When it rains, sometimes I get it.

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The sheer, pure joy of being here. Doing stuff.
Friday, I think it was, the chooks fed and cleaned out, and I decided to do the first great water change of spring in the plastic pond, which led to joyous displays of diving and tomfoolery by Laurie, the grubby drake. Newly white and preened, he is almost his old self - though the quack has not returned.
Be-wellied and bewildered as I was, the job in hand was refilling the horses' water trough, and climbing fences, hauling hoses, spraying out the trough with a none-too-well-placed thumb, and thus spraying myself, the rain began to fall, and as often happens when it rains, I loved the moment.
To be this blessed, to be this free, and still to find time to worry and complain, is a travesty really. It does have to stop.
Even the wet and windy Saturday ride when Boo hit the deck in the mud and cried, had a perfect, line drawn, Pullein-Thompson or 'Jill' quality to it - Caney would have done us proud, as we hacked grumpily home into the teeth of the wind, wet and in at least one case, muddy, bickering as unpleasantly as the best of them.
Planting is the very heart of me, and as long as, at this time of year, I have the time to grow and tend, to watch and learn, to brush the leaves of tomato plants, making them as strong as a passing breeze would have done, then I am well.
And as Neil is lambing 14 hours a day, 7 days a week, I am back among my goats, and who knows what mischief that might bring about .....
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