Margarita, image © Sarah Myers, used by permission

It happened after dark last night, out in the pasture. There was not any moonlight to speak of, which made navigating the field a difficult task. Just now it is a mass of frost daisies — pretty by daylight with their froth of white flowers, but a tumbled tangle of wiry stems, knee-high or taller, to trip one up at night.

Between ourselves, I should very much like to run a herd of goats through that field to reset the balance…