Why So Quiet?

Boudreaux's fleece is still out on the hammock "dryer", but he's the last one. Everyone else is washed and picked and ready to go to the mill. The washing machine and I are both ready for a day off! I have a few fleeces left from last year, so in all, there are 28 bags of wool in this room. The picture really does not do it justice. I just couldn't stand back far enough to include them all.



Whew!

This year I'm having some of our wool processed into quilt batting. There is a really nice quilt shop in town, Zeppelin Threads, who wants to carry locally grown products, and she is also working on an actual quilt of our painted barn quilt. Won't it be nice to snuggle under the Frog Pond stuffed full of Peabody wool?

Far Away

I'm far enough away from spring shearing that we can all laugh about it now. When you're in the middle of it? Not so much.

Woolliam got his first hair cut this morning. I would have liked to let it grow just a bit more, but he's so hot and the forecast is for 88 tomorrow. He did just fine for a wee lad getting his first trim, but when he tried to climb into my helper's lap like a scared puppy, I couldn't help but think of one of my favorite Far Side cartoons.



That would be Woolliam, fainted dead away in the back of the class.

Spend The Afternoon...

Springtime is just so busy on a farm. Sometimes it seems we don't even take time to eat dinner, and if we do, it's 9:00 at night. We've had a rash of cool weather though (and we know how rare that can be in the summertime) and a friend and I decided to take an afternoon and canoe a small part of the Licking River.

We used an outfitter north of Cynthiana, Setter Ridge, and were treated to a nice boat, a shuttle six miles up the river and instructions on where to leave the canoe when we were finished. The route was estimated at 2-4 hours depending on how the water was running and how quickly we paddled, but we were encouraged to take and enjoy the whole day.

My friend had packed a fabulous lunch and we set off at around 11:30. Knowing how much I had to do that day, I got in the boat and mentally clicked off 2-3 hours depending on our lunch break, plus travel time, and figured if I was lucky I could be back to work by 3:30 or so.



Here's the thing.

WHY?!?

What on earth couldn't wait until that evening, or better yet, the next day? Who in their right mind would trade spending an afternoon with a good friend, listening to nothing but birds and the sound of paddles dipping in the water, trying to see if you could sneak past a heron without it flying away (not even once!), or watching a deer come down the bank, swim across the river and climb back up the other side without giving us a second glance?



I've used this quote here before, but it certainly bears repeating or re-pounding into my thick head.

"Spend the afternoon. You can't take it with you." Annie Dillard

Nest UN-building

I watched a tiny house wren demolish an existing nest in one of our bird houses yesterday. I hope it was an abandoned nest, but it's hard to say. Pool season has just begun and I'm still trying to get up to speed with the yard "soaps".

I noticed that most of what she meticulously picked out all afternoon was wool, mixed with a few feathers. As it seems that most of the birds here actually like our wool in their nests, I was a bit disappointed.



Today, all is quiet on the bird house front, so I snuck up and took a picture of the remains of the demolition and then peeked inside to see what she chose to line her new nest. It was wool.

I suppose it's no different than us moving into a new house. What is the first thing you (or at least I) do? Clean.



Silly birds ;-)

Attention Please!

Saint Tim has proclaimed himself to no longer be Saint Tim, but now prefers the more (or less) descriptive, Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson. But, we already had two sheds, and now with the two new sheds we have four sheds, so wouldn't he really be Arthur "Four Sheds" Jackson?

Another Mouth

I was at a spinning guild meeting the other night and my phone rings (well, actually it "baa-a-a-a-a's" ;-D). "There's a really skinny cat on the porch and I think it's Brushy's brother. Should I feed it?" asks Saint Tim.

"Well, of course, if it's Brushy's brother."

I get home and the cat looks nothing like Brushy.

"His name is Comby." he says. Oh brother.

So, meet Comby.



We got him tamed down enough to catch him and get him vaccinated and 'tutored', and as soon as he got home from the vet, I suppose he understood he was adopted and settled right in.

I now have a new faithful companion to accompany me to the barn every morning, so I guess he might be a little related to Brushy.

Just Shoot Me

We are trying to get two run-in sheds built, one in each small paddock, and the usual contractor "issues" are slowing things down and making me crazy. It's way too hot to be out there with no shade!

So, as of last night, one shed is basically finished. The horses have access to both paddocks. Which shed are they standing in this morning?



Oh. You. Know. It.

To make things worse, I go to feed the babies and this is what I have to look at.



Could you be any lazier?



Apparently so.

Names Update - Just In!

William was suggested (thanks Charlie Dog!) and it immediately clicked - Woolliam! Get it? :-D



Now all we're lacking is the little red ewe lamb.

Clover Belly

Saint Tim comes up with all the good names: Ewen McTeagle, Boudreaux, Tilly Bobby, Weaslie, and my personal favorite, The Ass Brothers (Fat and Dumb aka Handy and T-Bone). Sometimes the names just come to us and sometimes they are earned.



The little Jacob ewe lamb seems to be Clover Belly. Not only did it just come to me, but I also found this while I was out taking pictures of her yesterday.



We are still working on the NY sheep. I've gotten some great suggestions - Rusty for the brown ewe lamb is on the short list for sure as I have another special friend with that name, but nothing is sticking for the Cotswold ram lamb.

Keep the suggestions coming!

New Lambs....part two

There's nothing better than a sheep to make you look stupid. Well, besides my own pea pickin' self. Look what I found when I went out to feed last night.



I know how it happened (a ram lamb from a few years ago didn't get completely castrated), but as he'd not gotten anyone bred in three years, I sure didn't expect it to happen now.

The momma is one of "the belly's", Emily's family line beginning with Annabelly, aka Anna Big Belly, our very first baby, years ago. Baby Belly is a first time mom, had no pre-natal care other than lots of good pasture, was out in the big field with the whole herd and managed to have this little lamb all on her own and knew just what to do.

I'm looking forward to trying to catch some better pictures, but as a proud (of the sheep, not myself) grandmother, or I guess great-grandmother, I couldn't wait to spread the news.

We also need another name!

New Lambs....part one

I was so excited to post pictures of our new lambs from Nistock Farms in New York, but, as always, the fates are laughing at me (read I am most always the butt of someone's joke) and so this is our new lambs...part one.



Look at these cuties. The white lamb is another Cotswold like Buddy, and the moorit, or reddish brown, lamb is a cross, bred especially for her color.



Isn't she about the sweetest thing you've ever seen?

Neither have names. Any ideas?