Wicked Rural Homestead
Live Simply
Woolly Stalkers Precede Woolly Stockings.
For a few days last week, the changing trees made us feel like we were living in a lemon.
Most of the maples on our property don’t go crimson. Instead they yellow and then rust.
It makes the lighting at dawn and sunset pretty epic.
This week the yellow has deepened to orange. More and more leaves give up the transformation and fall to the ground.
Each day we are one day closer to having a forest full of nude trees. The shady parts of the property get the first sun they have felt in months and the sheep have a buffet of fallen leaves for breakfast.
Lulu is always blatting with her mouth full, which makes it hard to take her request for “MOOORRRE FOOOOOOD” seriously.
I love to sit with the sheep, each of us enjoying the company of the other. There is time to bask in the warm autumn sun, under Fredrik’s ever watchful eye.
There is time to nuzzle.
Pet and love each other.
It is a wonderful way to start the day, until I try to go back inside.
You know that nursery rhyme about where “the lamb was sure to go?” It sound like a cute concept until the lamb is 60 lb, stubborn and knows how to look through windows. Then there is nowhere you CAN go and not be under ovine surveillance. When I do manage to get away (usually by running around the house to the front door and slamming it quickly) it only takes a few minutes before this happens out the side doors.
Not that I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Now if you will excuse me I have to try and sneak out the front. Wish me luck.
Be well!
Wicked Rural Homestead 