Almost February!

Callie, in back, looking quite round

Even though we're still in the depths of winter here in Maine, there's something about the end of January that makes it feel like the end of winter is near. Or at least nearer. We've added almost an hour of daylight since the winter solstice, almost all of which seems to occur in the afternoon. Sunrise still at o'dark thirty, making the morning chores a little less enjoyable since it's hard to see. The shepherd's night vision isn't what it used to be.
The end of January also means that I start to look for signs of coming lambs. Callie is getting rounder by the week and yesterday I felt around underneath her and she is indeed beginning to bag up. That's the term that's used to describe the process of an udder forming, and over the years I have learned not only to call it the right thing but also to tell how close a ewe is from lambing out from the size of that udder; that and a few other signs that make it pretty unmistakeable. I remember taking notes and then even photos of different stages of a ewe as she got closer to lambing, because I remember thinking that I would never get it, that I would never know what the hell I was doing and now look at me; everything I've learned about these sheep has been from reading, experiencing and picking the brains of other people who keep sheep (that's another post!). From prolapses to stillborn lambs, and most recently the maggot episode, the lessons that the sheep have taught me about taking care of them are valuable in so many ways.

Who, me?

Keeping Warm

sheep, no coats

It's been so cold the past few days that I swear the sheep's fleeces have gotten a couple of inches thicker overnight. They've puffed right up. This is good, because when it drops down to zero and below at night they need all the insulation they can get in their little barn.

I refuse to coat them, though. More aware of the veggie matter in their wool than in past winters, I try to rub and brush off what I can from day to day - but, with the old Swedish Deep Bedding Method in these frigid winter months, there is a lot of stray hay in the barn and as a result, on their wooly bodies. Putting coats on them would do little to keep them warm but would definitely keep their fleeces cleaner. I refuse because I love the colors and the pure aesthetic beauty of them - hues of browns, oatmeal and creams...thick, wooly colors that move together.

Minus Eight

And that's without the windchill.

That's all she wrote.

Winter Images

Beautiful winter's day

Maya

It's over our heads!

Looking over toward Bill's

Loki and Odin

Loki and Odin, 6 weeks old

staying warm today

It's been two years now since Loki and Odin came to the Salty Ewe to live, and when I think back to the time when I went to see them for the first time and then the excitement of going to pick them up and bring them home, the feelings make it seem like it was just weeks ago. Not years.


Getting two was a great thing - for them as well as for me. I didn't know it when I picked them out, but they were the two boy kittens from the litter who always cuddled together and played together. When I went to pick them up, their human mom told me this; it's made having them and keeping them together so much more special.

As I start looking into options for selling some of the sheep, it's hard not to consider this chum thing. There are lambs who love to play with one another but also ewes who would probably like to stay with their lambs. Or, maybe I am projecting too much. Whatever combinations end up going together, I know that I am going to try to do as thorough a job as Loki and Odin's humans did in selecting homes for them. Eager to see what kind of response my letter gets from the vineyards that will be receiving it in the coming weeks. More on that later.

Brrrrrrrrrr

Another 8" of fluffy, white stuff today. Wind has picked up now that the snow has stopped, and frigid temperatures are heading this way...the coldest we've seen in Maine in several years from what the weathermen say (and more snow next week if you believe a forecast for five days out). Highs tomorrow only about 20 degrees and the next few nights well below zero. Like, more than a few degrees below.
Brrrrrrrr.

So, as soon as the sun peeked out this afternoon, I grabbed the shovel and started the clearing of paths - the one down to the barn needed widening; it was too tight with a splashing bucket of water and my irregular footing. The snow banks have gotten so high that I was holding the buckets up higher to clear them, creating way too much work. On top of already enough work.

