It's raining (pictures of) woollies!

I fell asleep to the refreshing yet soothing sound of steady rain. Ahhhh. But before the weather turned wet, as I mentioned, it was uncomfortably warm and humid. I would have chalked up my misery to menopause if the sheep hadn't laid around like wool rugs much of the time. Dogs have nothing on sheep when it comes to summer behavior; why don't we call them "sheep days"?

Don't let Bali's innocent, sleepy look above fool you. Minutes before, she had been on the wrong side of the fence with the other naughty lambs, pruning my lilac bushes and probably the basil in my herb barrel. I've put up various barricades that have been keeping them in the pasture, but this week they figured out that they can still wriggle under the fence into the yard where the grass is much greener.

I've now blocked another access; we'll see if that keeps them in.

Yesterday morning I left the sheep in the fold just in case (hopehopehope) it poured and thundered. While Brian finished his part of the chores, I sat in the fold and monkey-picked Bali so I could get her beautiful fleece covered. Like Jet, she quickly forgot about the halter and melted into the delicious attention.  :-)

Such a sad-looking ear; I hope it perks back up!

Now I need to clean up Blaise, my other for-sure keeper lamb.

Since none of Benny's prospects have panned out, we need to do the deed so he can stay, too. I guess it's a good thing he's not polled, or Rick and I would probably be at odds over me keeping a second ram. If only he had been a girl, so Annabelle's genes could continue into the future here!

Then there's Barbados. Tiny little scurs, super conformation and fleece, and full of that special, indefinable "presence." I just can't bring myself to end his potential as a future flock sire, even though he would be of no use to me here, closely related as he is to three of my four breeding ewes/ewe lambs. If I can manage him long enough, I am confident someone will be interested in him as a ram eventually!

That's it for today from . . .