Froggy

I was really wrong about the foliage...so far, it's been as vivid as last year's, and these dark and foggy days seem to make the colors pop even more. We've had thick fog for the past several days in the morning, with one morning so dense that I could not see the back half of the field until I walked up to it. Temperatures are still warm - hence the fog - and so the sheep are enjoying some good grazing weather still; even though the nutrients in the grass are dwindling, they keep on mowing away. Bill has settled into his pen pretty well, too. He still makes some angry-sounding baa's when the ewes start to graze too far away from him, but they are sticking pretty close to his pen lately. A sure sign that they are ready, too.

We're finally going to get the rain we need tonight and tomorrow - and some high winds, too. I got in a small load of hay yesterday afternoon - in between rainy days. Am hoping to fill the hayloft this weekend, which is always a good feeling. It was a great summer for hay, about the opposite of last summer, and I am loving the quality of the bales that Larry has put aside for me. When I went yesterday afternoon, I saw two baby Chihuahuas - about 3 weeks old. Smallest dogs that I have ever seen. His miniature goat Button is the one who I am always drawn to over there, though. A goat that acts like a dog. I wonder if adding one to my flock would help with some of the weeds.

Those Masks

I wandered over to the Wednesday Spinners Tent while Lori was "lost" in the fleece tent. I had never heard of this group before, and so I was instantly drawn in by a table of natural dye stuffs and some beautiful artifacts on/about dyeing, including some hand bound books with wool samples and notes on the process. It was exactly how I envisioned keeping track of my dyeing experiences, so that was the beginning. As I made my way down the back table, a row of women sat spinning in the front of the tent, three masks appeared before me and totally took my breath away. It's hard to describe how they made me feel - but they brought up all kinds of memories immediately and I found myself standing in front of them, in awe. And then their creator walked up.

Susan Barrett Merrill. One of the Wednesday Spinners. We started to talk - about spinning - and then it turned to weaving and the masks. This one is named "Crow"... many more can be seen in the gallery on her website. The three that were on display at the fair were very different than this one; then again, from what I have seen, each one is very different than the next. The more I read, the more I am intrigued by the masks and everything they represent. It was one of those encounters that seems far from coincidental. Had I not gone on a Friday, it would have been too crowded to have the conversation we had. Maybe we would not have met at all. If I did not have my own sheep and was as enthralled by the Fleece Tent as Lori was, I would not have spent that time in the Spinners Tent by myself. And so it goes. Uncle Herbie was right. I am going back to the family's roots.

Common Ground Fair

I am still digesting my day at the Common Ground Fair. Incredible day all the way around - from the company of my friend Lori to incredible conversations with people I may never see again, it was a full day of everything I love. Such a good feeling to be amongst like minded people, although this year the crowd was much more diverse than what I remembered from years ago.  It's been many years since I have been to the fair; I worked at it for Maine Times when it was in Windsor, and then went twice after it had moved to Unity. Next year, we plan to take two days to do it. The more I think about it now, maybe three for me!  The sheep dog exhibition (made even better by the backdrop of some incredible fiddling from a nearby tent), meeting Kelly from Romney Ridge and Betty from Spinnakees were high points. Seeing the Zati masks...pivotal, I sense.  I made some great connections and gave out a number of my new business cards to fleece people -a whole new experience for me. Signed up to add my name to the Maine Sheep Growers list and think that I will enter some fleeces into the competition and sale next year.
Another thing I am struck by is how much I really enjoyed not having people on cell phones. It was the first time in as long as I can remember being in a group that large and not having thousands of people plugged in. It was so refreshing. Everyone was present...talking to each other, interacting and making eye contact. Soaking in everything there is to see, hear, touch and smell. I loved it. Am sure to be writing more about my unexpected meeting of some Wednesday Spinners and the masks. And the Journey Loom. And the thoughts about how it may all come together someday. It was one of those days that was just so full of positive things that you need to take a few days to process it all.

Falling Leaves and Changing Seasons

It's a beautiful day for the last full day of summer, and while I'm not ready for a new season yet, the beauty of Autumn is already starting to pull me along into October and November. The swamp maples have turned and many have dropped the majority of their leaves by now - at least in Southern Maine - and, the big, old maples are starting to drop theirs, too. I picked up an especially beautiful one the other day and thought I smelled burning wax paper as I held it in my hand, twirling it around and admiring its symmetry and color.
The memories of celebrating changes in the seasons are strong - from making placemats out of colored leaves to blowing out eggs and coloring them, we were always doing something at home to ring in a new season. The snowman that was taller than my parents (by a long shot), the time Nancy K. accidentally lit her hair on fire when we were using wax to decorate our Easter eggs, the Halloween prank that scared some kids so badly that they threw all their candy and went running down our front stairs...all of these times are still so clear in my mind that I can still see and smell and hear the memories.
With time, I know they will fade and become less vivid in my memory. This, too, is part of the changing of the seasons. There's no way to stop it, so accepting and being in the moment is how I am choosing to celebrate these shifts as I grow older. And, with any luck, wiser.

