tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42233310072744431852024-03-05T16:24:59.245-05:00losing sleep counting sheepKrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.comBlogger1069125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-13663164195350789502016-03-06T20:14:00.002-05:002016-03-06T20:14:27.455-05:00lambs in snowLambs are getting bigger and stronger here by the day. Friday was their first experience of snow.<br />
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It was gone by later that day. Hopefully this will be the last of it; it hasn't been a particularly hard winter, but we are all ready for spring.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-47387099699227987182016-02-23T21:51:00.001-05:002016-02-23T21:51:25.019-05:00and now we're doneLuckily the ewes gave us a nice long break after Jasmine had her quads, to give us time to get them all on the right road.<br />
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They are big rowdies by now, sturdy little things and absolute terrors to all. Many of our ewes have little hoofprints on their backs, compliments of the gang of four, who seize any opportunity to play king of the mountain on objects at rest.<br />
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Almost three weeks to the day after they were born, the rest of the lambs arrived in what can only be described as a tidal wave. Several nights and early mornings were spent on a hay bale bed/chair, with the faithful dog for warmth, listening to a ewe's rythymic grunting and knowing when it was time to lend a hand.<br />
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It wasn't just the humans who were watching the show, however. We could have sold popcorn to the bystanders.<br />
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It was an exceptionally rough season, however, merciful only in the fact that we have a relatively small number of ewes. We have never had lambings and related issues as difficult and complicated as this, and we hope to never again. We are short on sleep and long on exhaustion and heartache, and quite honestly, it will be a while before I can even think of trying this again. If you ask me today, my answer would be a resounding no.<br />
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The only bright spot was the chance for our youngest son to shine. With the older two out of the way, more or less (they helped when they could, but they aren't around that much anymore), he stepped up to the plate in a big way. He was asked to deal with a lot of difficult things that all farm kids must deal with—the messiness of life beginning and life ending and being sometimes painful in between—but he never hesitated, and he never faltered. I could not be prouder of him, and I am holding on to that as the reason that we had to go through all this.<br />
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Because there has to be a reason.<br />
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Now we, and even more so the sheep and the lambs, can start to dream of fresh grass growing, and lambs growing along with it, and the chance for the cycle to spin its way through again.<br />
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<br />Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-61023225116975276802016-01-31T20:47:00.004-05:002016-02-02T07:09:39.826-05:00a roll of the diceWhen we bred the ewes last fall, it wasn't the most thought-out decision. The rams were leaving; we weren't getting another ram anytime soon. It was then or not at all. So we went with then.<br />
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Shortly thereafter, I switched jobs.</div>
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Let me make it clear: I love my new job, but I am now officially back to being an attorney with all the time demands that sometimes entails. The office I work in is very flexible and very understanding, but I am away from home more, and more randomly, than I have been for a very long time. We are all adjusting.</div>
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And now, earlier than our usual custom based upon when the rams left the farm, lambing season is upon us. The first births were yesterday, and it came up snake eyes.</div>
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Secondo made the discovery when he went to the back to feed. Jasmine with one lamb in the ground, and more surely on the way given the first one's size. When she was all done, the final count was four.<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> Quadruplets, the first ever set on our farm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">My husband and I immediately realized the enormity of it. Jasmine has frequently raised triplets by herself, with just a little assistance at the start. But four! There is no way she can do this by herself, though if any of our ewes were capable of it, it would be her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Thank goodness that Primo had cleared out the barn earlier that week, and Secondo and Terzo were home yesterday morning. Bottles were washed, clean old towels were pulled up from the basement, the heat lamp was plugged in and the babies and mama were settled into the jug, a smaller fenced area in the barn that keeps the new family together and warm for a few days while they get used to each other.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Now the intensive lamb management starts, and here's where the time starts to matter. Every lamb detail is noted in our barn book. Time of feeding—which for the time being, is every 3 hours—amount eaten, weight of each lamb every 24 hours, and any other relevant information.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Luckily we have help. So far at least, it's been very willing and enthusiastic help.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">The reasons are pretty obvious!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">I didn't get any pictures of Secondo except his hand, but he has been a right hand indeed! He even volunteered to take the 3 am shift, but the lambs are still so tiny and fragile that we didn't want him to make an unwelcome discovery. The runt, born at 4 lb, the smallest lamb ever on our farm, is particularly touch and go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">We are all a little touch and go as we try to work out these demands in light of new schedules, Jasmine included.</span></div>
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Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-14584612474973418792016-01-24T20:37:00.000-05:002016-01-24T20:37:02.703-05:00winter whallop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We have been coasting along here in the Northeast, kind of even forgetting what the season was, because it has been so warm and temperate. I am not saying I am a fan of these elevated temperatures, as a matter of fact they scare me silly, though I seem to be in the minority as everyone else waxes on about how happy they are to wear flip-flops in December.</div>
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But then: Jonas came to town.</div>
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My wonderful husband volunteered to go out in the blizzard on Saturday morning to feed the sheep. We had left them in the back, rather than bringing them up to the barn, because they vastly prefer their three-sided sheds to the barn. Also, the barn hasn't been cleaned out yet. </div>
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Do not miss his trusty canine companion's expression in this picture. It was an accurate representation of how we all felt in the face of the relentless blowing.</div>
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Fast forward to this morning: a pristine winter wonderland. Say what you want about snow, but it sure has a way of beautifying the place, at least until we start messing it up with plows and shovels.</div>
