Look what I found in the barn yesterday morning!  My favorite ewe gave birth to this healthy  tiny ewe lamb not long after daybreak.  She’s Peep’s first lamb — and don’t blame me for the name.  Peep and her mama, Bo, were part of a package deal on ewes, and they actually knew their names.
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Tiny, the bottle lamb, is grown up now and having hair issues.  Actually, she has a lot more issues than just her bad haircut, but that’s a story for another day. A year ago, Tiny was a fat, spoiled lamb.  Most days she appeared neatly groomed, except for the bits of leaves and mud spots
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A year ago today, Tiny Bottle Lamb weighed about 7 pounds. She still slept indoors in the playpen and followed me around outdoors like a puppy. She still sucked fingers when she was hungry. She hadn’t yet learned how to cross a creek, even a very little one.

When the winter wind chases me indoors, and the sky outside the window remains gray and gloomy, I need to daydream.  Memories of lambs frolicking  under sunny skies won’t stop today’s shivers, but at least I can smile through them.   So today I’ll think about my farmcollie Freckles and his devoted caretaking, and I’ll think
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When the snow covers the ground in a deep blanket of white, my world narrows.   The occasional traffic on our narrow gravel road dwindles to none.  An entire day passes without a single set of wheel tracks disturbing the snow. I could be snowbound here, trapped by the snow and the icy layer of frozen
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Lamb Chops and the rest of the herd are celebrating with a day of grazing out in the orchard . . . as soon as I take them out to the orchard.     Ingrid, the American Buff goose,  and her snowy white Embden companions heard the news that I’m making a special trip today,
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Tucked into the edge of the woods on our farm is the neglected, overgrown remains of an old farmhouse.  There’s not a lot left of it, some foundation stones, rusting roof tin, bricks strewn here and there — and some hardy survivors in what probably were well-tended flower beds in the yard.      I suspect this
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They’re hunting rabbits.  Actually, it’s just Dinah, the farmcollie, hunting rabbits.  Tiny Lamb’s following close because that’s just what she does.  She follows Dinah everywhere unless one of the other dogs distracts her and takes over lamb-sitting duty. Dinah’s our best small pest hunter.  She particular excels at hunting down moles, mice, voles, and rabbits
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Here’s what a spoiled rotten house lamb wears for playtime in the barnyard on a cold morning.  Tiny likes the red flannel ‘coat’ with its black trim and faux fleece lining.   It has velcro closures at the chest and belly, and the two sleeves fit her front legs perfectly.  Tiny likes the chickens’ cracked corn, too. 
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The roses began to leaf out on the north side of the house, and the wild ones in the woods did the same.  Daylilies and irises sent forth new shoots.  The chickens rejoiced . . . and ate the shoots.  The air felt warm.   It felt like spring.  And then came the snow, as predicted,
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