…this theme keeps finding my camera, wherever I look. Invited to the Ayrshire Ploughing Association’s ploughing competition, by the friend of a relative I was visiting, I witnessed horses actually ploughing a field and a computerised cabin of a tractor in action, trying to do the same thing.
As far as I could gather four pegs define the width and the length of the strip to have its soil turned, (you will have to excuse me farmers, I don’t have the jargon or language that grows from this specialist work). Then about ten furrows are ploughed, as straight as possible of course, at one end of the strip or rectangle of land. After completing these the ploughman has then to go to the other end of 
the strip and work his way back with straight even furrows until they match perfectly those at the starting end. (I have tilted the photos deliberately as this would be the ploughman’s view, with one wheel in the furrow).
It looked as if the horses had it a bit easier but it was obvious from the vintage tractors that they were in a class of their own and to be admired as still working at what I imagine was one of the jobs they were bred for.
Then, there they were, standing just right for me to race away to get a shot under the leaden skies of Scotland. As it turned out I was in the warmest place in the UK for some reason? I spent February avoiding sunburn in 40-50 degree temperatures while it snowed in southern England. I had another great birthday break exploring the lowland quarries, farms, stately homes and castles of Scotland on the west coast border just below Glasgow, thanks to my dear cousins and their friends and four Clydesdale horses.
dwk
......over the edge 