Firsts

We did break the record for the warmest November in history, and December's started out with incredible weather as well and virtually no precipitation, and this morning I heard songbirds that should probably have flown south weeks and weeks ago. The sea smoke will definitely be appearing soon if this weather continues, as the ocean's temperature is quickly dropping and is close to 50 degrees now.

The fog was thick and hung low in the field this morning as Henry and I walked down the lane, and the sunrise was idyllic; hot pink underbellies of clouds lined the horizon, and the sky slowly lightened as the sun crept close and closer to rising. My favorite kind of sky. The moon was still up and sat high in the sky when we headed out at 6, and by the time we got home about thirty minutes later, the sun was fully up and moon had disappeared from view. We're still losing daylight but only have another two weeks or so; the winter solstice will bring the turn we all so look forward to in New England.

Hercules and the lucky ewes

Hercules continues to amaze and impress me; he's a gentle little guy with a wonderful disposition, and the two ewes that are in with him for a few more weeks are content and in all reality pregnant, too. He is inquisitive and calm, and if his offspring have half of his positive traits along with some of those beautiful markings, I suspect it will not be a problem finding new homes for them. Ideally, it would be perfect to have half the sheep on the pasture as I have now, so hopefully the market for Babydoll Sheep will pick up in the spring of 2012.

Foggy and Fair

The air this morning felt more like spring than fall. The light was incredible, and probably impossible to ever capture in an image. The sky was dimly light and a thick fog was settled over everything, with a deeper haze down in the lowest part of the field where the water runs through it. The silhouettes of the bare trees were striking against the milky sky, especially the old chestnut tree on the hill at the old Emerson place. The air was marked by strong skunk smells, which is another springtime smell - not so much in fall. It was a beautiful way to start the day. Again. When the sun finally did peek above the horizon, the streaks of pink fog that shone through the breaks in the shadows from the trees were spectacular.
We're close to breaking the record in Maine for the warmest November in history, and while there are definite downsides to this warmth (more germs and less wool) the positives are definitely winning out - with number one the quiet furnace followed immediately by fewer plowing bills.  Of course, there's a flip side to this, as there is to everything - the doctors who are treating all these viruses probably find the increase in germs a good thing in their world, and my friends who plow are none too pleased. I think the majority of people are happy however...
I saw a wooly bear caterpillar the other morning, and its brown band around the middle was pretty wide; folklore suggests that this is a sign of a mild winter ahead. Who knows? Unlike last year, the leaves are raked and composted and deck furniture is all stored before the first real snow. This slow ease into winter has been helpful in terms of preparing, so when one of these mornings the air smacks me in the face as we head out for our ritual morning walk to the ocean, I should be ready.

Wool Growing Weather

Hercules.

happy sheep 

Maya

                                             The month of November has been really balmy by Maine standards. We're having some weather today, and right along the coast it looks like it's going to be all rain. Inland, they're getting close to a foot in many areas. While this kind of warm autumn weather is great for the furnace, it's not so great for fleece growing. The sheep have responded to the hot, hot summer and mild fall by not growing very much wool on their little bodies; can you blame them?
                            Hercules has settled in beautifully, and the delivery of Bill to his new home at Shearbrooke Farm with Karen went really smoothly as well.
Reports from there are that he's adjusted well and is scoping out all of the ewes from his pen, which is shared with a funny male llama. In an adjacent pen are three more llamas - with a variety of chickens and hens running around, in and out of all the pens. It's a very beautiful spot and he'll be well cared for and loved there, so it was easy to say goodbye to the little guy.
Well, pretty easy.
Knitting away and good to have orders in the wings - for this and so much more I am deeply thankful.

Thankful.

Holidays are hard sometimes. For people...I doubt so much for sheep. Distance and time and logistics sometimes get in the way of my family being together during the holidays, and lately it's because I am the only one who lives far away from the rest and cannot always make it to holiday central, which is in Georgia. It's a long way from Maine. This year will be one of those years.
And, so it goes. It makes me appreciate the times we are together that much more. It also reminds me that many families are together for that one day (or two) and not too close the other 364; not mine, and if I had to choose, it would be to be very close for all 365 and just absent in the physical sense for a day or two.

Bill. Heading to Shearbrooke Farm! Thankful...

So, this one has nothing to do with sheep, but everything to do with the shepherd. Thanks to all you people who I don't know for reading this blog...how crazy to think you're out there in India (who are you?) and Russia (you, too?) reading about this little life on a little farm in little Maine. And, thanks to my family and friends who have been reading these words and giving me encouragement. It's been a wild and wooly trip so far, and I am deeply thankful for the chance to live this peaceful life. And thankful for the chance to share a little of it here. Happy Thanksgiving to all.

