No words

 

Lillian and The Sunflower Sisters

Little Sylvia Pettini

Little Sylvia Pettini is doing very well. She has not quite caught up in size with her mates, but is gaining weight and eating well. And also I'm pleased her left eye is healing. She definitely has a slight scar on the interior eye from where she lay on it so much as a sickly newborn, but she no longer holds it shut and I am not treating it any more.

She is just the sweetest little imp. When I look out in the field she is the one that most looks like a little woolen doll. She always comes up to visit and welcomes hugs and holding. Actually this flock is so personable, and if I'm kneeling with Sylvia, one by one they all venture over. I wish I could have some pics of me and the flock. For now I take these rather silly selfies, and ponder at how old I am getting, nearing 59 soon.

The safety of the fallen leaves

I grew up with gorgeous fall color of Minnesota, went to college in upstate New York with road trips to Vermont ,so it is wonderful returning to the gorgeous display of Mother Nature's paintings here in Maine. Oregon was beautiful too of course, but you don't get the reds and oranges there.

An Oregon friend asked, "So, is the fall as great as the New Englanders claim?"

Short answer...yes.

But for me the sounds of fall are what bring me both the comfort of childhood memories, or college days, and also melancholy for those I love and miss. What is melancholy for a past time but the idea that it was safer, better, easier...I doubt it was, but when I walk through the leaves, that sound, it reminds of making leaf houses as a child, knowing I'd be going into a homemade meal of my mother's, dog at my side...nobody could hurt me. Did I have any worries? I'm sure I did. But melancholy makes it all safe, those memories seem worrieless.

So as I did chores last night, and raked leaves into compost piles, I knew I'd be going into a fire, a homemade Martyn meal, and a dog at my side. Did I have worries? Some, but once in the house, or in certain spots of my land, or barns, I feel safe. I suppose someday, I might feel melancholy for this.

{Have you been enjoying the photos and writing of the past ten years here? Please consider supporting my new book project, with only 15 more days to get it funded, I need your help.}

Martyn making another rock wall for next year's veggie garden

The pigs actually have a tiny sliver of an ocean view

The Small Bird and Rodent Cemetery grows

Leaves like potato chips

Mother Earth puts her colors together so well. I was looking out the window at the hydrangea pinks next to bold oranges and thought,

I'm not sure I'd do that in a painting, but maybe I should.

Mother Earth, the painter and weaver of color and texture with the flock's gray's and buff's backdropped with The Wood is so beautiful. I haven't been in a New England autumn since the '80's and it is just as spectacular as I remember it. As a child in Minnesota our falls were beautiful too. At the old farm, we had leaf drop off but it was more like November and we didn't have the old trees around the house except Old Walnut, and of course we did not have the reds and oranges.

My leaf carpet goes everywhere I go right now, and certain animals treat the leaves like an open bag of potato chips-especially old Scooby Keith, he just loves the fallen leaves.

{As you meander through your autumnal day, please consider visiting the Kickstarter page for the new book project, "Itty Bitty & Big Etta" which is the complete opposite of the campaign season. I need your support and love. Thank you.}

Well, I guess it is pretty magical here too

After stacking wood all afternoon, we stopped at four and I looked out and saw all the animals in their fields, with the reds and ochres just beginning. It is a light gray today-both the air and sky-contrasting beautifully with the many white animals and autumn colors.

I was driven to go stand under M'Lady Apple, whose little tiny red fruits are falling abundantly, feeding sheep and goat and wandering dogs and llama. It was all very beautiful.

"I guess it is pretty magical here too. It's just taking me a little bit of time to always see it," I admitted tot the sky.

But when a mix of llama, goat, horse, sheep and donkey passed by, I could hear someone, or something, say...

"Look! A walking magical place!"

Rosie goes outside! Tripod hurts his nose! The Head Troll lines them up!

I sometimes wonder if our pull to Maine had nothing to do with our guides, it had to do with guides for the well being of The- World's-Grumpiest-Pig-I-Am-Fine-As-I-Am-Pig, aka Rosie. A couple years ago, I found Rosie shivering in a light rain. This was very unusual as she hates rain, and hates to be chilled. And she was nowhere near the barn stall she liked to sleep in. She was closer to Old Barn so I got her in there and bedded her down in an old lambing pen.

