On the coming of the lambs

Our first Icelandic lamb came yesterday.  Black with spotting and grey underneath, she has amazing chocolate eyespots and a white topknot and streak.  She is curly all over, legs about eight inches long.  She had a weak, shivering spell for a few hours but now she’s bouncing, even with what looks like some pulled tendons in one leg.  Their legs are so fragile!  Then in the night, two tiny and dark ram lambs from our horned  Mouflon, one of whom did not pull through.  The other one moves like popcorn.  My terrific gardening pants are de Kooninged — covered with vibrant slashes and dabs of blood, water, meconium, soap, vitamin drench, Betadine, slime and milk.  I’m so grateful for Dusan and for the three incredible sheepwomen who’ve been on the phone with me over the last 24 hours.  I’m stunned speechless watching my children being with us in this.  I have two huge scrapes on one arm and no idea how or when they got there.  My forearms have been new and exciting places.    My heart has three new homes, and one of them is now buried under a cairn next to the new apple tree.  All the other creatures and family and home and clients still need tending.  I have a fever of 101, am worn, thrilled, sad, proud.   There are brand new baby white doves in the loft and more lambs still coming.   I am so lucky in this life.

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About Lorca Smetana

White doves. Retreats. Insects. Languages. Making.
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One Response to On the coming of the lambs

  1. Pingback: On the last of the lambs | Cantica

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