It has only been two years and two months - not too bad. I am going to start a series of spinning wheel data because that is pretty much what consumes me at the moment. Well, not ALL that consumes me - we are trying to get some our 36 Muscovie ducks butchered and working on shearing the last of the angora goats, plus other stuff, but right now I am volunteering to help my guild fix, describe, identify and digitize he new collection of wheels, looms, knickknacks, reels, and other fiberparaphernalia that will occupy our new Spinners Cottage. All are numbered, so if you have any comments or questions, please use the # of the item. Much thanks! I will try to list what I think we think we know, but please do let me know what you have to say, too.

176 - German origin, @ 1861 Split-deck slanty? Wheel diameter is 12”, with finials, but some of the smaller ones appear to be soft rubber??? Check out the tallll painted (looks original) distaff Since I am writing stuff down anyway, this seemed like a good idea for keeping info in more or less the same place.

Rants & Research - Common Core

This in response to a headline in Florida Today (August 2014) that recently appeared on Facebook, “Florida school board makes history, opts out of Common Core”, accompanied by a picture of a room full of mostly shouting, clapping people. They later rescinded the vote, but that fact was not made very public, and a person posted as a comment on Facebook: “OMG. Common core is HORRIBLE! THEY DO NOT EVEN TEACH BASIC MATH SKILLS!

As a retired teacher, having taught in several states over many decades, in all grades and areas, including Special Ed, RSP, and GATE (gifted GT, etc.) I cannot view this as a good thing. It was not always thus, as they say, and before 2010, standards in different schools, different districts, and different states used to vary wildly.  Even standards in the same school were not often consistent.

The basic intent of the common core idea is to provide a framework for what is taught at each grade level; “It details what K–12 students should know in English language arts and mathematics at the end of each grade.” Standards in other areas were added later, some nationally and some by individual states, but most dove-tail with the nation-wide standards. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Core_State_Standards_Initiative (Lots of info here.)

You certainly know that the body of knowledge children must master in school increases every year.  In fact, “It is generally believed that the world’s knowledge increases logarithmically, i.e., every ten years the amount of knowledge doubles.” http://www.peavinequarter.com/guest-columns/education-and-the-information-explosion/  So you can understand why it might be useful to outline the basic concepts to be taught at each grade level. Teachers can know that (in an ideal world) students coming into his or her grade have covered certain vital areas, and can then proceed to work on the next level’s goals instead of going back to re-visit something because another class “just didn’t have time,” or decided to skip something. 

Logically, when you have set out goals and objectives, there needs to be a way to measure levels of progress and achievement, as well as areas of concern. That means tests. In my experience, no one likes them; not teachers, not students, not parents, and maybe not even administrators. But they are necessary for accountability, if nothing else, and can help teachers design their instruction as well as help identify students (and maybe even curriculum) that might need help. Plus, testing should and is changing to be made more appropriate, valid and useful all of the time.

If you don’t know or understand about standards and tests, call your district. Volunteer to join a parent group, speak up. The information IS out there, you just have to find and use it. This is an excellent site in California: http://capta.org/focus-areas/education/common-core/

However, the “parent” group that supports the anti-core sentiment (similar in my mind to the anti-vaxers), Parents Against the Common Core, is part of American Principles (NOT principAls) in Action - a conservative group "dedicated to preserving and propagating the fundamental principles on which our country was founded..." http://www.politifact.com/personalities/american-principles-action/, and committed to “full power conservatism”. http://www.wnd.com/2011/02/259869/  If this is your “thing” then fine. But if you can read between the lines to see a huge, hidden agenda, then you may want to do some research f your own. Research other than on Facebook, that is.

The good news is that school districts in my experience have been open to change, and have held discussion and debates on ideas, with the goal of improving instruction, student progress, teacher abilities, as well as understanding and resources for students, parents, teachers and schools. 

So I ask thinking people to do just that: think and read. Virtually all states and districts now have their core standards available on line. Check it out. I don’t know where Franki Pagan (a commenter on Facebook) lives, or what her school is like, but if it is a public school, and she doesn’t think they are teaching math skills anymore, she must be on another planet.

