Lambing Season is well underway, here in the Ribble Valley. When traveling along the many country lanes that crisscross this little corner of the world, the sight of newborn baby lambs prancing and grazing upon our lush green meadows is very much in evidence and quite hard to miss. I have spent the past two days attempting to capture on film this very glorious sight. We will see if I have been successful when the fruits of my labor return from the processing lab. During this past holy week of Easter, it was difficult not to be reminded of the symbolism of the Lamb of God while gazing out across the neighboring pastures.
While returning from an errand in Warrington this afternoon, Sarah and I spied a sign outside a small roadside store, which read, “Come And See Our Newborn Lambs.” How could we refuse such an invitation? The store was closed, but the owners were home in their farmhouse next door. Before you could finish humming the notes to Mary Had A Little Lamb, my better half was stroking the soft curly fur of one three-day old lamb, and I was feeding another one milk from a bottle. It gets even better. Both of these little critters were each wearing wool sweaters, fashioned out of the sleeves of an old human-sized sweater. All the while, a month-old lamb (sans sweater) was lying nearby chewing on some blades of grass and patiently waiting for us to turn our attention towards her. Where in Beautiful Downtown Burbank could someone have this kind of experience? Someone please let me know.