I have dreams about making sure the sheep have water, sometimes anxiety-filled dreams.  My systems are getting better, but it still feels like the least refined part of our traveling sheep show.  At Eric White’s place, the fields are on a steep hillside, and there’s a logging road that reaches a semi-flat spot at the top of the pasture.  As long as I could get my tank up there,  gravity would graciously deliver water to the flock; the tractor obliged, though I still get unnerved on steep terrain.

Turning diesel fuel into potential energy would have felt like selling out in my earlier bicycle-militant days, but I’m sure grateful these days to have the option.