You can see I did not struggle very long trying to hide myself away from the world of pain and bad news. I enjoy my positive Facebook connections too much.  People have interesting lives.  They have farms and animals. They spin, weave, dye and knit; they live in different places, and they travel to even more different places. I get to follow people in places like Mexico, Paris, Italy, Latvia, Denmark, Sweden, and Japan while they are biking or climbing mountains or diving in caves or eating glorious food while watching amazing scenery.

But my life is not all that dull. This morning I fell into the chicken water. 

Fortunately (?) I am big, and I go down slooowly, but I make a huge crash when I finally land.  OK, so here is the set-up.  Our dozen or so hens are loose in a big pen, shaded by an ancient live oak tree.  There are also two smaller A-frame "coops" where we have raised hens with chicks, or isolated newcomers for a while.  There are also two old stalls that serve as coop with nest boxes, roost space, and feeding areas.  A big feeder hangs from the ceiling of one stall, and it always has lay pellets in it - no matter how busy the ground squirrels and crows have been.

Two modifications were made back when we raised a litter of Kangal guardian dogs in the pen.  We put in a big black rubber bucket for water, then later placed a large,  plant saucer under the drip spot so that overflow from the steadily dripping hose would fill the shallow container for the chicks.  We also lined the inside of the fence with hog panels so the more determined dogs could not dig out. 

There are no dogs there now, unless the raccoons are on a rampage, but the wire panels remain, somewhat, but not always, buried in the dirt.  There are also chicken craters, as in the holes that chickens dig to dust in or to look for bugs, or  - I sometimes think -  just for fun. In addition to this, a variety of detritus from chairs for spectators to a phone-cable spool to branches fallen from the oak tree provide an interesting setting for the more athletic fowl, and a foul obstacle course for humans in their 7th decade.

During morning rounds this morning I filled a scoop with scratch and proceeded to wade in past the adoring throng - nothing is better than scratch, to these gourmets of grain.  I dribbled the in a long line so that everyone could get a place at the table, so to speak, and spent a few minutes at the end with two of our more, uh, special pullets.  They were part of a group of four that we bought to put under out great old broody hen, by now a Grammy several times over. But she only elected to care for the ones that were dark, like her - coo coo marans - and shunned the tweedy-brown Welsummers.  So they were raised in the house, by us, and sadly were not taught much about how chickens really live.  It has been a rude awakening, I am sure.

These poor orphans only accept treats from a human hand, and shun the food, scratch and bugs that are readily in the pen.  So I took a page from Gramma hen and poked at the scratch with a finger, clucking, "Look, look, LOOK!" This is what it sounds like to me when the hen finds a prize and is calling to her offspring. After a few minutes of crouching on the ground in my nightie/robe calling out, "Look, look, LOOK!" I figured the neighbors probably had enough ammunition for a court-ordered sanity hearing, so I went off to pour pellets and check the water.  The WS chicks, meanwhile, continued to peck listlessly at a few grains, then leaves, then sticks, an empty bowl, and finally began to flutter after me.  Oh well. 

The shallow saucer was dry, so I bent over to scoop some water from the bucket into the saucer, caught both feet under the hog wire panel, and started falling forward like a felled tree. I did manage to get one hand operating freely, which sadly didn't help, but instead, hit the big bucket of water, sending it caroming into the air, accompanying my scream in altitude if not decibels. This clever maneuver caused my whole body to rotate anti-clockwise - after both knees crashed into the wire panel, that is - and I landed on a big log with my "good" hip, somehow clutching dirt in my left hand while spitting out more dirt and dirty chicken water.

At this point I took a brief intermission to try to untangle the train wreck that was my brain at that point: ASS (Assessment of Stupid Situation) has always been a helpful tool for me. 

1. Roll off log and excruciating knees.
2. Give gratitude for postponing surgery on said knees. 
3. Sit up. 
4. No phone. Phone is in house, along with DH.
5. Take another minute.  
6. Put knees together in case neighbors are watching.
7. Wear undies next time.
8. Does anything appear to be broken - no.
9. Is anything bleeding - not much.
10. Muster the troops to try to stand - butt in the air, downward dog-style; ok, now walk your hands back, take a deep breath... WTF are YOU looking at?
11. And, why are all of the chickens cowering under their roosts, anyway?

