Notes From The Pasture, Afternoon Grazing

I’m sitting on the grass in the pasture, which, of course, isn’t grass but a mix of green grasses and plants some with yellow and purple flowers. It isn’t wet, but plump beneath my butt and outstretched legs.  I lean back, my hands propped on the ground and I feel them tingle. I wonder if they’re getting numb or if I’m feeling the vibration of the earth.

The sheep are eating noisily around me.  Gobbling up the fresh grass without taking a breath.

Merricat sniffs my boot, then goes back to grazing.  She’s not eating grass indiscriminately as I first thought. She eats quickly but is picky.  She pulls up a dandelion but passes over the purple-flowered Ground Ivy.

The sheep move in a cluster.

Suddenly they stop eating as if they’re frightened by something.  They pick up their heads and run one after the other ten feet or so where they stop, drop their heads, and begin grazing again.

I could easily lie back and fall asleep.