The whole world seems to be going squelch at the  We seem to be living in a bog – my morning trot down to feed the chickens is increasingly perilous. One day I may not make it back.

There is running water everywhere. The boundary between elements seems blurred – streams running across the road, branches brought down, mud creeping up to the front door. And this afternoon on th  way home I got caught in something that wasn’t rain, or hail, or sleet, but something hovering between all three.

Still, we live on a hill, we’re not struggling with lambing, the fire is lit and everyone is in for the night.


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