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My turn on the snowshoes to do the chores. This time the trusty canine is sneaking some sheep feed, one of his favorite snacks.</div>
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Chicken made it through the storm just fine, though she was super happy to see me with the feed bucket. She wouldn't come out of her hutch yesterday but today she was on the ground and ready for her breakfast. I guess she had nothing better to do during the storm because we got an egg in the bargain.</div>
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Then further back, out to the sheep... the snowshoes were not much good, I am not sure why.</div>
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Lazy girls spent the day in their sheds! (The second shedis out of shot to the left, where you can see their tracks leading.) Their heated water tank is next to where I am standing to take the picture. Clearly no one ventured out to it. </div>
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Secondo took pity on them later and went out to break a path. I didn't have time this morning, plus I had to take off my snowshoes to get over the gate—no opening it with all that snow.</div>
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We—and by we, I mean mostly my husband and boys—made quite a dent in the plowing and shoveling yesterday, so today's clean-up was not so bad. Nothing left to do for the rest of the day but play on fort mountains of snow.</div>
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With all that energy and enthusiasm, he'll be the one tapped for chores tomorrow. School has already been called off so he'll have plenty of time to fight his way back there. Character building, right?</div>
Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-34909526737432871192015-12-30T22:14:00.001-05:002015-12-31T07:08:01.462-05:00good for what ails youIt has been, in the way of all Decembers, a very hectic month. With a new job still taking all my extra time and energy, I did my best to ease up this year: no handmade gifts (except the traditional photo albums). No cookies baked. Minimal social engagements. An attitude determined, at all costs, not to get too bent out of shape over meaningless details. Stay calm. Focus on what is important. Breathe. Repeat.<br />
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We had one very big wrinkle, however, in the form of this unassuming pumpkin:<br />
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This pumpkin was one of the benefits of Secondo's fall job, working at a local pumpkin patch. On the last day, he took his pay in the form of pumpkins for everyone to carve, hence the Halloween pumpkin carving party, and this particularly large and spectacular specimen to grace our front stoop. It did a great job providing seasonally appropriate decor through October and November (pumpkins are still appropriate in November!) and into December (because, see above, not getting bent out of shape over details).</div>
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So it was still sitting there when Secondo came out of the house early in December, in a fury over being grounded, put on his rubber boots, and delivered a good, solid kick of rage to the pumpkin. He was hoping the pumpkin would explode in a spectacularly satisfying display of destruction. But the nights had been cold-ish, and the pumpkin was pretty much frozen, and instead the thing that gave way was his big toe.</div>
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Broken.</div>
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In retrospect, perhaps I should have been a <i>little</i> more concerned with the decor.</div>
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Secondo was, of course, completely out of sorts at this news. Instead of getting his winter track season underway as planned, he was facing a very different month hobbling around in a walking cast. Not to mention the fact that he had effectively grounded himself for far longer, since he could not drive with his right foot in that cast.</div>
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My seasonal attitude came in handy that day. He loves to cook and bake, so we took it back to basics with the simple meditative exercise involved in making chicken soup together. Peel carrots. Chop onions. Simmer. Skim. Breathe. Repeat.</div>
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The Italian wedding soup we produced seemed to cure all evils, at least that night.</div>
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This picture is from mid-month, when Primo came home for a few hours to help us get our Christmas tree. (The walking cast is the least problem with that picture! The fact that the boys were in short sleeves, and in Terzo's case, shorts, is even more messed up.) The cast came off on Christmas Eve, in time for him not to clomp up and down the church aisles in his role as head acolyte, and he returned to running winter track this week with no apparent ill effect. It might even have been a blessing in disguise, forcing him to slow down for a month, to take a breather from all the stress and strain of being a high school junior with a lot on his plate.</div>
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Every so often, we all need that space to breathe, whether we make it for ourselves or have it handed to us by life's equivalent of a frozen pumpkin.</div>
Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-33009394674234682052015-12-05T21:27:00.001-05:002015-12-05T21:27:16.566-05:00chicken adventures<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
A post before the end of December! But our chicken had such a day today that it DEMANDED a blog post.</div>
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(Yes, chicken, in the singular. We are down to only one chicken as of September, or maybe it was October. She really doesn't seem to mind but we hope to find her a friend or two soon to help her keep her conserve body heat as the temps drop.)</div>
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I came out to find the chicken strutting around helping my husband move cattle panels. She doesn't have a name, because we have had chickens for so long at this point that no one gets names anymore; my husband calls her Chicken, so we will use that for purposes of this post. She usually stays in the coop for her own safety—way too many hawks and foxes around here—but she had enough supervision for today while we did a zillion farm winterizing chores. (To be perfectly accurate: my husband did a zillion chores. I helped with about 1/4 of them.) </div>
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Dusty had been asked to keep a respectful distance, but he was somewhat distressed about Chicken not being where she was supposed to be.</div>
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She was having a high old time exploring.</div>
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We went into the barn to find a few supplies—I was going crazy trying to locate a reasonably sharp pair of hoof trimmers—and came out to find that Dusty had put Chicken back into her coop and was guarding the door to make sure that she didn't escape. He really saw no reason why she had to be out.</div>
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Dusty was called off and Chicken was allowed to continue her adventures following her favorite person in the world. Can you guess who feeds her every morning?</div>
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One of our most pressing chores was getting sheep hooves trimmed and coats changed before the weather turned. I never did find a dang pair of shears; I had to make a trip to Tractor Supply for that specific purpose.</div>
