The more I’m around animals, the more I see how their lives are centered on food. Around 3 p.m., the donkeys and the sheep gather, to wait either for me or for Annie to come and haul out the hay bales. The sit for about a half hour, quietly and when somebody shows up, there is much braying and baahing, and the barn cats skitter around and the chickens come sputtering out to see what’s going on. Even the dogs gather by the fence.
 They eat for an hour, and then they all trek up the hill into the pole barn. Tonight, the sheep are at the top of the pasture, where they go when it gets really cold, which it is  – 7 right now. It is not possible to be warm, really, unless  I am sitting right in front of the wood stove, or cuddled up with Lenore. Feeding time is one of the precious rituals of the farm.