It Can Take You Back
I find myself starting to enjoy this weird feeling of lambing season. It feels like finals week did in college, or how I feel at the end of a long run. It's ethereal. I'm hyper focused and super tired at the same time. In a way, the way a primate is supposed to fee, I suppose. Our ancestors hunted and gathered for food, and if they let themselves drift away from awareness of the wilderness - it would take them. A saber toothed tiger would pounce on them. A snake would lower from a hanging branch and bite. Soon as the Wild catches you not paying attention, it takes you back. That's how Lambing Season feels, five years into doing it. Like as soon as I let myself sleep in, not go out on a cold night, not pay constant attention - that's when Nature will swoop in and take those babes back. It's my job to not sleep on the job, literally and figuratively.
I have been playing more fiddle these days. A friend is coming to the farm to take lessons and teaching him is keeping me on my toes. He's got a knack for that devil stick, and I am trying to up my own fiddle game by learning from new tunes and fixing the old ones. My playing grew stagnant and lazy. Now I am working on new songs for the first time in a long time. It's a good thing to carry out into the sheep field while I watch the ewes chew cud and tell each other secrets.
I hope you are all having luck with your own lambing, kidding, calving, foaling, hatching, farrowing and kindling out there. Anyone else have baby stories to keep this farm girl company while she plays for a pony on a hill?