After we fed, watered and moved the pigs I walked away from the woods towards the hair sheep. As usual they lazed under their grove of maple and sweetgum trees. I looked them over and everyone seemed normal, so I turned and crossed west through the damp fescue towards the cisterns.
No sheep were grazing near the cisterns so I headed up to the cedar grove where the wool sheep usually sleep the middle of the day away. A young persimmon tree hung heavy with its sweet orange fruit and stopped me to eat. A light mist drifted to the ground while I ruminated on a persimmon and that particular moment in time.
The farm was still. Ready for longer nights and a slower pace. I thought maybe I should take nature's lead and curl up under a tree. Instead I ate a couple more persimmons (I'm not the only creature on the farm enjoying these morsels of fall as I've seen the dairy cows slurping them off the pasture and the pigs gobble them up when they get the chance) and kept walking towards the wool sheep. A few cheviots jumped up when I approached, but a raised head was the most I got from the rest of the flock, except for one cotswold cross lamb who made me laugh when she shot out from under the old corn crib when I passed by. She'd gotten herself covered in burrs. Not just the seed, but the whole plant. Seedhead, leaf, vine and all. She looked like she was in costume for "Midsummer Night's Dream."
After a few minutes of jockeying a small group of sheep back and forth against the fence, I caught the thespian lamb and took her costume off her. She ran away happily to her cedar grove and I walked towards the house to do my book keeping (not as happily).
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