Last night I ran away from work early to go and shift sheep. I'd left them a day too long in their paddock and they were hungry and waiting at the gate, calling out to me as I walked the new paddock, doing my usual check. Moving them took longer than usual, because I had to take them through a paddock of fresh grass to get where they were going, and they were determined to fill their tummies on the way. We got there eventually. Then a quick spin around in a block of pine trees looking for two Wild Ones. The owner of the sheep had put them in there and hadn't been able to get them out. Clearly she's less cunning than me. I just opened the gate between them and the others and walked around them so they ran in the right direction, then stood around looking menacing till they saw the gate and went through. I can look very menacing.
You know, there are few things more pleasant than sitting in the sun waiting for a trough to fill up, while listening to contented sheep munching grass.
Anyway, there were also the stud ewes to be checked. They were all fine and they didn't need shifting. They have the run of two large paddocks comprising around 30 acres and all I have to do is walk around, making sure they are all ok and accounted for (and we won't mention the four that have got into the neighbour's until I have time to do something about it). By the time I'd finished my walk, it was sunset. From the top of the hill, you can see across to the South Island on one side and the entirety of Wellington Harbour on the other. It's quite a view. So I was sitting there admiring it, and along came a black horse and silhouetted himself against the sunset, breath steaming. And I sat there breathless with the beauty of the whole thing until the sun had gone and he was just a shadow.
No, I didn't take a picture. I was the only person in the world who saw it, because I was completely, utterly alone. And it blew me away.
I'm on a Bob Dylan kick at the moment. Funny thing is, I don't really like his voice and the way he plays harmonica is harsh on the ears, which is usually enough to stop me listening to a person's music. But, I love the way he puts words and melodies together. He is probably the most evocative artist I know of.
You will start out standing, proud to steal her anything she sees
But you will wind up peeking through her keyhole down upon your knees.
I'm also doing a lastfm experiment, by queueing up my entire Sounds directory on random and playing it through, to see what comes up in the stats. It's been going for two days now, and from the looks of things it'll be between 2 and 3 weeks before I get a result. Some of the things are kind of embarrassing. I have an ABBA song, for Chrissake!
Packing for Dargaville is interesting. I know it'll be at least 2 degrees warmer up there. Also, part of me doesn't want to be recognised because that will lead to conversations with people that are all "So what have you been up to?" and "Do you have kids?" etc, and while Dargaville is a place that I lived for 9 years, it's also somewhere I have no desire to reminisce about The Good Old Days in. Tonight the driving starts. I figured it out. We're actually going to spend nearly as much time driving as we will visiting. I'll be offline for a few days as well, so I guess there'll probably be The Longest Post EverTM on Tuesday. With pictures!
I know, you just can't wait, can you?
And then there's this: and this: (I love Yoda. Yoda and Dr Who? Bliss.
Finally, I had some weird kind of mushroom flashback on the bus this morning and started noticing all the brown things. And at least 50% of the people I could see were wearing brown shoes. WTF? Who wears brown shoes by choice?