I don't know how much, as we don't have a rain gauge, but everything appears fairly saturated, even the ground under the big firs that stays dry when it only sprinkles. Hoping for more, I pulled Bella's coat off before turning the sheep out this morning. Here she is, looking like a big, dirty marshmallow:
The regular sheep "pasture" has a lot of trees, so I put them out in a small area we fenced off this summer. Here they would get full exposure to any more rain that fell AND get a bit of nice grass that's grown up. The end of the lambs' "pocket pasture" is visible beyond the girls; I figured when I turned the lambs out they could all get acquainted nose to nose without anyone getting bashed.
When I went out later to see how they were faring, THIS is what I found:
The girls had forced their way into the lambs' area, thoroughly trashing the wet ground with their cumulative 400 lbs. and 16 sharp hooves. And although things look calm enough in that photo, everyone was breathing pretty hard. Braveheart and Brava tried to run to me, but Valentine wouldn't let Brava by without a beating. I lifted Braveheart over the fence. After catching Brava and lifting her over (a little harder, both because she was more panicked and heavier), I put the lambs back into the safety of their quarantine pen. The big, fat meanies (yes, that includes YOU, Valentine!) were moved back into their grassy area and out of the mess they had made. The shepherd is NOT happy....
That's it for now at . . .