where they are I do not know. Waiting to be found, I hope. I keep trying to search the closets in my head, but nope! It's like searching through a dusty attic for an elusive article that refuses to be found. So I thought I would write to you instead!

How are you? Most people seem to be experiencing snow. The UK and France up north. South of us as well, according to our roofer who is still working, despite freezing temperatures, putting on the Tall Barn's hat. But us? Nope! Feel quite left out. Anyway, if you have snow, throw a snow ball for us, and keep warm. This you are likely to be doing more efficiently than we are.

Because: 1) We have a small wood burning stove which was destined for the ex Pig/Chicken/ Office Hut. That was installed in the room which is now the sitting room/office/workroom.
2) We have a humungous pile of wood which was the entire wood complement of the house. It is stacked outside of the Courtyard in an untidy  heap. And it really is a huge pile of wood. Of huge oak beams, and sundry other beams of various shapes and sizes. All removed from the house when the house was in its ruinous state.
3) So: wood cut into smaller pieces. Into the stove. Heat.

Ah. Mmmmmmm. Perhaps not. You see, we have also had weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks of rain. And this rain has given the wood in the humungous wood pile a jolly good bath. In other words, it is soaked. And towel drying it will not work.

Now you might say 'Why didn't you get some of that wood put somewhere dry."
Because we didn't have anywhere dry to put it, that's why! And our heads have been full of other things. And the pile was too unwieldy to get a tarp over. And too dangerous to clamber over as well, being full of nails and sharp edges.

And, so, anyway, our wood is soaked. Not to worry. Gate entrance has become reasonably clear so have wiggled and pulled some carry-able pieces of wood and stacked them there, the theory being that the current of air flowing through the gateway might dry them off a bit.

Meanwhile, I have an oil filled radiator tucked up beside me when I am at my PC, with me on one side of it, Bools and Gus tucked up on their beds taking up the rest of the space. Lester has a halogen heater tucked up beside him when he is at work. So we have small portions of heat in an otherwise coolish space of a house.

Not to worry, though. Layers. One thermal vest. Two long sleeved T-shirts. One fleece. One handknit cardi. One handknit scarf. One pair thermal longjohns. One handmade wincyette petticoat. One thick skirt. One handmade crochet beanie upon my head. One pair handmade fingerless mittens upon my hands.  And over all, one huge handmade crochet shawl which is more like a blanket. Sexy, heh?

But we are dry. And in a better state of being than  the last two winters.

And would like to bring our flock of sheep, our two Tamworth pigs including Miserable Max, the Tamworth boar, who is still not happy, all the chickens, and our roofers, ...I would like to bring them all inside to have a huddle around my oil filled radiator. I am, at least, warmer than what they are. And I hope you are staying warm, and that you remain optimistic about the various difficulties in your life. When I have to move away from my warm spot into other areas of the house I have started singing. Having recently joined a choir, I have made it a requirement of myself to get my voice into a more rust-free state. So I practice singing exercises I found on Youtube. These, I have found, are a great way to divert my mind away from the fact that I am a tad on the chilly side. Seems to work.

And so I must close off. Need to wake Hubs up with his cup of tea. So singing my way into the arctic kitchen, off I go.

Blessings to you this day, and hope your day is a bright and shiny one. If you feel under a cloud, try singing. Try this: Say 'Bbbbrrrr', as you would do as if you are saying 'Bbbbrrrrr, its cold'. See how your lips vibrate as you pout them forward to make the Bbbrrr sound? Now through the Bbbrrr sing a scale. Go on! Have a go! If you are doing this properly, you will realise that you have to push the sounds out via your diaphram. So not only does this exercise your voice, it also exercises your tummy muscles, as well as your mouth muscles and your ability to hold a goodly portioned pout!

Au revoir!

Wednesday 24 November 2010

Chickens, potties, refflections.

Well it has been a touch on the wet side of late. Monsoon time, no less. We are all soggy of foot, but not in spirit.