She never left. In fact, even in the new spring warmth, she refused to go outside. She had always loved the warm sun baths she took in her first years at Apifera. It saddened me, but she just was content in her large suite, bathed in Old Barn's light.
I suspect it had something to do with the arrival of Eleanor, who had come to mate with Earnest. And Rosie is no match for Eleanor.

Well, fast forward to Maine. Rosie again has her private suite, but it is next to the sheep pens. She is uninterested in being friends with anyone. You all know her only friend long ago was Stevie the goat, but he even started sleeping in another area as Rosie grew to like being alone. She likes to sleep, that is about it these days.

So I was really happy that in the last three days, she has been outside waiting for me for breakfast. And she eats outside. She goes right back to bed, but...she seems very content with her new sleeping arrangement. I suspect she is getting arthritic in her hind end too, which might be part of it.

Sir Tripod Goat's Nose: The oddest cut I've seen in awhile. You try your best to keep any dangerous object or fencing out of animal areas, but any farm is loaded with lurking dangers for all of us. I first thought it was just a scratch, but after I started treating it realized he'd sliced it somehow. He spends most of his time in his stall and pen, so I can't figure it out. But he is on penicillin and will be fine.

The Head Troll is aging. You can see it in her body and loss of muscle, thinning hair and one of her eyes is cloudy. She also has started to like getting scratched and petted, only by me, but this is unheard of. Our entire relationship has been built on a delicate balance of respect, hands-off care taking and love-hate day to day. Hate is a strong word, love-irritation? This is a goat that can get stuck in anything, I'm sure always for a good reason in her thinking. But she is now living out with the sheep, and Benedetto and Birdie, near the equines and Rosie. She is about 30 pounds I'd say, but is no pussy cat around the very large and dominant Assumpta, or Calla, the two matriarch ewes. The Head Troll makes it clear at feeding time what side of the hay you need to be on if you are a sheep, she somehow gets them all over there on the opposite side of her in one swoop, and watches for any transgression of boundaries to her side of the hay. If that happens, pow, head butt.

The Head troll still has it. I'm glad. I want her to live out her life as herself as much as possible. She has a pretty good stash of handbags too since arriving.

Flock of gratitude

If you follow along over the past 14 years you know I put a lot of thought into names, but also, into listening for the right name over time. Some animals come on board and their names just scream out at me, others are quieter but clear. And then some are very guarded, or perhaps not ready to have a more long term relationship with me [or maybe vice versa at times]. I imagine naming a newborn baby must be really hard-you have ideas on what to call him or her, but then you meet them and they just don't fit that name. I was to be named either Mary or Bridget. I am not a Mary. Bridget is actually my other self that lurks in me-she is a tough cookie. But then my father's mother died the day I was born, and I became Katherine.

I'm so grateful I found this breed. I knew nothing about them, or most wool breeds since we raised Katahdins, a hair breed. I loved the Katahdins, but raising wool just makes sense to me here. I'm so excited to share the fiber with you next year. I plan to add to the flock and am unsure if I'll breed, but want to get through a winter first before I make that commitment. This breed is regarded in critical status, so breeding does appeal to me. When we started with Katahdins, they were near critical status, and we happy to be part of bringing back such a great breed even in a small way.

Assumpta and Calla -the elder matriarchs of the flock-came with their names. They are fitting to both of them. Little Sylvia Pettini's name came pretty quickly. But the other three were stuck. Part of it was they do look similar, and I had to get to know them enough so I could tell them apart in the field, and see their personalities emerge, which they have. These are very personable sheep-as was my old flock-but for lambs these girls are really calm and people oriented.

Of course Lillian has the most striking markings. I kept thinking of names of women who had such strong features and none of them did her calm demeanor justice. But Lillian seemed strong and bold. The yearling ewe I named Velma, after a woman I knew in my childhood who lived in North Dakota up by my mother's clan-we would go see her every time we went up there and she lived in what to me was a doll house, out in the country, where cookies and breads were always baking. Louisa has a beautiful face too, and it has been a name I return to over and over-my father's middle name was Lois, my old terrier was Louie...it just has a light and happy sound to me, somewhat harking back to another time when fresh pies were sent along in school lunch baskets.

