Patience

Girl's Best Friend

Patience has never been one of my virtues. And, the older I get the less it seems like a priority but the more it seems like a necessity.
Some bumpy days recently at the Salty Ewe with predators of the two-legged variety. The bored and high species of the mayonnaiseland dinkuseructus adolescent struck in the night and broke into the barn. None too original given last year's visit from a similar species.
Learning to be patient this late in life is certainly a challenge, but I know for a fact that you can indeed teach old dogs new tricks, and so I am preparing myself for the Salty Ewe Challenge. Patience must rule in moments like these, and keeping an even keel for the flock is what a good shepherd must do. So, a dose of reality for today on the blog and at the farm. Keeping it honest and seriously considering a guard animal. With very sharp teeth.

Funny Sight

Miss Maya

A few days ago, I looked out and saw something that I am not too sure I have seen before. The sheep had segregated themselves by color. The three black ewes were all grazing together up on the rocky ledge, the three white sheep (two ewes and Obed the wether) were grazing about 50 feet away, all together. Maya, who's grown into a beautiful oatmeal color like Callie, was off on her own, somewhere in the middle of the two groups. This configuration was pretty funny to observe, and I found myself standing there, watching, waiting to see how long they would stay apart from one another. It was maybe five minutes...then, one of the black ewe lambs bounded over to the others and joined right in.
It made me wonder about how intentional the pattern might have been, or whether they are even able to tell the difference between a black sheep and a white sheep and an oatmeal colored sheep. When a ewe gives birth to twins and one is white and the other black, she treats them equally and without any apparent favoritism to either one. Again, I am struck by the parallels to our own human interactions.
This brings back fond memories of reading The Color of Water... and it simply makes me smile to think that we actually have so much in common with these wooly beasts.

PS - Later on that evening, the same thing happened ... the three black sheep were all together just outside the barn doors, the three white ones were about 35 feet away, and Maya was the third point of the triangle, oatmeal colored apex. Very funny that it happened again. Maybe it's happened a lot before and I just had never noticed it.

My Maine Thing

The Gang at GRB...Dad is the curly headed one on the far right

Many years ago, I gave my Dad a small picture book by B.A.King titled My Maine Thing. It's a very simple book, full of gorgeous black and white images from all over Maine. I remember writing something on the inside cover for my father, in essence thanking him (and my mom) for introducing Maine to me and for making our family visits to Goose Rocks Beach such positive and memorable experiences for so many years. Now that I have called Maine home for almost twenty-five years, I look back on those family vacations with great fondness and an even greater appreciation for Maine than I have ever had probably.
It's difficult sometimes being the only one in our family who lives in the state - yet, the presence of so many generations is comforting to me, especially on Goose Rocks Beach. So, when I start feeling pangs of missing my family (which inevitably occur from time to time), I usually find myself walking along the beach and gazing out across the Atlantic. The ocean has a calming affect on me - always has. It's true what they say about feeling small and inconsequential when you're looking out at such an impressive natural sight. Everything seems to slip into a balanced perspective when we put ourselves and our worries next to such greatness.
The beach holds many memories - of mine and of family members I never met. The sense of place that I feel in Kennebunkport comes from many generations of Youngs and Schuylers (and Shuttleworths and Annises) who also walked along Goose Rocks Beach and who found peace and comfort there. So, even though I may be miles and miles away from my family, I am home here in Maine. "My Maine Thing" has brought me a lifestyle that is rewarding and healthy, active and productive, and most of all, a life that celebrates a place where so many members of my family have flocked for years to relax and unwind. I feel so blessed to be able to live here, happily, with the sheep and the dog and cats...and memories enough to get me through long spans without family around.

Yips and Yelps

Awoken today in the wee hours of morning by eerie sounds outside. Sort of a barking, yipping sound. Not too sure what was making the noise, but my hope is fox and not coyote. The cats, dog and I were all awake in a flash sometime around 3 AM - way too dark to see anything outside, too scary to go out and inspect. The sheep are all locked up in their barn in the evenings, so I knew they were safe, but I can't help wonder if they, too, were woken up and afraid in their little, sheep brains.

There's been a ton of fox scat up and down Bufflehead this summer and fall, so I'm going to hope for the best and keep my ears open for night time visitors.

Smiling Sheep

Yesterday, I opened up the fence and let some of the sheep wander into my garden to do some end of the season weeding and lawn mowing between the raised beds. They were in heaven. These Babydoll sheep look like they're smiling all the time anyway, but the satiated looks on their faces as they munched away on carrot tops, turnip greens and various other leafy tidbits was priceless. This picture of Bill when he was just a few days old is one of my favorites - his smile is so evident in this shot (but his eyes are not really blue).

