At least once a week I have a ‘I LOVE you, minivan!’ moment. It usually comes with a sigh of relief, after having been able to cram something big, bulky, or unlikely within its generous confines. Last week, that moment came on the heels of tucking in our four newly-weaned ewe lambs into a bed of straw nestled in the back of our van. It was exhilarating. It was hilarious. It was a bit nerve-wracking, as we embarked on our journey as sheep farmers. Because it really is official now, I think. We. Are. Farmers.
We expected the long drive home to be filled with anxious sheep baaing. We expected them to be scared, confused, missing their moms, and we braced ourselves for a stressful night. But they were perfectly silent for the entire ride, except for the single “Maaaaaaaaaaa” that was perfectly timed during a phone call to spread the good news. I daresay they like us and may even be excited to be on a new adventure!
The cold, drizzly day turned into a cold, drizzly evening as we worked in the bone-chilling rain to set up the portable electric fence and carry each lamb in a giant bear-hug to their new temporary pasture. They now happily live in the fenced area formerly known as the Middle Garden, where they spend their days munching contentedly on the various greens sprung up in two years of neglect. We spent all weekend fawning over them – watching from the windows of the house, feeding them decadent grain, cornering them in the garden for some meet-and-greet cuddle time. And we decided on their names, which I shall reveal on Tuesday.