The frozen sheep pellets roll under my boot and I’m stepping on marbles. My boot wheels forward and just as it’s about to leave the ground I balance on my other foot and catch myself.
The manure isn’t as cooperative when its frozen. It cackles at the metal rake and I have to use the side of my boot to push it onto the shovel.
But still, the winters pile is covered in the same frost as the trees and sparkles rainbows with the rising sun.
