The gritter was out last night, for a touch of frost, by midnight when the mad mutt posted his latest on Dog-blog, the glitzy shimmer on the car had melted. Awoke this morning to sun and relative warmness. It has rained most of the afternoon and strong gales are forecast before tomorrows dawning. So ... what was the gritter all about? Practising? Learning the route? It's beyond me. A waste of our council taxes that's for sure!
Had to take said motor, over the garage today. A small brake system problem that needs be sorted out before the gritters really ought to be out and about. Wish my undercarriage problems were as easy to get fixed! But ... gentle exercise helps, so ... on the way I decided to take Ffin up a local valley with a gentle incline.. It is O.K if, it's taken very slowly.
As we went through the footpath gate, there was a thundering of hooves as a black and white (three quarters shire) horse, headed up towards and past by us. Later on it stopped for a quick nuzzle to say hello, then stopped for a drink from the mountain stream.
He was not the only one to overtake us at speed, a local farmer with a quad, followed by three working dogs was heading up the mountain to check on the flocks in the top fields.
Now, when I tell you he has had two hip operations and just turned 81, it kinds of put me to shame. We didn't have a chance to talk then but have just caught up on the phone. We had a chat about this strange November weather and what a waste of money, having the gritters out last night. He is the one I mentioned previously, who can so very vividly, still remember the extremely bitter winters of both 47 & 63.
He's lucky in that his son is now taking over and restocking the land with Welsh and Texels, but it's great to see him still actively involved and ... one of the three dogs, is his.
He is also a mine of information ...
This area you see, is called The Target because during both World Wars, it was used as target practice for local troops. Remnants of some of the old structures for moving the targets up the valley to get shot at, and back down to mark accuracy, still remain. In his time he has collected many old shell cases.
Descending slowly back to lower levels, there was one last surprise. A tiny orphaned lamb I named Midge, that I had briefly, bottle fed and had sat contentedly on my stomach during a summer B-B-Q on the farm, seems (though still small) to be doing O.K.
At the moment, every day brings surprises. When I think that maybe there is nothing worth commenting on ... by the end of the day, there's always something to be grateful for.
And that ... keeps an old soul going!
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