Last Sunday of Summer

the last pull from my garden

Not really ready to put away summer yet, but there's no way around it. The last weekend of the summer has been perfect for working outside and preparing for the coming months, and so that's what I've been doing. Cleaning out the garden is like packing up the car and pulling out of Goose Rocks. The only solace is knowing it was a great summer and that another one will be here soon enough - but, the pangs of pulling up the roots of established eggplants and the tangled vines of cucumber and squash always make me a little sad (not to mention sore the following morning).

As I weeded and pulled out bolted lettuce and various vegetables, I tossed a few treats in to Bill. He loves the carrot tops and tried celery leaf...seems to enjoy the weeds that I pick for him on my morning walk more than the garden fare, though. His pen is not too lush after only a week, and so I am trying to supplement his hay diet with picked greens. 

Watching him yesterday was good, as I could see when he was most annoyed and making the most noise; am feeling better now that he's calming down more and seeming to only be agitated when he can't see the ewes - or, when he can see them but they're too far away for his liking. They seem to hang around the fence near him, and my guess is that they miss having him in with them, too. So funny to think about what's going on in their little sheep brains. Probably a lot more than we give them credit for is my guess. 

Not What You Say

Growing up, I heard over and over, "It's not what you say but how you say it." Not sure why that's popping into my head this morning as I listen to Bill make some pretty annoyed sounding baa's out there. After almost an hour of it, he's starting to lower his voice and there's more space between baa's. He is ticked. I know it will get easier and he'll eventually adjust to being separated, but in the meantime it's hard to hear him sounding so mad.

Bella and Hendricks 2010

After almost five years with these sheep, I have learned to listen for the different types of baa's and have found a simple pleasure in listening closely for the intonations that make one bleat very different from another. Like birds and their songs and calls, sheep have a language that is their own. It's taken time, patience and some degree of interest in this phenomenon to even start to understand it - not literally. The patterns are distinctive; at times, a certain baa will be used and at other times, a totally different sounding baa will be. One of my favorite sounds is the 'nickering' that the ewes do with their new lambs. It starts during the birthing itself, which I have observed many times. After birth and during the cleaning-up time, it's incredible to hear. I have never heard them make that sound except during late stages of birthing and early weeks of life, and every spring when I listen, it adds another layer of joy to the whole lambing season. I know that slowing down and listening closely is how we can really hear what people are saying. Sheep, too. Ovine Linguist. Funny.

Felting

Loki admiring the felted Jacob

I have started to play around with some felting, and while I really like it so far, it does not feel like anything that's too good for my hands. So far, I have made a few little acorns - which are cute - but I don't think I'll be doing too many more unless I can find some needles that have much larger handles. This picture is of a great little felted Jacob that was given to me last year by a student (the shepherd has a day job!) and his grandmother had made it just for me. I not only love the little ram itself but moreso love the fact that he was a gift from a kid who knows I love my sheep and wanted to do something kind for me (the day job has amazing perks like this some days). I sent his grandmother a thank you note with some of my babydoll fleece for her to experiment with, and she was thrilled with both I think. We emailed a bit back and forth, and she encouraged me to look online for videos on how to felt wool. Instead, I have read a few books that were loaned to me by my dear friend Lori - along with her needles and the sponge/foam. There are some amazingly talented artists working with fibers - felting and weaving and knitting and spinning - but, the more I learn about all of these possibilities with wool, the more I think my niche is really with raising the little animals. So, as artsy as this shepherd may want to be, I'm happy with taking care of the flock and knitting some hats. Oh, and dyeing the wool...I do really like that piece, too.  And so on that note...taking orders for the holidays, so let me know if you'd like to give some Salty Ewe Knit Lids as gifts this year. They are $25. each and will ship for free (old LLBean style).

