There were lambs to be seen. Fresh as the newly mown grass on our walk. New as the spring bulbs in flower. Delicate as the gauzy blossom. Young and so delighted to be gambolling on our hillsides. It made me wonder:
- Do those born in the countryside still get the same sense of wide-eyed excitement and childlike glee at the sight of the first spring lambs?
- What about the farmers - do they also feel like this or is lamb simply livestock?
- How do such glorious, giddy little creatures - so full of skippity energy - turn into the sedate, mundane sheep? (No offence sheep, but you do seem to have lost your sense of lamblike wonder).
- And are we just as bad? Oh I hope not. I'd like to still be making a fool out of myself over spring's hatchlings, sucklings and sproutings when I'm old and grey.
By the way, there were also tiny toads whenever our steps took us streamside, heading from winter hibernation to the scent of water. They were so lovely to watch and we saw so many, crawling and pouncing their way home. But I won't show you the photos of the macabre sight of so many who had reached a squashy end en route to their earthly heaven. Go slower cars, there are toads about!