I can smell our blooming Magnolia tree the way the sheep must be able to smell the grass coming up. As I threw the ball for Fate and Zinnia yesterday evening in the south pasture, the sheep were at the gate, a symphony of demanding baas. When I ignored them, they banged on the gate like prisoners in an old movie.
It will be a while before the grass is tall enough for them to graze.
Summer came to the farm yesterday without the shade of full-grown leaves. The sheep took to the pole barn for most of the day, and the hens found shade in the old lilacs and in the hole in the apple tree. Minnie moved with the sun sleeping in the shade of the porch posts.
Only the donkeys seemed not to mind the heat. They rolled on the hard dusty ground where the grass doesn’t grow and lounged in the sun.