Last week's storms and torrential wet weather was a misery for most in the central belt and the south-west of Scotland, but spare a thought for farmers who had to work in it.

Looking at the waterlogged fields, I often wonder how moles cope in their water-filled tunnels – I suppose it's at times like this they are grateful for their waterproof moleskins!

Farmers also had to don their waterproofs to feed any livestock out of doors, while shepherds had to face the blast on their exposed, high hills to check the rams were okay and hadn't strayed from their ewes.

This is the mating season, or tup time as we call it, when it is vitally important rams stay with their ewes and get on with their bout of annual passion.

Tup time is to a shepherd what seed time is to an arable farmer, as this is when next year's lamb crop is sown. To avoid barren ewes it is vitally important to check rams are doing their business.

Those with cattle wintering out of doors also have to feed and check them every day. On a morning like last Tuesday they are probably best left standing with their backs to the storm in whatever shelter they have found. Once the worst of it has abated they are more willing to come forward for their feed.

While well-fed cattle with access to shelter cope well with windy, wet weather, I can tell you from experience it's not a pleasant job for the cattleman to feed cattle outside in such inclement conditions!

I also well remember all the damage that could be done to the farmhouse and buildings during a stormy, wet night – particularly on my high-lying, exposed hill farm. I used to lie awake in bed listening to the storm roar and all the accompanying rattling and banging noises outside, wondering what carnage would greet me in the morning.

Pieces of broken chimney pots and slates sometimes lay scattered round the farmhouse and buildings, sections of guttering might be missing from the sheds, while fallen trees would have to be removed from fences and roads. It all took time and money to clear up and repair.

As my farm buildings lay on a hillside at the end of a long, steep, un-tarred road, my main worry was that my various drainage systems would block and fail to work properly.

If the weather forecast was for heavy rain I would put on my waterproofs and arm myself with a shovel.

Then I did a grand tour of all the "run-offs", wooden boards set into the road at angles that diverted water off the road above the farm buildings, so it would not inundate the drains in and around the farmyard.

Any silt or gravel that had built up against those boards had to be scraped away.

Next task was to check all the grates above the drains were clear of leaves and straw as failure to do so would have resulted in wet straw-bedded cattle courts and the farmyard flooding. That would have left the cattle standing all night in sodden bedding and me with the hassle of mucking out those sheds the next day and bedding them with more expensive, dry straw.

The farm yard was more problematic when it flooded as the silt left behind was incredibly difficult to sweep up cleanly.

My main fear was that the run-offs on the farm road below the buildings would fail and flood water would scour out tons of hardcore, leaving the road impassable to cars.

To avoid that, I then had to check them and also the mouths of the drains that took the water under the road were not blocked by fallen branches and big wads of leaves.

That simple routine took little more than half-an-hour and gave me peace of mind to sit by a roaring fire that evening as the storm raged.

Nature's way in fashion is exactly opposite to mankind. In the summer she wears her heaviest clothing, while in winter she goes naked.

Now that last week's storms have blown away the last of the leaves, the trees must stand shivering until spring returns – as it surely will.