I think of life as a landscape that is ever changing, ever evolving, full of crisis and mystery. As simple human beings, we are called upon to change, accept the sorrows of the world joyfully, adapt and grow. The farm for me has always been a great teacher about life, about love and joy, birth and death.

This photo speaks of the changing landscape, it is the trajectory of life with all of its mystery and crisis. When you see this landscape again, even in a few hours or weeks, it will be different. Ted, the gentle and efficient ram on the left, will be returning to Vermont and the farm where he lives. Next Monday, the sheep will be shorn.

On the right, Liam no longer has the wrap about his stomach. The vet wanted it to stay on another week, but I think he is ready. Towards the left, with her head down,  is Ma. This may be one of the last photographs taken of her, the vet is coming this morning, I am resolved that she ought not be put through labor, I don’t believe she can survive it.

Ma’s breathing has gotten worse, her limp is now severe, the cause of it unknown, there is discharge coming from her nose and her uterus. Ted has stayed by her side all night, Liam right next to her, the sheep have gathered around her in a circle.

The farm has taught me much about mercy and compassion. In the animals world, there is this deepening idea that mercy is keeping animals alive by any means at all costs – this is considered to be humane. That is not my view. Sometimes it is merciful to keep an animal alive, sometimes mercy is just the opposite, as it was for our blind pony Rocky, facing assaults from the donkeys and one more winter. For me, mercy is about sparing them, not us.

I accept the landscape of life, I am not it’s master, I am it’s subject. I am in the photo, not in control of it. The landscape of life is what I write about, what I photography, it is an awesome and beautiful thing. I am sad about Ma, disappointed, I am glad Maria is away for this. She is coming home tonight, and if it needs to be done, I’d rather it be all done when she gets here. It is possible the vet will have another idea, or some ready cure, they have lots of tricks in their bags, but in the end it is up to me, and I am fairly resolved about it. The landscape of life changes, as the poet says, the moving finger writes, and having writen, moves on, nor all your piety and wit can change a word of it.