waning days

Can days wane? These are the longest, darkest days and I'm counting down now to the 21st when things will slowly begin to turn around again. The reliable rhythm of the seasons again anchors the salty shepherd.

Henry blends into the night. He's still working out his puppy stuff, so sudden bursts of running in circles are not uncommon. Chasing after small animals that are out in the early morning is not uncommon, either, but I'm trying to break him of that. Instinct. It sounds crazy when it's written. But, the training of an eighty pound dog is required and hopefully his second year will bring more obedience and less puppy stubbornness.

This morning on our walk, he stayed close. We walked the perimeter of the field and the sky was just showing some signs of brightness, a lightening of the black. As I reached the top of the hill, a bright shooting star caught my eye and my breath. The stillness of the morning, the crispness of the air - and those unexpected moments that we're blessed enough to experience if awake. Literally and figuratively. As I saw the shooting star, a favorite line from an old song we sang rang in my mind: "stars are for those who lift their eyes." Wishing one and all a peaceful and healthy holiday season.

winter

beautiful baby lowy in her salty ewe lid

December's arrived with brutally cold temperatures and snow. The last few days of November were really cold as well, and even though we won't officially see winter for a few more weeks, it sure feels like it this weekend. But, as they say in Maine, if you don't like the weather then just wait a few minutes. Tomorrow, it's supposed to be in the fifties.

The ocean's been wild the past few days and I can hear it this morning in the house, with all the storm windows down. Granted, they're not the best windows, but still...to hear the waves and roar of the ocean from indoors says something. During Sandy, the dog and I walked down to the ocean and the sound of it was unlike anything I'd heard before. It scared Henry, and he was obviously upset and would not go down to the water; rather, he had his tail between his legs and wanted to head back - and did, with me behind him. It was a deep, deep hum almost. The waves were tremendous, as you'd expect; but, the deep, reverberant bass that the ocean made that day was unreal. An old neighbor of mine said she'd only heard it like that a few other times in her life - and reminded me that my hearing was a lot better than hers. The power of nature stops me sometimes. And, as a cold winter fog hangs in the field this morning, obscuring little wooly beasts that continue to forage through the thin layer of snow, I'm ready to hunker down for the winter.

Accidents

Sandy spared us along the coast of Maine, but many of us are very aware of the pain and devastation the storm caused to the south of us as we head into the season of giving thanks. Timing and luck. So much comes down to these two variables - neither of which we can control. Trying to be prepared for whatever comes our way is all we can do, really.

Having extra fence posts in case the sheep knock down the fence, for example...

old Bill's eyeball...

Last week, I was talking on the phone with my mom and looking out the window - something I'm happy to say we do a lot. On several occasions, I have had to hang up quickly because the sheep were out or an errant dog was in the field with them; but, last week was a little bit different. I did not call her back right away. All but three sheep were out. This is not good.

The grass is greener on the other side of the fence this time of year. It's not just a cliche for them; it's reality. So, when more sheep are out than in, the challenge becomes herding them without a sheepdog. I know how to move around them like a herding dog would - and, sometimes they follow, but with the abundance of lush, green grass all around them, it was an impossible chore. After over an hour of walking in circles, they were in. I was tired and should have known better than to start throwing around sharp and heavy objects.

A concussion has kept me from doing much in recent days. The fence post hit ledge, and the fence pole driver backed up and nailed me in the head. Miraculously, I did not crack the skull or lose consciousness, and good samaritan builders who were working nearby came to my aid. To think I had been embarrassed about the show they'd had with me trying to corral all of the sheep for an hour or more...shepherding with ego is impossible.
All in all, the salty shepherd is mindfully thankful for more than ever this season.
Timing and luck.

Calm Before the Storm

Well, Frankenstorm is on her way. Admittedly, I'm a little anxious today and spending a good chunk of the day getting things put away here at the farmette and checking in on a couple of other properties that I help watch in the off-season. This morning's weather would never indicate such a beast of a storm is approaching; the fog is slowly burning off, it's warming up quickly and the light is exceptionally brilliant as it bounces off the thinning fog. The trees that still have leaves are all a deep, burnt orange now with the exception of a few red oaks that still hold on to their redness even after we've had a few frosts. The sheep are still finding some green to eat although I am having to supplement more and more with hay now; they'll start to get grain again soon, too. More signs of the changing season.

The shorter days make us all slow down some, and yet the things we need to get done in a given day don't change; maybe this is why it seems there are never enough hours in a day. Finding a balance between productivity and rest is sometimes elusive. When I watch Henry lounging around, which he does quite often and quite well, it reminds me to stop and take in the light and the view and all that is around me here. This is probably the real reason why they call them (wo)Man's Best Friend.

Henry.

Hat Season

We're gearing up for some sort of hit from Sandy here along the coast, and hopefully we won't have much damage or lose power for long if at all. Some day a generator would be nice, but until then the candles, lanterns and charged cell and computer will suffice. The sheep barn has two windows that face   southeast and have been open all summer, so I am deciding to board them up as I have in the past for winter months or put some plexiglass in them. Tomorrow will be the day I decide and do whatever needs to be done, as the weather is supposed to start in on Sunday. Weekends never seem long enough.

These are some nice shots of the hats - thanks Katie for taking them!

These are some much better photos of the hats that I delivered to the shop in town, and I've had a few requests for commissions since - so hat season is in full swing. Since the Sunday will be a wash and outside chores will be out of the question, the needles will be clicking away inside at the Salty Ewe.

knit lids!

I am so happy to have some hats in a really great shop in Dock Square called Daytrip Society (www.daytrip.com) again this year; I dropped them off this week and was thrilled to hear she'd displayed them on the front table the next morning!  Jessica also has a shop around the corner, Daytrip Jr. and am hoping to maybe have some small hats in that shop as well. We'll see. The excitement of having the hats out there gives my sheep a purpose which feels good after so many years of strictly hobby farming.

Letting Go

It was a big day here at the Salty Ewe, and even though I knew this day was coming, the reality of it didn't hit until after it was all over. Three sheep, including little Aztec the ram, were loaded into a truck this morning and then headed off for their new home in Northern Maine. A really great young couple is starting out with sheep, and they're adding a couple of other rescued crosses to their new starter flock. So, even though it is hard to see them go - but probably harder just letting go in general - knowing they will be well cared for and loved makes it all a lot easier.  Having some control when you have to let go seems to make it all a little easier. So, I am thankful to have had that this time around.

final pull from the garden yesterday

The cold came quickly, as promised. A hard frost on Friday night had me pulling up armloads of beans and peas in the dark - and the carrots and last bit of greens came up yesterday. The sun was out all day, but it took a good chunk of the morning for the frost to disappear from the lowest and most shady spots in the field. It was a full day of working in the gardens, reflecting on a summer that came and went with a blur. Summers can be that way sometimes.
The days are getting shorter now and many trees have lost their leaves completely, while others hang on with a tenacity that defies windy odds. I like those leaves the best; the strong ones. The sturdy and healthy stems will give way when they're ready. No sooner. And, then they will let go, too.