Rumination on Summer's End

Summers are precious in Southeastern Wyoming. Ours didn't begin until the first of July and is already waning. The quality of the light has changed, just a little. It seems more golden and more muted. The peepers (or maybe they're crickets) are clamorous at dusk and after dark and the stars are close and luminous. The nights are chilly, even in high summer. Only rarely do we throw off the comforter; most nights we keep it close because we'll need it by morning. We've had 14 baby alpacas since June, and they pronk when evening approaches. They follow each other around in a line, heads up, tails up, all four feet bouncing them forward like a bunch of tiny deer. Somehow they avoid colliding, like a flock of birds or a school of fish-- changing direction in unison as if they choreographed the whole thing beforehand. The babies are the best thing about raising alpacas. They are, of course, cute. But more than that, they are a product of my breeding decisions and each generation born on my ranch is better then the preceeding one. I plan to talk about some of these decisions as I go along. But first, I'm going to enjoy what's left of summer in Wyoming.