Ow!! My hands are hurting, my stomach muscles feel as though I’ve been abducted by Jane Fonda, my legs ache and my face feels as raw as a zested lemon, but I’m happy. We have achieved seven straining posts, a river diversion and the removal of about 200 metres of old barbed wire and rotten stobs from the aged dyke.
For those of you who have fairly recently stumbled upon my blog let me keep you in the loop. Yorick and I bought Ballimackillichan croft last April. We have everything to do: build barns, acquire sheep and possibly a cow or two, build a house and two studios, excavate a pond… the list goes on. But first of all we have to re fence the boundary between us and Simon and Nicky. The existing one is very tumble down, much to the delight of Simon’s sheep who have ventured through it to grass paradise and refuse to return.
The day started early for me. Off I skipped like snow white’s dwarf, spade on shoulder, whistling while I went. The sky was wide and pale blue and the morning sun lit Morvern vivid rust. I tested the ground with a pinch bar, feeling and listening for the clink of stones which may hinder the dig. First attempt…stone, second attempt….stone, third attempt…roots (and big ones at that), fourth attempt…hmm, no stones. So I started to dig and dig and dig and scrape and scoop and dig and scrape and swear and scoop and sweat and swear and stab, scuffle , stab, scoop. You get the picture? and by the end of my stint I had achieved 6.5 feet of strainer holes.
Bob and Dot, our knights in shining armour turned up to help, we ate tuna mayonnaise sandwiches and drank coffee in flasks and all in all had a thoroughly industrious but beautiful day. I had no idea there was so much pleasure to be had from the firmness of a well stuck post (what… what did I say?)