Wild hope in the Welsh mist…

I’ve just walked a frisky lamb back and forth along the top fence line. Bleating furiously and not letting me pick them up to return to their field.

Yet, walking back down the diagonal path to return to the lakeside, I see the ewe—on our side.

And the exchange starts.

It’s her lamb, and while she wants to be reunited, she’s currently more interested in the grass.

So the exchange continues until she meanders back up the field, and the lamb finds their source of succour…

We always get there in the end.

Along with the stumpy hillside bluebells, waiting for the promised sunshine.

Pause. See differently. Re-story 🌿