Counting Sheep

Today was a very sheepish day. I heard a lamb being born and saw newborns frolicking just over Ceredwin's back fence. We walked in the Preseli Hills where endless thousands of them roam and live all their lives outdoors in the wide green expanses of West Wales. While there we saw the remains of several dead sheep, some as bare white skulls, but one having died not so many days ago.

I ate a sheep's kidney with my "Full Welsh Breakfast," and there was lamb mince in a pasty that I had as an afternoon snack. Finally my kind hostess prepared these two lamb hearts, stuffed with wild garlic, shallot, bacon, cranberries, spring onions, and bread crumbs. She baked them together for 90 minutes and I devoured them.

Today my nephew in New York announced that he is now engaged to his longtime sweetheart, and it occurs to me that a pair of lamb hearts would make a fitting ritual meal to celebrate betrothals.

There are ten times as many sheep here in Wales as there are humans. Strolling through the countryside you'll see tufts of wool caught on fences, brambles, and branches. Those wooly creatures are everywhere.

It's a good thing that sheep are not agressive. They would hardly need to stage an insurrection. Mohandes K. (Mahatma) Gandhi made the point well, refering to how much the Indian people outnumbered their British rulers (best I can remember the quote): "If we all spit at the same time, we'll drown them."