When Love Comes to Town

You've got to jump that train.

It's all about timing in life...
The arrival of the new little ram has caused quite a flurry of activity here, just as much on the human end as on the ovine end. The pens never seem secure enough, fences always need tightening and water in three pens rather than one makes for more buckets. Soon the hose will stop running down the hill, and I will start to carry the water. Incentive to get down to two buckets.                                                                                                                                    
If I had only had a video camera on Saturday afternoon. After the trip down, he was placed in a small pen by himself while everyone sniffed and baa-ed from safe distances. The ewes were looking at me, then looking at Hercules. Then at me, and back at him. The looks on their faces were classic. Classic sheep. They looked totally dumbfounded but at the same time seemed to almost me thanking me. The shepherdess projects.
He is a very cute, small ram. And, it's easy to see why Kelly has loved him so much. It is definitely a difficult aspect of the sheep raising life...and, when I think about how I have been able to handle my rams in the past it is clear that I've been lucky. Only one - a randy jacob ram with deadly horns - went to an auction; it makes me feel better thinking that he was bought by someone who wanted him for stud purposes and no other reasons. Am hopeful that Bill will find a good home where he can keep making lambs for many more years to come.

So, it seems that the little Hercules has such a following that I am hoping it will be no problem at all finding homes for the lambs that will arrive in April if all goes well. 

Full Circles.

Hercules is coming this morning, and it feels like an auspicious day here at the farmette. Bill will hopefully find a suitable new home soon, allowing the new guy to take over his suite - hopefully as soon as possible; for now, he'll have his own quarters with the ability to see some of the girls from a safe distance. And will eventually have Maya and maybe one of the white ewes join him if all goes well...He seems to have quite a following - as does Romney Ridge Farm, where he's coming from. Kelly has been a great source of information and knowledge for me, and I'm thrilled and honored to be the recipient of one of her sheep!

In return, she's going to be meeting my sheep and making a trade...so, we'll be moving and shifting some sheep around here today. An exciting day and feeling full circle. The fact that this new ram is spotted/mottled reminds me of my old jacob sheep, whose coloring I loved and have missed. When I first saw pictures of Hercules when he was a new lamb, it brought back those jacob memories right away - and until then, I had not known that the piebald gene was present in the babydoll sheep. So, the addition of colors and patterns to my little flock feels like a perfect full circle. The Shuttleworths would be pleased, I think. I am.

jacob twins back in the day.

Snow in October?

Woke up yesterday to a dusting and a slippery deck, and many others had several inches just a few miles away from the coast. Tonight into tomorrow, a major storm is predicted and most of Maine will be looking at a significant snow. In October?  Even for those of us who like the winter season, there's just something a little wrong with snow before Halloween. Not many times that I can ever remember this happening - maybe once when I was young in upstate New York. Vague memories of trick or treating in light snow.

So not ready for snow around here, and so today will be spent trying to prepare a few things for upcoming cold and snow - loading up on hay, getting hoses put away and digging out the shovels (before the rake had had a chance to even rake up leaves!). I have not gotten the garlic in yet, either, which is way late; so, today I am going to make sure that all 100 heads get into the ground and covered up with some deep mulching.

Hercules - the beautiful ram from Romney Ridge

And, I am thinking hard about this little ram. He is available and his owner, Kelly from Romney Ridge Farm in Woolwich, Maine is willing to part with him in exchange for a ewe of mine. I love the fact that he has the piebald gene - reminds me of my Jacobs, but still mini southdown - and think he would be a wonderful addition to the Salty Ewe. Something to think about as I sit and knit, watching the snow fall tomorrow.

Holly's Hat

Holly's Hat

Tomorrow will be the big delivery to the Daytrip Society. Also received a small Christmas order today. Holly loved her hat...
The sheep are happy, the shepherdess is happy. Big Doin's at The Salty Ewe.
And, we have snow in the forecast. Hat weather.