PS - I'm fine. A few Tylenol, a bit of Cabernet, and I even managed to weed in the garden today. Perhaps these shake-ups are actually good for our aging bodies. Perhaps I should throw myself off the deck tomorrow morning... with undies, of course.

Ladybug, Ladybug

Where to begin.


I am mentally in a semi-fetal position, imagining myself under the covers, safe and dreaming.  Turning off the news, shrinking away from Facebook, looking into the dense, mostly-green tangle that is my unkempt garden, I want nothing more than to become a small insect that creeps or flutters along its inevitable way, mostly looking for something to eat.  I am too old for other urges, children have grown and flown. 

If I move now I can get outside before the day has burned through the morning gloom.  But that involves moving, and I am totally volition-less.  I have spent most of the last two days in my shapeless, old, gray sweatshirt-robe, except for some town errands, and putting on work shirt and jeans to help put down the two ewes last night.  That includes feeding animals.  That includes checking on chickens.  That includes meals (such as they have been) and evenings in front of the TV.  But no more news.  I can not watch news any more.

I can't do any better than this:

Neil Gaiman’s 8 Rules of Writing

by Maria Popova

“Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.”

In the winter of 2010, inspired by Elmore Leonard’s 10 rules of writing published in The New York Times nearly a decade earlier, The Guardian reached out to some of today’s most celebrated authors and asked them to each offer his or her commandments. After Zadie Smith’s 10 rules of writing, here come 8 from the one and only Neil Gaiman:

1. Write
2. Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.
3. Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.
4. Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before. Show it to friends whose opinion you respect and who like the kind of thing that this is.
5. Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
6. Fix it. Remember that, sooner or later, before it ever reaches perfection, you will have to let it go and move on and start to write the next thing. Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.
7. Laugh at your own jokes.
8. The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you’re allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But it’s definitely true for writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it ­honestly, and tell it as best you can. I’m not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter.

Resting this afternoon, eyes closed but not asleep, my mind was drawn to more than 60 years ago, when days like this - warm, out of season days, dawning clear- would be tantalizingly warm at mid-day.  The seductive cologne of cut grass would draw a child to kick off shoes and socks to wander a bit in the cool grass.  If time and circumstances allowed, one might then plop down, belly first, head on crossed arms, and rest.

The sounds of the world would instantly recede, yielding to near-silent scurryings of the ant and bug world, and the subtle re-arrangements of the grass.  The world grew quieter with the declining angle of the sun. There might be a car horn sounding in a far-away fog, or someone calling children, or children laughing and scuffling as they made their way to the inside, evening world.  People went in for dinner, or started dinner, or were on their way home for dinner.

Eventually the child would wake; the sun would no longer feel warm on her back, her bare legs would be cold.  Someone might call the child, several times, each time the voice becoming a little louder and a little more irritated.  The child would roll onto her back, discovering that the sun had gone from the sky, taking the heat and the day with it.  She would sit up, stuff her socks into the toes of her shoes, and pad through the cold, early-dew kissed grass toward toward the lighted windows of her house.

A Day Late

Yesterday was full of little good things, but before sitting down to write my three favorites, I asked my DH what his were.  He thought quite some time, then said, "Good salad, good dinner, good TV."  Hard to argue with that.  Why?  I think because they made us happy.

TGTs: It's Working!

Woke up this morning to discover that the musical dog trials of the night ended up with  "... all in their places with bright shining faces.  So this is the way - to start a new day!" 

