Graceful Reminders

The wind is cold and tingling on my face. The sound of the Ranger is loud in the cold air. Cajun is shivering, from cold or anticipation of work, I’m not sure. We crest a hill and see them.

Ewes and lambs are spread across the snow covered pasture, digging in search of the dried and dormant grass. I move to a better vantage point to send the dog and stop the Ranger.  I unclip the chain leash and Cajun flies off, landing gracefully as he always manages to do despite his hindbrain, almost frantic state. Or maybe he is just anxious to move as a result of the cold ride.

He stands up tall, front feet lifting. He is quivering.

I tell him he is crazy but see no sign of acknowledgment of the comment. Then again I’m out here on a cold winter evening, excited about sending a dog to work.

With a quiet word he is gone. He leaves on his cast and he searches as he goes. When he sights a pocket of sheep he casts wider to include them in his collection. Cajun does not gather sheep, he musters them and the single most graceful thing about Cajun is watching him glide over the prairie to do so. I feel my soul open a little every time I watch him and it reminds me of why I love this life.