It has been an ordinary sort of a day...cold again...though I'm beginning to wonder if feeling cold is more to do with me than the actual temperature...I'm such a wimp when the mercury falls and there's a hint of frost in the air...on go the warm slippers and the layers of jumpers and the thermal vest until I expand and become twice my actual size...
Apart from the fact it was ordinary...it was also infuriating and that part was entirely my own fault 'cos I was being a clever clogs. You recall I'd bought a couple of duvet covers from the Hospice shop to make a plaited rug? You don't...? Never mind...doesn't matter...I did anyway and today I ripped them up into strips and plaited a couple then thought it'd make more sense if the strips were longer...so I sewed a few strips together.
And then tried to plait them.
They got themselves into such a feckin' tangle...strips of ripped up duvets all over the bloody floor gathering up dog hair as fast as they could and me struggling to keep some sort of control and failing miserably...
In the end, I admitted defeat, and cut all the stupid lengths shorter...
It would have taken me about a couple of hours to make a rug from start to finish...it took me most of the afternoon just to untangle the strips...
The colours aren't anything special...one is a dark coffee one side with a creamy colour the other...and the other duvet is a wishy-washy sort of lilac...sounds horrible but actually they look alright together.
Years ago I went with a friend to a retreat...it's way up in the Ox mountains...we didn't do the retreat bit, we'd gone because the Monks have a Latin Mass and Tracey was keen to hear it and I'd never been to a Latin Mass before...the Mass was blissful even for an outright Pagan such as myself...but what we really were bowled over by was the plaited rug in the Monks library. That was just drop dead gorgeous...brilliant bright colours for a start and so big! It must have taken weeks to complete...it was so stunning we just stood and gawped at it until a brown-robed Monk stood beside us and asked ...You like the rug?...Tracey went all over peculiar and sort of stammered and I asked where did he hail from 'cos I didn't recognise his accent. He was Mongolian...
Like you'd expect to meet a Mongolian Monk way up on an Irish mountain...
I really wanted to ask what brought him there...but he was a little bit forbidding actually...so I didn't.
While I was wrestling with ripped up cotton and polyester mix Himself was sawing up chunks of willow for the fire until he saw Christy and Henry munching their way through the wooden gate leading into our little field...
Donkeys can be perfect little sods, when they put their mind to it...and the combination of Christy and Henry doubles up the trouble. They'd discovered if they leant heavily on the gate it gave way...then they found the wood tasted quite nice...so there they were chomping through the gate at a great rate.
They had to go back into their barn of course, but not before frightening Bobby witless by charging up to him hee hawing and flicking their feet out in all directions...poor Bobby rushed indoors and peeked out through the back door to wait until the coast was clear.
Donkeys are used in America to keep Coyotes away from farm animals...they act as guards and are very good at doing so. Jack, dear little Jack, who loves apples and cuddles and wouldn't dream of biting or kicking us, is dangerous around small dogs. He'll pick them up in his teeth and shake them furiously...we learned the hard way when he did that once to Murphy and we had to whack Jack hard on the rump to get him to let go. Murphy recovered quickly but gave the donkeys a wide berth afterwards...
So now we need a pallet to make another gate into the field...and that's yet another job to add to the list of things to do.
I want the nest boxes repaired as well...most of them are falling to bits and are stuffed to the very top with Blue-Tits nests from several years past...I'm going to put a couple in the ivy which climbs over the shed wall and is right beside my shed. While listening to Gardeners Question Time on the radio, I heard Bob Flowerdew say you should never destroy any ivy growing on old buildings and trees because it makes such a valuable habitat for wildlife...bees gather the nectar from the ivy flowers...little birds roost among the leaves...and slightly bigger birds use the ivy as nest sites...and tiny birds, like wrens, spend bitter winter nights huddled together for warmth in old nesting boxes.
So, that's another task on the long list of things to do...put nesting boxes in the ivy.
But now I have to think about supper...I think Cottage pie and veggies for a chilly winters evening...