On sunny afternoons – the thermometer hit 60 – we haul two chairs out and go and sit with the donkeys for a while. They come up to us and lean into us, presenting their heads for scratching, and then they shift to get their backsides scratched.

Donkeys are among the world’s great meditators, they love attention, and they love to be groomed and scratched. They stand still in the sun, they set the agenda. They are scratched for as long as they want to be scratched, and when they want attention, they mean to have it.

These are sweet and treasured moments for us.

My first donkey was the ill-tempered Carol, who died of a stroke, the second and third were Lulu and Fanny. Simon came later, so did the baby donkey Jesus and his mother, Jeanette, they were not with us long.

Four donkeys was too much for me. When I cracked up, I sent Fanny and Lulu off to a Vermont farm for a while, then, missing them, I brought them back to the farm, they have been with me for nearly 15 years, minus a few months in exile.

Lulu was ticked off for months, and would have nothing to do with me.

I love donkeys, their intelligence, intuition and their independence. With a donkey, it always is their idea, never yours.

Maria and Lulu and Fanny have the most beautiful connection, it is spiritual and deep. I love to see them together, soaking up one another’s affection and energy.