A Host of Golden Daffodils

A Host of Golden Daffodils

It was sunny, if still very windy, this morning and I walked the track with the dogs looking for possible escape routes and any problems.  The ponies are in the field next door where there’s better shelter for them.

The equinoctial gales are giving it their best – we are currently on Day 3 with no let up until  maybe Monday) and it is all a bit meh outside.

For those asking, this is the shelter – an old tattie rig (potato field) that has lovely high drystone walls.  Perfect shelter for small ponies from every angle as it is also at the bottom a steep sided valley.

The ponies use this garden for shelter and then suddenly all come out to eat.

All except for Fivla, who had forgotten how to cross the burn and I can testify that down the bottom, here, there was not a breath of wind so I could see why she had stayed.

I looked around to see guess-who approaching.

And off we went to rescue blown over daffodils for the house.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Or a big fat white cat either stalking Pepper, or looking like he is having a pee!

A Host of Golden Daffodils

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