I would say that Peg and I bonded completely, shepherdess and docile sheep, one frigid and icy New Year’s morning. An ice storm had come in on New Year’s evening.  Judd was gone on a retreat of solitude and silence, and Sara and I were holding down the fort.  We woke up to at least an inch of ice covering the trees, grass, and road. Despite the frigid weather, chores still had to be done, so I bundled up in my heavy-duty Army jacket and pulled on the black insulated Air Force boots. With a wool hat and warm work gloves, I was prepared, or at least I thought I…

The weeds at the farm  proved to be more than my first ewe and her lamb, Priscilla and Aquila, could clean up by themselves.  This job was going to require more wooly weed-eaters.  So we went back to the wooly weed-eater supplier, Diane, for our next pregnant ewe.  We chose Peg to join our little flock. “Peg” was short for peg-leg, a descriptive name already given to this ewe because of her limp.   Peg exhibited an independent spirit in her young life.  Her shepherdess kept losing this wandering sheep.  Not content with the pasture Diane offered, Peg was continually getting out of the sheep fold. One morning while Diane was eating breakfast…