I suppose the history of any farm is written in part, in the soil, in the old barns, the frantic diving of the swallows, the geese flying in formation, the piles of manure, the paths the animals always seem to make to and from their favored grazing grounds. Fate has added her own signature to the profile of our farm, she has her own path circling the sheep and their hay feeder.

Every farm dog has its own signature and herding style, Fate loves to circle the sheep with a joy and abandon that even they have gotten used to. When they are grazing,  she runs in circles around them, and then lies down,  her tongue hanging almost to the ground.

She is a smallish dog, not yet 40 pounds, so it takes a lot of fast running to make a deep path like this, it is already two or three inches deep in parts, it will live on through the winter and the snow, I think and beyond For me, Fate’s path is like Lulu’s Crossing, a way in which the animals make their mark her and become a part of our history. We all make our own paths, so do the animals we love.