“I’m sorry I’m late!  There were sheep on the road!”

I’ve used this excuse a few times while trying to get to city appointments on time and it always manages to make me and the person (or professional) waiting for me laugh.  Though this state of mine is being shook awake by an huge population influx at the moment, groaning with growing pains, shuddering beneath the thundering speed-enhancement that comes with multitudes of transplanted Californians…I like to think the heart of our rural spaces remains unchanged.

On the way to the post office yesterday, the shepherds were moving sheep across the river and up the road.  It’s a thrill to see them working with their dogs and horses at this age old business of flock tending.  I love the sight of the woolies moving as one across the sage, grabbing rogue bites of weeds and plant matter as they move, tramping the road flat, murmuring and bleating as they flow into empty space.  They’re down from the high country now which means winter is on the way and I’ll testify to the fact.  Idaho summer begins and ends with the yellow of balsam root and sunflowers as well as the bleat of sheep on the range.