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.