We have three acres, half a dozen pens and enclosures, and three dogs (Kangals) charged with guardian duties.  They are large and gentle beasts, even with the chickens, except that one will kill the others if they come in contact, so she has to be kept separate at all times.  Also, she can't be on night duty because she howls and the neighbor complains.  But she can't be in the house, either, because the older dog is in there during the day so I can give her meds.  Then she can go out later for night duty.  She doesn't howl, but she does want to come in around dawn.  This involves a very complicated system of opening and closing gates, putting on and removing doggie door covers, calling in and rushing out various beasts, rewards with cookies and - of course - flawless communication amongst human caretakers so that we more or less know what is going on.  Last night the two dogs wanted to trade beds, so we tentatively reversed the routine - and it went splendidly!  Why?  Communication!  (And maybe careful gate-closures.)  Ta-da: Thing 1!

Thing 2 was when hubby gallantly agreed to put together some dinner for us as I sat knitting (and, ok, maybe pouting a bit) on the couch watching the evening news.  But I managed not to wine, I mean whine. 
"What's for dinner?"  he inquired, as he cheerfully emerging from a darkened computer room for the first time in hours. 
Me, quietly: "What dinner."  Silence.  "I did breakfast and lunch and I don't want to go in that kitchen any more today," I elaborated.  A brief discussion of how nice it would be to have a salad, and what leftovers were and were not left over ensued, and then he disappeared.  I returned to the knitting and the news. 
Then, suddenly a tinkling as welcome and the laughter of angles rang out at the table behind where I was sitting:  dishes, silverware, the table being set!  Glory, glory - dinner is served!

Thing 3 was born when someone admired a fleece that I had put up for sale, but said she wished she had more money.  I suggested that she make me an offer, and one thing led to another until suddenly we were talking PayPal and discussing various aspects of washing and dyeing and spinning and playing with fiber.  I feel good, she feels good, now THAT's a good thing for sure!

January, a Start of Good Things

So 2013 flew by faster than 2012.  How embarrassing.  Enough said.  People who know me know that I'm still alive, and for those who don't know or care, I am still here anyway.  Moving on.



, http://www.delanceyplace.com/index.php, describes itself as "a brief daily email with an excerpt or quote we view as interesting or noteworthy, offered with commentary to provide context. There is no theme, except that most excerpts will come from a non-fiction work, primarily historical in focus, and will occasionally be controversial."  It is a delightful thing to find in your IN box, and I was especially delighted to see yesterday's selection,  from Flourish by Martin E. P. Seligman.  How can you resist the offer that starts out with, "You will be happier and less depressed one month from now. ..."?

I'm still working on the first suggestion - the gratitude visit - but the second item seemed to beg attention: "Every night for the next week, set aside ten minutes before you go to sleep. Write down three things that went well today and why they went well."  So I am going to try.

1. Yesterday, I had breakfast with my BFF, then errands, then visiting a friend at home from the hospital, all done pleasantly and efficiently because I allowed enough time and didn't over-schedule.  Yay!  When I dropped off two huge bags of stuff at Goodwill, I even had time to shop a bit ( found "new" pillows for the couch,  baskets for wool, and necklaces for me),  and take a nap.  Why?  Because we had left-over Chinese food for dinner and I don't have to cook.  Yay!

 2. Had a delightful speakerphone conversation with grandchild #7, a charming and precocious 3 year old.  We often chat like this when mom picks her up and they are headed home after teaching and day care.  Fridays are especially fun, because all are in good spirits.  I thought of some good questions to ask: "What are you wearing?" invited a many-minute rundown of every single color on her, from toes to nose.  "What did you do at school today?" resulted in a detailed description of painting her play dough creation, which I thought was going to be a pancake, but apparently had become a dead bear.  "I just decided to change my mind," she explained.  Then gave it some thought and decided that maybe it could be a pancake after all, since it was painted purple, red and black, with some blue.  So it could be a blueberry pancake!  Mom interjected that they had blueberries at home, and could make pancakes for Saturday breakfast.  "Oh, YES!" she shouted jubilantly.  "We haven't had those for quite some time!"  These moments of sweetness happen because my daughter is a wonderful mother, and take the time to bring us together.

