The Folk Who Live on the Hill (that's us)

some background, why we do what we do

Ah, Spring! I am writing this on the spring equinox, to the cacophony of March winds and rain hammering against the caravan window; by the time it lands in your inbox I’ll be on lambing watch for our first, early lambs of the season.

I mentioned in my last post, Living the Dream, ramblings on revolution…, that this past winter was tough on us. We have been living in a very rudimentary shack attached to a leaky old caravan, without plumbing, at 2000 ft elevation on a wet, exposed and muddy mountain, in the wild, rain-thrashed, southwest of Ireland. It has rained a lot and snowed quite a bit and the cold north-westerly has howled through our bones. Our shack has gaps you can see out of. Gaps the cats let themselves in through. It’s a means to an end; we’ll get there. We are very glad to see spring, even if it is still raining.

We—the husband and I—were sick for the month of January with the most horrendous and longest flu of either of our lives, and I am in no doubt we succumbed due to th…