JOHN is weighing up his options for spreading tillage on the corn. Most of our fields are looking well - too well. The lush growth encouraged by the warm wet weather has created plants that are too leafy and too tall.

Some weeks ago John put the ewes into some fields to graze the tops off the wheat to retard the plants' growth and encourage them to thicken out. It was successful, but impractical to carry out for all the fields on the farm. He has been going out early when the ground still has a touch of frost to spread tillage. That way he can travel across the fields without too much damage to the wheelings.

Back in the yard, the last of the winter wheat from the previous year is at last getting away. We need the space and the cash. Unfortunately the same idea must have occurred to lots of other farmers as the price of wheat has suddenly dropped. Too much going onto the market. This is good news for friends who farm pigs and are delighted to see the price of feed wheat drop, but not so good for us.

It is strange to see the barns starting to empty. Gradually the tractors can tuck themselves further under cover at night as hay and straw stacks diminish and corn heaps reduce. As fast as the barns are emptied, however, my brother-in-law Geoff is filling up the gaps with off-cuts of treated timber for the fire. Wonderful stuff. We toast at night by the fire, and although the logs burn with a strange blue flame and spit occasionally, they do throw out some heat.

Meanwhile, whilst we lounge by the fire most nights, Meg, our black Labrador, is getting fat. It has been several weeks since the end of the shooting season and she desperately misses the intense activity of a day's shooting and retrieval. Walks are just not the same thing. John took her out pigeon shooting last night to try and answer her withdrawal symptoms. Just the sight of the gun sent her into an ecstasy of delight.

An over-active Meg is not just our problem though. The whole village is alert to the fact that Meg is bouncing with energy and needs to be out and on at around five in the morning. Must have a word with my friend Mary who used to run dog obedience classes. Help.

After watching the finals of Crufts, the dog show, I thought I had come up with the answer. We could take up doggy dancing. Seriously - it was the best part of the show - at first one, and then two, border collies moving in time to music under the direction of their trainer. Obedient, silent (unlike the fly-ball dogs who bark with excitement right through their class), intelligent and responsive, they had me entranced. I shall be broadcasting Glenn Miller music to Meg from the start of the day.

As well as Meg's morning chorus, our peacock has suddenly woken up to the fact that spring is coming. Only he lets everyone know at about half past four in the morning. I suppose it is nature's way of training John for lambing. Shortly he will have to be up at all hours of the night checking on the ewes, so he might as well attune himself to sleep deprivation from now on. That log fire will be just a memory, he will be too tired to remember whether he is sitting, standing or sleeping.

Updated: 12:19 Thursday, March 21, 2002