As I lie in bed, I am aware of the quiet.
It's that time of year when the windows are open, but the summer chorus of crickets, insects, bullfrogs and whirling fans has yet to arrive.
A lamb bleats, and a stretch of silence follows. Another bleat.
The ewes are not responding. They are bedded down for the night, tired after a day of grazing and nursing lambs. Most lambs nestle beside their mothers. But a few lambs aren't ready to settle in just yet.
They bleat their good-nights.
I fall asleep to "Good-night Kit. Good-night Kat. Good-night Milky Way."