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Little lamb, little lamb, what do you see?
“I see a donkey looking at me.”

Donkey, donkey, what do you see?
“I see a spotted dog looking at me.”

Spotted dog, spotted dog, what do you see?
“I see a red hen looking at me.”

Red hen, red hen, what do you see?
“I see a brown goat looking at me.”

Brown goat, brown goat, what do you see?
“I see a farmer looking at me.”

Farmer, farmer, what do you see?
I see– Oh, no.

I SEE SO MUCH POOP AROUND HERE!
P.S. This is a play on the great Eric Carle’s Brown Bear, Brown Bear, of course.
Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink
I’m amazed every day when I see the lambs in the meadow. I love the way they run after their mothers as if they might die if they’re separated by more than a step. I love how they sound when they cry. Each morning, I look hopefully for the Cotswolds to see if they have created any more of these magical creatures. So far, I’m still waiting…
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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