Angry anvil clouds appeared above the ranges all through yesterday, sweeping rain up into the skies and pelting it down again with icy fury. In between were the most heavenly though frosty blue skies. As the day wore on, these glorious intermissions grew longer and we seized the opportunity to round up in the sun (albeit with at least three layers of clothing on).

With the cows yarded, we set off to open the gate to their new paddock. Just like the unfortunate Mr Gumpy, however, we were out in the middle of nowhere when the skies turned black.

As hailstones the size of garden peas stung our faces, Patch leapt from the back of the Bobcat onto my shoulders. Zoe buried her head in her coat shouting “It’s raining ice!” while Alex squirmed in his carrier under my layers of shirts and fleece. Our beanies were still in the tumble dryer after an earlier downpour and the hail was merciless.

But it was fun! Zoe began to laugh and so did I. Farm life is like that. It builds resilience and a sense of, dare I say it, dry humour.

To the victors flow the spoils

Dad always said: “Happy is he who appreciates what he has” and I think it’s very good advice.