I'm very happy with my flock. And they are happy here, with Benedetto and Birdie to watch over them. I love being a shepherdess, all of it, from trimming feet to herding to...just sitting around with them as they graze. And wait until we get some of that fiber.

Waking up to sheep

This morning I awoke. It's Monday, not that that really means anything to me right now, Monday is Tuesday is Wednesday and on and on. But then I remembered....

I have sheep.

Their names have not presented themselves...yet. The pip squeak once bottle baby [seen above] is doing fine. When she was born and was to weak to nurse on her mom, she was quite wobbly and weak and as she lay around her face smooched into the ground. Her left eye is slightly damaged from that, she holds it slightly closed. I don't think she is blind in that eye, but I am thinking it will last into her adult years. I hope she can catch up and thrive. The former owners did a good job bringing her up to speed-bottle babies are very hard work and it doesn't always end well. She really wins your heart.

There have been many introductions for the flock. They have shared fence line with the donkeys and other Misfits. The have not met the White Dogs yet and once the field is properly fenced we will introduce them all. Marcella was still a bit of a chaser at the old farm but was not with the flock full time. I need to change that here. I hope now that she is going on three we will see maturity in her behavior.

In the meantime, the sheep are here. It's a good thing.

I am reborn as a shepherdess

I've been withholding important information from all of you. I have to have some secrets. But I was busting to share and now can, complete with visual documentation.

I awoke an ex-shepherdess pouring my old flock. By afternoon, I was reborn as a shepherdess. I can not explain how important this is to my evolution into the new Apifera here in Maine. I just wasn't ready or willing to be sheepless.

It all happened in a nice organic way. At first I was looking for Katahdins, the breed we had in Oregon. I love that breed. They are a hair sheep and that made more sense for us there. But I began to rethink it all, and I am a lover of felting and so many friends and followers who are avid knitters/spinners, that I realized wool sheep make much more sense for me here. I then started researching fiber, and came upon a breed that is endangered, and is known by fiber enthusiasts for its wonderful wool, and the breed itself are a lot in temperament like my old flock-good mothers, easy keepers, and calm and personable. The more I researched about it, the more I knew these were the ones. And then of course we visited the farm and I loved them, and the couple raising them also have a fiber mill-so that means I have not only a knowledgeable teacher, I have a place to take my fiber for processing.

These are Romeldale/CVM sheep. The Romeldale is is a fine wool breed [created from Romney rams and Rambouillet ewes in the 1900's], and the California Variegated Mutant [CVM] is its multi-colored derivative. The CVM and Romeldale sheep have never been numerous, and today they are quite rare. The CVM's are listed as critical on the endangered list, so I like we are helping them. Fiber enthusiasts are avid lovers of this breed. Commercial breeders tend to breed out any color.

I chose two spring ewe lambs, and one yearling ewe. I also brought home two of their retired girls, and I am thrilled as the fiber on both is awesome. I neglected to bring some of it home with me to photograph! I was so excited, I forgot, but will go back and get some to show you. The elder matriarch gives this incredible silver fiber-just gorgeous. When you look at these photos, it is the color underneath the top coat that will show up in the fiber-I chose many that have silvers and grey. Both the retired ewes have good years left for fiber [they won't be bred] and both have beautiful fleeces.

And then...I had to have her. The battle baby. I might not breed her, but she was such a little sweet lump of wool, and comes right up to you like a pup. We think she might catch up and she is out of the retired white girl so I am hoping she produces a nice white fleece like her mama.

So that is a quick introduction. You will be hearing a lot more about them-and the fiber end of things. I can't wait until spring and sheering! I don't have a ram yet, and I will see if I get one in spring.

This is going to be fun, lots of new things to learn and I already have a shearer lined up who is highly experienced and used by many shepherds around here.

You will be meeting the flock in greater depth as the days and weeks go on.