four legged lovies

I have always had a thing for animals. As a child, I remember finding wounded birds and bringing them home to try to nurse them back to health. Housing them in cardboard boxes in a small back room on a porch we had on the back of our home, I would create nests and try to feed them and keep them warm and safe (ironically, it was probably our cat - one of several - who maimed the poor birds). I always seemed to be wanting to bring animals home as a kid.

poor freckles. 1968. amsterdam, ny

We always had cats, and I loved dogs. My mom's parents always had dogs, and I loved going to visit them two blocks away and playing with their beasts. Don't get me wrong - I loved the cats we had very much. All of them (and there were many, it seemed). Fluffy the huge, grey cat. Tiger, my cat. Then a string of them it seems.
One day, a neighbor's dog wandered down the street and I decided in my little brain that he was lost; but, I think I knew very well who she belonged to...the Quiri Family from about three houses away. To a four-year-old, I guess that was a significant distance to be wandering.
I captured her with my jumprope and brought her into our garage and closed the door. I remember walking her around in circles (had I seen Westminster?) and thinking that maybe I could keep her. This is about all I remember. I don't know if the adults were angry or amused. I am not sure if Freckles was traumatized. I have no sense of how long this whole episode took - was it minutes or hours?
I just think about this story and smile inside thinking that the more things change, the more they stay the same. My jumprope's been replaced by real leashes and the animals in my life are really my own (or am I theirs?). And so it goes.

One hundred one

snowflakes on wool

Feels like we have had 101" of snow. But, really, this is my 101st post to the blog. Felt like there should be some prize or something. My prize is in the writing - am enjoying the blogging way more than I ever expected. Knowing there are people reading it from various corners of the world (hello you people!) is a little strange sometimes - since I know no one in some of the countries where I see I have readers - but it's a great way to keep family and friends abreast of the little happenings in my life.

The snow came down yesterday, off and on, all day. We also had rain, freezing rain and sleet. The sheep were out for a while in the morning before it turned to ice and rain, but then I shut the doors and kept them in for the rest of the day. This morning, the barn doors were frozen shut again. Poor design on my part, as the sloped roof dumps whatever snow accumulates on it right in front of the sliding doors - and, in weather like this, the track can and will get jammed up. Some days are easier than others to get it open. Just like life.

Callie has been in a pushing position two of the past three mornings when I have gone down to let them out, and when I felt her udder yesterday afternoon, it had definitely grown and firmed up. And, Bella is starting to lay around a lot more. If all goes as planned (ha! have I learned nothing?), then we'll have some new additions in a week or so. Hoping all goes smoothly - as it has in past years. These babydolls are great mothers and all of their lambs have been healthy, hardy little things. May we be blessed with more of the same this year.

getting closer

good snowy morning

Woke to a beautiful snow yesterday morning - just enough to cover up dirty snow and slick ice patches. The sheep are still not wandering outside of the paths that I have cut for them, so although we've had some melting and minimal amounts of new snow, there is still a pretty deep pack out there. I am starting to really look forward to seeing some green (even brown would do) and smelling earth again. The winter has been long.
The two pregnant ewes are really starting to show now. I caught this great shot yesterday - Bella's balancing is impressive, and her lamb(s) look a lot more pronounced in that position. And, Callie just looks round. Will take a closer look at the calendar and also recheck their bellies/udders this afternoon to get a clearer idea of when the lambs might arrive. I definitely do not take this part as seriously as many other sheep people I have met. Not sure what that might say about anything. You have to choose your battles as a shepherd, too. Animal behavior and human behavior...more lessons to be learned.

my first two babydolls - bella and callie

weather tease

Loki in the new bed

Sun is out, icicles are melting, roots are popping out from beneath snow banks in spots around the house. We're supposed to reach fifty degrees today. It's a tease, since anyone who's lived in New England for any length of time knows that a thaw like this in February means little. Except we all get to let down a little, strip a layer or three, bask in the warmth of the sun.

Odin in the old bed

Loki has started to sleep and rest in the new bagel bed that I got last week. It's a miniature version on the bed that Beate had for years; the original went with Beate and so the void left included not only the missing dog but also the missing bed.
We're all adjusting at the Salty Ewe to the change in rhythm and the shift in balance. We adapt, we accept and we soak in the warmth of the winter sun, appreciating each day - the closer and closer we get to spring.

Perennials

Last week, I received a beautiful hydrangea plant from my colleagues at the day job. It is a gorgeous plant and unlike any other hydrangea that I have ever seen in Maine before, and I am eager for the snow to melt and ground to thaw so it can be planted in the ground outside. I've decided to use it as a focal point in a garden that I am going to design and plant in memory of not only Beate, but also of my first dog Annie and cats Blue and Oscar. I have held on to the ashes of two (Oscar is under a tree in my old home, across the street) for many years and as last week unfolded and I sat for a few days with the emptiness of losing Beate, it dawned on me that it was time to take the boxes off the shelf and let go of some of that history.
Having a small sitting garden with a little bench and maybe a small water feature is the initial plan - to create a spot where I can sit, remember, and find peace.

