After a night punctuated by Waylon’s crying–he’s teething and the worst of it seems to be when he wakes up at night–we slept in a bit, lying in bed even as the light began to sift through the cupola windows. The dogs barked a few times, and they reluctantly laid back down when we told them to stop. When I finally got out of bed around 7:30, I looked out the door and said to Edge, “The sheep are up here!”
They stood looking back at me, then discovered a box of apples that had never been fed out. I put on my boots and a vest and walked out into the mild morning, the gray sky a soft welcoming to the day.