It has been raining and raining and raining here. My side yard is a pop up duck pond (with a mallard pair paddling around) and it's hard to recall the gorgeous, sunny days we just enjoyed. But .... last week we went back up to Stone Barns to see if there were any lambs yet. A week earlier the farmer said he thought around the 10th.
See that tractor path winding up the green meadow? The sheep were way up there. Mom's caregiver, Larisa and I decided to go for it. We pushed and pulled the wheelchair up the path to the sheep on the hilltop. That was something - ruts, stones, the hill. It took a long time. Seriously, a chuckle and a fierce work-out.
But, alas, no lambs. See Stella over there on the right? She decided not to bother about us, panting and weary. Not much of a threat to her girls resting in the shade.
Back down the hill, there was plenty to see and admire all around.
The beekeepers were having a training session.
Piglets snuffling around.
I'm partial to the authentic, working parts of the farm.
The late afternoon sun was warm and intense.
Up by the restored barns, shop and restaurant, everything is manicured and pretty.
The red bud. My favorite tree. Transitioning from spring flower to summer leaves.
After the hill, my mom and I looked back from the bottom of the tractor path. That bumpy climb was as hard on her, white knuckle holding on, as it was on us. She said the place reminded her of where we grew up in the country outside Saint Louis. We chatted about that for a few minutes - some memories - both sweet and sorrowful. It made me so sad that she couldn't hear the red-winged blackbirds, the cows mooing or the tractor puttering in the distance, the sounds that made me feel like a carefree kid, nostalgic and happy. But when she took my hand to say thank you, I was really grateful that we took the chance and climbed that raggedy hill after all.
Didn't really matter what was up there at the end of that twisting rocky path.
No doubt, one of these days there will be baby lambs too.