Up until now, I’ve always wondered why I never get anything done when the sheep are grazing next to the house.

But after a bit of soul-searching, I think it’s probably due to the fact that I just want to sit on a lounger on the terrace all day and watch them…

Happy Sunday!

A very quiet planet where the Mistral gusts all year and nobody else exists.

The sheep are never in much of a hurry to come back down to the barn and reality. They would much rather stay up there for ever.

And sometimes I think I can understand why.

A localised storm to end all storms hit us on Thursday evening. Hurricane force winds, chunks of ice and from what I have heard 2 inches of rain all hurtled from the sky in the space of 10 minutes. The drains blocked almost immediately and streams overflowed. All the water and mud from what seems like half a mountain came straight in through our front door and out the back.

Driving up the lane avoiding uprooted trees, the extent of the devastation didn’t really hit me. Nor did it when I brought my shopping into the porch and saw my mother-in-law mopping up the hall. A bit of water must have seeped under the door I thought. It didn’t really hit me either when I picked my way through the sediment and bits of straw still floating in the lounge.

It was only when I made it to the bedrooms and opened my wardrobe door that gale force shock kicked in. The shoes at the bottom of the cupboard were hidden in silt and muck. And it was the same in every room.

I don’t remember putting my shopping down. Apparently I left it on the floor in all the water and mud. Somebody kindly put it outside for me and when I found it  much later the ice creams had melted.

I can’t say I cried. I made myself a cup of tea, found a mop and snivelled for the remaining two hours it took to get rid of the water and clean until the tiles on the floor were visible.

 We were very lucky – the water hadn’t risen above the height of the plinths. The house had been saved from greater damage by our front door and a neighbour. When he saw the 15 inches of water accumulating in the porch he’d grabbed a bucket and started to bail. A team of us cleaned 12 hours yesterday and the house has probably never been cleaner.  Today I will sort through all the damaged stuff which is out waiting in the garden.

At the moment I’m still in shock, but I hope that one day I’ll be able to laugh about it and say to the kids “It’s going to storm later, don’t leave anything lying on the floor…”

looked this just a few weeks ago..

In a very short time he has become one of the more endearing aspects of the farm, as if 280 lambs weren’t enough. Don’t be taken in though. It may not seem like it, but but all this joie de vivre hides a darker side. This is a dog on a mission – cute enough to break your heart one moment…

and your piggy bank the next..

What is it about dogs and new shoes?

Lucky they were sill attached to my feet at the time. In a few days, I’ll probably have to start searching the surrounding fields for a water-logged left shoe, with missing sole, chewed-out laces and extra breathing room for toes.

If anyone finds it, please let me know.

French bureaucrats make one hell of a meal (no pun intended) out of lamb traceability and every year the requirements become more stringent.

Tagging the lambs means a good dose of disinfectant, state of the art sheep breeding software (not quite sure about that one as we always seem to be about 10 years behind the rest of the world), yellow ear tags and an applicator.

In a few seconds the lambs are equipped with a new earring and ready to rejoin their mums.

Of course not everyone needs yellow earrings to keep track of the lambs…

…sometimes a good pair of eyeballs can do the job just as well.

..and any leftovers always went to the most hardworking mutt. As usual.

Wait a minute. Since when did hanging out with the lambs mean preferential treatment for hunting dogs?

Standards always slip when I’m away.

But when we had almost 30 inches in 24 hours even the dogs were at a loss.

Then the unimaginable happened. Roads coudn’t be cleared fast enough, barn roofs collapsed (not ours) and schools and offices were closed.

And then there was only one thing left to do…get out there and shovel.

And believe it or not the kids actually argued over who got to go first..

Someone dependable, who is passionate about their work.

Someone who has eyes everywhere and doesn’t mind the over-time.

Someone who’s not afraid of responsability

and who gets on well with the personnel.

Meet Elfie, second-in-command and queen of the sheep barn.

As an Ariegeois bloodhound, the onerous and delicate task of accompanying the various hunters on the farm rests squarely upon his shoulders.

I don’t think he has quite yet understood the burdern of his responsabilities, but I suppose he has until the Autumn to get used to the idea…

and maybe by then, he’ll manage to keep those eyes open.

and if their mother doesn’t have enough milk..

then they are given a bottle by a loving hand.

There is (almost) around the clock surveillance…

And should a problem arise..

…you can always count on another experienced member of staff to give their valued opinion.