Sheep seem to have had a recurring place in my life. When I was little, my grandfather "Pop", took a sheep herding job for a summer. I have no clue why, but I remember taking him groceries up there and he would always have hot Sheepherders bread with honey and butter ready for me. He used the time of that summer to perfect his bread and write.

Later, I was blessed to spend time on the Navajo reservation in New Mexico. Sheep were sheared for their wool. The elders wove the wool into beautiful rugs, dyed by different plants. They were also a tasty meal when needed.