I have autumn and winter anxiety. The highest leaves of the Turning Tree (as we call it) have begun to seep red and orange.

The Turning Tree is actually a Horse Chestnut that sits at the bottom of our lane, always the first to signal the seasonal shift.

One sniff of autumn air and it triggers an internal agitation in me that scatters the proverbial cats among the proverbial pigeons of my otherwise focused equestrian mind.

There are three gates needing hung, we need to agree on where the haylage bales will be stacked, we must train the three-year-olds to load before they head off to the rest of their lives; backing, production, California.

And there’s agri store bills to clear, I like to have a clean slate before 1 November, paving the way for the rise in winter feed costs.

Should we put down that mud matting at the winter paddock gate? Did you order the worm count kits? Have you turned over the tractor lately? She’s going to need to be fit for the colder months. And is there a spare fencer that works or are they all lying depleted in various field corners?

The plumber is due to come and install some automatic drinkers. I’ve had the diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis and tendonitis in my hands, so bucket carrying is a bit of a worry. Not to mention handling two colts.

So far, they’re calm but we’ll see how that pans out when the hormones kick in. Painful and locking fingers don’t grip a rope too well.

My husband is my comrade in all things horses and is due to have a serious operation soon: wintering horses is tough enough on both of us but now I find myself facing a run of yard work alone, and it’s daunting

The foals will need weaned around Christmas. I’ve six rugs to have washed and re-proofed. Then there’s the worry of our best mare and her lymphangitis.

Standing in is the enemy but bacteria from muddy paddocks is an even greater threat. We’ve built an all-weather paddock and we’re hoping it will provide a much better winter for her.

My husband is my comrade in all things horses and is due to have a serious operation soon: wintering horses is tough enough on both of us but now I find myself facing a run of yard work alone, and it’s daunting.

You begin to question if it is time for less horses? Or even if it’s time to end horse ownership and breeding?

I imagine all equine farmers have those long nights of the soul, but then you get up the hill with your mares and are reminded it’s the best feeling in the world. A farmer’s health has a lot riding on it.

But for now, the apples are almost ripe for picking and some of the older abandoned hedges have some rarely seen Cherry Plums to harvest.

It’s time to make a list and remind myself to breathe. It’s still only August.