3. I did the evening chores on my own, since ML had to work late, and things went quite swimmingly.  Why? Because I started early and moved with deliberate intent.  Loaded two bales of hay into the 'Gator and didn't screw up the winch, fed, watered, etc.  All went well until I was coming out of the chicken pen with four eggs in hand, and gave the steel pipe gate a hefty swing to close it.  The latch missed it's mark, and the gate slammed into my face.  The pipe-to-cheekbone contact was so painful I had to sit down for a bit while tears ran down my face, then stumbled back to the house muttering and swearing.  Only later did I discover that I wasn't wearing my glasses any more.  By the time I got back down there to look, it was getting dark, and it is hard to find your glasses when you aren't wearing your glasses.  OK, for the good ending?  No eggs were broken, my cheekbone was not only intact, but barely bruised, and when ML came home he got his 10-million candle power light and found the glasses rather quickly.

And we had left-over Chinese food for dinner.

2012 Stepping Stones

OK, "I Can't Stand It No More"(thanks, Peter Frampton), although Bluto's cry of "I yam what I yam ! and I've had all I can stand, I can't stands no more!" feels much more appropriate.  

It has been just about a year since I inherited  newsletter and program chair duties from outgoing members of my weaving guild.  Not coincidentally, it has been just about a year since I have written  in my blog, or anywhere else.  Life on the farm has continued on at a rollicking pace - shearing in April and October, sorting, picking,  sending, sometimes selling, carding fleece, and always spinning, knitting and weaving.  But, due to some misplaced sense of duty, the programs and newsletters for my guild have taken precedence over other creative endeavors.

Like trying to cross a stream that is too wide to be jumped in a single leap, I am going to walk across stepping on stones, but I WILL get across!

Some prominent stones:
Last January I started the maze of doctors and referrals which led up to a THP (total hip replacement) in April.  We continued our presence at the Vista Market as long as I was able.

Took a wonderful rug-weaving workshop with Jason Collingwood (Peter's son) in February.


Did a presentation for a local "Art Lovers' Club" in March.  Well received, and great fun to do.  Slide show is ready should there be any calls for an encore!
 
Managed to spend some time with Bay-area kids and grands before April's surgery,

Finished seven shawls and a rug

The rug was done with llama and wool roving and linen warp, on a peg loom.

 

Our little flock of hens lost their rooster after neighbors complained, but Michael is their leader now and he takes care of them very well.  By May they are growing and thriving.

In June we had some surprise goat babies - surprise was that I had gotten rid of the bucks months ago!  However, all are simply lovely so will be keepers.

In July Ivy brought the girls down for a visit, and of course a trip to the beach was mandatory.  They were fascinated with the surfers, who didn't seem to even notice them.

The chickens started laying, and by August we were getting beautiful eggs on a daily basis.
We also joined a local CSA, JR Organics and continue to enjoy our beautiful "surprise box" of fruit and veggies every two weeks.

In September my  amazing new neighbor, artist Carolyn Reynolds, invited me to assist with her three-day show in Sausalito.  What a trip!

Carolyn does huge and beautiful canvasses that begin with layers of gold or silver leaf.  On that background she builds many layers of oil paint, so that the finished work is luminous and ever changing.  Very inspiring!

"Real" SAORI from Japan

Later in the month I was able to attend the International SAORI Conference in Los Angeles.  I truly felt like the grasshopper at the feet of the master; knowledge and inspiration were overwhelming, the weavings stunning. 

Kenzo Jo demonstrates SAORI weaving techniques.

My enabler watches the booth.

The second annual Vista Fiber Arts Fiesta was held again in October, with slightly less participation than last year.  Still, it was a fun and fiber-filled weekend.

 Of course I succumbed to some beautiful handspun, hand-dyed singles from TaraSFibers, and was gifted with some lovely wheel paste from the Yarn Marm.  





Toward the end of the month I was privileged to attend my first-ever SOAR (Spin-Off Autumn Retreat) at Lake Tahoe.  Seizing this as my first and perhaps only opportunity, I signed up for weekend workshops with Michael Cook

The silk guru

Judith MacKenzie (luxury fibers)

Judith with her beautiful bison rug

Stephenie and Jacey Boggs

 Stephenie Gaustad (recreating and restoring textiles), and Deb Menz, (working with color on hackles and carders).  Then I  packed my wheel and sweet-talked my favorite enabler to drive up with me.

