What you see between the lens and the sheep is my breath, cloudy and rising in the cold air as the picture is snapped. Pneuma, as the Greeks would say it, or ruach as the Hebrews might.

Morning feeding.

A light dusting of snow before dawn today.

The lamb count is now seventeen. The newest addition was born to a little black ewe who was intended to be part of the boys' 4-H project until the summer got away from us last year. I was a little suprised, because today's weather was actually pleasant. Temperatures got high enough to use the hose down the hill to the barn rather than hand-carrying milk jugs full of water to the lambing pens. Tonight we dip back down below freezing and stay there until Saturday. More births predicted.

Gideon Strauss is linking to more lists of things people love reminding me of my earlier stated intentions to do the same. In a way, this weblog is an ongoing report on the things, people and places I love, but nonetheless it is far from complete. I turn fifty this summer and perhaps it is a good time to reflect and see what it is that is still important at the half-century mark. Sounds like a good weekend project.

No new lambs today. The count is currently sixteen; three sets of twins and ten singles. We have had a break in the weather, with temperatures above freezing for the first time in a week. The mountain tops are still white, but our fields are no longer snow covered. The barnyard is muddy again, a foretaste of spring days that are still a long way off. Since we have more lambs to come, inevitably we have more bad weather ahead of us. On Saturday morning I brought a bouquet of flowers home with the groceries for Susan. Their fragrance made winter seem to vanish for a moment. Then the breeze cut through the gap at the bottom of the door . . . Here is another one of Jonathan Chaves' translations that captures those days on the cusp of the season, as winter becomes spring:

After Snow --- Impromptu

Dawn breaks, snow patches lie on the slopes:
far away, they seem like flocks of sheep
or maybe geese.
Remember--plodding through spring mud
to see the budding willows,
in camel-hair robe and sable hat
crossing the icy river.

Yu Chi

New twins.

The predicted big snow turned out to be two inches of powder with high winds. The boys spent yesterday afternoon sledding. By this afternoon the sun and high winds had stripped the east facing slopes of all but a dusting. Feeding at sunset, I watched the moon rise over skyline drive. There was a new lamb in the barn, and twins born earlier that needed a trip up to the house for some emergency care. By the time all chores were done, the sky was dark and Orion was just peeking over Skyline Drive.

Lambing pens at night.

Snow arrives, the mountain vanishes.

Storm heading our way.

Another backdated post today. The first part of Friday evening flew by preparing for the winter storm predicted to start Saturday. Propane for the grill, gas for generators, extra feed down to the barn, top off the pantry; all the usual things one does when you are at the end of the power lines and bad weather is on the way. We usually get by without problems, but there have been occasions . . .

After the most urgent chores were done, Susan and I let the boys hide out at the in-laws before the expected day of shovelling and sheep chores. We took advantage to run up to Winchester for a late dinner out at Passage to India before we get snowed in for the weekend. Tomorrow, snow pictures.

A little dinner.

Settling down for the evening.

Yes, they do grow their own sweaters, but no, not quite like this. She was getting chilled in the sub-zero weather, but we didn't want to take her from her mother. Then Susan dug out an old dog sweater. . . I had my doubts, but what can I say? It worked.

More of the barn at evening bed check.

During lambing time we go down and check for new arrivals before heading off to bed. Here is part of the flock wondering what the disturbance is at 11:00 p.m..

Mother and son.

Some of our sheep are a little more colorful than others. Here is a brand new Harlequin lamb.

We are freezing here on our hillside. Oh, the house is warm enough, but outside wind chills are driving eight degree temperatures into the sub-zero range. If any of you are checking in from overseas, the pre-wind chill temperature is minus 13 degrees Celsius. I'm sticking with Fahrenheit. Eight degrees is cold enough. I have trouble wrapping my mind around minus 13 even on the Celsius scale. The sheep are packed into the barn out of the wind, but the temperature still drops enough to put an inch of ice on the water buckets by morning. With one or two lambs a day coming now we cross our fingers and hope they make it through the weather. Tomorrow, snow.

Gentlemen at breakfast