A Northern Journal

Beaquoyside was a hive of activity the other weekend. A neighbour was having silage bales wrapped and a combine was  at full pelt harvesting the last barley  in this area. The thrum of engines was all around. Autumn is well and truly upon us as the leaves of the trees turn colour - brown mostly, although this year there is a bit more variation in the brown than usual. I do still miss the colour south.

It was a productive morning. I sorted my tack shed so that anything (rugs, numahs, etc) appealing to mice is in cupboards or plastic boxes (can’t fit the plastic boxes in the cupboards tho’, whilst the ponies grazed on the drying green under the washing flapping in the strong breeze. I couldn’t quite believe it at one point, Malfoy puss nonchalantly walked under Thorfinn’s belly between his back and front legs - as calm as that pony is, he could still decide to lift a leg at the cat if he got a fright. The morning had started sunny and bright but it clouded over. The coos were lying down in the corners of the field which is usually a sign of bad weather to come. Hubby mows the lawn, which means the two bizarre grass rings are cut back… any theories?

Thorf is getting quite hairy now and as I am still riding him a little before a winter lay off, he needed to have some hair clipped off… to stop him sweating too much. I just take a bit off his chest and under his neck. Wee Sigurd also was clipped very slightly - more a training exercise as I like to ensure he is exposed to loads of different things. He didn’t particularly like the noise of the clippers but was okay with them on him. Awww! The little amount of fur I took off was so soft and black and fluffy. This also means he won’t get so hot when I take him for walks which I try to do as often as I can, whether being led from T when I ride, or whether I long rein him. I know he is young still, but long-reining is a really good way to train ponies to be forward going and not to rely on you being beside them. Sig is an argumentative little b…. at times, but he doesn’t appear to have a bad bone in his body. He just wants to do what he wants not what I am requesting.

Sig: “I am going to speak to those ponies in that field!”

Me: “No you are not!, Walk on!” Gentle tap with schooling whip on the roller (band round his belly). It makes a noise so he is not getting tapped.

Sig: “Nope! I am speaking to those ponies and I am now going to show you up in front of that tractor driver.”

Me: “Walk on! Get on with you!” Firmer tap, now on his shoulder, which is a command we use when driving ponies. He spins round, backs away from me. “Come off it! Stop being a wee sh.. and get on with you!” I have lost! Okay so I walks gently, calmy up to him without looking him in the eye and stand by his shoulder, give his mane a tweek at the wither, “Walk on!”

Huh! And he does as sweet as pie and I continue up the road behind him as he trots happily home!That’s ponies for you! Thorfinn now waits for his quota of hay every evening… standing at the fence watching my every movement in the kitchen / dining room or sitting room… standing, waiting, imploring to be fed… he isn’t starved by any means of the word, but he is a Highland Pony after all and they are rather well known to look after their stomach at all costs.

This time of year also brings with it my harvest of tomatoes. This year I had stripy ones, yellow ones, pear shaped ones, orange ones and bobbly ones. The cucumbers and courgettes have also been pretty good but these have tailed off now. I only managed to get tatties, cabbages and beetroot in the ground. Tatties are good, beetroot is doing okay and the cabbages somehow have survived after being made skeletal by caterpillars. Carrots were sown but didn’t germinate (yet again), neither did the spinach.

So the nights are drawing in, as they say and it is dark by just after 7 in the evening. Time to think about being creative and doing some writing or drawing rather than vegging in front of the TV.

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