Saturday we are going over to Florence’s house to paint the kitchen. We both love it pretty much the way it is, but it does need some freshening up. Maria has hinted that I might go outside and mow the lawn to keep out of her and not make a mess by stumbling over things. I’ll try and help out but I can’t wait to mow the lawn and will probably get tossed. Another step towards moving into this magical place.
Maria named her Dotty. Every morning now, Red goes up the hill and looks for her. On Monday, he veered away from the flock to go up the hill, and I let him, watched him to see what was up. Rose taught me to listen to border collies. One of the oldest of the old sheep, No. 170 – that was her number – has been struggling to keep up with even the older flock. She has gotten lost, struggled to get up, been left behind.
She was actually hiding behind Red so she wouldn’t have to run with the others. I was beginning to see she was heading for trouble. Either she’d fall down up the hill and hurt herself or wander off, even get picked off by a coyote. She loves people – was eating out of Maria’s hand – but she seemed a bit confused, dotty, thought Maria. Thus her name. So we adopted her this morning, brought her into the barn with Maria’s wool sheep, and we’ll keep her. She was not able to fend for herself and Red kept finding her struggling through the brush and falling behind. So she is ours now, Dotty. We put a halter on her and Red escorted her away from the other sheep, and through the barn.
Below, Red escorts her the rest of the way to her new home in the pole barn. She likes Simon.
I love Florence’s kitchen wall. We are painting it tomorrow.
I’ve seeing Rocky almost daily for nearly two years. I saw him for nearly a year before Maria met him, as it was not our home and I was just taking photos. I often wonder what it is he sees. I am certain he is totally blind. He is constantly banging into trees and doorways, although he moves slowly and pulls away quickly. He often looks at me, tilting his head and I think he does see shadow. He is very aware of Red, and puts his nose down when he is near Red to locate him.
Rocky uses his nose like a walking stick, feeling his way through smells, sounds and also by its sensitivity. He often has cuts or bruises. I sense he sees everything, even as he sees nothing. When he looks at me in this way, I feel as if I have bared my soul.
