Right about now it is lambing time. So the farmers bring their ewes into the barns. Round two of the poo flinging has begun. Last Friday to be exact. All of them. Admittedly, the smell was gone the next day. But what to my withering nostrils should appear this Thursday, that smell again! Ah yes, they’ve all turned it under into the soil. Stink the high heaven and the sea gulls are lovin’ it!
I work with some farmers’ wives and they passed messages on at the beginning of last week of bringing the “machines” over on Wednesday, and then have it back on Friday? I believe that the farmers share their machinery to do each other’s fields. So Spring here in East Anglia is marked by the preparation of fields, barley coming up light and fuzzy near to the ground, and the illustrious poo flinging. There won’t be any more of it until Autumn now. At least I don’t think so . . . . . Hhhmmmmm, not so sure about that, better retract that statement! Who needs Morris Dancers to herald the coming of spring when you have poo to do it so thoroughly!