After the Rain

rainbow over the salty ewe

We've had some beautiful weather in Maine during the past several months, and even when we have had some rain come through it does not seem to stay around too long. Last week, there was an incredible double rainbow that stretched across all of Cape Porpoise Harbor and felt like it was gracing the Salty Ewe, too. People pulled their cars over on the side of the road to take pictures and to just soak in the view. Nice to see people stopping to take in nature. No matter how many rainbows I have seen in my life, they always amaze me and force me to pause to enjoy their beauty. I stood for about fifteen minutes watching the colors fade and then return, listening to the birds and to the foghorns. It ended up being a really beautiful late afternoon. The double part of the rainbow lasted a long time, and as far as rainbows go, it was brilliant and deep.  I almost wanted to jump in the truck to drive down to the pier to see if I could see the very end of the rainbow, sinking into the sea. But, I didn't.
I was still; and I soaked in the view from my own yard. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Mission Accomplished

Late summer grazing

So, I may have spoken too soon. Bill's gentle disposition has shifted into one a little more similar to his dad's, which I am hoping is simply a reaction to being separated from the ewes. I initially put little Obed the wether into the new suite with his dad, but after seeing how aggressive Bill was toward the wether I ended up pulling him out and leaving Bill alone in his new quarters yesterday afternoon. Sometimes I wonder if I am really cut out for this stuff...usually in those moments when things do not go well or as smoothly as I would have liked. Hearing young sheep cry for their mothers - or ewes whining because they cannot be with their lambs when they can hear and smell them - just breaks my heart; then I crack and do what I can to make them all happy.
I remember that years ago, a beautiful Jacob ram named Zvookie was not welcomed back into his flock in New Vineyard after he'd spent a few months at my farm breeding my ewes. One of the other rams head-butted him and did some internal damage, and poor Zvookie died from his injuries. When I saw Bill butting Obed into the fencing yesterday, I was afraid that the little guy would be hurt and so taking him out of the pen with Bill was a no-brainer for me. But, seeing Bill alone is hard and makes me sad (makes him mad, though). This, too, shall pass and everyone will be back in the same pasture soon enough. Until then, I'll remind myself that sometimes it's necessary to do things we don't want to in order to achieve the results we want. And, I'll hope that I can project that understanding onto my wonderful ram.

Cue the Barry White

Bill

Cooler weather has started to creep in and the ram's suite will be finished by this afternoon. Just in the nick of time. Given what I have seen of Bill so far, I doubt he'll need any mood music. He is a great little ram who has a wonderful disposition which I am happy to see him pass on to future generations. Passing on the good genes...worthy work of rams. His son Hendricks has been well-received at the fairs so far, and the father/son shearing team - Roger Link, Sr. and Jr. - have complimented him on his lines and fleece as well. He's such a welcome change from past rams, and I am hoping to have another successful breeding season with the little guy and one or two select ewes.

Little Barn, Little Sheep

the little sheep barn

As the summer comes to an end I am considering how all ten animals will fit in their little barn over the winter. Unless a couple find new homes in the next month or so, I think that I will be keeping them at least over the winter months. It's a good thing they're small and their coats are still pretty short, otherwise it would not feel as spacious in the barn with them all in there.
I'm always amazed by how much larger the barn feels after they have their spring shearing and after it's totally mucked; it's almost as if it doubles in size when they lose their winter coats. They will have enough room to walk around and everyone has ample room for sleeping and sprawling out, so I guess it will be fine. This winter, I plan to put the hay out on the hill so they need to walk a little farther to get to it...forced exercise.
I will try to find some of the images that I have from when we built the barn about eight years ago. Magic Robbie, as I called him that summer, had built some smaller structures before this one, but the sheep barn was his first real project as I recall. He went on to be a successful geo-thermal contractor in BC and is back in town building an incredible home for his soon-to-be-wife and himself. I have only seen pictures, but it looks like a beautiful building. I love my sheep barn and enjoyed being a little part of its design and construction - the stained glass windows and Dutch door make me smile every morning and I like to think they make the little sheep happy, too.

Those Little Moments

Sometimes things happen here on the farmette - or out in the real world - that remind me how important it is to stop and take note of those seemingly little events and moments - or not-so-little events - and cherish them. Learn from them. Try to accept them and move forward a stronger and more compassionate person.
Things can change so quickly. One moment you think it's just a single lamb and the next you are holding a twin. Or, a healthy little lamb can become ill overnight - sometimes with treatable but gross maggots and sometimes with things too complicated to fix. Sheep escape and destroy a garden. These are the unexpected realities of life. At times, they are relatively minimal and easily absorbed. Other times, I find myself reeling from things over which I have no control and grappling to find some peace and understanding, with the hope of getting to acceptance.