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I had plenty of help from Chicken while trimming up 36 hooves. For once, I remembered to wear a pair of gloves and save my hands from the inevitable blisters when I <i>forget</i> the gloves.</div>
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It's entirely possible that Chicken was solely interested in the grain left behind by the sheep when we were trying to catch them. Either way, she was a constant presence.</div>
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Kali had no idea what to make of Chicken being out of the coop.</div>
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Sheep chores were eventually done but the sheep pasture is a far way from the coop at the moment. Chicken showed no inclination to leave the sheep and head towards home, so she had to be forcibly carried from the back.</div>
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What a man. Feed bucket, halters, crook, and chicken. It's almost <a href="http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/6565">American Gothic</a> in tone.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHF0a2v7ibl2gNcOh8AechQK3RluiZkWJsdSDVRepCwIf3tZ9SKAcqlsIb5OzdTPSzm_Xd35UVvbNxXNbXtxaLJBE-PpvkpxQq86VCLAm809BZPSSxftBG60S-3_zWqOPBSg0GG0Wma6c/s640/blogger-image-516151232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHF0a2v7ibl2gNcOh8AechQK3RluiZkWJsdSDVRepCwIf3tZ9SKAcqlsIb5OzdTPSzm_Xd35UVvbNxXNbXtxaLJBE-PpvkpxQq86VCLAm809BZPSSxftBG60S-3_zWqOPBSg0GG0Wma6c/s640/blogger-image-516151232.jpg" /></a></div>
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Although he didn't take her back to the coop! He is a sucker for this bird. He dropped her off in the garden, where Terzo was busy cleaning it out. Don't be too impressed, it was a paid job. But Chicken was happy to help for free.<br />
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Eventually she made her way back into her coop on her own accord, and we locked the door for the night. She ate her weight in bugs today and I'm sure she'll sleep well tonight, dreaming of all her travels and wanderings. For a cooped-up bird, it was quite a day.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-69262749663263911462015-11-30T22:15:00.002-05:002015-11-30T22:15:58.380-05:00no more rams, but hopefully lambs<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Yikes, here I am again, up against the end of the month! Why yes, my new job keeps me much busier, why do you ask?</div>
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Our big news this month was that our beautiful Coopworth ram boys, bred and born on our farm, are off to greener pastures. Not in the euphemistic sense, but actual new pastures with fresh ewes to breed and all sort of adventures awaiting.</div>
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The first to go was Monmouth, who left mid-September. My husband was sorry to see him go as he was one of his favorite animals ever on the farm. But if a ram gets a new gig, you have to let him go. Not all rams are so lucky.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYo2wPNv6BZrHF3ZWp_wDcUFZCQjrcVw-XHQVhNnWoz_IIuj4XqordAT8Gc-RLGpDBRcj20XF6X8ubTBBad93zonApLLYh6AoOOeATg4GaRyLxTZQMcZNx-tAQ9r4mKmIL5gZR80oJyQ8/s640/blogger-image--906776294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYo2wPNv6BZrHF3ZWp_wDcUFZCQjrcVw-XHQVhNnWoz_IIuj4XqordAT8Gc-RLGpDBRcj20XF6X8ubTBBad93zonApLLYh6AoOOeATg4GaRyLxTZQMcZNx-tAQ9r4mKmIL5gZR80oJyQ8/s1600/blogger-image--906776294.jpg" /></a></div>
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When we got the call that Monmouth had a new home (he went to a commercial farm with cross-bred ewes), we had to act quickly. Breed for next year before he left, or go another year without lambs? One of the favorite ewes in our flock, Secondo's Kali, was at a now-or-never point in her breeding career. We have never gotten a ewe lamb out of her, and we would love to have one. And she is getting older and heavier, so if we didn't breed her this year, she would probably never breed again.</div>
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So we went for it. And while we were breeding Kali, we decided in for a penny, in for a pound, and bred all the ewes while we had two willing rams.</div>
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Marking harnesses on the rams, coats on the ewes to protect their wool from the marking crayon, and off they went into their separate pastures. Kali, of course, was the last ewe marked, the morning that Monmouth left. We'll see if she takes.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKBOOEC3DCUrrZduFEmOroO-NzTWtPwklYdZG66SqVBFbPw3HqNzS6_ZkZB7WuI1rLyZY9KXYlXS8ZPqJ_UpBEAkxOIQX7ia9uyby5jIJfWqAZYLCUcv_yp6uP432PFETrjojJPhfq6E/s1600/IMG_2869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKBOOEC3DCUrrZduFEmOroO-NzTWtPwklYdZG66SqVBFbPw3HqNzS6_ZkZB7WuI1rLyZY9KXYlXS8ZPqJ_UpBEAkxOIQX7ia9uyby5jIJfWqAZYLCUcv_yp6uP432PFETrjojJPhfq6E/s640/IMG_2869.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Hard to say if the ewes were thrilled or not. (Just to be clear, we don't tie them up to be bred. We have them haltered and tied because we had to separate them into breeding groups for each ram, and make sure that they had proper fitting coats, trimmed hooves, etc. before we release them with the ram. Those annoyed looks have more to do with their feelings about being tied up on halter.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXKImDGN-UOANdXdRfZpONPJh3QgLjV29qUm-mjDWbeM7VbZUk8TR0nHkTCb1dip5jF6xdX5y1zbKg1FOS0Oz5yTY-0E2wQ44IUDRNh-iPc8-Yopm7-DlGccId0sIb6XiGHJRCbdVziuc/s1600/IMG_2110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXKImDGN-UOANdXdRfZpONPJh3QgLjV29qUm-mjDWbeM7VbZUk8TR0nHkTCb1dip5jF6xdX5y1zbKg1FOS0Oz5yTY-0E2wQ44IUDRNh-iPc8-Yopm7-DlGccId0sIb6XiGHJRCbdVziuc/s640/IMG_2110.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Once Monmouth departed, that left Mercer, our stunningly gorgeous and well-mannered boy, one of the nicest animals ever produced on the farm, all by himself. Well, he was in with a couple of ewes, but he couldn't stay in with them all winter and definitely not once the lambs started arriving. Luckily for us and him, a good home presented itself before too long. He went to a new-ish Coopworth flock in Pennsylvania, to be buddies with Elwell the ram. His new owner reports that he is happy so far with the situation, though he hasn't been introduced to Elwell yet (Elwell is still busy with his own ewes).</div>
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Now we are down to ewes only, a situation we haven't had on the farm in several years but, from a flock management point of view, one of the easiest configurations to manage throughout the winter. Everyone can be together, and for the first time (since we had no ewe lambs this year), everyone can stay on the same nutritional plan while those lambs are hopefully growing. I was surprised by how much I missed the hurly-burly of lambing this spring. It may just put me under, but I can't wait until those lambs start making their appearances in early February—provided the rams were in with the ewes long enough!</div>
Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-20520162045262719562015-10-31T23:18:00.002-04:002015-10-31T23:18:34.189-04:00quick!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_H3n45MLRnXHQ7lSGaDCdP7Mafc6zkmpTHXTlHcdKATOzT5EjIcMJ3-6AIHfa3i29rakX6feQBHGsZ8iuKDnS0WUhy9uU09QAP8xDNb3A1aA-jYkW3OAd_pR85-rHSIm-TD0-5RVmhZ0/s640/blogger-image-359121213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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Better get a blog post up before I break my streak: since I started blogging in 2008, I never had a month when I didn't blog. In fact, I never had a month where I only had one blog post, but it's a little late for that streak now so I'll just try not to break the first one.</div>
