Sixteen years ago I was not at all sheepish. I was bookish, library- ish, wine-and-appetizer-ish. Decidedly unsheepish. My only exposure to sheep was as a child visiting my grandmother's sheep ranch in southeastern Montana—lots of dust, lots of heat, and every now and then a little orphan lamb that I could help Grandma feed with a bottle. My grandmother left the ranch when I was a teenager, so sheep played no role in my life after that.
As an adult, I met Melissa through a personal ad, the pre- Internet method for dating. She and I were totally different, not two people who should build a life together, so we fell in love and did precisely that. We led fairly boring, urban lives for over ten years while I discovered writing and Melissa cultivated her love of land and animals and caring for both.
Then, out of the blue, Melissa asked me if I would help her start a farm.