There's a cat sleeping on my lap, and the sunshine illuminates the geranium leaves a neon green. I'm just back from a morning lambing, me alone, watching the lamb open her eyes, stumble to life. The chickens were scratching around in the paddock beside the pregnant ewes, and the ducks were scrounging the aisles of the barns for grain.

I stood up with the lamb in my arms. She bleated in protest but was limp and wet. She smelled heady and new. She tried to suckle my nose. I'm dipping her trimmed umbilical cord in iodine, then watching her bond with the ewe.

The chickens scratch behind. White noise of 100 ewes chewing hay.

Then it's the Easter Egg hunt though the barn, seaching the mangers for stray eggs left behind by the chickens.

The good feeling of shovelling and carrying buckets.