The picture to the left is sadly a bit blurry, but is one of my favorites because these two ladies are the past, present and future of spinning, and make it possible for all of us to step into that amazing stream of knowledge, skill and history ... and to help keep it flowing.  Thank you, ladies.  Thank you so much.

Got to visit kids and grands in the Bay area, enjoyed (?) the snow at Tahoe, and visited sister in Oceano on the way back.  So rich an experience!!!!

WeFF (Southern California Handweavers' Guild's Weaving and Fiber Festival) was held the first Sunday in November.  Too bad I was pre-migraine, and forgot the cash box and Square (for credit card processing).  It was a lovely day, but sales were the worst ever.  However, that event marked the end of our "seasonal rush," so now things have settled down to a more steady cadence.

I even had time to go visit Gil and Nancy Riegler at Oasis Camel Dairy to see the beautiful dromedaries and to talk with them about developing a market for their fiber.  I came home with a true love for the gentle beasts, and a bag of fiber with which to experiment.  Fun!!  I took my iphone and a camera, but was so caught up in the event that I forgot to take any pictures. Next time, I promise. 

The very same thing happened when Dr. Elizabeth Barber came to speak to my weaving guild.  I was so in awe, and so happy to have her to lunch after, that I never thought to snap her picture.  Not even when she walked over to pet the llamas, something she had always wanted to do.

December seems to have a decidedly more leisurely pace - so far - except that we are now in the throes of packing for our Skeptics' Amazing Cruise , our first cruise ever - amazing or otherwise. 
More on THAT later -- providing the world doesn't end.  ;>

First Tri

I don't know what happened to November and December.  Oh well.  January has been too much fun to even worry about it.

Sometime during that November/December "fugue state" (does anyone watch Breaking Bad?) I did a lot or reading and research on triloom weaving.  There is a Ravelry group that is very active, and also a Yahoo Triloom Group.  The cover picture for the Ravelry group was the one that finally sent me over the edge.  Eventually, I took a short, one-day workshop in weaving on a triangular loom from Barbara Borgerd Ickler, who has been perfecting this technique for decades.  Unfortunately, her web site is a little out of date, but her workshop was wonderful. Even the show-and-tell part was excellent, and by the time she had shown us all of the beautiful examples of her work, I was sold.  Two days later I drove back and bought a 72" loom.

Unfortunately, the holidays interfered with my enthusiastic plans, so everything had to stay under wraps until all of the feasting and festivities were over.  But during that time, I found a nice easel on Craig's list,  sorted out some yarn, and vowed to set things up as soon as the house was mine once again.  

I decided not to waste my handspun on the first try, so found some mill-spun llama that I had dyed, and added some Noro and a bit of handspun for variation.  Lessons learned here:

1. Llama stretches like the devil.
2. Noro breaks and shreds at the slightest pressure.
3. The handspun was not the same grist, in fact, nothing was the same, so tension was wildly uneven.

Planning took some while, since I had lost the notes taken at Barbara's workshop.  Duh.

But I managed to hunt up enough information on line to get me started.  From there on, things seemed to slowly come back to me.  Lessons from phase two:

1. It seems to take forever to adjust the easel, chair and loom comfortably.  Had to hunt up some chains to use as reins for the easel.
2. A 6' triloom and easel takes up a lot of floor space, and tends to frighten the dogs, while being of endless fascination to the cat.
3. A light is really helpful.
4. Use something to contain your yarn, in this case, a wire waste basket.

 

Before I could bind off and make fringe (and several times along the way) I had to stop and try to take up the slack.

1. It is easier to straighten as you go than to try to clean up stretched and crooked rows at the end.
2. Don't use 100% llama!

 I soon found that outside on a warm day is the best place to work, at least during daylight hours.

Hubby worried that the shawl was too - what was the word - sloppy?  But I rather like the open, gauzy feeling, especially for spring.  I finally got the shawl bound off with something that unintentionally looked like leno lace, but is actually kind of interesting, and celebrated the last of the fringe with a Kir Royale, sporting a rose garni.

