Dale Lowther

Life for two broody hens in our hen house, must seem boringly repetitious. Sit on nest. Get thrown off. Go back to nest. Sit on nest. Get thrown off etc etc

This time next week we should, should I repeat, be in Scotland. Two years now since we fished on the River Dionard and Loch Dionard. A loch we have fished for nearly thirty years and where I caught my first salmon. We brought it home, frozen solid from being kept in the freezer for the rest of the holiday, and it is now on display in the end sitting room. Suitably stuffed , mounted and in a glass case. If we had eaten my salmon, or had it smoked, it would be just a tasty memory. Now it is there

The big walnut tree in our field is only just starting to come into leaf. Wisely, it has decided to wait a while rather than risk getting frost bitten like my plum and cherry trees, whose fruit will not be gracing our table this year.

Way back in March I bought six goose eggs from a farmer in Pickering. At the time there were some slight misconceptions as to whether they were for cooking or hatching. Matter resolved I came away with the eggs nestling in a basket of straw, ready for a month in the warmth of my incubator.

We have five hives in the paddock next to the farmhouse. Sited well away from the back door I stipulated. Not that many have ever bothered us in the house. But once the grape vine that grows in the back porch comes into flower, the worker bees do tend to fly in to investigate, and then struggle to find their way out again.

For well over thirty years John has driven a Land Rover. No frills variety. His most recent previous purchase ( nearly five years ago) being the Defender model. The only vehicle we have owned that actually when it came to selling it, went for more money than it had cost new.

HUDDLED in a corner of the hen hut, ten chickens we have recently rehomed, prepare to spend another night away from living in a community of thousands, as now they live alongside a few bad tempered chucks.

DELIVERIES have slowed to a standstill. Of lambs that is. John still gets up in the middle of the night to see if here have been any new arrivals, but no joy over the last few days. The lambs that we do have are a joy to watch. A spring lamb is truly a spring lamb. Why amble, trot, or run, when you can bounce, bound, leap and hop for joy in the sunshine. It is the most uplifting sight.

FOR the whole of last week John has focused on demolishing half of our house porch and then rebuilding it again.

TRAFFIC through the centre of our village several years ago, generally had four legs.