This lambing season I am making a real effort to document the feeling of lambing-not so much the birth process, but the quiet times I spend with the sheep and the lambs. The light is so wonderful and creates rich, but soft images. There is a peace in it, even after a death, the light is warm and comforting.
But there was no death this season, no trauma. The girls did it all without me, and I am grateful for their work. To be honest, this past couple weeks has hit me with a bit of mild depression-the spring smells, sounds and auras simply are taking me back to a year ago when my mother died. i won't hide it. I'm okay, but having a smooth lambing week was such a gift, and I'm happy for the sheep too. It is the first lambing that I didn't even get my hands bloody.
I put Betty in last night and figured she would lamb and she did. Her twins were clean and dry when I did feedings. She is a pro, they all are. Betty had our final twins, both healthy girls. At first I thought they were both white but was delighted to see the pinto girl. What a beauty she is.
I hope to make a book someday akin to Nell Dorr's book, "Mother and Child" from eons ago. That book's beauty and sanctity affected me deeply even as a little girl-how it captured the seasons of both nature and family-old and young. So I'm taking lots of images, hoping to capture this life amongst a barn and sheep, and light.
