And then there were three

In 2022, Reginald, my ram lamb born to my now dead and always adored ewe, Elizabeth Jane, was given the coveted title of Ram Lamb of the Year. By me.

- Michele Hewitson

He was adorned with a red ribbon and presented with a bouquet of carrot ends and a bendy parsnip. Elizabeth Jane pinched the carrot ends.

Now Reggie, the last of Miles the sheep farmer's flock, has gone. I always regarded Miles's flock as my flock, too. I would check them every day when they were at Lush Places.

No longer. The paddocks are now empty. I miss the cacophony of the sheep calling to me every time I went outside.

One morning not long ago, June, our wonderful rural postie, pulled up in her decrepit van and tooted her horn, as she usually does. I was in Orchard Tree Paddock talking to the sheep who were talking back to me. June rolled down her window and said, "They're singing to you." I reckon they were.