And our Chicken Mum continues to cluck about, maintaining a high profile so that all can see what a grand chicken she is. Top of the pecking order now, she can claim pole position when food is around, and also chooses her own nest site at night. Her babes are doing well, and learnt today that I represent food, so every time I appear they launch themselves at my feet. Little hooligans.

And off they all go for a walk, heading towards the junky environment of the ex-kitchen caravan, the one that is wearing it's awning as a hat. 'Twas the wind that did it!

Turning your eyes towards the left, and that is where we are sleeping. Love caravan life. Would prefer it to be history now though!  And see that little white boxy looking object? That is our retired porta potti, still sort of in situ just in case it is needed in a desperate moment during the night. But a trot across the Courtyard to the house, even in the nuddy, and even when it is freezing, is preferable to wrestling with that appliance.

Et voila:

The reason why the porta potti is going into retirement: the proper potty! Delivered unto us by friends Val and Ron, when they visited a few weeks ago.

But it did not remain in its resting state. Because Ron twiddled about, and hey presto! Uno toiletto!

Proudly the new potty stands upon its own plinth, making it very comfy to sit on. And it is a joined up potty, so one that does not need emptying by Hubs. What I mean is, that it is connected to the fosse, so everything that our bods don't need, and which then gets deposited in the loo, goes into our very own waste disposal system. Our deposits stay here, to fertilize our own land. Cool heh!

Have a bit of prob with the seat of the potty, though. It came with a fragile plastic seat which kept coming apart such that one was in danger of being launched sideways at an inopportune moment if one did not concentrate on staying in the right sitting position. So a nice firm wooden one was purchased. Didn't quite fit the toilet itself, but not to worry, it cushions one's buttocks wonderfully well, and makes the loo experience totally satisfying. For me. Unfortunately the new loo seat does not allow for the abundance of the masculine nether regions. Apparently it is too squashy. Not to worry, though. If care is taken, then all is well. Apparently.

The loud roar of a truck shattered the calmness of Labartere yesterday:

And these beams were deposited. Today they were lifted up onto the Tall Barn roof. Progress!

The temperatures are starting to take a dive, now around freezing, but it is the end of November, so we can't complain about the cold, because we haven't had any really. Just rain. And lots of it. Making us ever so pleased that we can stay under one roof for the hours of our days. A quick trot across to the bedroom caravan at night, and then back again in the morning. Not too far.

And we have a Half-Loo. Why 'Half'? Because it has to be 'flushed' by hand, which means going to and fro the cold water tap out by the main gates to fill the watering cans with which to do the 'flush'. But at least we don't have to scramble about with the porta-potti now. Sometimes things got quite risky. Fumbling about with one's clothing, plus stooping over to get the porta potti sorted out, did take precious minutes. Difficult, if one had an urgency upon one.

So the days are shortening. We are in better shelter than what we were last year, so better prepared for the winter ahead. As my daughter Karen said in an email today: 'Amazing how you deal with stuff when you have to. And when you look back, you think 'My god, how did I do it'..... Human nature - very strong!!! Good to test it.' On looking back to the last two winters, when the house was still unliveable, I would agree. How did we manage! But we did. And still could if we had to. Stirling stuff, the human spirit!

Friday 12 November 2010

The morning queue

Opening my door this morning, and look:

The girls and boy parked up and waiting for their breakfast!

Barging their way in!

Aw. but they were stirling troopers yesterday. With the weather being a tad on the wet side, the sheep have been in their barn more that usual. We had managed to get the floor cleaned up and fresh straw put down, but they had still been in that space for more or less twenty four hours. Upon a quick recce at lunchtime, I saw that the straw was now trampled flat and overlain with copious amounts of piles of poo, which was going to take quite some time to clean up.

But no time to do it, so abandoned the task to go do lunch. Left the paddock gate open. Me and the dogs walked through it, passing the White Cockerel, calling out, "Come on girls, follow me", on his way into the paddock.