round and round

pumpkinish

The knitting is good. Thanks to my amazingly talented and giving friend Lori, I have a new shipment of beautiful hand spun yarn from my great little sheep to knit up. A big box arrived this week with a rich assortment of hues - from some oranges (onion skins) and muted chartreuse (carrot tops) to the gorgeous natural tones of oatmeals and browns. The feel of the wool is just beautiful, and I am deeply thankful for Loris' help in a pinch.  Note to salty self: find a spinner.
Am working to complete the first delivery of Salty Ewe Knit Lids to Jessica at The Daytrip Society in Kennebunkport (daytripsociety.com), and I'm incredibly excited about making another big step. Working on pairs and sets of three in terms of color combinations, hopefully to encourage people buying two at a time! It also seems to work for me in terms of balance and maximizing the yarn...

lilac pair

The weather is just beginning to feel like Fall here and so the sheep have been able to still enjoy pasture and extensive roaming, even jumping across the brook after a week of rain to get to the more lush grass on the other side. I discovered a hole in the fence yesterday afternoon on a walk with Henry, and it was obvious that one of them had poked her head through the fence and just happened to work apart the seam that I had secured where one roll of fencing ended and another started. It's been almost nine years since that fencing was strung originally, and it is looking like it's time for a restringing and tightening up of it all. A massive job. Knitting feels way more my speed right about now.

I finally finished a special hat that I started months ago. It's for my friend Holly. The colors were thoughtfully chosen and it's a deeper hat to fit her creative and beautiful head more warmly through the long winter months here. She's been more inspirational to me than she knows, and reflecting on how she's pursued her own passion with art was a big part of knitting this lid for her.  I'll try to talk her into modeling it for me, surrounded by her own work so that I can post that here.
Feeling thankful for creative and enterprising friends.
And Happy Birthday to my Mom - who may be wearing her Salty Ewe Knit lid today since it's colder there than here!

Knitting.

There's something therapeutic about picking up the sticks and manipulating the wool around them to create these little lids. Part of the puzzle involves choosing colors and combinations, picking fat stripes or thin, and trying to count right as I gradually cast off. Simple. Tangible products, creative energy and meditative process. The knitting is good.

some from Lori and some from Kristin

The pattern I use is very basic - a rolled rim hat that I can now knit solely on round needles. I'd started with the round and moved onto the straight needles toward the top, but I found that it was easier for me to keep my stitches even and uniform if I stayed on the same needles that I started on. So, the hats are knit in a continuous, circular pattern with reducing stitches for the final eight rows; a classic lid. The hats fit most everyone's heads, and I've made a few 'custom' hats for friends who have either longer heads or preferred a shorter, beanie-like cap. 

The batch that I am working on now for the Daytrip Society will hopefully appeal to people and sell quickly. It's exciting to be knitting with a purpose. Although, I find that once I start moving those sticks around and sliding the yarn over and under and around, everything slips away and my thoughts turn to nothingness. The soft clicking of the wooden needles followed by a whisper of wool. Around and around. Form organically appearing with each passing row. Salty Ewe Knit Lids.

Animals or People

My money's on the animals
Hands down.
Prefer those with four legs over two
Wings over arms
Stingers more than stinging words and actions.
Any day of the week.

Fall.

It's an incredible day for early October in Maine. We're being treated to some summer like weather, with bright blue skies and temperatures in the 70s. It's unheard of for us, but we'll take it. Several nights ago, it dipped down into the low 30s and everyone started grumbling (the humans, not the critters). Tonight, the windows will be wide open and stay that way for the next few days. Beautiful. Not the best for growing thick wooly coats, but there's a long winter ahead for that.

jelly?

My grapes did really well this year, and it was exciting to harvest them this morning. The red ones did a lot better than the greens, and the whole lot of them were plagued by some sort of beetle or worm for the latter part of August. While the leaves look pretty ratty, the grapes look luscious. My first time out with grapes, even though I planted the vines about three years ago. I think I am going to plant more and build a proper trellis for them to grow on. The beds are all overgrown and need a good weeding before the hard frost comes. The garlic is ready to go in the ground - am thrilled to have a nice variety of hard-neck to plant this year. The word was that Fedco sold out of garlic at the Common Ground Fair, so I'm happy to have procured a pound of Red Russian and a half pound of Philips. I will also be putting in some of my own from this year, some of which is another variety.

dreamy fall day

The leaf peepers are out en force this weekend, and the traffic is heavy due to the holiday and peak of the season for foliage. It's a weekend to put gardens to bed, trim back brown stalks and shriveled vines, prepare the beds for the winter and pull out the socks. Drop the storms soon and prepare for the cold months to come.

Salty Ewe Debut

The poster.