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So much going on around here. Too much work, but at least Old Job is pretty much done and I can start focusing on New Job. The routine isn't in place just yet, but that's okay because things are so up in the air around here that maximum flexibility is the primary criterion for an employer at the moment, and I am blessed to have just that.</div>
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I spent most of one weekend seeing this guy with Secondo in tow, very interesting experience:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzScrfwsnDEd7Sik6VnWNKBnhSSA6mtC8sCXmBzt74igFRc9vtJ0vDB6EHncERs8aZ_8Q-g4rH3UZrZrQKE7VFhv2GsxnT5tEZobO_NBADbdVuKNlHJN4p3fFqLEZvvZ9HBQ2naZT9JA/s640/blogger-image--1323545618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzScrfwsnDEd7Sik6VnWNKBnhSSA6mtC8sCXmBzt74igFRc9vtJ0vDB6EHncERs8aZ_8Q-g4rH3UZrZrQKE7VFhv2GsxnT5tEZobO_NBADbdVuKNlHJN4p3fFqLEZvvZ9HBQ2naZT9JA/s1600/blogger-image--1323545618.jpg" /></a></div>
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I have spent many weekends and afternoons and nights watching these sorts of activities:</div>
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<i>Secondo was co-captain of the team as a junior and their top-scorer all season.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWd2e-S60F41GUtTK0FAeyudTcBVv1JYjJzw6npZpz24UB9L4VQOK1gIuXaewagR1VW60kIuF2GZJeQVzpAUGGSciARZ612dBVlvTRNNqdQFrPdAWt406-TLvkV8OtEuY9q9wNzNQSE_0/s640/blogger-image--755327961.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWd2e-S60F41GUtTK0FAeyudTcBVv1JYjJzw6npZpz24UB9L4VQOK1gIuXaewagR1VW60kIuF2GZJeQVzpAUGGSciARZ612dBVlvTRNNqdQFrPdAWt406-TLvkV8OtEuY9q9wNzNQSE_0/s1600/blogger-image--755327961.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Yep, it's finally Terzo's turn to start running.</i></div>
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<i>Primo is on the right; his roommate is on the left</i></div>
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Very little and very much fiber stuff going on. Nothing on the needles all fall, another unfortunate record. No new patterns (except for one finally getting finished, to be covered in a future post) but it is FALL, and fall means fiber festivals.</div>
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At Garden State Sheep Breeders, a most enjoyable weekend with my mom:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZeoF93h7-cwru6GCA_SucGr4isfwq2M8YOLOY2_SAg4K-3aZhvCVc4y70lCleqBgMWEceAtlPON6xml0ZrqWlRqeEU4YRKX4i8p4er0f8wRSHQdKHXTmnTn1l7Ck3miOmWIJRagZS-g/s640/blogger-image-1120299700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZeoF93h7-cwru6GCA_SucGr4isfwq2M8YOLOY2_SAg4K-3aZhvCVc4y70lCleqBgMWEceAtlPON6xml0ZrqWlRqeEU4YRKX4i8p4er0f8wRSHQdKHXTmnTn1l7Ck3miOmWIJRagZS-g/s640/blogger-image-1120299700.jpg" /></a></div>
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At Kings County Fiber Festival in Brooklyn about a month later; a very enjoyable Saturday with my mom:</div>
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And then the mother of all fiber festivals, Rhinebeck, a scant week after that, not with my mom but with a very enjoyable group of fellow Coopworth breeders:</div>
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In addition to all that, add birthdays (Secondo and Primo), driving tests (Secondo: he passed), Halloween parties and costumes (Terzo: he hauled in 13 pounds of candy), cross-country team mom duties (for Secondo's team, can't really say no when your kid is a captain which was probably the plan) and lots and lots of running (me, getting ready for a half marathon next weekend).</div>
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Girls are out on the front lawn now to catch the last of the grass before we have to start the hay. With the price of hay this year given the low rainfall summer we had, we would like to wait as long as possible!</div>
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Girls seem to be saying it is time to slow down and take a breath.<br />
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Just enough time to throw in a few seasonally appropriate and timely photos, because Chris said, at the rate I am going, she wouldn't be seeing them before Easter.<br />
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It's nice to beat expectations every once in a while. Terzo in his James Bond costume, and pumpkins carved by the boys tonight, along with assorted roommates and girlfriends. Happy Halloween!<br />
<br />Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-33201325020483931772015-09-10T21:38:00.000-04:002015-09-10T21:38:34.122-04:00new beginningsI know that the first rule of blogging is that you don't talk about how often you blog, but it is primary evidence of what is going on around here.<br />
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I have run out of gas.<br />
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My lifestyle, once so similar to that of the Energizer Bunny, has born a closer resemblance to the giant sloth over the summer. Very little was accomplished on a day to day basis. Yarn remained unknit. Projects remained undone. Blog posts remained unwritten. Hands lay idle in my lap, or at least that's how it felt. For <i>months.</i><br />
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I somehow slipped out of the giant <a href="http://m.livescience.com/46145-can-you-surf-the-east-australian-current-finding-nemo-style.html">East Australian Current</a> of creativity; instead, I was treading basic family survival most days. Yes, laundry was getting done (not necessarily folded) and meals were getting cooked (or at least warmed up), and everyone is pretty much in good shape and ready for a new year of school, but that's pretty much as far as it goes.<br />
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Which, as I keep telling myself over and over, is okay. Everyone, even the Energizer Bunny, gets to take a break from time to time. It's necessary. It's healthy. Stop beating myself up over it, already.</div>
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But shorter days bring thoughts of fall fiber festivals and knitting classes waiting to be taught, and I feel myself slowly getting back in gear.</div>
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Back to school doesn't hurt, either, to get me in the mode.</div>
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Sixth grade <i>(sixth grade!)</i></div>
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Junior year <i>(junior year!!)</i> in high school</div>
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Move in day for the sports teams; his sophomore <i>(!!!!)</i> of college doesn't start until next Wednesday.</div>
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Even more importantly, I am making a switch in jobs, from something that has not been a good fit for a long time now, to something that seems a bit more promising. I gave my notice today and I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted. I spent the afternoon getting lots of wool ready for the NJ Sheep and Wool Festival this weekend and kept catching myself with a huge grin on my face. </div>
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Here we go.</div>
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Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-23757801824380143252015-08-20T21:55:00.001-04:002015-08-21T05:56:45.002-04:00a box of peeps<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
A couple of weeks ago, I wandered out to my husband's office (it is in the part of our house that used to be a garage) and found his office manager frantically making phone calls. </div>
