Nothing today, but the honey-coloured light and the bird crowing to celebrate morning. The fire in this room has burned down to ash, and if I listen, there is such a silence that even the slight noises of morning don't penetrate it. These past few days, I have been celebrating the gift of work; of being busy, creative, inspired. And today, I am late, and there is silence, and closed windows, and through them, the sheep grazing up the far slope, the early sun behind them, the sheep eating their shadows.
I hope sheep live in the moment, this moment in particular. We have been through the presence of the ram in the field, with his pack of dye on his chest, and all the girls ending up with an orange patch of dye smeared on their backs, and through the pragmatic business of sheep antenatal care - the scan, then the spray-painted 1 or 2, never saw a 3, on their backs - and we have been through the very early days, tiny lambs, tails wagging furiously as they drink, contantly the bleat that means "Mummy, where are you?" and the deeper-voiced answer.
Now we've got to the fun part, where the babies have grown up to be, I suppose, teenagers, and roam their fields in lively packs, always in a hurry, almost jumping on each other to keep up. A moment when it is good to know the present moment, and that only. Perhaps some of them will end up grazing peacefully, calling out "I'm over here, darling" at intervals. Perhaps some of them will end up wondering why they have to wear this pack on their chests, but in every other respect, enjoying their Summer (Autumn) holiday.
How uncomplicated it must be, to love the taste of grass and all the instinctive things - parenthood, childhood, early independence within the boundary of the field - and to know only the present.
I hope sheep live in the moment, this moment in particular. We have been through the presence of the ram in the field, with his pack of dye on his chest, and all the girls ending up with an orange patch of dye smeared on their backs, and through the pragmatic business of sheep antenatal care - the scan, then the spray-painted 1 or 2, never saw a 3, on their backs - and we have been through the very early days, tiny lambs, tails wagging furiously as they drink, contantly the bleat that means "Mummy, where are you?" and the deeper-voiced answer.
Now we've got to the fun part, where the babies have grown up to be, I suppose, teenagers, and roam their fields in lively packs, always in a hurry, almost jumping on each other to keep up. A moment when it is good to know the present moment, and that only. Perhaps some of them will end up grazing peacefully, calling out "I'm over here, darling" at intervals. Perhaps some of them will end up wondering why they have to wear this pack on their chests, but in every other respect, enjoying their Summer (Autumn) holiday.
How uncomplicated it must be, to love the taste of grass and all the instinctive things - parenthood, childhood, early independence within the boundary of the field - and to know only the present.