Blackberry lashings

I get up early (as usual) and go riding. The house sleeps and snores.

By the time I return, there are a few smug, post-breakfast faces around the table. They all slept well, they're all feeling good. Time for some work.

So we take a trip down to the big shed and drag out the tractor. The slasher rings out with a wining vengeance, and blackberry splinters fly mercilessly. But the minute they hit the ground, a thousand (ok, ok, more like four) rakers, bring them together into neat little stacks.

When the work is done, the kids drive the tractor back into the shed. The horses are fed, the hay put out, and there are left overs for dinner. We bid our visitors a very "welcome anytime" goodbye.