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"The chicks are in, and I can't find anyone to pick them up for me," she said. I immediately volunteered, because although I had heard about how baby chicks are delivered in the mail from hatcheries, I had never seen it. I grabbed the boys, and we headed to the post office.</div>
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We could hear them as soon as we walked in the door. No doubt as to which box belonged to Joan. The chicks are shipped when they are only one day old, because they still have the energy from the yolk to sustain them. (<a href="http://www.mypetchicken.com/backyard-chickens/chicken-help/How-come-you-can-only-ship-chicks-when-theyre-H8.aspx">It lasts for up to three days.</a>) The receiving post office calls the new owner as soon as the chicks come in, for immediate pick-up, for the benefit of the post office worker and the chicks.</div>
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Something about holding a box of loudly peeping chicks that makes you smile.</div>
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To get an idea of just <i>how </i>loud they are, the boys made this video in the car driving home:</div>
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Once you get them home, you have to put a shallow container of water in the box with them and dip each chick's beak into the water, to make sure they start drinking since they are close to three days post-hatch, and the yolk nutrition is running out. (She fed them as soon as she got them home; this first, critical operation took place in the office storage room.) Joan dipped each chick's beak several times, both to make sure they got some water in and to make sure she had gotten every chick, since there were two of each breed.</div>
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Don't ask me what breeds. I think the yellow ones are Buff Orpingtons but not sure about the others.</div>
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Dusty was very concerned about the strange sounds emanating from the storage room, a place he is not allowed to visit. All he knew for sure was that <i>something</i> odd was going on, and it probably wasn't allowed, and just what were those noises, anyhow?Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-83551954920087704302015-08-18T22:05:00.002-04:002015-08-18T22:05:44.512-04:00mystery squashThanks to the <a href="http://losingsleepcountingsheep.blogspot.com/2014/10/major-development.html">great ditch-dig of 2014</a> (which was totally worth it; running water and electricity in the back of the farm revolutionized our winter chores), we were left with huge troughs all over the place. We have spent much of the spring and summer getting fill dirt and trying to even things out a bit around here.<br />
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A few days after we filled in the trench, Secondo was observed working away with great purpose in the middle of the yard. A 16-year-old working away with great purpose is noteworthy enough that it deserved further investigation, which revealed this structure:<br />
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He had found a different-appearing plant in the fill dirt, determined it was a squash of some sort, and set out to fashion a structure to protect the plant from marauding sheep and lawnmowers. </div>
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He even remembered to water it on a somewhat-regular basis. Truly, when he puts his mind to it, his dedication knows no bounds. If only we could channel these tendencies...</div>
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The squash plant has thrived, as squash plants tend to do. Recently, blossoms and now these strange fruits have appeared on the plant. Any idea what they might be? Secondo says acorn but my money is on pattypan. </div>
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The mystery of where this plant came from has still yet to be solved. We have never had a plant like this on our farm, and I am amazed that a volunteer survived the transfer from another place so successfully. I don't know why I continue to be amazed by Mother Nature. Her ability to astound knows no bounds.</div>
Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-48494978125838280162015-08-11T22:03:00.000-04:002015-08-11T22:03:38.319-04:00how does our garden grow?How does our garden grow? Despite <a href="http://losingsleepcountingsheep.blogspot.com/2015/06/garden-guilt.html">the late start</a>, in the way of most things having to do with Mother Nature...<br />
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Surprisingly, shockingly, well. She is amazing, that Mother Nature.<br />
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Lots and lots of eggplant blossoms on the plants started by my father. Two baby eggplant are just visible in the bottom right of the photo. It's almost ratatouille time!<br />
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Provided the tomatoes can hustle along a bit. Plenty of green ones but not a lot of ripening going on. Maybe next week, with the rain we got today.<br />
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A little baby pumpkin! Secondo is quite excited. He grew this plant himself, from seed. It will (hopefully) turn orange in time.<br />
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Our best crop? Marigolds. They are crazy happy this year. We always plant them around the borders of our raised beds to discourage rabbits and other pests, though they haven't been much help with the deer, who have been feasting on the tops of the tomato plants. The marigolds are riotous with growth and blooms this year, maybe thanks to the fertilizer we put at the bottom of every hole to compensate for our late start.<br />
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Whatever the reason, they do a great job of distracting the eye from the weeds.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-11720484308501445962015-08-09T21:49:00.001-04:002015-08-11T21:29:23.582-04:00blue moon fairIt has been that kind of week... Actually, make that weeks, with woes too many to mention, both large and small. Thankfully, 4-H fair wasn't one of them. Preperation was hell, but once we were settled in, things went off without a hitch.<br />
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Though <a href="http://earthsky.org/space/when-is-the-next-blue-moon">the blue moon</a> was fitting. Fair was tinged with quite a bit of melancholy as we were reminded over and over again, all weekend, that this was Primo's last fair. (The 4-H program extends into "year 13," <i>i.e.</i>, the first year of college.) We have attended ten straight years of 4-H fair together, so this ending was more momentous than the end of high school because, as he put it, "I didn't attend high school for ten years!" Nor was high school so enmeshed in our entire family's calendar and operation that entire summers were built around its immutable, immovable presence smack in the middle of the season, with everything to be planned around it, as 4-H fair is.<br />
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We still managed to have the usual great time together. Lots of hard work as always but plenty of time for play. Campfires on Friday night under the full moon. Pie-eating contests under the shade trees.<br />
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For the first time, they went head to head in the pie-eating contest; the first place winner was glad to come out on top in pie eating, at least.<br />
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And there was the costume contest. Always the costume contest. Stuart and Kevyn (her real name) Minion took fourth place.<br />
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Hard to say if Terzo or I was most saddened about Primo's time in 4-H coming to an end. The future of the sheep show is uncertain, with few members left with sheep. Terzo's fair experience will likely look much different than Primo's. Which is fine, of course. He has been doing it for ten years, too, so a little change isn't necessarily a bad thing.<br />