It was a rich day. My debut as a fiber grower. While it was a less than auspicious beginning - between a dark and foggy drive to awkward newness among apparent veterans - the day in general was just remarkable. The fog and my eagerness to get to the fairgrounds on time caused me to miss a turn, and so the drive was longer than it needed to be. Narrow, winding backwoods Maine roads. In the fog. In a hurry. Not a great combination, and yet it all worked out. I arrived at the gates within minutes of their closing to vehicle traffic. Found the Fleece Tent, unloaded and met Penelope - the woman in charge of all things fleece. Managed to get off the fairgrounds in time and parked in a meadow... as close to the fair as I could get, thinking ahead to the walk back. 

As I walked through the old pine forest to the gates, the reality of what I was doing there hit me. It was my coming out as a sheep farmer, the wooly debutante. Making it official, making it real - although it's been so real for so long. An odd thing, this making things public. When I arrived at the gates, it felt only right to join MOFGA, the Maine Organic and Farmers Association - which, among other things, includes entrance to the fair for free all three days and moving through the lines faster. I think the membership will continue to open doors and invite all kinds of new possibilities for the farmette.

Seeing some old friends, making some new friends. Enjoying the hippy vibe that was still palpable amid the hundreds and hundreds of school children (sneaking cigarettes, making out on grassy knolls and delighting in the foods and festivities of fair over school). I enjoy watching the kids at the Fair - and, while it was a day off from my day job, it's easy to see why that work fulfills so much. The sheep do a lot, but the children really do a lot, too. Good to be reminded of that when you least expect it.

So, I will wait to hear the outcome of the fleece sale and contest. It doesn't really matter in all reality. The debut was the prize. 

Salud.

How lucky I am to have such a creative and supportive friend in Lori Schafer. For nearly thirty years now, we have shared a special connection and in the past decade or so have moved in the fiber direction in our own ways - me with my sheep and knitting - Lori with all things fiber ... from spinning and dyeing to organizing spinning guilds and taking gorgeous photographs of sheep and other fiber animals (walkingwool.blogspot.com) to knitting and felting. I have Lori to thank for the fun poster that will represent my farmette and me in the Fleece Tent at this weekend's Common Ground Country Fair. It is just perfect and suits the sheep and salty shepherd perfectly.
I am so thrilled...and so thankful.

Springing into Spring at the Salty Ewe Farm. As seen through the special lens of a special neighbor.

And, as soon as I can figure out how to post it here I will. In the meantime, here is one of the images that was used on the poster. It was taken by my neighbor, and I love it. I think it captures the joy and fun that raising these sheep brings to my life. Salud!

Getting Ready for Common Ground

In a few days, I'll be heading up to Unity, Maine for the Common Ground Fair. Two fleeces from The Salty Ewe Farm are going to be entered into the Fleece Judging Contest; very excited and also eager to see how we do and what kind of feedback the wool gets. Since I refuse to coat my sheep, the skirting and picking process is more important. I have picked, picked and picked again, removing small pieces of hay and grass and even some errant pieces of grain. I selected a beautiful brown fleece and then a white one; there's a limit to what people are allowed to enter and my fleeces will be judged against other fine wools, and since I am pretty sure that there are usually no other babydoll fleeces in the show, I am feeling optimistic about our chances of being recognized...somehow.

Taken by Lori last December

I've ordered more business cards in preparation for the show and will be putting together a small informational poster that will be displayed in the fleece tent along with information about all of the other small fiber farms in Maine. This photo is one that I like especially because it shows the range of colors in my flock...and the sheep also look happy and healthy (which they are). The informational poster will be posted here later in the week when I am finished with it.

Later on this morning, Bill will be having some female company for a few weeks. He has been very good this year since being pulled from the ewes (later than I should have this year); to think that it was ten years ago that I borrowed Zvookie - the great, four-horned Jacob ram from Jackie Horn - to breed my three Jacob ewes...and, here I am offering the stud services to others. It's been quite a ride, these past ten years. Feeling like things are really taking off in terms of making The Salty Ewe a more sustainable venture. Very exciting. Exciting indeed.

Labor Day

Labor Day has always felt like an oxymoronic holiday for me as a teacher. Coming off of two month's vacation and returning to the day job is what this day marks for me, so the whole concept of celebrating a day off from work feels confusing every year; it has traditionally been a day of contemplation, getting clothes and lunch together and trying not to slip into a funk.  So far, so good.

Twenty years at the day job now, and so the itch to do something else is understandable. And, while the recent sale of some roving is very exciting, it's not a good time to leave a secure job to go chasing dream jobs. So, keeping that balance between day job and Salty Ewe work will continue to be the third job. Happy to have one, let alone three.

