(Don't show the Nuffield, it might get jealous)
A Sty with a View
The piglets are now happily ensconced in their new quarters - open plan studio apartment (ark) with uninterrupted views across the river to Nayland Airfield, cricket bat willows and general Stour loveliness. 
Ever considered living in a sty? I have.
This 'pig's-eye' view of the world shows how perfect the site is for the trio, but they'll have to work for that view. In fact, once they make it to the end of the track, they add Wiston Mill to the panorama.
To thank them, we generously removed the Take Put 
found beneath the brambles. And if you were wondering what this does, Dad's description "You take things, and put them somewhere else...somewhere you forget about them." is pretty accurate. He's been searching for this for some time, so has taken it...and put it somewhere else. Circle of Hell right there.
Thank you to Fryers Farm Shop for the huge quantity of windfall apples. Like ill-disciplined children, pigs like to play with food and are enjoying rolling them under the fence as an excuse to retrieve them. We believe they too may be trying to get to Wiston to play with Reggie.
With the piglets settling in, we were joined by a festive offering:
Farmers' luck, calving started 20 minutes before we were due to leave for the carol service. Fortunately, 'No 1's Calf' is a pro and it was born and up within minutes, so Humph escaped to deafen the dignitaries of Colchester with a piccolo 'Top G' in 'Angels from the realms...
A performance praised by the Mayor himself. It never ceases to amaze us that even after a lifetime of farming, with farmer hands hewn from endless baler twine knots, he is able to play the piccolo so well. To show our appreciation, when Humph's piccolo services are required, we briefly allow him to practise in the house, before realising this is a terrible idea (Farm Dog wails) and banish him to the barn - all a little Thomas Hardy until you catch a riff of a sea shanty amid the carols!
The Musee de LDF
December is bustin' out all over. Another calf, and whilst we love all of God's creatures, I have to say, this is the most attractive shot I could get of our latest arrival...
Poor calf. When I become a River Stour Pirate he will come into his own in my skull and crossbones diorama.
But luck was on our side. Whilst waiting for his unfriendly mother to calve, we were joined by a ferocious stoat. This stoat has a reputation as a performance artist and will hold up the traffic on Water Lane whilst he/she (stoat sexing not my forte) drags the latest kill down the centre of the road. Show-off; but pretty amazing to watch.
And speaking of artistic performances, Christo and Jeanne-Claude may have wrapped The Reichstag, but life is a conceptual art piece here at LDF. Introducing, for a limited time only: "Sugar Beet Heap, Wrapped".
Performed at night, preferably in driving rain. I'm pretty sure Christo and team of helpers didn't complete their wrapping with a personal head-to-toe mud pack and multiple bruises - whilst sliding down the heap may seem the most efficient way to get to the ground, high altitude sickness can make a wrapper forget a heap of beet makes for a lumpy descent.
But anything to protect those precious sugar beet from the December frosts. British Sugar, take note; everything I do, I do it for you.
The Fifth Day
Who needs a smaller tractor when you've got plenty of your own? The fifth day starts with a dusting of snow, glorious snow...
Far prettier than my present left by the Snow Queen herself...
Me and the Snow, we have an understanding.
(A girl can dream...)
The 5 Days of Horkesley
On the first day of December, a lovely heifer calf for the herd.
On the second day of December a trip to Mersea gave to me, three marvellous piglets.
On the third day of December, I drew the short straw when Dad said "So, you get in the muck spreader..." and wandered off to find tools. Ever wanted to know what the inside of a muck spreader looks like? 
Well now you know.
On the fourth day of December, what's that coming o'er the hill? Yes! It's the sugar beet harvester. 
At long last.
On the fifth day of December, 'Lord Sugar-beet' himself (Mr Brooks), had promised to 
send a smaller tractor to reduce the risk of barn-tractor collisions. Fitting Twenty First Century equipment into our "bijou" yard is, as so diplomatically put by the traumatized-looking youth driving the tractor, "quite hard work". Cue another 8 point turn.
And whilst I would have been most grateful for this, the harvester mined the sugar in record time and they'll be back at a later date for our other field...which requires drier conditions.
Clearly, this is shaping up to be a month of excitements. Perhaps by the 31st we'll have a new gutter and my definition of rain (water falling from the sky) and that of the Met Office will match up? Oh, we can live in hope...but too much excitement before Christmas is bad for a farmer.
Let there be light
But lo, what is that light that shines so bright?
Form an orderly queue with your gold, frankincense and myrrh, electricity has returned to the barn! Bye bye extension cables, hello light switches - if I can remember where they are in the dark. Actually, us children pride ourselves on our innate ability to navigate through a pitch black ex-milking parlour/workshop with its tables, tools and unidentifiable objects of varying vintages scattered across the only route to the light switches. This kicks in early - survival of the fittest in action. And let me tell you, it's all about the shuffle.
