The sun is setting in the canyon now. Basalt rubble is licked gold in the late light and the green fuzz of spring turns electric in the sweet, dark face of dusk. We sit on the hood of our truck at the edge of a gravel road and watch as the ewes mutter at the lambs and shuffle hungrily from noxious weed patch to noxious weed patch under the omniscient gazes of five Great Pyrenees.
It is a wonderful, warm night with him by my side. I feel the desert wind in my hair, gentle for the first time in weeks. I squint at the sun.
I feel an itchy tickle on my neck and reach up with a suntanned hand to check if it’s a tick. It’s not. I lean back again on both of my palms, elbows locked against the small weight of my upper body, and I watch the shepherd on his horse in the distance, working in slow sweeps with the help of his herding dogs, leaving no lamb to fend for itself in this wild, inhospitable country.
All too soon, four hundred sheep have moved across the road and up the face of the mesa towards the sheep wagon for night, to sleep beneath a quilt of stars, lulled into dreams by a jittering mobile of ancient light. I am not ready for sleep. I am restless. I feel the press of time rushing the infinite nature of my soul. I feel the swing of the planet pulling on my skin and bones.
I need my own shepherd to tell me, “That’s enough for today. Rest now. Tomorrow will come and then we shall see what we shall see.“
yeah. you and me *both.
beautiful story….perfect photos….i adore every visit, here, when i drop in to see what you are up to….
xx
This touched me. We have that Shepherd, if only we heed His voice. xo E
Love this essay! It brought back a memory of when I drove near the town of Lovell, Wyoming a couple of years ago. I, too, pulled over to watch the Basque and his dogs doing their thing with the hundreds of sheep. I was so in awe how everything moved so gracefully and easy. I knew how lucky I was to witness a scene that is becoming less common now; still riding horseback, still living in a wagon. Keeping the tradition.
Outstanding images and the message in the story. Thank you!
One day at a time…success occurs in the now…thank you for the beauty…
Loved catching up. I adore living here in Alaska, every wild little bit of it. That being said, I miss my Idaho and Wyoming days. I miss the smell of sage brush on warm days in the high desert, I miss thunder storms and I really miss hearing elk bugle. Your blog is my go to on homesick days. Thank you so much. Anytime you pass through S.E. Alaska give me a holler.