There is a strange disconnect between the world I see around me on the farm and the calendar. Outside the grass is still growing, most of the trees still have all their leaves, there are raspberries on raspberry canes and roses around my window. Yet, at the end of this week, the farm closes for winter. November is only a few days away and yet I frequently see our volunteers out and about in short sleeved T-shirts.
Closing the farm to the public always creates a mixture of feelings: the end of another year; the beginning of the big tidy-up; a time to look at what we do and why/how we do it; time for a break. Of course, the last of these really only applies to me - as the majority of my work revolves around the shop - serving, cooking and stocking up. The rest of the farm, like all live stock farms, carries on as before - the pigs still need feeding, Gigi and Grace (our pet goats) still need daily cuddles and at some stage presumably the weather will deteriorate and the animals will have to be moved under cover to avoid the worst of the winter.
But today - no need to think of the winter gloom. The first visitors of the day are arriving. I better head to the shop and open up.
