Girls can lift and girls can be strong, including Millie who goes weightlifting every week.
Tonight she came home very happy with her new deadlift personal best, 65 kg.
One very mighty girl. I’m that proud of her, I even let her pick me up (63kg).
There’s a human on the floor! Downward dog has become down dog lick face.
I took my dog into a lovely cafe, a dog friendly one. What a great idea, walking the dog and relaxing with a hot cup of coffee afterwards.
Not with this diva of a dog. She insisted on standing at the counter with her paws up and placing her own order.
She then complained very loudly when she didn’t get a biscuit and howled at the schnauzer at the next table.
All was finally going well until she waltzed off to say hello to a staffy (taking my table with me and my coffee).
We get a lot of rain in Wales, an awful lot. In fact it’s pretty much chucked it down all January and we’re all sick of it.
My poor chickens are wading in mud again so I’ve spent today shovelling in wheel barrows full of sand to absorb it.
I also use wooden planks and plant pots to create little perches so they can preen themselves when the sun dares to show itself.
I’m hoping February will be kinder and the sun will show itself a bit more!
A good friend of mine had to say goodbye to his dear friend this week. This post is for you and your beautiful dog Rufus who will forever have the wind in his fur and your love in his heart.
Evie has been asking me for a while now that she would like to donate her very long hair to the Little Princess Trust a charity that takes donated hair and transforms them into wigs for children undergoing cancer treatment.
On Saturday she had all her locks chopped off and has been guarding her precious plaits ready for me to post them off.
I’m very proud of her for wanting to donate her hair, it’s a lovely, kind thing to do. She’s looking very grown up with her new hair do. I thinks it looks lovely.
Hello, welcome back, did you survive Christmas? Did you manage a sprout or two? Good job, now rejoice in the fact that it’s January, it’s cold (if you are Northern Hemisphere) and I’m sat in a shed at the top of my garden wearing a woolly hat, a scarf and wrapped in a great big wool blanket.
I have a studio, it’s here, it’s built and it sits a soggy trudge up the garden right by the chickens. I’m currently listening to cluck ‘o clock right now. There’s a raucous coming from the hen- pen which means someone’s laid an egg. Hens do like to tell you when they’ve laid an egg, it’s a thing they do. They emerge from their hen house triumphant. (I do wonder if they compare egg sizes like we do babies birth weights).
So yes, I have a shed, a space of my own, away from the house and requiring mum -head to be left at the door and me-head replaced once I enter. I’m ready surrounded by tea, pens, radio and dog and I haven’t the foggiest what to do. I’ve fought for years for space and time to do what I want and now I have it, I’m devoid of thought and my pen have been rearranged numerous times and are now in a neat little line which really isn’t me at all.
I’m sure something will come along soon.
While we’re all waiting for me to get my act together, here’s eleven ceramic owls that have found their way from the house to my shed and are sitting staring at me.
They are strangely hypnotic and I can’t help but wonder if there’s a hidden camera checking that I’m actually doing some work and not just nodding off in my chair against the little oil heater which is oh so warm.
Signing off for time with my tribe. Have a peaceful Christmas and please give a sprout a chance.