Late afternoon: into the paddock I went, with wheel barrow and shovel, ready to load up. Nothing. There was no sign of poo-piles anywhere. Plus, all the straw had been raked around and fluffed up, looking almost as good as new. The White Cockerel's girl-gang had been and done the housework for me! Now I wonder if I can get them to 'do' the floor of the house for me. Oh of course they would. Eagerly, and with great joy, as can be seen by the charge through the door in the photo above.

One problem, though. Unfortunately they go to the loo wherever they feel like it, so perhaps not in the house. Oh, by the way, as well as being recyclers of sheep poo, they are also providing a solution to the mouse problem. Hubs has to keep mousetraps down all the time, and catches one or two per day. They don't live in the house, but come in from the rough ground of the Middle Barn and Tall Barn through the holes in the walls. Can't stop them from doing that at the moment, but also can't have them running about in the house. Hubs has already caught two frogs, but these he puts outside. But the mice have to be trapped.

But what to do with the dead mouse. Easy. Give it to the Limousins, which are the large greyish/white hens in the photo. Down in one go, thats what happens to the mouse. Great recycling! The hens get the mice, we get their eggs, and they lay the biggest eggs of all of the girls, so are deserving of a treat.

Back on the sheep front: The ewe which is almost ready to lamb was looking very weak and wobbly yesterday. Looked like she was going to lamb at any second, because she was holding her tail away from her rear end and we could see that her botty looked active. Trouble was, that she also seems to have got the runs, perhaps because of the grain and hay which she has to eat because of the weather. She could have grazed on grass, but our girls do not like the wet, so we have to feed them the dry stuff. Hope she gets on alright. She is a nice girl.

The Jacob boy is getting brave, and has pushed his way into the feeding bowl of the lambs now, which I let him do. I don't let the girls push their way in, but him I do. Making friends with each other, that is what we are doing. Lambs are putting on a lot of fat now, which is good. Got some cold weather ahead, and they don't have a mum to cuddle up to.

Apart from that, have made my first skeins of spun wool. That spinning wheel! Makes yarn so fast! Tamworths are quiet, although their paddock is one huge mud bath at the moment because of the rain, so they are to go out into the electric fence paddock today to give them a change.

Remembrance Day yesterday: Went up to Castelnau village. Quite a crowd. Mostly French, some English. Stood to one side. And watched.

The memorial overlooks the plains of the valley. In the background the Pyrenees, snow covered now, the first snows of winter having now fallen. It is a magical view. And beside me the little service for the fallen. They individually read the names of the village men who have died in the wars. Two elderly man stand proudly holding French flags aloft. They flutter in the sunshine and light breeze. My poncho does the same.  I look around me. At the old buildings. At the history. And the reality of the First and Second World Wars are with me, because I am standing in a country which was actually invaded. This makes those wars seem more real somehow.

The minute silence. Tears drift ever so slightly in my eyes. "Crikey, I'm in France! Who'd have thought I would ever do this! Not me, that's for sure!" Then the French national anthem played on a portable CD player. The tears do a bit more of a drizzle. "Who'd have thought that I would ever get to be standing beneath a French flag," was in my thoughts.

If you are a life traveller, then you take up opportunities which come  your way, even if you are not quite sure where that presented opportunity is going to lead you. Trust that everything will work out OK, and it will, even if along the way there are times when the panic about making the opportunity work threatens to overwhelm.

And I met a lady, English and with a mum soon to be one hundred years old, both living in the village, who mentioned bees. And so the Bee Project is resurrected, but more about that another time.

Pigs  and sheep to get up and out, chickens to be shooed out of the house again (front door is open because it is warmer outside than it is inside), dogs to be fed and walked, Hubs to be got up with a cup of tea, chicken mum and babies to be cooed over, sickly ewe to be chatted with so she feels looked after. Ah the joys of smallholding. And the mud has dried up, and the sun came out and baked us yesterday, and I had a moving moment underneath the French flags, grew in appreciation of how it must have felt like to have a foreign army camped in your country, and felt a wave of amazement that I am actually living here.

