It has been one of those weeks where it started at a gallop then just increased in speed.
The calves are being born almost daily and it is a tonic to stand, farmer like, with one foot on the gate, watching the first new minutes of a calf's life.
The mother cow moos very softly and licks the newly born calf then the other cows come close to sniff and lick it as well.
The calf is soon transformed from a wet mass which flounders in confusion to a sturdy, clean little creature which soon bounds around the cattle shed. They appear to be born confident.
I tried to take photos of the new calves but Head Honcho was not allowing it. She was like one of those people at weddings who spring out of nowhere and ruin the shot of Auntie Jessie's new hat, all askew after two sherries.
I respected Head Honcho's authority and the Meaning It look in her eyes.
It has been busy trying to share time between the house, cow shed and rest of the farm. The little one had picked up a nasty bug and was really quite unwell. Phoning the doctor unwell.
I made him a nest on the sofa and made sure he was drinking plenty but felt very worried. The Farmer has been feeling increasingly tired so was happy to sit quietly with our son and cuddle him.
There have been plumbers and fencers in to make quotes plus various minor dramas - escapee calves, hens with newly hatched chicks wandering in front of the tractor and needing shooed to safety.
The weather has been bitter sweet too - very heavy rain then the occasional burst of heat and sunshine which the sheep like. They turn their faces up to the sun and bask.
I had another farmerly Foot-On-The-Gate moment last night and watched the sheep and outside cattle enjoying the sun. I love moments like that when you can just empty your mind and thrive on the peace.
The Farmer has succumbed to the little one's lurgy this morning and from the look on his face, will soon be ushered back upstairs to lie in a heap for a while.
One gets better by passing the bug to another, I think.
Our son seems a lot better today and feels very hungry, thank goodness. He has asked for an egg ( to fill the new egg cup with feet on it) but he may as well ask for the moon.
There are so many hens but they all escaped and live like little feral creatures in the sheds and barns and the eggs are very well hidden. They all roam around in gangs with attitude and hardly a day goes by when you think "I must catch them tonight and put them back in the hen run" but it never happens because it would be easier catching oiled toads with a wheelbarrow.
He settles for toast and yogurt.
The garden is woefully neglected yet the old, established plants cheerfully start to burst into life.
This apple tree is over 100 years old yet never fails to produce good cooking apples.
The swallows (or swifts? I never know which) are back and chatter noisily to announce their return and tell tales of their journey. I tell them all our news too.
They pick up bits of mud from the farmyard and repair their nests in the eaves.
I hope today will be sedate, slow and restful. An Elephant Sunday would be good.