So the day is starting off as a Michael Bubl-esque swoony, swarmy kinda day. All my boys are asleep and the world is so peaceful that I have to write about it now. We’ll talk anon about what it will eventually become. Silage Day 2014; the Day the Whole Thing fell Apart, Silage Day 2014; The Beginning of the End. (Getting a insight into the farmer’s psyche on this day yet? If I was a veteran farmer’s wife or forsooth a farmer’s daughter this would be a walk in the park I’m sure. As a ‘blow-in’ city girl, I’ve been led to be terrorized by this bi-annual event and this year I’m not even cooking!)

So as it stands, the farmer has gone out to milk the cows, this is my first day to face the breakfast alone with three children. A small step you might say. The breakfast bowls are ready, uniform is out, Tractor Ted DVD ready to break open in case of emergency. It is also the hottest day of the year; keeping an infant fed and hydrated today (of all days) should be interesting.

Nana Cork is en route to mind baby number two who obsesses about tractors and would see all his Christmases come together with the arrival of a barrage of silage trucks and harvesters. In four hours time, this farm will be hive of activity; we’ll be bringing in our winter feed for the ‘girls’. To boot, the grass is amazing, it is dry and abundant.  I hear some activity now, Brosnan number one is off, I’m away. Queue energetic rock song and wish me luck!