After shearing the sheep, the farmer led us out to a back field and made another sharp whistle. His hairy black and white companion took off, pink tongue lolling and disappeared over the crest of a hill. Again, we heard the loud stampede of sheep hooves and saw matching fluffy white bodies bounding haphazardly down the hillside followed by the snapping jaws of the sheep dog. We bent down, our hands filled with food pellets and giggled as the sheep's teeth and lips tickled our hands, their warm breath leaving our fingers hot and slimy.
We heard the crunch of gravel and turned to see the farmer's wife walking toward us. Beaming, she welcomed us into the house for tea. After washing the sheep slime from our hands we sat down at tables on the veranda to munch on scones topped with cream and jam. I looked over the vase of daffodils and beyond the veranda at the vibrant green rolling hills dotted with shrubs of a darker green. A backdrop of misty blue-green mountains reaching up into the blue sky decorated with white cotton candy clouds completed the scene.
Our little coach trundled up the hill and into the outer edges of the woods surrounding Lake Ohau. After dropping my bags on my bed, I skipped down the side of the hill and onto the small pebbled beach. The water lapped lazily at the stones. As the water drew back into itself it led to the mountains across the sky like cream on pudding studded with sugar crystals.
No comments:
Post a Comment