love thy brother

I have never struggled with letting cats outdoors, probably because of the way I was raised - which was with cats always being outdoors. Killers. The better the killer, the better the cat (bar birds of course). So, when I hesitated to let Loki and Odin out last spring, it was interesting to think about why I had reservations this time around. Yes, there were the usual road and predator concerns. But, I think what was really going on was my desire to prevent death (for the cats more than for their potential prey). In the end, the cats went out; they have been out now for six months and earning their keep in the rodent population department. Loki is far more productive than Odin, and neither one seems too interested in the feathered friends (which I have stopped feeding...felt too twisted to keep it up when they went outside). They are happy and proud little animals now that they are out in the world exploring. They have attitude and a sense of worth, I think. If I had kept them in, who knows what kind of neurotic beasts I would have created.
Learning to let go, as I wrote in an earlier post, is something that the sheep have helped me to learn to do...and the cats, too.
Somedays, I am pushed to apply these learnings to life outside the Salty Ewe, and in those moments I find myself especially grateful for everyone and everything in my life.

Labor Day

The tourists are leaving, the traffic's thinning and the leaves are beginning to turn. Earl ended up missing us completely - we only had less than an inch of rain and very minimal winds. A relief, but also a little disappointment after all of the build up. We could use a heavy rain. I expect the leaf season will be short and not too spectacular given the dry summer we've had, and before long there will be a frost. The acorns started to drop like mad about three weeks ago - and, although I have not found any wooly caterpillars yet, my guess is that they're all sporting fat stripes. The old wives were right on so many counts.
The sheep have been happily grazing in the back field often the past several days. Since I have been home, it's been fun to watch them go back and forth, jumping over the creek and moving up the hill to the shade of the trees. Cooler nights now, which is wonderful for sleeping and hopefully will also start killing off some of the flies that have been omnipresent this summer. The fleeces should start to thicken up now, too.

everyone waking up and heading out for the morning graze

Am feeling like it's cool enough to pick up balls of yarn and knit some, too. Excited to send off a sample to the Hope Spinnery to see if my wool is anything he'd like to work with. It would be great to find a spinnery in Maine where I could have my wool processed and spun, so I am hopeful he will not find their fiber too fine to work with.

Fair Season

roving

some raw fleece

The fairs have started up in Maine and in and around New England, and I am hoping to be able to make it to a few this year. It's been a long time since I have gone to the Common Ground Fair, and this year I'm planning to go on a Friday to avoid some of the crowds that have kept me away in years past. I used to work at the Common Ground for Maine Times when I first moved to Maine in 1987, and back then it was still a relatively small event and held in Unity (if I remember correctly).
Nathan showed Hendricks and Tulip at the Acton Fair last weekend and apparently the judge thought they were good looking animals, especially the ram. Their fleece is still too short to be judged, but from what they could see, both sheep have good fleeces and conformation.  I'm curious how many other breeds have had slow-growing wool this summer do to the heat and humidity...thinking about Larry's Icelandics and how hot they must be right now. Their coats seem to grow fast enough to do two cuts per season. All this writing about wool is making me warmer than I already am, so that's it for now. Stay cool wherever you are, and keep an eye out for Earl all of you East Coasters.

Heat Wave=Hot Sheep

Maya and her lamb 

We're having a heat wave in Maine...first one since 1999 apparently (although all summer it felt as though we were having one in my opinion). The sheep are uncomfortable and panting up a storm, and I've kept a small fan going in their barn to provide some sort of artificial breeze for them. Keeping them hydrated with cool, fresh water and leaving one barn door closed to provide more shade is about all I can do - hoping they can regulate their body temperatures and get through today and tomorrow. If we make five days in a row over 90 degrees, it would be the first time since 1993 (when I did not have sheep).  I worry about them in this heat; hard to imagine that there will be days ahead when I keep them in the barn because it's below zero. Maine weather. They say if you don't like it to wait a minute.
With the exception of Bob in 1991, we have not had a big hurricane really hit Maine since 1978, and so everyone is watching Earl pretty closely as it heads up the coast. With the water temperature so warm this summer, the potential for the storm to slide right up into Maine is pretty good according to some weather watchers, so we'll just have to wait and see what Mother Nature has in store. I remember walking with my Dad during the hurricane in '78. He tied a big rope around his waist and then around me and off we went to walk along Goose Rocks Beach. The ocean was almost a reddish color, I remember - churning, not really waves. It was wild, and I remember feeling so excited to be doing something so dangerous...walking in a hurricane.  I loved it, and it's a memory that comes back to me often and always brings with it the same feelings of nostalgia and adventure.