It's supposed to be a beautiful weekend here in Maine, and it's a long one with Columbus Day on Monday. Lots to do around the farmette and hoping to get in one last farmers' market tomorrow morning. Planning to also put in all the storm windows and try to move some perennials around, too.
The changing of the seasons always catches me off guard a little - maybe because it happens whether I'm ready or not. Such is life - here at the Salty Ewe and everywhere else, too, I believe.

Garlic!

garlic!

the scapes are beautiful, too

For the past few years, I have been growing garlic and loving it - from the fall planting to the early spring growth...to my favorite part, which is the cooking with and eating of fresh garlic. A totally different beast than the store bought variety, fresh garlic has a different consistency and a more intense flavor.  Whether roasting it or mincing it, the fresh garlic is delicious and really good for you.

I invested in some beautiful garlic seed stock at the Common Ground - bought it from Fedco Seeds (fedcoseeds.com). They are an incredible resource for gardeners and have generational garlic that lends itself well to planting. The variety of garlic that one would buy to plant is different from the kind that we would purchase in a grocery store to eat - with the former more expensive than the latter, too.

The two pounds of seed garlic that I bought will give me close to 100 heads of garlic - two varieties: Red Russian and Music. I have grown the Red Russian before with great results but the Music will be a new variety.
Sheep manure is excellent for some crops - and garlic is among them. Rhubarb is another one of these crops, and so I am also hoping to acquire some local rhubarb starts from a neighbor who has a lot of it growing and get that in the ground this month, too. Always a lot to do at the Salty Ewe during the spring, summer and fall months...

Wool Weather

The sheep's wool is finally starting to grow. It's been such a warm summer that I think it has come in a lot more slowly than I have seen it in past years. These sheep do not produce nearly as much wool as I would like - but what they do give me is beautiful. The heaviest fleece that I have had so far was Una's, and it weighed in at 6 lbs, skirted. Usually, they are in the 3.5-4.5 lb. range. Next spring, I will have three lambswool fleeces to enter into the show at Common Ground, and each of them should be closer to 5 lbs, with two natural colored and one white.  I'm excited to enter them and learn more about the judging of fleece - and am motivated to keep their wool as free of veggie matter as I can without covering them. I saw some great canvas feeders at the fair, and I think that I may try one of those to see if it works for them. Seems like it would cut down on waste and also minimize the debris in their coats.

The end of summer graze

Bill, Callie and Bella in April

Paying attention to weather and feed and how these elements, as well as pregnancy and nursing, will affect the fleece is something that I have enjoyed observing. Kind of like watching the grass grow, I guess. A little like Annie Dillard. 

More Common Ground.

These are the three masks that I wrote about in an earlier post. They were on display at Common Ground in the Wednesday Spinners' Tent. Lori took the photos.

Susan Barrett Merrill's work has really made a very strong impression on me in a pretty short period of time. I finished reading her book Zati: The Art of Weaving a Life within days after getting it and have been digesting it since. I enjoyed Writing Down the Bones and The Artist's Way - both mentioned in a review of the Zati book, and Katharine Cobey's work has intrigued me since I first learned about her several years ago - and she reviewed the book positively.
When I read the other books, I was looking at writing and the process of writing; this new creative experience - involving sheep and their fleece - is so different from writing. Yet, the process is definitely familiar. Weaving has been a metaphor in my own writing throughout the years, and so the concept of Weaving a Life is one that feels about as full circle as it comes. Still knitting up hats but am eventually going to try my hand at weaving and working my way through the projects (keyforms) in Merrill's book.
A winter project to look forward to...

The Black Sheep

Of course, there's the English nursery rhyme. There is a Black Sheep Gathering in Eugene, Oregon every year. One of my favorite ales is Black Sheep, from North Yorkshire. There are yarn shops all over the world that have Black Sheep in their names, and there's an eco-lodge in Ecuador. People have founded Black Sheep Societies and Clubs, named bands and songs after the black sheep and flocked together at numerous festivals, reunions and charity events.

The black sheep. My affinity for these is no surprise, and yet when I read about the history of the Black Sheep lore, I am surprised by just how fitting that connection is. Paradoxical, just like the sometimes salty shepherd. The original records and uses of the 'black sheep' were derogatory in nature, some dating back to the 1700s (and apparently as recently as the 1930s!).  The commonly accepted belief is that black sheep were clumped together with all dark, death-like symbols and thus were considered worthless. However, there are contradictory notions as well; in many places throughout Europe, black sheep are considered good luck. The shepherds in Sussex believe that having black sheep in your flock is an omen of good things to come. While I grew up feeling more like the proverbial black sheep (which I do believe is pretty common for many adolescents), I have grown up to value and to hold on to the positive connotation - regardless of popular opinion. Alas, the black sheep.

This duality is fitting for The Salty Ewe and all black sheep who reside here. Baa ram ewe.