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Primo may think it's his last year, but there is no way that the 4-H program is going to let him (and his good friend G.) off that easily. They are getting quite polished at their sheep-shearing show; Primo narrates and answers questions while G. shows off his considerable skills. They've already been invited back for next year.<br />
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Though it will all look a little different, for all of us.<br />
<br />Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-84456045562568500502015-07-26T22:31:00.000-04:002015-07-26T22:31:13.113-04:00out and backSo behind that I don't know how I will catch up with all the happenings around here, but let's see if I can do it in five minutes or less...<br />
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Secondo and Terzo went to camp and had a great week, except Terzo being very, very blue about the fact that it was Secondo's last year. HIS LAST YEAR. I am blue, too.<br />
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After picking them up, we headed north for vacation, but since we had a little time to kill, stopped at a few colleges to give Secondo a few ideas. Middlebury was our favorite; too bad it doesn't have his major. But I plan to apply there.<br />
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Then onto points north and Montreal. Lots of architecture and art and churches and history.<br />
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Even a jaunt up to Quebec.<br />
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Our favorite day was the day we rented bikes and toured all over Montreal, across the St. Lawrence River to the Parc Jean Drapeau Island, down to the St. Lawrence rapids and up the Lachine Canal.<br />
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We have just about recovered and now it's time to turn ourselves around and head back out for fair this weekend. Better stock up on sleep now.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-84699899930965553302015-07-17T22:43:00.000-04:002015-07-17T22:43:00.174-04:00july greeningAll the rain we have been getting lately has meant a lot of greening up. April colors were more like August's parched brown, but July is looking positively May in tone.<br />
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The corn just down the road, shown here as dusk was falling, is taking full advantage. Not quite as high as an elephant's eye, but getting there.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-89215204539027464152015-07-14T21:43:00.000-04:002015-07-14T21:43:00.052-04:00cleaning sheep housesBig projects last weekend, with big boy toys—a Kubota backhoe from Home Depot. That sucker was put to work, sun-up to sun-down, so much that the rental guy couldn't believe the hours that were put on it during a single day.<br />
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Big surprise, the two boys leaning on their shovels (or in this case, pitchforks) again. Though for the majority of the time they were super helpful,especially given the smelliness of the situation</div>
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Shed all cleaned out and freshly strawed, though the line at the back shows how overdue we were. Now it is even more obvious how much it needs a fresh coat of paint.</div>
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Despite all our hard work, the grass is fresh and deep and green away from the shed, and never mind the rain. They'll stay right out here, thankyouverymuch.<br />
<br />Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-27437995053062888232015-07-10T21:47:00.004-04:002015-07-10T21:47:49.796-04:00blueberry cat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The blueberries are all cleaned and tucked safely away in the freezer.</div>
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The cat was a tremendous help.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-76271764380349485022015-07-07T22:18:00.002-04:002015-07-07T22:18:39.672-04:00a magic carpetSo so busy at the moment, with perhaps really big things afoot that I must keep close to the vest for the moment, but nevertheless, positive thoughts to The Powers That Be would be much appreciated.<br />
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In the meantime, don't miss this wonderful blog post by my mother about how she got started in the fiber arts, about <a href="http://www.filamenti.net/2015/07/the-magic-carpet.html?showComment=1436321693181#c5950595674737827118">her own magic carpet</a>.<br />
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I have been steeped in it my whole life, and as with many things, which I appreciated and participated more when I was younger! Now you know where my passion comes from. That rug has been hanging in my parents' house for as long as I can remember. The spirit took a while, but finally moved in me.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-87953655496183149412015-07-02T22:00:00.001-04:002015-07-02T22:00:11.011-04:00blueberry run gastronomy<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Our annual run down to deepest South Jersey for our beloved blueberries. I write this post annually so I have a place to note how many flats I buy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxNllVM78bLFi6KVJldvBOKo66cQVnyG0Beb_v6DX0JzNdS9boUKasJ_mZT9-Tw4GcrNZ8zAE1JPubU5PKHpOhnZGycxaoRVx4QOg8tAi3wROQBc68fAsaeJobqxznMI8tjK6s6JwI3k/s640/blogger-image-909898402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxNllVM78bLFi6KVJldvBOKo66cQVnyG0Beb_v6DX0JzNdS9boUKasJ_mZT9-Tw4GcrNZ8zAE1JPubU5PKHpOhnZGycxaoRVx4QOg8tAi3wROQBc68fAsaeJobqxznMI8tjK6s6JwI3k/s640/blogger-image-909898402.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Last year, it was 9.5 and we barely made it to the beginning of May with our frozen berry supply.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFOrlWpf4lgBlIs_PGQXS42VVQM1Izq8nPImLm672xs_Oc-zPbwqJCVfDOqvQsJbB0ROH_lg5Rs-i59zBQEGMmSZHwHLg7UP_gpqCYf09hGhKkKgy6_3IB7zLqf-GH7zPNov9h_DibOBk/s640/blogger-image-121864652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFOrlWpf4lgBlIs_PGQXS42VVQM1Izq8nPImLm672xs_Oc-zPbwqJCVfDOqvQsJbB0ROH_lg5Rs-i59zBQEGMmSZHwHLg7UP_gpqCYf09hGhKkKgy6_3IB7zLqf-GH7zPNov9h_DibOBk/s640/blogger-image-121864652.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So this year, I upped it to 12 flats. (Those aren't all our flats. I am a blueberry mule; the wagon held a total of 31 flats for 11 families, including ours.)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikeLiQp4a259GoHJXFuunwuKxqxw0J-WP3Ibx-wn_-eAQbSlXJOQG_TTXlapVtjVy3I9tHF9-wVnYVRN1BlZcBT8rys2-CflIwNZDyS1IFV5XRi9c1VA2nU3CINlFYgCKkY03BH3rHS04/s640/blogger-image-603299530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikeLiQp4a259GoHJXFuunwuKxqxw0J-WP3Ibx-wn_-eAQbSlXJOQG_TTXlapVtjVy3I9tHF9-wVnYVRN1BlZcBT8rys2-CflIwNZDyS1IFV5XRi9c1VA2nU3CINlFYgCKkY03BH3rHS04/s640/blogger-image-603299530.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>I am already worried that it won't be enough.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTaGvk-v0Lz-M-T6-e5SZOQCZ3147HkiXzY8Z87UFBk9mb7KWs6xdc74zGe_BSiJPM_X7A_th6siSV7gqFJ4y_01YAdq-6FZfjZY0BC0qK58EOiyD3VDYq_-s9_tHH2HxpCQXW_eGdXUo/s640/blogger-image-784165288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTaGvk-v0Lz-M-T6-e5SZOQCZ3147HkiXzY8Z87UFBk9mb7KWs6xdc74zGe_BSiJPM_X7A_th6siSV7gqFJ4y_01YAdq-6FZfjZY0BC0qK58EOiyD3VDYq_-s9_tHH2HxpCQXW_eGdXUo/s640/blogger-image-784165288.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Despite snarfing down a pint of blueberries each before we went five miles, they still insisted that we stop at a BBQ place that we have passed every year, but has never been open.