Winter water is definitely one of the more laborious aspects of raising these sheep. Will bite the bullet and plug in the heated buckets tomorrow and use some old roving to plug in the gaps around windows in the barn. Plan on getting in a big load of hay in the morning and then some cooking in the afternoon.
Keeping everybody warm and fed here during the cold, winter months is an ongoing event - and yet it brings such a sense of accomplishment and pride that all of the energy and time feel well worth the effort.

red sky at morning, sailors take warning

Winter Sunrise at Salty Ewe Farm

Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Waking up to sunrises like this one have a way of making cold, winter mornings so enjoyable. Even more so knowing I do not need to go out on the water to earn my living! The colors are not as vivid in the image as they were in reality (due to the flash I guess), but you can get a sense of what the critters at the Salty Ewe and I are fortunate enough to wake up to each morning.

The other day during the blizzard, some man stopped alongside the road, which had not yet been plowed, and took a bunch of pictures of the field. I stood at the window watching him, wondering why he would be standing out there in 40 mph winds and blowing snow to take pictures of my pasture. But, then I remembered that it is an incredible view. A really beautiful open space in an area with fewer and fewer of those, and so it made sense suddenly that he would want to capture the wildness of the wind and snow across the field. The fact that I get to look at it, live on it, wake up to it and go to sleep on it is nothing to take for granted. And, I don't.

winter wool

I sat and wound up a whole basket full of balls of roving this afternoon - enjoyed putting colors together and looking at the wool again in all of its different stages. Still have some pillowcases full of dyed cleaned wool and also several dirty fleeces from last spring (which are safely stored for now). Unlike my friend Lori, I do not have the space inside to do any kind of work with the wool in winter months - save knitting.

It's been so cold the past few days that doing much of anything outside is a chore, so it's been nice to be indoors and getting caught up on little jobs like winding up wool, watering plants and watching the shadows from the trees get longer and longer as they stretch across the snowy hill.
Been lugging buckets of warm water down to the sheep rather than plugging in the heated buckets so far this winter - we've had so few frigid nights that it seemed just as easy to switch out their water more often. But, the forecast is calling for more zero degree readings in the coming nights so it looks like maybe the time has come to plug in those buckets.
Callie is looking very round, and I think I saw the beginnings of an udder this afternoon. Probably premature on my part since she isn't supposed to lamb until early to mid March - so still 6-8 weeks away.
I'll need to inspect more closely one of these mornings. Having the lambs to look forward to each spring is really one of the best parts of raising sheep for me. The anticipation makes the cold, short winter days much more tolerable and the ultimate arrival - of spring and of lambs - all the sweeter.

Snow, Snow, Snow

It was 8 AM before I even thought about making my way down to the barn this morning. Woke to the automated school closure phone call and was up brewing up some coffee before it had gotten light - or started to snow too much for that matter. It's blowing and snowing heavily and has been all morning. At times, it's been nearly white out conditions. Beautiful, but not the weather you want to go out and play in.

On days like this, the barn doors stay closed. There are enough gaps around windows and doors to keep the ventilation good for them, and they're happier when they're dry and warm. I assume they are at least.

It's been a day of reading and cooking, looking out the window and playing with the dog and cats. Beate ran out of sight this morning, when it was still dark outside and snowing lightly, and brought me her tennis ball. We've been out twice since. She loves the snow. The cats, on the other hand, have no interest in going out in this weather.  I love the snow.  
Sitting here, smelling the sweet paperwhites, and listening to the wind howl outside. Watching it snow.

Hats

Christmas Hat 2010

I haven't added up the numbers yet (no great surprise there), but all of the hats that I had knitted up were either sold, bartered or given as gifts by me. I actually ended up needing to do a few special orders, which was great fun. Knitting the one pictured here was especially enjoyable...

