WEDDINGS AND WOOLLY CAPERS

 There has been a sharp cold edge to the temperatures today even though there has been lots of lovely sunshine.  

I drove past a local church looked at the grassy patch in front of it;  I quickly looked again. A very still sheep in its cleanest, creamiest, woolly finery, was to my surprise, in the garden at the main entrance. We don’t  see sheep in church grounds in town, we might out in the nearby countryside and then only if the building is an open ruin.  

Wedding guests were arriving at the church, local people were milling around in the street waiting to see the bride.  I drove on a bit and found a place to park my car.  I returned to join the onlookers. From where I stood, it appeared the sheep had not moved, it seemed very peaceful.   I crossed over the road to the church to get a closer look.  Just then, a bridal car adorned with ribbons drew up.  Two pipers got into position at the gates ready to pipe in two very elegantly attired and attractive adult bridesmaids, with a rendering of  the chorus of Mhairie’s Wedding, a classic for the celebration.  The ‘maids ascended the many stone steps to the church doors and disappeared inside to await the bride. The pipers, their timing immaculate, ceased their fanfare. A woman taking umpteen pictures with her smart phone told me the pipers were a father and daughter, the daughter, (her grand-daughter) was eleven years old.  




What about the sheep; had it been affected by the sudden expansive skirl of the pipes?  I need not have been concerned , it had remained serene and totally unperturbed; why?  Then I discovered, it was a full sized stage prop a very good one at that.  It got me thinking.  Was it  a not so cryptic message  that the bride would be leaving one sheep farming community to make a new life in another sheep farming one, in Shetland.  Whatever, it was a humorous touch. 

Apart from the bride who arrived in a white dress,the bridal party colour theme was in various shades of cream. The vintage car was a shade of rich dairy cream; the mother of the bride, who was giving her daughter in marriage, (dad died some years ago) wore an outfit a subtly different shade of cream with pinkish undertones; the bridesmaids  demure dresses were an antique cream; all the accessories, including the blooming roses in the bouquets followed the theme. Deferring to the bride, there were a few white roses, some in the palest of pink and others in shades of cream.  Even the sheep was the right shade of cream.

A Suffolk Sheep

 

COUNTRY AND SURF AT 'THE TOP OF THE DAY'

It looked like a good day to go out last Sunday, (16th November 2013). With the shortening daylight hours, every opportunity has to be taken when a day is at its best, at 'the top of the day' as the local expression goes. We found ourselves walking a bit of the North East Coast.  You are never far from countryside, in fact, the three, sea shore and countryside, merge.  The sun was low in the sky, seriously blinding for driving into, and also, for walking. It was not particularly good either for photographing some of the weird and wonderful things that caught my eye; maybe I shall get pictures of them another time.

Hardly noticeable, this water treatment plant sat neatly on the coast.

 Sheep grazed. They were not interested in us. I think they must be used to people.  Perhaps too many people had wandered by.  The path ahead of us through the field where the sheep were, was closed off by a five-bar gate.  It was not intended that the gate should be opened.  It was secured with barbed wire.  The gates we had already used were dropping on their  hinges by a considerable amount, requiring some heaving to open and close them behind us. It was not unreasonable to conject, therefore, that there may have been some issues with farm gates being left open.

Hay bales were sitting in the stubble on the fields.  The bales were outlined by good surfing waves   At a distance, the bales almost seemed to be  being pushed along. My stereotypical picture memories, much like the old masters,  are of hay stacks in fields, with more rolling fields surrounding them.  Bales and sea surf were unexpected companions. If you peer into the surf, you will just be able to make out a surfer, (a black dot).

I counted about ten surfers in this group.  This coast, indeed this bay, is known to serious national and international competitors for the quality of surf.  Recently, there was a major competition here.

You might just be able to see a few surfers in action through the spray 'curtain'

...and these surfers are flat-lining on their surfboards. 

Very many years ago, there was land reclamation on this part of the coast, the sea is now reclaiming back the same land, partly through erosion and in part, because, the unmaintained harbour breakwater, (the upright boulders, which are seen in this picture) has given the sea free reign to move back in.

This doorway to nowhere testifies that a substantial property  was built here. The barley twist design the stonemason carved either side of the jamb is still intact on the right. The doorway is beautiful in its decay and solitude.

You can make the images bigger if you click on them.

CLAN LINES - ANGUS, FLORENCE, BRIAN AND MEGAN AND CHARLOTTE ...

"Who are they- those going through the gates?" I found myself asking the farmers'  young grandson.

He looked  ahead and replied, "That's Megan and her daughter Charlotte; she's also got Brian. You remember Florence?"

I nodded.  "Megan's her daughter, " he said.

...."Is Florence still here?"  We both gazed the expanse without any sighting of Florence.

"Yeah, she's around somewhere".  He finally said. "Maybe she's with Robbie".

...."Robbie?"  By now I was getting a tad lost with this clan.

"Robbie's her son", he explained "...he's going off to the mart tomorrow". 