Getting There

Half- ounce balls of natural roving for Camp Wool!

It's been an exciting day for the salty shepherd and The Salty Ewe; the sheep's roving is going to be carried in a local store called Camp Wool. After communicating a bit with the owner, Leanne, we met this morning in her amazing shop in Lower Village and she agreed to take some of the roving! It's a thrilling day. After ten years of raising sheep and learning more things than I'd ever imagined I would, it finally feels official.
The shop is incredible. She's been there for two years or more, and from what I saw in the time I was there, the shop is very busy. From unbelievable original designs (From Hand to Heart-My Garden was especially impressive) to a book full of amazing designs by a woman in town who has run Crow Hill Primitives, the shop is full of wooly eye candy. It smelled good, too. Wool. Everywhere, there was wool.
I left Leanne with two of my favorite images of the lambs - Maya as a wee lamb and the lambs heading out one spring morning - and will return next week with a basket or box of roving. It will be another day to celebrate.

Goodbye August

The air is feeling cooler on the morning walks, and the geese have started to move in recent days. Almost overnight it seems, the flocks of tourists have also left and town is quiet again. That love-hate thing that so many people have with tourists, I have with the changing of seasons. Autumn is probably my favorite season, yet seeing the summer end always creates some pangs of sadness. That transitional time is always the worst. Once the seasons truly shift and we're in full-blown fall mode, with sweaters and falling leaves and apple everything, those pangs dissipate quickly. Settling into the shifting seasons.

Lots of chores to do around the barn during the coming months. The gardens have been very weird this summer, with some crops doing really well and others not well. At all. Not sure if the rainy and cool June is to blame or my soil...either way, for the first time in recent memory I did not grow one zucchini. The summer squash did great, as did beans and cherry tomatoes; cukes were a bust. The grapes that I planted three years ago have finally taken off. This will be my first grape harvest ever, and while there won't be enough for stomping this year, it is fun to think about focusing on a few crops and doing them well. Grapes and garlic and maybe greens would be my pick, not only because they're three of my favorites to eat but because they seem to thrive in the Salty Ewe's growing conditions.  Learning how to make the most of what we have...reminding my salty self that sometimes what we have is far beyond what we really need, and transitioning from season to season.  Signing off on August from the farmette and looking forward to an Indian summer into fall.

Ram, Bam, Thank you Ma'am

Irene was a breeze along the southern Maine coast; not so in many other areas and so again finding many reasons to be thankful. We lost power for about 24 hours and some trees and limbs definitely fell around town (two on a friend's house, sadly) but no reports of injuries or major damage in our area. The sheep were in for most of the day, but when there were peeks of blue sky in the mid-afternoon, they were let out and happily grazed until it got dark.

Without power there was little to do but read and take walks; found myself laughing out loud as I read Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving. After taking several tries at the book, I'm finally into it and remembering why I like Irving's writing so much. His storytelling is rich and full of quirky details, and the characters always feel like people I have either met or would like to meet. The macabre sense of humor and flow of his words have always attracted me to him as a writer, and when I was a young student of twenty and actually met him after a small reading (from Cider House Rules, which he was still writing), it was something else that attracted me to him. He has always been a favorite, and Last Night in Twisted River was a perfect book to read on a rainy, windy day in Maine.

Waiting for Irene.

It's been a long time since I have posted anything - not too sure what that's about, but I suspect it's a combination of things: my camera bit the dust in late June and I guess I do enjoy writing in connection to images more than I'd thought; until just recently, my internet connection at home was unreliable and maybe I just needed a break from the writing. From everything. The day job can really suck the lifeblood out of me, and so taking a serious break from the routine is necessary in order to keep doing it and doing it well.  My next career will not involve such an emotional energy drain, but that's as far as the planning has gone on that issue. For now, the Salty Ewe Farm will continue to be the place and state of mind that keeps me grounded and forging ahead in the work of teaching and learning.

That business of teaching and learning never stops for the sometimes salty shepherd. Take this scat shot for example. I think it's the fisher cat leaving his calling card right in my driveway. I found several other piles of poop covered up in a similar manner along Bufflehead Lane on a few morning walks in past weeks, but there have been two droppings like this one in my driveway in the last week or so.  The whole notion of being aware enough to notice these things, let alone be motivated to go in to the house to get the camera (on computer) to take pictures of it is what it's all about, in the end.  Then thinking about it - learning about scat - until something else catches my eye and pulls my thoughts elsewhere.  

whose scat?

Choices. And no choices.

