Rain, Rain Come Away In

Things you should know:

1. Farmers like it when it rains

2. You're unlikely to go on a date with a farmer on a sunny day

As I write these points above it makes me realise that the chances of actually going on a date with a farmer at all are pretty slim. Even when we're not in isolation. 

Throughout the year, Ivie and I joke that we'll see each other in November - it's no coincidence that we got together one November. Our first date was crammed in between curling fixtures and car maintenance but we made it. Just. 

So, we've just had some of the warmest, driest weeks on record. It's been great for someone like me who's been shielding since mid-March as I've been able to sit outside and drink tea, go for walks (within the confines of the farm) and top up my vitamin D. 

Not so great for farmers or their cows. Cows drink a HUGE amount of water every day. I've just googled it to try and get a definitive answer but answers varied between 3 and 70 gallons so we'll just leave it at A Lot. 

                   

Ivie has spent an inordinate amount of time guddling about with water, topping up troughs that the cows empty as soon as he can fill them and shaking his head at the low levels in the hydro pond. 

Aside from having an impact on the water needed for cows, the rain (or lack thereof) also affects every single other bloody thing that Ivie does. I don't pretend to understand what conditions are required for each job but it's along the lines of:

"I hope the wind dies down/picks up, the rain starts/stops and the sun shines/doesn't so that I can spray/spread/cut/disc/roll...."

Remember the old cliche of British Rail and the wrong sort of leaves on the line...?

Anyway, this week the dry spell has ended and we've had almost enough rain. Ivie's as happy as Larry, whoever Larry was. 

I've just googled that, too, and got a more satisfactory answer than to cows' capacity for drink:

It originates from an Australian boxer called Larry Foley in the 1890s, who never lost a fight. He retired at 32 and collected a purse of £1,000 for his final fight. 

Thank you, google.

Tuesday morning was the happiest I'd seen Ivie in weeks. He came in for breakfast head to toe in waterproofs, dripping wet and beaming from ear to ear. I half expected him to shake himself like a dog all over the kitchen floor before lying in front of the fire for the rest of the day.

Suffice to say, I'm looking forward to our second date in November 2021.