The old sheep came a few days ago, a farmer’s notion. His sheep had served him long and well, lambing year after year. Now, in human years, they are about 80 years old and he knew that I had plenty of pasture and he wanted them to have a last summer. They are not rescue sheep, and I am not rescuing them. They are not my sheep and I have no right or interest or say in what happens to them when they leave here.

Real farmers do not have sheep as pets, and they cannot afford the medical and other costs of keeping elderly animals who do not produce revenue and take up grass or space. I understand and respect this. If he says it is their last summer, then I understand what that means, and I have no wish or need to interfere with this process or keep them here beyond this summer. They have gotten to me, though, touched me and I want to record their time here photographically all summer – Chronicles Of A Last Summer. This morning, at 6 a.m. I went out to their pasture with my camera and lay down on the grass. Red came with me, but did not go near the sheep.

I’ve been out there a few times and they trust me and my camera and they don’t move while I am there. It is striking how much they seem to connect with one another, leaning on each other for support, as if they have an instinctive sense of this experience. I will follow it.