It has been over a year since we last had a working light in the barn (it had to be disconnected for the barn restoration), hence the excitement. Humphrey, chief electrician, was even heard to exclaim: "It really is amazing how much you can see with a light.". Ironically, light was bestown shortly before a Tempest hit, which removed the power from said newly installed sight-aid, and with the driving rain, curtailed vision and work for the evening. But nevertheless, progress.
Today, has been all about preparation for tomorrow's potentially ghoulish weather. We've moved the bullocks inside and whilst there is still grass available, it will have to wait for a spell of dry weather; we don't want to ruin the fields for next year. So it was through the barn and down the makeshift (but floodlit) "race" of tractors, a trailer, the JCB and the perennial cow-proof wheelbarrow, to winter quarters...
..stopping only to pay their respects to the Massey 65. At the altar of which they asked for the rain not to hit before we've repaired the gutters in the morning. Most people think Mother Nature controls the weather, but it's really a Massey 65.
Have a safe, dry, illuminated weekend!
Pick-ups, poles and puddings
The cows are tucked up in the barn and I left the farm with the river rising, worrying electricity poles and a broken down pick-up.
The super-breed that is the "abbreviated collie" and I have headed to Dorset for dairy farm fun, Humbug to cheat on BFF Reggie with cousin Jack, and to "feast" upon a 2-year old Christmas pudding found at the back of Mrs "Heston would be proud" Rogers' larder. Mmmm antique. Can you say superfood?
I am thinking perhaps that said pickled delight could be used to shore up the electricity cable crossing our flood meadow of
which a junction of high voltage cable has lost a stay but in no way carries the electricity to Nayland, in particular the pumping station. So no need for concern. Little fills you with greater dread than a mechanic kicking poles at the base to see if they wobble.
A flood would really help, particularly as they cannot get the machinery down to properly fix the problem until the land dries out. Last year, we had the Incident of the Downed Cable Sparking in the Night. We would really not like to repeat that so have removed the bullocks to higher ground to avoid both flooding and to remove them from the ultimate scratching post that is a telegraph stay. Their beautiful bottoms seen here trotting obediently up Water Lane to attack the stay in the Home Field instead.
But even though the pick-up and cattle trailer broke down (luckily on the way back from unloading cattle) and Dad embarked on a lengthy wait for the recovery services, there was good news this week as the cows are now safely installed in the barn and feasting on hay in the yard outside.
They face a winter of pampering at the 5* Hotel de LDF. Give them a wave if you pass on Water Lane. If you walk past at dusk, you can watch the calves "barrel race" round the feeders whilst the mothers look on in despair!
Back in Dairyville, I'm off to continue my culinary tour, play "Lose a Welly Roulette" with the Dorset mud...
..and drink the bulk tank dry of fresh milk - I'm hoping, the ultimate antidote to ancient puddings.
All Creatures Great and Small II: And Those Not Bright and Beautiful
Ah, Autumn, season of mist and mellow fruitfulness. A time when Humbug suffers puddle/mud dilemmas, night-time "stealth rain" periodically knocks out the electricity, as does the slightest tremor of wind, and Water Lane lives up to its name upgrading the farm with an exclusive "moated" look. The very height of Country Living desirability!
The River Stour is on the rise, so we may soon have to take the bullocks off the Marsh and autumn cultivation has been abandoned in favour of spring barley. However, in good news, the squirrel escaped...then returned with a friend, both intent on making their way back into the covered bin. Yes, we saw the jungle gym potential, and took it to the next level. Welcome to the LDF Squirrel Creche. Are you going away from home? Work-Life balance leaving you with little "me-time"? Leave your squirrels with us. A diversification idea I can't wait to share with the bank manager.
I laugh, yet Humphrey is at one with the squirrels. Forget 'Tarzana', a baby squirrel once decided Dad's wellington boot was its mother. Humph was found standing in the middle of the lane plaintively crying for assistance as said squirrel-ette refused to abandon his wellington.
I'm not sure what's scarier, a pet squirrel or the Gollum-esque nutter (appropriate) holding it...my precious.
But in other news, and proving once again I am not "at one" with the animals, following my tweet, Farm Dog was found cavorting in mud, puddles and a lot of onion waste (= stinky dog, avoid at all costs) with BFF from Wiston Mill, Reggie.
So last year it was complete refusal, and this year it's personal. I am not worth crossing the muddy wastes to reach. Given the squirrel died shortly after the photo was taken (most probably out of terror), it is proving difficult to blame him.
I shall instead focus on the lovely autumn colours as the trees begin to turn across the Valley, providing an excellent backdrop to this year's record silage harvest!