Wednesday 10 November 2010


The Chicken Diary: Following on from yesterday, re: the black speckled hen who was nesting in the dustbin in the awning which is now a hat upon the caravan roof.

So after I finished writing the blog yesterday, Hubs charged in saying; "She's out of the nest! She's left the eggs! She's got a couple of little ones with her! Can't leave her out in the rain! Got to find somewhere dry for her! Where can we put her! What about the wood shed!" this all gobbled out at a frantic pace.

Out we all trooped. There she was, all in a huddle by a puddle, of which there are many due to the torrential  monsoon-type rain we are having. Aw, she looked so worried. But then Gus and Bools were also 'helping', which didn't help matters much. She must have given up with the awning-which-was-no-more, or perhaps got p*******d off with the Limousin hen, which is three times her size, she being a Bantam and therefore quite small. The Limo has had the habit of squeezing in beside her to lay her egg, which she does most days. It must have been quite a squash. Perhaps she was worried about the safety of her chicks or perhaps she was ticked off about the awning, or perhaps it was a combination of both. Or perhaps she was fed up with me going in to get the Limo's egg. Either way, she had abandoned three eggs.

Hubs picked her up. One chick. Out fell another from her feathers. Two. Then another. Three. Into the Pig  / Chicken / Once upon a time office Hut she was put. A bed of straw was laid down for her, and the dustbin, still with its three eggs in, put in as well. Door shut. Upon a visit this morning, and upon being lifted up a foot or two above the ground, one and two and three dropped out of her feathers again. And then a fourth! Oh hasn't she done well! Only two eggs which didn't hatch out of six.

The Sheep Diary: It's been monsoon time here, as I said earlier. Out in the Sheep Arbre this morning, getting the wet straw up from the floor, with the rain pounding down on the roof, and all of us, which included all the sheep plus the two dogs, all of us in the dry. Normally the sheep will do a 'We are scared of you' charge away from us. Not today. Today they decided that we were their buddies. The big ewe's teats have dropped slightly. Would be best to have that lamb now really, as it is still warm.  Probably, though, it will happen in the first cold snap of the winter!

The Jacob ram is pushing his way into the feeding trough now, having decided not to remain intimidated by his future wives, all of whom are bigger than he is. I keep hoping he will put some height on, as I fear that he will have to have a step ladder if he is going to achieve his role in the flock, which is to father the lambs of 2012. The 2011 lambs were put in the pot by the ram now in the freezer, who, by the way, is delicious. We ate a bit of him at the weekend. Bless him. I remain in respect of him, and do not forget those last few days of his, when he was thoroughly satiated with procreative duties.

Oh goody! It has just stopped raining for the moment. Off to get some hay into the Sheep Arbre. Our sheep don't like the rain, and complain loudly that they are hungry, but 'Do not expect us to go out and get wet' is their attitude.

And this morning I had a precious moment, when us and our flock were in unison about the weather.


Tuesday 9 November 2010

She has, she isn't, and the awning?

January 2010

BEFORE: This, then, is the old 'kitchen' caravan. With awning still pristine, everything intactus.

November 2010

Oooohhhhdeearrr! And so the now redundant kitchen caravan has a new hat to wear: the awning. Taken up into the air and repositioned by one of the huge blasts of wind which came visiting during the night.

And so we have a mucky mess: mostly loads of assorted gardening paraphanalia, the old camping twin tub washing machine with which I had many a merry moment until the advent of the new washing machine, the old washing machine kindly donated by friends but which konked out after a couple of months, and the chicken.

And she has! Up off the nest she came a couple of days ago, to have a feed. And I had a look at her nest in the dustbin. A broken egg shell. And  a baby chick. So she has / had one hatchling. I say 'had' because I have not seen it since, and don't like to get her off the nest to have a look, because this hen has, with remarkable stoicism, sat tightly upon her nest, despite the awning flapping and blowing about around her

She ought to be moved. Not sure where we can put her though. We have minimal barn space here. Could have done with having the roof of the Tall Barn finished, but no sign of that being done any time soon. So she will have to keep camping out in her dustbin.