The summer is flying by and, as always, it feels like I am trying to get three months' worth of chores and activities done within the final weeks of the vacation. Between tending the gardens - both flower and vegetable - and getting the house ready for our first real house guests, it's been a busy month so far. The list of things to do is long, and getting Bill separated from the ewes is right up there. Priority. No more lambs.
Since the ads have not generated any interest in him or in any of the ewe lambs - which is disappointing and also understandable - my next move will be to contact some 4-H folks in NH and VT to see if I can gift a few. Not an ideal way to reduce my flock, but since I still cannot bring myself to eat them (or have anyone else eat them!), the options are few.

This is a part of the shepherding that I do not like. For some, I think it's been enough to get them to give up sheep altogether.

the white clematis

The gardening has been mixed this year - some things are doing really well and others have not flourished at all. My white clematis, which has slowly matured over the years, has produced four gorgeous blossoms this year. Last year, there were two or three maybe, and the year before that I saw the first one ever. The plant has been there for at least ten years and is finally starting to mature. Metaphor?
So worth the wait. The flowers are about 6" in diameter and last for a good, long week. The damn Japanese beetles like them, too, as you may be able to see some nibbles taken from the lowest one in the picture.

Cows on the old Emerson land

My morning walks with Henry have been full of sweet and salty smells, big sticks and occasional wildlife sightings. Even though the neighborhood is changing - way too quickly and dramatically for my tastes - some things have stayed the same. Bode, our neighbor's black lab who is Henry's best buddy, flushed a huge turkey this morning and it flew - really flew! - across the creek and over towards Vaughan's Island. I'd never seen one fly that kind of distance, so it was amazing to see. A small flock of geese passed overhead as we walked home - way too soon to be heading south in my opinion. But, I suppose they know something I don't and are heading out for warmer grounds while the travel conditions are good.
The hummingbirds are everywhere, loving the copious jewelweed that has grown all over The Salty Ewe Farm. I'm tempted to pull some to do another dye bath, but the pleasure of watching the hummingbirds hover around them keeps me from touching them. Another metaphor?

Summer is sweet here at The Salty Ewe. I am hoping that a crop of new visitors next summer will find it as restful and grounding as I do; my bet is that we'll do just fine as the Salty Ewe's agritourism chapter begins. Eager to write that one and see what comes.

August Already!

I am not sure where July went, but August has begun with two gorgeous days and pretty high levels of productivity after what feels like a month of catching up and barely staying ahead of things. I pulled 100 heads of garlic from the garden and after two weeks of curing in the hot summer sun, it's been clipped and is good to go. The beds have apparently reached a level of maturity and the soil is perfect for the garlic, so next year I am planning to increase the garlic crop and hopefully find a nice market for it. With several local restaurants focusing on the whole farm-to-fork thing now, it doesn't seem like it would be too difficult to find at least one or two to sell to next year. When I took several sample heads to one local spot, Fifty Local, the chef asked right off about the scapes, so I know that he would be interested in those as well. Since I'm not able to sell the sheep to people who will eat them, I need to find a way to make this little operation closer to sustainable.

Loki finding shade on a hot day

The weekly rental of the house next summer will be another way for me to make my sheep hobby a more realistic long term venture, too, and so hoping that I can find a perfect market and great clientele to rent for next July and August. Getting the house ready and will be posting some pictures here as well as on the new Facebook page I started for The Salty Ewe Farm. Spread the word ... and know that this is more than a sneaky way for me to see more family and friends! But, that works, too!

Beetle Battle

There will be no visual for this morning's chore - removing a gazillion japanese beetles from the rosa rugosa in front of the house; they appeared seemingly overnight and have done a decent amount of damage. Who knows? Maybe they were all out celebrating Japan's win in the World Cup and decided to land in my yard to party and liked it so much they stuck around. I also managed to catch a number of destructive beetles mating down on the squash and zucchini plants and they all met their end this morning as well. Oh well. Since I refuse to use the pesticides, it's hand killing only here at the Salty Ewe. I'm planning to try some neem oil and garlic sprays on some of the vegetable plants that have been attracting beetles which will hopefully help, too.

The Queen Anne's lace is in full bloom along Obed Lane, and so later on I will wander along the lane and pick as much as I can for a dye bath. A lot of clover out now, too, and so I'll probably pick a bunch of that as well. I gathered a huge bunch of some roadside weed whose name escapes me, but I remember using it at the Shearebrooke workshops and it created a nice color. Now that the Salty Ewe has a real studio space in which to play with wool, it's more fun than work getting a dye pot together. I've set up two hot plates near an open window - one a double burner - and the collection of small pots, strainers, screens, spoons and small stash of plants to experiment with make it feel like a real fiber studio. Looking out onto the field and seeing everyone grazing is just about the icing on the proverbial cake.

