Zelda is growing mellow in her autumn, more and more, I see her sitting off from the flock, taking the sun, even on the hottest days. Most of her front teeth are gone, her wool is too think and scraggly for twice-a-year shearing and she has surrendered her leadership of the flock to Rosemary, as sheep do.

They don’t fight for territory, they don’t really fight at all. Zelda just resigned.

I’m wanting to take some photos of Zelda in her older age. Today is my 71st birthday, and I suppose I’m conscious of aging. I’m feeling good and strong.

Some of you might recall when Zelda routinely knocked me and Red down, led some breakouts out of our first fences and gave Red and I some merry chases up and down the road. She doesn’t do stuff like that any more. I have never had another sheep like her.

For a sheep, she was one of the early feminists.

We are off to a sleazy motel and a some theater today and tonight, back in the morning. I’ve still got a couple of  hours here. I love our quick getaways. I even am learning to love sleazy motels.