As for these two:

They continue to lay seige to the front door, waiting for the appearance of Dad Hubs so he can feed them. They are the lowest of the pecking order here, being the littlest and youngest, but are doing well nonetheless. Just wrecking my plants round the door, that's their fav pastime. But I suppose their thinking is, that while they wait for grain, that they may as well have a munch on what else is available. They are sleeping in Bool's old puppy kennel at night. Seems to suit them.

On the piggy front: Tess. Is she or isn't she? She isn't. Upon frequent examination of her posterior, we have noted an increasing pinkiness. So, no, no babies were made last time. Which is just as well really, as we are still in the process of building another paddock. And Max has quietened down as well, which is a relief. Although he still lays his ears back and dribbles and snorts when Hubs is anywhere near him. I keep telling Max that Hubs is not interested in Tess as a possible mate, but he doesn't listen. Like all males,  he seems to switch his hearing off when it suits!

Copious amounts of rain have fallen over the last day or two, but the temperature remains quite mild so we haven't had fires on during the day. But we have had our newly purchased electric blanket switched on all night. OoooohhH! Getting into that bed, out in the caravan, which is toasty warm, is like getting into a deep bath of lovely warm water. I slide into those sheets, and submerge myself into the welcoming warmth. It is quite, quite delightful! And I firmly push to the back of my mind any stray thoughts about being electrocuted and should I wear PJ's just in case.

Thinks we have learnt: That it takes team effort to get a smallholding up and running, and that patience is a 'must have' requirement in regards to the animals one has on one's smallholding. They all have individual needs, and will not hesitate to speak if they are upset or in need. Not only are we having to learn French, we are also having to learn the body language and vocal language of thirty six other beings. Patience, as I say, is a 'must have'.  

And so: what are we going to do about the seeds to be sown next year now the awning has become a hat, having been recycled from its previous role as our potting shed. Don't know. So will await inspiration on that one.

Meanwhile: Have a good day!

Friday 5 November 2010

With legs a-trembling

I am all of a wobble. My heart is pitter-pattering, and from the waist down my muscles feel as weak as if I have run a marathon. And what have I been doing? Spinning, that's what. And I have spun for an hour, having spent a couple of days trying to get the yarn to stay put on the spindle. Endless Internet viewing, and the solution was to tighten the tension. Which makes it harder to paddle those paddles, which drive the wheel which turns the whorls which rotates the spindle which makes the yarn. And all driven by my two feet powered by  my calf muscles attached to my creaky knees powered by thighs which have seen better days, which fetch up hung from my botty. From my toes to my waist, that is the area needed to power that wheel. Oh and then there is the air bellows system of my lungs, which are needed to pump that air into those various muscles to drive those various parts of the spinning wheel.

Crikey!  What effort! But I did it! I have made yarn.

The Tamworth Project:

On the piggy front, is she or is she not? That is the question we keep asking ourselves as we view Tess's rear end to see if it is looking fetchingly pink signalling that she is getting ready to receive the attention of Max who, if you recall, was seen completely on board under the moonlight three weeks ago. Twenty one days. That is the interval between her coming into season. It is the twenty first day today.

And doesn't Max know it! Strewth  but he is being a pain in the proverbial butt. Keeps on trying to tangle with Hubs. Not sure why he is doing that. Worried in case we have a mad piggy on our hands. And Internet search fetched up the info that male pigs apparently go through a temperamental and difficult patch about eighteen months to two years old. Like teenagers I suppose. Or he could be getting a whiff of Tess's imminent season if she is going to have one and doesn't want Hubs to take his place on board his lady love, so is protecting his patch. Or he might be getting frustrated because he is having to wait for his moment of trying to procreate. Or he could be sensing she is with piglet and gone all protective. Or he might be just being an ***e.

