33 acres of grass off the farm are now tucked under plastic, a couple of miles away, pickling in their own juices to make lush silage for next winter to feed hungry cows.
If you ever wondered what happened to the car tyres that aren't turned into chi-chi playthings, the answer is that farms everywhere can never have enough of them to hold down the enormous sheets of plastic that keep the air out of the silage clamp.
I wear gloves to load the telehandler grab with the tyres (you can see a load at the far left of the picture), eyes out for rats curled among the sun warmed rubber. Last year I found toads, but no joy today. I do get nicely splashed with the ancient rain water and mud that slops inside the tyres; a free face pack.
Week after next, if the weather does as it's told, there will be much ado about haymaking.