Baa baa black sheep have you any wool?

Corbie set out from the barn with a brisk, purposeful step, carrying along a pile of loosely woven baskets slung over her shoulder with a strap. Ayer rode along, gripping the strap, while Tam paced alongside her with a set of baskets across his own black and white shoulders. Ren had left them to do a patrol along the borders while they worked, so it was just the three of them for now.

It was spring, so the sheep were shedding. Well, not the small new flock that needed to be shorn, but the more numerous flock she'd started with, the Icelandics, naturally shed their wool. She'd been picking up bits and pieces the last couple days, but it seemed they were determined to drop their wool all at once because this morning she'd woken to see the pasture, particularly the fence, looked like a billion cotton balls had exploded everywhere. Now the three of them spread out to pick it up off the grass, the trees, the fences, anywhere it could get caught.