We are sheepless. Not a Sean Connery version of sleepless, but no sheep. Deliberately, as in, they have headed off to pastures new. The latest flock graced us for six months, ensuring the grass was kept down at the end of last autumn and putting important nutrients back to the soil with their poop.
But their time had come; seasons come, seasons go, and it was the time for them to head on. So no more counting sheep each day. Nighttime counting is really hard due to having to count eyes (reflecting spooky looks back from the light of a head torch), I really don’t recommend counting your sheep at night. I preferred daytime checks. And even then, they were renown for making sure one was always hidden during the daily count. Their cute faces who learned to come to the whistle, their different personalities, their propensity to find any slight gap in fences and abscond. The hay field now will rest, the grass is starting to come to life and it will soon be putting its energy into its gorgeous grass.
And while the sheep have gone, I still have multiple fleeces from previous years to sort, wash, and prep. But in the meantime, the veg patch seeds are being planted.
Birchwood Croft, Inverness-shire 