I haven't written much recently but this has been on my mind since March ...kinda long but thought some might enjoy it

BOOT PRINTS in the SNOW - PAW PRINTS on our SOUL
The brief walk to the barn is beginning to feel like a trek through the frozen north. Before I even hit the door it feels like I have done a days work. Several layers of clothes then boots, hat, and gloves complete the far from stylish outfit. Unless of course the designers have begun incorporating a bit of green and blue marking paint, gloves with holes and Carhart coats with enough frayed rips it should have hit the trash a few winters ago. What can I say, I love that coat. In all honesty it smells a bit like slimy afterbirth with just a whiff of sheep poo thrown in for good measure. I will not even venture to explain the myriad of articles hidden in the depths of my extra roomy coat pockets.
Snow crunches under my boots as I make the trip once again. How many times is this? I have lost count. It is lambing time. When I envisioned lambing it did not include layers of clothes, inches of new snow every couple days and below zero temperatures. It is April in the Mid West after all. Yes, I expected chilly nights and mornings, a dusting of snow is not unheard of. But THIS….We have had more snow in the last couple weeks than we have had all winter. I used to lamb in Feb. The year we shattered records with temps 20 below, lambs freezing as they were born in the barn, that was the last year I lambed in the winter. Or so I thought.
Honestly besides stealing some of the joy that comes with lambing and the crazy extra work the cold requires the ewes took great care of the lambs. I am working my tail off, but I am not the only one.
Alongside my boot prints in the snow there lay other prints reminding me that I don’t do this alone. Partners, working just as long, just as hard. Walking the same path as I. Always eager to help, nearly smiling as I groan, waiting, willing me to hurry. Standing wagging impatiently, a high pithed woof from Meg speaks to my sloth like pace.
Each crutch of snow with every boot fall is met with their swift, sure pawprints as we make that walk multiple times a day. Their presence gives me a reassurance. There is Nothing, not anything, that could possibly await inside the barn doors or pasture gates that I can’t handle with their help. Holding a ewe while I put my arm in her up to my elbow to pull a lamb, keeping a first time mom still while a newborn lamb sucks, moving new pairs to a warmer part of the barn – I am not alone. Feeding stampeding, hungry hoards of ewes hay while not running over lambs takes some power with a bit finesse. Working together Scott and Meg part the flock like the Red Sea to make a me a path to the hay feeder. Standing on each side of me like sentries at the castle doors I place hay out along the feeder without fear of getting pushed and shoved so all the ewes able to eat at once. We retreat to the barn hearing the deep muffled baas from mouthfuls of fresh alfalfa hay.
I look into the deep knowing eyes of my Border Collies wondering if they prefer the tough days just to show me how capable they are. Walking back to the house knowing I have only an hour before we need to check for new born lambs I feel a nudge on my leg. Scott, his head against me, Meg a step in front, both leaving pawprints in the snow alongside mine.
Looking down I am awestruck by the sight of a pawprint over my fresh boot print. Hundreds of Border Collie prints along side and over mine as I look around. A deep PEACE settles over me in that moment. I wonder how many shepherd through the centuries have pondered how incredibly blessed they are working beside those dogs that leave pawprints in the snow…pawprints on our very souls.

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