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtnSgeHp6qO-VBjec3KZYcDfknY05XLCKBuaf_zBd_eBbDMS0s5r-Ec-XqDHC3pJRNBBWInt6HjCihvLxR2oezgpHkrkJeohDjhxHEPxd7PItm7eYlW1hrYIfhtsEIc5liCrKRXHMJPts/s640/blogger-image-828872232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtnSgeHp6qO-VBjec3KZYcDfknY05XLCKBuaf_zBd_eBbDMS0s5r-Ec-XqDHC3pJRNBBWInt6HjCihvLxR2oezgpHkrkJeohDjhxHEPxd7PItm7eYlW1hrYIfhtsEIc5liCrKRXHMJPts/s640/blogger-image-828872232.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We found out that we have to go on a Thursday, Friday or Saturday to hit this one. (On Route 206 in Shamong, if you want to go.) We tried the ribs and pulled chicken and then brought home pulled pork for dinner. We highly recommend them all. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaGvTPYEFl83lEYFFJbx1eNvVRsfkHoH3jMaQwAkLqKFQJMfB4U9lPjHxp0vCHcB94TUDHozUewt6YAz8wZlKncXET7yo1h7mfR2W7s8YLRufvJsxPHeSzGyUONa-XSI0OrVSKQgYS-o/s640/blogger-image-179314989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaGvTPYEFl83lEYFFJbx1eNvVRsfkHoH3jMaQwAkLqKFQJMfB4U9lPjHxp0vCHcB94TUDHozUewt6YAz8wZlKncXET7yo1h7mfR2W7s8YLRufvJsxPHeSzGyUONa-XSI0OrVSKQgYS-o/s640/blogger-image-179314989.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But that wasn't enough. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BBMf-R42ECM3ZuCUKefcoqcjJQmltnSHz2Jw-jQQHAGwNPCaaV399_-eVhJJrUKBT_EUNLQ_IvpInKelUIWdbyA07MS1qwa9hrqjYKH5UMH6neVirrauzklWHh9KIMTe9nBe1jUdlaQ/s640/blogger-image--1624928899.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BBMf-R42ECM3ZuCUKefcoqcjJQmltnSHz2Jw-jQQHAGwNPCaaV399_-eVhJJrUKBT_EUNLQ_IvpInKelUIWdbyA07MS1qwa9hrqjYKH5UMH6neVirrauzklWHh9KIMTe9nBe1jUdlaQ/s640/blogger-image--1624928899.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Tradition demanded a stop at the White Dotte less than a half hour later for root beer floats.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgjRw0CEq2aDThaVq2EiGaSi75DPXTBi-XFzBPSyN9fwGo0lz8xs876MzcCyZtQsXLzkId7g0qfQpQGlp-GHxePaznU0CsU-aUTDPhwOMd_0-ihyjBKc31cnKVq55_W7dxWPe3Ocbf1I/s640/blogger-image--2126662847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgjRw0CEq2aDThaVq2EiGaSi75DPXTBi-XFzBPSyN9fwGo0lz8xs876MzcCyZtQsXLzkId7g0qfQpQGlp-GHxePaznU0CsU-aUTDPhwOMd_0-ihyjBKc31cnKVq55_W7dxWPe3Ocbf1I/s640/blogger-image--2126662847.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We rolled home, unloaded berries and have been entertaining a steady stream of customers for pick up ever since.</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq45nPv0ZQWaCTGLmiXobWY8ysxkssjb8ujPWyJ169S4S0PMHdcljrDf-NKzYs_pmrZD00LZhDf3wz9UELRtZzyV8rRzs5oAJ2-ZEDJoRKHqdls5hZOZhTrdr8sAbp018msfaBNM7spVs/s640/blogger-image-1968324209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq45nPv0ZQWaCTGLmiXobWY8ysxkssjb8ujPWyJ169S4S0PMHdcljrDf-NKzYs_pmrZD00LZhDf3wz9UELRtZzyV8rRzs5oAJ2-ZEDJoRKHqdls5hZOZhTrdr8sAbp018msfaBNM7spVs/s640/blogger-image-1968324209.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Guess what I'll be doing on my holiday? Luckily, freezing berries is so easy! No need to flash freeze. Just wash and lay out to dry (I run a fan to help this step along) then bag and freeze. Enjoy all summer, fall, winter, and hopefully spring, long!</div></div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-59665206915632159852015-06-29T22:43:00.001-04:002015-07-01T08:29:50.598-04:00a knitter's prayer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Our church had the most talented seamstress as a parishioner. She was the Altar Guild's frequent savior, resuscitating frayed linens with her perfect tiny stitches. Sewing wasn't her only talent. She was also a dedicated cross-stitcher, continuing when that craft has fallen by the wayside in popularity. Both my husband and Primo were beneficiaries of her gifts.</div>
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She passed away a month ago today, sadly. Despite her many, many talents, she was not always an easy person to get along with, and she has continued her life habits in death. Her friend and I have been working to get her body released by the hospital so it can be properly interred, because <i style="font-weight: bold;">she didn't leave a valid will </i>and it has caused no end of knots trying to get her tiny estate ironed out. Here is my legal Public Service Announcement, on behalf of your loved ones left behind:</div>
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<li>Make a will that is valid under the laws of the state in which you live.</li>
<li><b>Make sure your executor knows where the original is</b>.</li>
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Given the need to honor her in a timely manner, because we have no idea when this issue is going to be settled, our church held her memorial service in the interim. She truly had no family—born to an unwed mother in the 1930s, she was given to a kindly older woman to raise, who died while Carol was still in her teens. She never married, and she had no children. But she had a church family, and they did her memory proud, showing up in droves for the service and putting on a lovely potluck lunch.</div>
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Her executor brought Carol's framed embroidery and cross-stitching pieces to the service, inviting anyone who wanted a momento of Carol to take what they liked. I had my eye on one piece in particular, but held back, waiting to make sure that no one else wanted it. After the crowd cleared out, I was able to claim it, guilt-free and thrilled to have it, because it spoke directly to me:</div>
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I have never seen this poem before. Unfortunately Carol did not date it. My best guess is that she worked it in the 1960s or before, because based on other pieces there, she started signing and dating pieces on the work in the early 1970s. It is an unusual combination of embroidery and cross-stitch, which along with the style of the design, leads me to believe that it is on the older side.</div>
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The framing job needs to be redone, and the piece itself, which has a stain on it in the right-hand border, could use a little TLC. But I am happy to have such a personal remembrance of Carol, who used to ask me for help interpreting knitting patterns. It was the one needle art that I knew better than she did, so this piece is a particularly fitting reminder of her.</div>
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What a perfect way for a crafter to be honored and remembered! I can't think of a nicer memorial to a life's handiwork than to have it displayed at your funeral, for loved ones to choose a piece to remember you by.</div>
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Someone, write this down: <i>this</i> is exactly what I want at my funeral, hats and scarves and sweaters spread out for others to take my love and care away with them, to remember me every time they put on gloves or wrap themselves in a shawl to keep warm. Though the hands may have been stilled, the stitches would live on in love, the perfect way to honor the memory of a crafter. </div>
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<br />Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-69651309637671475822015-06-23T21:24:00.001-04:002015-06-23T21:24:21.695-04:00storm miss<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Judging from my facebook feed, I wasn't the only one taking pictures of the magnificent colors in the clouds after the storm rolled through.</div>