To give the Tams more room to stretch their legs, Hubs and moi organised a new paddock for day use:

God bless electric fencing! Although the ground looks just bare earth, it is actually covered in acorns, which the Tams love.

They love it. Race through the passageway with great enthusiasm. Or rather, they did. Now Max grumbles and growls his way along, with ears back, and all foamy mouthed. Something is going on with him. And they keep cuddling up with each other, all lovey-dovey. As if they want the world to go away and leave them in peace. Will let you know how they get on over the next few days.

The Sheep Project:

Ah, the lambs!

Fed by hand, they are big boys, now minus their male accoutrements thanks to Ron of Team Val and Ron, friends of ours who came and helped us out a few weeks ago. And they brought with them these two:

Not the two in front! They are the lambs. Its the young sheep to the right and the spotty one lying down, which is our new ram. Team V & R collected him for us, and donated one of her own lambs as well. He is  a Jacob. Lovely little chappie.

But uno problemo possiblement. He is quite a short boy. Our sheep have long legs, and are therefore quite tall. Wondering how he is going to manage the making of the babies. But have been reassured that sheep will be quite obliging and crouch down if the male is having difficulties reaching. 

Both are settling down, and he has been having a sniff around the hind quarters of a couple of our girls, so he looks as if he will be keen to do his job when the time comes.

One of our ewes is looking like a tank at the moment, being as wide as she is tall. Obviously going to have a lamb soon. As are a couple of others. Not a good time of year to be having lambs but flock management went out the window this year, but then they must have come to us pregnant anyway so it was out of our hands really. Hope she manages to get that lamb born while the weather is relatively mild. 

Otherwise, the flock is doing well. All very tubby  through eating the Autumn grass, but looking good. 

The Chicken Project:

These little ones:

Who were looked after by Hubs when the mum-hen chucked them out the nest, are also doing well:

Bools sees it as his mission in life to clean up the botties of all the young animals, so has licked the bums clean of the sheep, and now is intent on doing the same for the chicks. Gus remains aloof. Even today, when one of the hens had a go at him, he remained aloof. But Bools wants to get involved.

Unfortunately we are now down to two chicks because one of them got deceased by a piece of wood falling down on it. But the other two are getting along fine. They are always to be found hanging around the front door, as are all the rest of the flock of late. Might be something to do with the daylight hours shortening, but they are definitely not as energetic as they have been. Still getting eggs, although having to do a search for them every day. One of their favourite places is under the rabbit cages. I have to almost lie down to reach the day's offerings. And one of the hens has taken it upon herself to take those eggs as her own clutch. But no! Off I take her. We already have one hen sitting on eggs in the dustbin-nestbox, and that is enough:

She is only allowed to have six eggs to sit on, all numbered. Sometimes one of the other hens squeezes in beside her and lays another one. But six is enough, so I take the other one away. And will any of those eggs hatch? Three weeks is supposed to be the incubation time, and three weeks is now up.

Ah, feel the need for another work-out. Think I will go pedal my treadle and make me some yarn. Bye for now.....

Things I have learnt: That there is a lot of making babies with this smallholding lark! And that animals have off days as well.

Tuesday 2 November 2010

On Spinning A Yarn

And here is my well used appliance. Used endlessly this summer. With great enjoyment. Now you might be questioning as to whether I am referring to the pot of struggling plant or the curious object sat beside it with the hook on its head. And yes, it is this object which has given me hours of pleasure of late, not the pot.

And from this pile of mucky fleece, which came off our flock of sheep:

With these tools:

I made these: 

Which are 'rolags'.

Applied to the object previously spoken about, which I shall now refer to as a 'Drop Spindle' possibly because for a lot of time one is having to retrieve it from off the floor, balls of yarn were made, then skeined.

Then washed and stretched and dried: 

And voila!