New view from back deck. Loving it.

The view from the house and back deck has changed incredibly since Steve Bryant took down some huge tree limbs for me. Several needed to come down - widowmakers - but a few others I asked to be trimmed so that the view, the air and the light would improve; all three have happened. The birds still have their trees - just a little higher limbs on which to perch and nest now. I bet they may even have an ocean view from the tippy top of that old oak tree.

Summah Time

The days have been flying by, with some way more productive than others around the farmette. Sheep are all well but not enjoying the recent heat and humidity here. Bill mowed the field the other day, and so they are busy picking through the cut weeds to find morsels they will eat; the pasture is definitely not large enough to support a flock this size for too long.

Taken by Lori on a recent visit

The job of skirting the ten fleeces is finally done - definitely not one of my favorite events, but always an event. I rigged up a small table (which was really not tall enough, but now I know for next year!) and worked on the colored fleeces first, took a break and then got into the whites. I tossed Callie's entirely as it was just too full of veggie matter (pieces of hay and grass) and was very, very short. This has happened before with ewes that were carrying twins from what I remember, so maybe she put all her nutrients and energy into growing those beautiful lambs rather than into her wool. I am going to pick out two or three of the best fleeces and enter them into the Common Ground Fair's Fleece Competition this year and may end up selling some at the sale, too. It's exciting and fun to be doing more with their wool for sure.

Skirting on the side lawn

July.

It's been a little weird not posting anything for nearly three weeks; I guess this means that the blogging, which I started a year ago this month, has really become an activity that brings some degree of satisfaction. Who'd have thunk it. Sitting here in the quiet early morning sun, sheep munching away and Henry sleeping at my feet, it dawns on me that it's maybe not the actual blogging that brings me the reward but the process of getting into the place where I can actually sit down and be quiet enough to write. To think enough to write something that may actually mean something and sort of sound good. When that quiet is elusive, which it can easily become in a fast-paced world and sometimes demanding life, the writing becomes nearly impossible. Something to think about today as I weed the garlic bed.

baby spiders in a pickle jar.

I have been watching a thousand little spiders hatch and slowly move around inside an upside down pickle jar on my porch. I'd gotten a few of the wholesale sized jars from a friend who owns a great cafe in town for the purpose of making sun tea, and one empty jar apparently provided a perfect spot for a spider to lay its eggs. After watching them for a few days, yesterday I moved the jar down to the garden and put it on its side with the hope that the spiders would figure out how to crawl out of their glass house.
No one I know, not even baby spiders, should be living in glass houses.

Tidal Pull

The other morning, I witnessed something I have never seen before; and, my neighbor Ed was there, too, and from the expression on his face, he had never seen anything like it before either. At the end of the lane, Turbat's Creek backs up and becomes a very small tidal inlet which runs deep into a marsh and around a sharp bend and up into what feels like the woods. In Maine, we have a decent tide and so the difference between low tide and high tide is significant. I've actually heard tourists say things like, "where did the water go?" when looking out at a harbor full of grounded boats and buoys. So, we stood there watching the dogs play and commenting on how it was another cool, damp morning for June when we both noticed it at the same time. A small wave came rolling into the tidal marsh, bringing with it the tide in full. It started slowly, making its way into the basin and around the bend, back to the woods. The initial wave held its shape the entire distance of the tidal inlet, which was spectacular to see. My words do not seem to give it the justice it deserves; but what we saw really impressed us both, and between us we have been gazing out to sea and across Turbat's Creek and other tidal rivers for over one hundred years; neither one of us had ever seen anything quite like it.

High Tide at the Creek

I was tempted to stand and wait for it to happen again the following morning. Silly me. The tide was an hour later, the moon was in a different position, and it would probably be a long, long time before I am lucky enough to see it happen again. Tonight's full moon will bring an astronomical high tide, and with luck I will be sleeping deeply, dreaming of long summer days and warm summer nights. The day job has ended for a spell and so the Salty Ewe can regroup and refocus on what is truly important in life: listening to the ebb and flow, taking it in and being thankful. Life is nothing but that, really. Happy Summer.

