These days I must go about with a needle in my blouse front with which to extract tiny invisible thistles from fingers which have been carrying hay and straw half the morning. They are so light covered as to be often invisible till they spring out at the probe of the needle.
A calf not very well this morning and the pungent odour of “gaseous fluid” is through all the lower part of the house.
Our first-born chicken of last year is discovered to have laid two eggs — her first. Her younger sisters have been at work for months.