Our friend Ian came to share four of our sheep last night just as it got dark. The light gave us an iconic feeling, and Ian had to wrestle a couple of the sheep, who kicked and struggled. Afterward, we had dinner; it was always fun to see Ian. I hardly recognize him; he has changed so much. He is strong and confident to watch.

He read us a beautiful poem, and we all talked about the promise of life. Ian wanted to know about my life in New York City in the 1970s but I told him it had no bearing on New York City today.

I don’t like to talk about the distant past, but Ian is curious about me.

The world has changed. Maria and I both love sheep shearing, we feel as if we are just where we belong, and Maria is selling a lot of her yarn.

There isn’t too much left.

Ian was exhausted. We had bread and hot soup waiting for him. He said we had done so much for him he felt obligated to do something for us. We paid him half price as a compromise. Maria bags up all the world and we take it to the Vermont Knitting Mall in Vermont, it comes back to us a few months later.

It was special having a friend share our sheep. Ian said we have fed him so many dinners he wouldn’t accept payment for the shearing. We got him to take some money but followed his wishes. I remember that first conversation with Ian over three years ago when I challenged him to pursue his poetry and think about his life. That’s just what he is doing. He’s even taking a college course in writing and poetry.

We have become friends.

Maria provided the light when it got dark.

Shearing is an intensely physical, even tense, work, and Ian is strong and experienced. I thought this photo captured the physicality of it.

Maria stood by to gather the wool. It was cold, but not bitter, and the dark light gave the shearing an iconic kind of feel. Ian says he doesn’t usually shear in the dark, but he handled it with some help from Maria’s Iphone light.