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.