I had saved my mom one of the few hats with the light blue wool, since I thought that those colors would work for her. And, my dad's has a wide, green stripe - as close to Dartmouth green as I could get. My brother's was being finished on Christmas morning (while he watched). His has some more detailed stripes and a mustardy wide stripe, and I thought it looked great on him. Atlanta has had winter weather lately and thought the hats would be a warm reminder and thoughtful gift. Hand made gifts are always special - and my skills have improved a little since the days of string, glue, glitter and big clay medallions.
My nephews both said they would wear them, too, so I am going to knit up two more for them soon. The yarn supply has been practically depleted and so getting more spun is a priority. On the list of things to do in 2011 - find a spinner. I'm looking forward to more dyeing this summer and having an even wider selection of colors and hats for 2011 holiday season.

Little Things

The other morning, I brought my camera down to the barn with me with the hope that I might be able to get some good shots of the sheep doing their happy dance. This was what I got. When I look at this image, it makes me laugh because they all look so orderly - almost like they come out of the barn two by two with adequate spacing between them. So not so. It's usually a small stampede in the morning, with all of them pushing their way through the doors as I slide them open.

Happy Sheep

The little dance that they do makes me smile and sometimes laugh out loud; without fail, no matter how much I may have on my mind, watching them jump around as they follow me (surround me) as I walk out to their feeding spot for the winter months brings a simple joy. Such a little thing.
Callie and Bella are beginning to waddle, so not much jumping going on with them. I do, however, get some head wiggles from them.

That thing animals do to communicate with us - if we slow down enough to pay attention - is pretty remarkable really. Whether a happy dance, a short series of baas, the look in an eye or the tilt of a head, they let us know what we need to know. And, with any luck, they know what we need them to, too.

This Dog's Life

Sunrise at Goose Rocks, 1-1-11

When Beate was just 8 weeks old, we walked on Goose Rocks. I have some great pictures from that day, too; and countless other days on various beaches with her over the years. Playing frisbee, swimming, running sideways in circles. I only did the former and watched the latter in awe...for years and years she ran and jumped and wiggled to catch tennis balls and frisbees, snowballs and stuffed toys. You name it, and she chased it. And, when I would not throw any more- "all done!"- she would start the forage. The nose knows. Golf balls, softballs, lacrosse balls, whiffle balls and shuttlecocks. Remnants of tenants who played at the beach and left their toys behind. Sometimes, she'll steal a toy from the neighbors' yards - and we always return it, but her slight teeth marks on whatever she's found will give her away. This dog's life has been so fun. So far. For as many more days as I get to have her around, we'll keep on playing and foraging. When she doesn't want to play, when she doesn't perk up as we drive down Route 9 and anticipate the blinker going on, then I'll know. It'll be my signal.

A New Year

It's a good thing that there are lambs to look forward to during the next few months. The year ended and a new one has begun with some sad news here on the farmette, and so ringing in 2011 has not felt as joyous as I would have liked. But, such is life.
I could post a picture of the ultrasound, the only proof that really exists right now. It shows a mass, about 5 cm in size. Positioned in a place where removal is not a possibility. The suspended reality of these days is exhausting, and yet life must go on. And, it does.

Beate and Me, April 2010

We took in the first sunrise of 2011 at Goose Rocks Beach yesterday morning, and it was a beautiful way to bring in the year. And the day. Later on, we went to get a load of hay and some fresh eggs and enjoyed some of Katrin's  delicious hot chocolate with real whipped cream at Larry's house. Dogs and sheep and cows and goats of all ages at that little farm, and sitting around with steaming chocolate and people who share an understanding for the importance of animals in our lives somehow managed to ease some of the pain that has come with the news of Beate's illness. Being with a huge room full of people who adored Rick Folsom, my esteemed colleague who died the day after Christmas, helped to ease that pain, too. Slightly.
And, so while the new year has already brought challenges and pain, it is because of years past - some full of equally sad times - that I know it'll all be okay eventually, again. Time will not fly when I need it to. But so it goes.
Winter is a good time to get quiet and listen to the gentle rhythms of life. And death. It is dark and cold, yet beautiful in its frozen way. Listening to the dog, listening for the lambs. The shepherd sleeps lightly in times like these, just like in the folk tales.