That sounded a bit ominous.  I silently wondered why Robbie was out of favour. As if reading my thoughts, the young lad went on to explain that;

"Robbie's  going off to the mart because he's got a short chin", he demonstrated with his hand what it meant with a movement that suggested that whatever chin there was, must have been squashed in.

Thinking about our conversation afterwards, it occurred to me that anyone listening in would never have known that we were talking about  the lineage of some rather good looking, prize winning Suffolk sheep, which went all the way back to the supreme champion Angus who keeled over and died some years ago, the day before an agricultural show.  Here, I must not forget to give Skye a mention.  She is very much alive, still producing and is rather superb too, but, then, she is a first cousin of the rather gorgeous and departed Angus.

At the most recent agricultural show, Megan got a first prize, Charlotte , her daughter, received a second prize rosette and her son Brian was worthy of a third place. when I mentioned the statuesque Florence, the lady farmer said she was vexed she had not put her in the show.  Maybe next year.

This is not Brian, Megan, or, Charlotte.  This appealing poser, a different breed, did win a place  at the show.

Brrr - ODD WEATHER VANES

Don't know about you, but for Midsummer it's cold and I feel really cold. I Pegged the washing on the line in double quick time. Oh yes, it was dry, for a couple of hours with a winter feel easterly wind, just enough blow for me to cope with, and  just enough blow to get some of the wet out of the wash. By lunch time there were fine droplets of rain; not enough wet though, to unpeg the laundry. I left it where it was. 



It was bound to be cold, because the sheep have been sheared over the last two days. There's always a drop in temperature when the woolly coats come off.  Also,  it was bound to be cold because I decided get out some summery clothes to wear and leave the heavier tops and trousers to hang in the cupboard. 

There's the same perversity with the sideshows, (a little fair with rides) which shows up twice a year. Without fail, if it isn't dull and raining before the stalls pitch up, it sure will be once they are, and there'll be little chance of any good change in the weather till the fair departs. 

According to the official weather people, there was supposed to be a high of 11 degrees Celsius at the top of the day today. That would take some believing. Some nights this week temperatures were low, down at 4 degrees Celsius; not sure where tonight's are plummeting to.

CHAMPIONS AND OTHER THINGS , EVEN.

The journey to the regional agricultural show was dire. It's 'interesting' enough that we have to cope with sea haar when it descends upon us, however, this time it was low visibility in long stretches of very low lying cloud. When we were above the cloud we were into clear visibility, and apart from lots of different kinds of traffic on two-way roads, (it would be so much safer to have dual carriageway) the cloud was an extra long-lasting hazard. It was a tiresome journey.

By the time we were close to destination, about 11am, I was fascinated to see various staked notices leading towards a church, one invited you not for evensong, but, 'even coffee'. Bar the fact that we were in a guided motorcade by this time, I might have stopped, even!

It couldn't have been wetter. My poncho did a sterling job but was overworked. The the show tents were busy. They were a great place to escape from the constant downpour. Every time I put back my hood, the rain started up. I gave up and left it where it was, safely on my head. A number of people enviously eyed my poncho and one person without a jacket, asked where I'd bought it, thinking I might have found it at the show.

Our farming neighbours obtained championship accolades for their sheep.


The lady farmer pointed out to me the overall champion was the one who normally stopped and talked to me through the chain link fence. She can get most demanding of communication if I am slow to respond. Today though, she had done her bit and wanted to rest on her laurels.


Young black Dougal with his mum. He was born on Hogmanay,(31st December 2010).

Look at Dougal now, at eight months old. Dougal came away with a respectable 2nd place.  He is already twice the size of the farmer's previous champion Suffolk lamb of August 2010.


I noticed the young lad bounding up to a different Suffolk Lamb. The lamb almost jumped the fence as he became aware of him. They greeted each other like long lost friends.

SCENES OF RURAL IDYLL

Our sheep farming neighbours have roughly another six weeks of lambing to go. They started the process about the end of December.   I heard the farmers had  lost one ewe in the week, and from what I saw, one big lamb at the weekend.  Apart from that, they appear to have had a successful lambing so far.  In the last week there have been three sets of triplets, which are being taken gentle care of. The lambs, though small, as you would expect, are good looking ones.  The main 'orphans' this year, seem to be where a ewe has udder difficulties, or rejects one of her lambs.  The farmer's wife said that between the three types of sheep they rear, they'll have something like 1400 four-legged animals to husband, including the mums and some rams, till the next lamb sales.  With the sales in mind, the farmers sort out which ewes and lambs are kept, which rams stay intact for breeding and for selling on. Most first year lambs that are kept, are moved to other fields and are not bred from till their second year, when they are more able and physically matured.

Some years ago, an early lamb, (December-January) was, by August, interested in a well-endowed ram .  The two animals were in different fields though able to muzzle and sniff, I am sure. However, the well grown, but still agile young woolly lady jumped the dry stone wall  and love was requited.  As the farmer's wife was relating the story to me, she explained  with irritation, that it wasn't the ram's fault, it was "her's,  the lamb's fault.  If she hadn't jumped the wall and tempted him ............"   (There's an old moral in this tale).    The eventual birth was a good single lamb and the 'teenage delinquent' developed into a model mum.