Sunday Morning
Can’t tell you how good it is to hear the cock crowing outside the window right now. I forgot to shut the chickens in their coop last night before we went out to dinner. I guess the foxes were off celebrating their May 8th weekend.
We’ve had two, three-day weekends in a row: this weekend, the celebration centers around May 8th which is the official date for the end of World War II in France.
Reluctantly, at six this morning, I left my husband sleeping soundly in our cozy new, California King, McClosky’s mattress to go check the sheep. We had a soaking rain last night, so the air was wispy with light fog and heavy with humidity. Thousands of birds were singing. I saw the black cat stalking around a tree. The sheep were perfectly content, making their grazing rounds. No one appeared to be in any stage of labor.
It’s difficult to get out of a cozy bed early on a Sunday morning. But once I get outside, I’m so happy. All I hear is nature: the chickens, the birds, the ducks, the dogs, the sheep. The omnipresent gasoline-powered engine is gone, and for a few brief hours I’m really in paradise.
If the sheep are up and walking/grazing when I go to check on them I don’t have to enter the pasture. It’s pretty obvious then that no one is giving birth. But if any of them are lying down, I am obliged to trudge back through the tall, damp grass to see if anyone is trying to push out a lamb.
On two separate occasions yesterday, I saw a sheep stretched out as if she was in labor. In fact, this sheep was so stretched out, I didn’t think she was living. Sheep usually lay with their legs curled under their bodies. Both times I witnessed this sight, the sheep were naturally, in the farthest corner of the pasture so I had to slosh out a good distance to see what was going on. One time, I was dressed in my town clothes.
Amazingly the sheep that seemed to be dead or in labor was Beau, the buck! I would find him stretched out next to his favorite concubine, Blanche. The two of them are always together now. I should just spray paint him and the other sheep that had the dead lamb. Then, if they’re seen prone on the ground, I don’t have to go check their behinds.
posted by Libby @ 7:26 AM
4 Comments:
I can't tell you how much I appreciate your blog, and how much it raises my spirits to come here and read about your latest adventures. I've had a rough week, what with the intestinal bug, and was glad to read that you've recovered. Your story about the lamb was sad, but so close to home. The other night my son was going to take a shower and at the last moment, decided to take a bike ride to tire himself out. I didn't want him to go, but he's a strapping 6 foot 17 year old who pooh poohs any concerns about his safety. Before he left, I told him to be safe, to pay extra attention because it was dark out, and to take care. For the next twenty minutes I was on tenterhooks, but when the door opened and he clunked in I relaxed. It lasted about two minutes. He called me downstairs, and told me that while he remembered my admonition, unfortunately, the driver of the car that hit him wasn't being as careful. His leg was swollen double, he couldn't move his foot, and his wrist was stiff and bloody. He was more concerned about the driver - a young girl, and her mother who was in the passenger seat. The mother wanted to take him directly to hospital, but he insisted that he be brought home, and she had gone back to get her daughter who was walking the bike back to our place. It was an accident, and he's going to be okay - no broken bones, but I'll never again ignore my intuition and neither should you. P.S. my grandmother was reputed to be psychic, and my mother always said she saw ghosts. While I've never had those types of experiences, my sisters and I do have strong intuitive senses, so it appears to run in families.
I'm so glad that you seem to have fully recovered, and good luck with the Mayor.
WhatTheH,
Glad to hear that everyone is doing fine. It's very stressful having children and loving them so much. When my son was young, I told him that he needed to be careful when crossing the street in San Francisco, because if anything ever happened to him, I'd have to kill myself. He was probably about nine-years-old. He was silent a few long seconds then replied, "Boy! You must really love me!"
You mentioned "ghosts" so I'll probably have to tell you my big family ghost story in the next few weeks!
All the best!
I've just finished waiting on my beloved son hand and foot (it won't last) and came back to see if there was another posting (I'm experiencing a major crisis because my 19 year old daughter is continuing to ignore me and her brother, which is another story entirely).
You are so right, we love them so darned much that sometimes it's difficult to breathe because of the fear .... the abject fear that they will do exactly what we did and will experience the same situations that we did. In my case, the fear is intense, because I tend to attract the worst situations impossible. I must have been Atilla the Hun in my last life cause I'm surely atoning for it in this one.
I will await the "ghost" story with anticipation and curiousity, but I'm also awaiting an update on les troupes - lambing and all. It's so refreshing to read your stuff. Thanks again.
WhatTheH,
Children are KARMA in the flesh.
I discovered that all the personality traits that I liked in my son, came from his father; and all the ones I despised, he inheirited from me.
Here's my advice regarding your daughter and any one else you are having a conflict with: "Everyone is a mirror image of yourself; your own thinking coming back at you." Byron Katie, from her book LOVING WHAT IS.
In other words, whatever the conflict you're having with your daughter, you're also experiencing that as a personal internal struggle.
If you can get your hands on Katie's book you might find it to be a life saver.
Big Hugs,
Libby
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