Muck?

Muck? Who ever it was that said ' Where there's muck there's brass' must have been talking through his hat, because I've been shovelling the stuff for years and I'm yet to see any. Join me for just one typical morning on the smallholding, as yours truly goes up to his neck in it.

Every morning through out the winter, I have to sort this little lot out. I'm not a horsey person by any means, I just look after my long distance daughters retired horses. Day after day through out the winter months, I have to clean out three stables and cart the muck through the cloying mud to the muck heap. You should see the size of the heap that I'm building! :shock:  Think of the film 'The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain' and that could very well be me.
My mission isn't a mission impossible, its one thats very possible and unfortunately, its one that I have no option but to accept.
I have to turn this;

and this.

and this.

into this.

This is in addition to leading the horses in and out at the start and the finish of the day, plus wheel barrowing haylage up the field for the day and stocking the haybars at night. I have to be on site as day breaks and as night falls. I feel really tied to the place and as much as I love the winter season I find myself thinking  " roll on spring and summer"
Yesterday, oh joy oh joy, I  even managed to find the time to muck out my own chickens.