Special Hat

Another special order hat

It felt great to pick up my knitting needles again this past weekend after a few weeks away from knitting; my time has been so focused on animal care and tending to everyone's health and dietary needs that I neglected my own needs to a degree. The knitting is so therapeutic for me that it is surprising that I did not even reach for the sticks at all in the past month or so.
I received an order for a special hat a few weeks ago and thought that I had one that fit the bill, but I ended up knitting this one up with the remaining yarns that I have left; and, I love the final result. Some babydoll fleece on top and bottom and jacob in the middle, all naturally dyed and hand spun, this hat will be shipped off later on today and will hopefully surprise its recipient when it arrives.
Getting the special orders is great fun for me, and I thoroughly enjoy knitting with purpose and with a person in mind. This one felt a little more personal and definitely more poignant for me since it was the first hat that I knit since saying goodbye to Beate, but the love and sentiment that I put into the hat definitely helped to assuage the pain of that goodbye.
Hopefully, I can get some of the people who are wearing the Salty Ewe hats to model them for me in photographs so that I can share them with you here on the blog. Hint, hint to those to whom that may apply...

each new day

Each day now, Callie looks a little less comfortable in her expanding body. She's started to lay around a lot and her breathing resembles grunting when she moves too fast (ok, when she really moves at all). She's a grain hog and has been defending her dish less lately since I think the word's out in the barn to stay away from the Big Momma. I wouldn't be surprised at all to see twins from her this year; I estimate that she's got about two more weeks to go, and her size and shape definitely look like twins are possible. I've thought that before, though, and she's only had one.
Only. Relative term.
Each new day here at The Salty Ewe brings something to behold, something to take care of, something to think about, something to remember. Some days seems to hold more than others, and other days are reserved for soaking in and processing events from preceding days. The past few here have been very quiet and somber, but as full of life and beauty in their own way as those that will come with the lambs...
It's only a day, but each one brings new perspectives and opportunities to learn and grow. The sometimes salty shepherd is moving forward and finding peace, slowly it's coming with each new day.

this, too, shall pass

Beate and I took our last walk on Monday morning. She ran ahead of me, as always, and wagged her tail while sniffing away, as always. Looking back to make sure I was still behind her, still walking in the direction she wanted to go. As always.

It was icy, but she navigated Obed Lane with more sureness than I did. She was patient and waited for me to catch up before she gave a little jump and off she went again. Maybe it was her four feet and lower center of gravity, maybe it was her version of walking on water. Either way, it was a perfect little walk. We spent a great last day together. She ate well and played hard (with her chew toy, her cat boyfriend Loki, and with me, her lucky human).
But after a good day came a bad night and then the longest eight hours that I can ever remember. And then peace, for her. Deep pain for the human. And for many other humans who love both beast and me. The choice to end her suffering was no choice in the end, and the sign that I'd needed was clear; no questions and universal answers. Beate lived up to her name more than I could have ever imagined, and the wealth of experience, memory and soul that she brought to my life will bring much joy for many many more years.
The pain will pass, and soon enough the memories will bring me the peace that we both deserve. That we all deserve.

More Winter

The last storm didn't dump as much as we'd been told to expect, which was a bit of a relief to most I think. Even the plow truck drivers seem to getting a little weary. Cutting the paths for the sheep was a challenge though, as the wind had really whipped around and the snow in spots was thigh deep on me (which equates to way over the heads of miniature sheep!) After a couple of days of tromping around on them, the paths get pretty well worn and packed tightly, and they start to run and do their little wiggle dances when I carry their hay out to the winter feeding spot.
Their adaptability is admirable...yet one more lesson that I can learn from the critters here at The Salty Ewe. They have a way of making things look so easy, but I suppose in a sheep's world things are pretty easy. Especially in their world. With the exception of uninvited guests and days when it's too cold to be outside, they live a very sheltered and comfortable life here. No one's being shipped off to slaughter, no one's been separated from their mother, and everyone gets fresh water and food daily - not to mention haircuts, pedicures and pretty decent health care. All in all, they've got it pretty good. Far better than most other sheep, I am sure.
So, I take their cue and stop wishing for things to be different.  I can adapt and find the shelter and security off the farm that sometimes I lose sight of. It's there, but maybe hidden in wolf's clothing. It's there, and I just need to remember all these shepherd lessons that the sheep are teaching me. That learning and teaching thing - around and around it goes. Sometimes we find the most amazing teachers in the most unlikely places.

And More Snow...

Not at all what it looks like today!

February is starting off with a good, old fashioned Nor'easter. Woke to almost foggy skies and eerie calmness and a very dry air mass (you can feel it in your nose).
The skies opened up about an hour ago and down it comes, beautiful white flakes. Weathermen are calling for anywhere between 18-24" of snow before it's all done tomorrow night, and so that means more paths for the sheep will need to be broken...more hay and water hauled...
The flakes are coming down now in a straight path, softly floating downward and resting in the spots where they land. When the winds kick up, it'll become a whiteout though. Suddenly the beauty and tranquility will shift to stormy snowy weather and we'll all wait it out. Hunkered down, watching and listening to the quiet storm of snow. Ah, winter in Maine. Welcome February. Highly doubting the groundhog will even be able to make it out of his darn hole!!