Fireflies and Lupine

The lilacs have come and gone so quickly this year - probably because of the wet and cool weather we had through all of April and most of May - and it's already time for the lupine to appear; fireflies are lighting up the field at night and the songbirds are in full chorus mode each morning. This morning, a pileated woodpecker was working away at a tree somewhere along the back creek, and the rat-tat-tat-tat echoed across the fields and made Henry and me both pause for a minute to listen. On our way back home, Bode scared up a huge porcupine in the woods and his owner, Ed, and I watched it scurry up a huge pine tree faster than one would think a big, old porcupine could move.

soft raw wool in the grease

Roger Junior and Roger Senior

How it got to be June 8 already is beyond me. It was almost a whole month ago that the sheep were shorn; the fleeces are still bundled in sheets and stored on the screened in porch; hopefully, I will be getting to them to skirt this weekend and finding a spot to have it all washed and carded.  I've decided that in order to get serious about all of this wool, I will need to invest in some longer staple fleece to spin with mine since the Babydoll wool is too short to have it spun on its own. It's all a process. The learning curve is sometimes frustrating for me but it's all part of understanding more deeply. Eventually, the Salty Ewe Farm will become a sustainable venture; I need to find patience. Watching the lightning bugs helps.

wool soaking in pot of dandelion

Apple Blossoms, Lilacs and Salty Air

Noon Sun at Low Tide by Kenneth Shopen, etching

The morning walks have been full of spring smells in recent weeks - from the fragrant apple blossoms that seem to be everywhere to sweet lilacs and salty, foggy air. The pace at the day job has reached its usual end-of-the-year frenzy and so my morning walks are recently more like zombie stomps, but maybe it's because I am moving a little more slowly in the morning (and the evening, too!) that I am smelling so much, so deeply. The light has been beautiful these past few mornings, coming across the water and hitting the east side of the little fish houses in Turbat's Creek. I think of my friend Carolyn often in the early mornings when I look across the inlet to the Blue Buoy and feel her presence at the creek; it's been 18 months since she passed, and the void she's left in the neighborhood is palpable. She is missed by many; it's a comfort to stand at the head of the Creek and look out to sea and sense her everywhere.

watercolor by carol jessen

The sheep are all doing well and keeping the field trimmed nicely. I am starting to actively look for new homes for some of the girls since wintering over ten was too much last year; plus, the field cannot really support that many mouths for too much longer. Finding myself feeding hay and grain still due to the numbers, and so I'm hoping that my idea of selling to vineyards and orchards will take off.
In the meantime, I'm enjoying watching my flock of fourteen move together and enjoy the good life they have at the little Salty Ewe Farmette.

Warmth and Sun

The weather pattern seems to be shifting and pulling us out of the path of the constant rain and cool temperatures. In Maine, it's common for spring weather to take its time but this year has been unlike any other I can remember. The leaves on the trees are just beginning to pop and lilacs are not fully out yet, but slowly starting. The bleeding heart bushes are beautiful and tulips that did make it through the winter are gorgeous. The rain has slowed so much of spring's flower show, but it feels like what we're starting to see was worth the wait.

Bleeding Heart

Early May Morning

This weekend will be a big one in the garden...planting the tomatoes and putting in the seedlings that have been started indoors. A flat of cucumbers, summer squash and delicata squash have been sprouting on my windowsill for weeks now and hardening on the back deck for the past couple of days.  They are leggy and eager for sun - like the rest of us.

Time Warp

Handsome Ram Bill

The day job has ramped up and kept me from posting too much in recent weeks. Admittedly, I have missed the writing and am eager for long, summer days with more time for reading and writing and playing with wool. 

The shearing day went very well, and although the weather has not been anything close to warm, I think the sheep are more comfortable with less wool on them. Piles and piles of fleeces are waiting for me to get to them - another lament of the demands of the day job during these final weeks of school. 

trimmed ewes

raw wool

The lambs look almost as big as their mothers now, which is always wild to see. They are starting to wean themselves, too. I have never felt good about pushing that process; rather, I have always let them work it out and eventually when they can no longer fit under their mothers they wean themselves.

Whether weaning lambs or waiting for the sun, I've found it's better not to hurry up nature. It doesn't work anyway. Things happen when they happen. No sooner, no later.

Got Wool?

The Links are coming to shear tomorrow. Always a big day at the farmette, and this year will be a bumper crop with ten full fleeces. I am excited and also eager to find a mill to work with in the coming years.  Spent some extra time in the barn yesterday afternoon and got some great shots, so I will let the images speak for themselves...

peeking from behind mom

Bella and Mercy

Miss Callie, the matriarch

wooly palette