Sheep magazine archive 1: issues 3-9

It was to that end that we set about the planting of seeds, ready for the cycle
of nature to take its grip, holding all in its hands, caressing and nurturing
the seed into growth. And as we saw the first tiny green leaves begin to show
– we wept. Food to feed us all. Two full meals every day. Fullness and an
absence of want. One with nature. Now nature had become our enemy, and
the meeting of these forty souls had about it an air of inevitability and dread.
A year before there had been supplies to allocate, but now nothing was left
except the seed praties, and there were precious few of those. Families who
had used their seed to survive the winter were dependent on those whose
prudence, or good fortune, had dictated a careful storage. For that reason
many were dependent on us, and we gave what we could.
6
After the allocation was over the whole family had gathered in the yard,
silent except for the crying of the little ones, they not able to understand the
giving. We had to shield our eyes against the setting sun as we watched
our neighbours leave, thay laden with the givings; we full-hearted at having
given. As we watched them go Jonjo released us from his embrace and
returned to the house, and I knew – because I knew him as well as any
woman has known any man – that he was pain’d in his heart and had a
mind to leave. I followed, and the children cowered in the barn for they knew
that words would be said.
‘Is it the anger that makes you leave, Jonjo? Is it the hurt of Patrick’s death?
Must you leave, and us needing you so?’
He never looked up. He could not – for to look me in the eye would have
brought tears to his. The sack he had torn from the pile was opened and the
few items of spare clothing he had were thrust inside.
SHEEP IN THE ROAD : NUMBER 8
Photograph: Alan Rutherford