It is dusk, and I sit on the back porch watching the lambs.
In human years, they'd be teen-agers. They're old enough to survive without their moms, but they want their moms around.
The ewes graze nearby and ignore the lambs who play games, like head-butt, wheelbarrow, and king of the feed trough.
The lambs are totally comfortable being themselves. They don't care about the bits of dung hanging from their coats after their afternoon naps. They aren't embarrassed when Trick the Cat wraps his legs around their neck. They aren't self-conscious about spots and frizzy hair.
They live in the here and now.
And the here and now is a cooler evening, full bellies, and time to play.