Good Timing

Everything comes down to timing, I think. When I decided that it was time to name this little farmette and try to make it a more sustainable hobby, the history of this land and neighborhood was an important consideration for me. After all, I really started with the sheep because I knew that if I did not put animals on the pasture where there had been cows for a hundred years, the town would probably not allow it.  As a grandfathered use, my flock is just as welcome in the neighborhood as the newest McMansions. The old Leach Farm is now a relative sprawl - advertised as clustering - of large homes with very manicured grounds (and a lot of impervious surface which has added to the wetness in my pasture over the years) Recently, a new neighbor  purchased Frost Woods and has proposed a nine lot subdivision. He put up a gate on Bufflehead Lane within months after moving in, and that was the first sign. The complete disregard for history and for the working class families who have called Turbat's Creek and Wildes District Roads home for generations is really sad. The almighty dollar. Greed and avarice. Karma.

You see things when you're ready to see them - no sooner and no later. Sage words from someone who helped me not only to realize this but also to put it into practice. The sheep slow me down and bring me a peace that a greedy person could probably never feel. I see that now and cherish the old Shuffleberg Farm, the new Salty Ewe.

Big Doin's at The Salty Ewe Farm

One of Toddy'a favorite sayings was "big doings", but it was always shortened by dropping the "g".  It meant, as I think is probably pretty obvious, that something important or exciting was happening. This did not always necessarily involve positive doin's. Yesterday's events here at The Salty Ewe were definitely positive and certainly would have had Toddy's nod in the Big Doin's department. The flock was officially tagged and registered with the national scrapie program (thanks deeply to Nathan again...my stomach is still not strong enough to do certain things, and piercing sheep's ears is definitely on that short list). This means all kinds of things - from being legal to sell and transport sheep across state lines to supporting an important program that makes sheep's health and well-being a priority through the monitoring and reporting of any illnesses, sales, births or deaths. It feels good to take this step toward becoming a more serious sheep farm.

wearing the black sheep

I learn so much as I go; maybe this is another reason why I love doing this so much. I accidentally bought syringes without needles, and so the worming almost didn't happen with the tagging yesterday. Thankfully, Nate had one with him, and so we managed to get the whole big doin' done in less than 30 minutes. Imagine. All these years of raising sheep and in an afternoon I become a real farm. Definitely Big Doin's.

Sheep and Shuttleworths

In an earlier post, I mentioned the wool in my genes. Here's a shot of part of the article from Fortune. The full-paged color shots of the mill, looms and carpets are impressive (but would not duplicate well given my limitations with images now - using photobooth!). My memories from childhood about the mills are pretty specific - almost always going in on a weekend with our father...riding the old elevator and being afraid it would get stuck or someone would fall down the dark shaft...running up and down the rows upon rows of huge rolls of carpet...and once going in during a work day and seeing the people who were designing the carpets. That was the only part of the whole carpet business that held any kind of appeal for me (well, that and my father's trip(s) to Australia and Europe to look at wool, etc. Am sure there were some scotch tastings, too and a golf game or two). So, in reflecting on those early childhood memories of the Mills, it's really not so surprising that the dyeing has really caught my interest. Struck something pretty deep down in there that is speaking and resonating in me, and so I will pay close attention to what those ancestral voices are saying to me and will tend the flock for now.

Skunks and the State Fair

Odin the cat would not come in last night, so when I heard a small crash at midnight, I instinctively jumped up and let the dog out to inspect. Bad idea. Chasing ensued, strong scent of skunk permeated the cool night  air and seeped its way into my whole little house within seconds. Still no cat. Thankfully, dog was not hit. Just the house smelled. Eventually, the cat decided he would come in and then we all slept soundly until dawn. Smell has subsided, mixed with a little salt air and some salty ewe poo, and it's a typical morning here at the Salty Ewe Farm.
No segue here, but Nathan took Tulip and Hendricks to Bangor last week and they were quite well-received. Did not do too well in the natural colored class, as I expect their fleeces are still too short to be judged, but I am not sure. He did tell me that there were not enough Babydolls being shown in Maine to be judged as a class, and so I am hoping that maybe we can try to change that. Apparently, there need to be at least four or five animals to create a classification. I may be naive, but would there be any drawbacks to having the breed represented in fairs and shows? From what I have read online, other states so have the breed in competition. Since I am one of three breeders of Babydolls in Maine - Romney Ridge and Spinakees the other two - maybe there is not enough interest? It'll be interesting to find out.

Learning Curve

clotheslines works far better than maple branches.
gloves are a must.

Alchemist of Monkeytown

I've got little hanks of colored wool draped from some branches of an old maple tree that hang over my front porch, and several more hues are soaking in water and dye bath as I type. Hoping that the pink on my fingertips does not wear off on the keyboard; need to invest in some good gloves. And a few big, old pots.
Playing with color and wool all at the same time feels really right (and fun!) to me - and I'm eager to continue becoming the alchemist of monkeytown. Today I used some of the Earthhues cochineal that I picked up at Halcyon Yarns in Bath on Wednesday - and dyed several shades of wool in the deep fuschia bath - Una's white fleece, Callie's oatmeal, and Maya and Rollie's browns; the latter two are soaking overnight. Also tried soaking a little of the goldenrod, too, and it looks amazing. A sherberty orange, with variations in orange, yellow and fuschia. I'm diggin' the dying and feeling a little bit giddy about what doors this may open for me. Or what doors I go knocking on. Who'd have ever thought that I would become anything remotely similar to a chemist. A color chemist. Alchemy in the Heights. 

Flock

Sitting on the back deck looking at the flock. Good cup of coffee, favorite Sunday tunes, dog at my feet, warm sun on my face and birds galore. Needed to wear a chamois shirt on the walk this morning and think I could almost see my breath when I stepped out at about 6:30. A perfect morning for the first of August. The sheep are grazing up along the bank along Bufflehead, where we secured the fences a few weeks ago after the great escape. They've worn a path along the ridge and are eating all of the bushes and grasses up to the fence - which makes Bill happy. It would have made Jim Emerson happy, too. The little flock has really made a lot of people pretty happy over the years. Faye and Janet used to count them several times daily, an activity that I know made them happy when they were in the final years of their lives. Bill the ram is named after amazing Bill Wildes, my neighbor and friend. He is a piece of work and loves the sheep and watching me learn as I go with them (gives him a lot of fodder for ribbing me). The kids down Obed Lane have grown up watching them, often talking and singing to them on their way to or from the school bus. One of the little guys will frequently pause to take a leak as soon as he gets off the bus and runs down the lane a bit, and it cracks me up that he does this but also sometimes talks to the sheep while he's standing there for a few seconds. I see all this from the deck. Innocently. Where I sit and write this morning. Enjoying the blogging way more than I thought I would, and definitely way more than I enjoy the mucking. Which I will also do today. Later.

After another cup of coffee and a little more flock watching.