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We didn't get much of the storm, just a little bit of rain.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrmTr3E_0lylEM5pGEu6hBCt2cQDUNADf3lycOkbdDfoF1SGYyJ7aqhyphenhyphenfuCBA_UJTsBMYbenmiVLcdsJ9BmjsNCmitoJetHkPQgpE5ZTpia5Kf6FQLgCir82DkxUoxO9LXo5zwscztdOI/s640/blogger-image--420669792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrmTr3E_0lylEM5pGEu6hBCt2cQDUNADf3lycOkbdDfoF1SGYyJ7aqhyphenhyphenfuCBA_UJTsBMYbenmiVLcdsJ9BmjsNCmitoJetHkPQgpE5ZTpia5Kf6FQLgCir82DkxUoxO9LXo5zwscztdOI/s640/blogger-image--420669792.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The sheep, who are currently mowing in the front with the willow for shelter, were very glad for the miss.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-80870383274291658352015-06-20T22:03:00.000-04:002015-06-20T22:03:50.330-04:00garden guiltIf you are a long-time reader of this blog, or you know me IRL, then you know that a garden is a key part of our summer existence.<br />
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Except this year.<br />
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The blog is just the latest in a long line of neglect. The garden was one of the first, compounded by the fact that the raised beds were left empty by the last two winters. If it hadn't been for Secondo's insistence on ordering seeds, getting them started under lights by himself, etc., etc., then I certainly would have thrown in the towel on this one and been content to buy from local farmers.<br />
<br />But he didn't give up. He kept plugging along, and people kept giving him plants, and it turned into a garden in tiny pots out on the deck. A few weeks ago, Primo asked me if Secondo had talked to me about replacing the topsoil. He must have heard a note of desperation in my voice when I admitted that I had <i>no idea</i> how I was going to find the time to deal with that.<br />
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I came home from work the next night to find Primo shoveling topsoil into the beds, after a hard day's work himself for a local landscaper, while the other two... Well, you can see for yourself. They are going a great job holding up those rakes.<br />
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Yet more guilt. I tried to beat it back by reasoning with myself that I don't have time any more because I am working to pay his college tuition bill. Plus he is eating us out of house and home, so it's only right that he is contributing to food production around here.<br />
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I still felt guilty, compounded by the fact that the tiny pots remained on the back deck.<br />
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Secondo's sophomore year of high school ended yesterday. Today, he and his father and I finally got the garden planted.<br />
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It is late, it may even be too late, but at least it's in. It's one less thing to feel guilty about.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-5386183880644859502015-06-12T20:51:00.001-04:002015-06-12T20:51:22.774-04:00CO watch capThe event I have been waiting on for almost a year...<br />
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Season Three of <i>Orange is the New Black</i> was released on Netflix today. I can finally found out what happened to Rosa, Vee, Nikki, Tastee, Alex, Red, Poussey... the list goes on and on.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTCAgJYa_6Fozg7QKfM6zsR6rW4aEfMPhuMCtIUyrppKiuwdPC-J4jDGbCRLO_MN1QeDuIJjLsWqaUHv5dbOfg6masSCVCzBbOM4SsfE6PJLvXBiv1emg_wamDTuPLf5CKVZihUCXgaU/s1600/IMG_9677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTCAgJYa_6Fozg7QKfM6zsR6rW4aEfMPhuMCtIUyrppKiuwdPC-J4jDGbCRLO_MN1QeDuIJjLsWqaUHv5dbOfg6masSCVCzBbOM4SsfE6PJLvXBiv1emg_wamDTuPLf5CKVZihUCXgaU/s640/IMG_9677.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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To celebrate, because I am nothing if not the ultimate fangirl, a new pattern.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZVSzqrlb_HOpwhKAnPbg8dLDLBZHlDj6ijUuq5nmIt7Oo2TDTj3BKYL9pgePgJ9rOYMb4A-MCQEPzkHWthJt2slHJ6MJ2EJb_r8ay18pr-bpgv1m_NZ1qVgBZQ0xtq3WAfK50wRxgPQ/s1600/IMG_9713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZVSzqrlb_HOpwhKAnPbg8dLDLBZHlDj6ijUuq5nmIt7Oo2TDTj3BKYL9pgePgJ9rOYMb4A-MCQEPzkHWthJt2slHJ6MJ2EJb_r8ay18pr-bpgv1m_NZ1qVgBZQ0xtq3WAfK50wRxgPQ/s640/IMG_9713.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The CO Watch Cap is a reversible cap in two colors—the rib matches on both sides, with a double layer over the ears.<br />
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If you aren't into prison dramedy, it would make a great school colors hat.<br />
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If you are into prison dramedy, I know where you'll be all weekend.<br />
<br />Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-47786273823219284402015-06-10T21:08:00.001-04:002015-06-10T21:08:56.651-04:00unfurled catValentine says...<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj66j5jA8aR13oX7EO874Mjrv9z-Ca-RTJUODYL_aiCgt_IG-KDIeJ7hF944OLNZ5HA3Ds0prk4e_G1N63GXpGqYGq9Wmanx8_xTZL-b1EcgL6d01xggkAE6vyE-6Yc3C23MXTJBSDKqlo/s640/blogger-image-1311112998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj66j5jA8aR13oX7EO874Mjrv9z-Ca-RTJUODYL_aiCgt_IG-KDIeJ7hF944OLNZ5HA3Ds0prk4e_G1N63GXpGqYGq9Wmanx8_xTZL-b1EcgL6d01xggkAE6vyE-6Yc3C23MXTJBSDKqlo/s640/blogger-image-1311112998.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"No room for anyone else on this chair."</div><br></div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223331007274443185.post-13684288065800085312015-06-04T21:54:00.001-04:002015-06-04T21:54:13.701-04:00no agendaLegal work is like kudzu in more ways than one. It goes mile a minute, it grows when you aren't looking, and before you know it, you are completely enmeshed. I tried working part-time in the past and so I am well aware of the constant battle to contain the creeping crud. These days, as the state of this blog may have indicated, I am up to a solid four days a week; I started at a firm "no more than two days" in September. I was relieved today to find out that a knitting class, scheduled for Saturday, has to be postponed. That's fine, at the moment. So is the steady legal work, because that college tuition bill will be due in two months and counting.<br />
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But the result is very little time for anything that doesn't involve the family's immediate survival.<br />
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I had a church meeting to attend this past weekend, and I was fretting about the added time commitment. "What's the problem?" my husband said. "Just take along some knitting and you'll be fine."<br />
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Except that I had no knitting to take. He was aghast, and somewhat concerned that I might be slightly depressed. I am not, I am just chronically short of time, but I appreciated the concern.<br />
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So I cast on for a "no agenda" project that morning, before the meeting. I am not designing anything, though I should be. I am not making it for someone else, though I should be.<br />
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I am just knitting.<br />
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I queued this pattern on Ravelry on March 3, 2010. (God bless Ravelry for its amazing recordkeeping capacity.) I purchased the yarn at Garden State Sheep Breeders Festival in 2011. I paired the two in my sock project grab bag in 2012.<br />
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I finally cast on this past Saturday, and I am almost down to the heel on the first sock.<br />
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It may not be the best fit for my leg. It may not be the best pairing between pattern and yarn. Quite honestly, I do not care. It is lovely, almost mindless, deeply satisfying knitting, and I am enjoying the heck out of the pastime.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04479177289466582728noreply@blogger.com2