In her first day, the lamb learns how to nurse, tests her jump moves and watches her mom for signs of danger. She mouths hay and dunks her nose in the water. In the evening, she snuggles up to her sister for a nap.
This is our 11th lambing season, and I still find myself drawn to the barn and filled with a sense of wonder.
For the first time this year, we have a lamb with a distinguished sock.
Did it come from his paternal side? Or was there some gene on his maternal side, slumbering for generations and just now showing itself?
Or did he know that he'd enter this world on a Monday when mismatched socks sometimes happen?
I think I'll call him Monday.