Yarn! takes a humungous amount of time to get the fleece into this state of being. So far, I have managed to yarn-up one and half fleeces, with seven and half still to go. Now winter is nearly here, other projects are resurrecting themselves, one of them being to keep on with my writing, and that alone takes up hours of the day. so the 'fleece into yarn' project looked like being put on the back burner, only it was a shame to waste the fleeces......

Hubs intervened. 'Go buy one' he said. 

And today it arrived. Packaged and partly assembled. 'An hour' said the blurb in regards to the assembling, six it actually took me. 

But look:

Oh yummy. A new appliance. Been on YouTube all evening looking at how to get yarn from this machine. I pedal it, the wheel turns, I feed it with rolags (rolled wool), it gobbles the wool up, twists it around and around itself, and I get yarn. Easy!

Mmmmmm. Perhaps not! Ah well, yet another opportunity to have a go at learning patience!

Things I have learnt today: That I wish men would ask women to write the 'How To Use' pamphlets, only the male mind assumes far to much by way of knowledge about nuts and things, which some of us women have trouble understanding. Therefore, to persevere as far as one can, and then collapse in a heap on the settee. But not to give up, because a short break might refresh one's enthusiasm for trying to read the gobbledegook in the 'How to assemble' pamphlet. Either that, or go make one's partner a cup of tea in the hopes that he might take over!

Sunday 31 October 2010

One window, two windows.....

Oh and 'tis a rainy day here in France, as you can see from the above photo. You can see the ex Pig-chick Hut / Office now recycled into a wood store, and the pile of roof tiles waiting to be put on the Tall Barn when our builder-man gets around to it, and the rain drizzling down the window pane. 

Hang on a minute! Window-pane?  

Yessir! Window pane, with attached window as well! And it opens and closes like a real window should, but then it is a real window, yes, yes, yes! A REAL WINDOW. 

And so how did this happen. Did it magic itself up? Like as in suddenly there was a window in the hole which previously held empty space?

Ah but no. This was another magic wand waved by Team R & V, as in friends Ron and Val who visited us mid October "For a rest", they said "But we'll bring our tools with us 'just in case'..." 

And it became their mission to fill the gaps where once windows had resided.  When Labartere had been a house, and not a ruin. 



Twooooooo Windows!

But not only that, but "You need a door to keep out the draughts" said Val: 

And so she made one. In a day! 
And here is the other side of the door:

So we have one window, two windows, three doors. Ah but where are the other doors? 
In the Half Barn. Because meanwhile, Danny, our French builder, also went on a mission to get us warmer this winter, and put a temporary door in between the Half Barn and the house, plus a baby window in the back of the Half Barn, plus the doors at the front. 

Et Voila!

Ooops! Wrong photo! 

And how Labartere looks now:
Lounge window to the left, 'kitchen' window to the right, and further right is the Half Barn with its glass doors.  

And just before Val and Ron arrived the swifts parked up for a quick rest, before carrying on with their journey southwards to Africa. What courageous creatures. Such a long way with such tiny wings. And I always find encouragement from their visit, and feel inspired by their efforts. 

The mist lay heavily over the land on the morning they visited, but as with all things, it didn't last long. Off those little birds flew, and onward I continued into my day. Ahead lay the visit of Team V & R, and the infilling of the door and window spaces, plus their efforts  to boost our flagging energies. 

It's a rainy Sunday. The chickens are sheltering all about the place but have the option to retreat back into their little Chicken house.  The sheep and lambs are in the Sheep Arbre / Barn, the pigs are in their Pig Abode. And we are inside our house with doors and windows between us and the weather. Hooray for caravan living, but even more hoorays for farmhouse-style living!Hope you are snug and dry in whatever part of the World you are living in. 

Oh, and the Pyrenees have just had their first dusting of snow and we can now see the shape and contours of those mountains. It is as if they are coming alive, as if an artist has gone along and given them some highlighting. OK, so it means that we are heading into the cold weather, but hey! We have windows!