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So far, Summer has been hopeless. It is a complete washout and far too cold to shear anyone. I hate being this late and I am trying hard not to worry. I mean it is only July but usually everyone is sheared by June and there seems to be no let up in the weather forecast.
Harrel-the-Barrel
Harrel-the-Barrel
Edna
Madge
Maggie
Lambie
Lambie, again
Ster
Bert
Bert
No one is complaining that they haven’t been sheared, except on the odd day when it gets slightly warmer and then they all lie around like beached whales. But that is brief and one year, when we sheared them in June and it got cold, I ended up having to put coats on Lambie (who forgot how to think) and Edna (who left for warmer climes and got lost in the hill. I had to bring her home). So we don’t want to go there again.
And so I am trying my best not to overthink this. It is only the beginning of July. Summer might appear, mightn’t it? The Shetland ponies are still wearing their rugs. I told you Summer hasn’t turned up yet. I am fed up.
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