Yes, it is summer. But it is a British summer. It is raining, with sunny spells at times. You are sitting here, rained and shivering, trying to work out what just happened.
While half in panic that you have chosen a drizzly day to be born, the sun touches my shoulder with its heat through the thin clouds for reassurance. You came early, but it is going to be alright.
Hesitant I throw my hoodie over to keep the wet away, and forgot my earbuds were in the pocket. I’ve been looking for one of them in the long grass, while your mum has time to acknowledge your arrival and rid of the placenta.
Left the field with one ear served, and a new alpaca. It couldn’t be better. Hope the rain holds until I can come back to retrieve it. Shivering babies are always a priority.
While I guide the herd to the shelter, I notice some artist stroke the brush on you before I found you. You have been painted with delicacy the mark of the Diamond saga. And you have also been given the power of bonding that I am so afraid of. So I will weight you and let you go for now.
Kestle Alpacas 