Nothing provides confidence like one hard-earned success, so shawl #2 is well underway.  And this time, I am using homegrown pygora/cashmere handspun with bits of color.  All one texture, smooth as a baby's butt, and such a pleasure to work with!  The addition of a beautiful wooden Tunisian crochet hook really makes it hard to leave the loom.  Just one more round, just one more!

A Man, a Plan, a Canal: Panama

I worked for some time trying to figure out a palindrome for A Woman, a Desperate Mess, an Impasse, but could fine none.  No palindrome, at least.  BUT, after spending an entire drizzly morning working in my "wool vault," I finally found a solution!  Nearly 200 pounds of llama, finewool, alpaca and ??? fiber in four different colors were boxed up and sent off to Zeillingers for spinning; Wensleydale fleeces were sorted and stashed,  cashmere and pygora fleeces were sent off to Fantasy Fibers for dehairing, and I started washing the other angora fleeces. 

The farm is settling down into fall, goats sheared, sheep peacefully growing their long locks, sun low in the south, but I am gearing up for the last best event of the year:  The WeFF up in Torrance next weekend.  Sorting, packing, planning and creating some new yarns, I have been really busy in the house.

Imagine my surprise when Yollie came bursting through the dog door the other evening, soaking wet!  Huh?  She made one mad dash through the living room (mercifully missing my wheel) then back out the door.  We followed her, trying to figure out what was going on.  At first we thought she had fallen in the lily pond, but there was no water on the deck.  Then she flopped her big self down in a patch of dirt and began rolling and tossing dirt everywhere.  Mad, crazy creature!



 When she had finally coated herself completely with dirt she gave a gloriously happy sigh, and rolled over.  It was then that it dawned on me:  she had found the outflow from the washing machine, and had been totally seduced by the buck smell in the water coming off the fleeces I was washing. 


 
I bet the girl goats just loved her.

I Am in Love

Never mind that he is younger than all of my children, or that he has a wife and child, or that I am married with seven grand kids, or even that he lives in a different state: I LOVE JERRY LADD!  And his dad isn't bad, either (;>)

Jerry took pity on me several months back when I was writing and ranting about our most recent shearing disaster with a brutal shearer, who was fired, leaving us in the lurch for shearing the goats in the fall.  Jerry said that he would be happy to come out and shear for us and, not only was he true to his word, but he arrived on the dot, at 7AM this past Saturday, with his very patient father along to lend a few hands.  He was prepared, experienced and utterly charming.  Plus, he's a spinner! 

Jerry set up his gear and started in on the does and kids, trimming toes as he went.   He remained unruffled - even when a couple of the devils actually bit him!  He worked with a smooth, expert style and patience, while his dad  (a businessman from Bakersfield) provided back-up, sweeping, horn-holding, kid catching and doe wrangling. 

 

 After the does and kids, we moved across the drive where he took on three extremely stinky bucks with the same gentle confidence and poise.  Even big, stinkey Eddie took the event in stride.

The big test, however, was shearing our spoiled bottle baby/premie, Mouse.  I'll let you be the judge.  Just look at the picture below and tell me if you agree that even the mighty Mouse has fallen under Jerry's spell.

With a smile like that, who wouldn't?

Gathering of the Clan

The dust has settled on September, and October is quickly passing.  The annual gathering of the kids and grand kids was a super success - after putting the slide show together, I am ready to have them back again right now!

The little pink jeep and the empty playhouse now sit alone and dejected, so sad.

A few weeks after the gathering we attended the first ever Vista Fiber Festival.  All I can say to that is "wow."  The two organizers, Mimi Loutrel and Judy Maddox, pulled off a flawless two-day event that was successful beyond all expectations.  And it was such fun!  I met old friends that I haven't seen in 40 years and made many new ones. 
The event was held on the spacious and fascinating grounds of the Antique Gas and Steam Engine Museum, and there was a mineral show going on in a nearby building, so there was plenty to do and see for folks of all interests. 
 There were two dozen vendors (including a pen of beautiful and friendly alpaca youngsters) and about two thousand visitors.  Can you believe it?  The weather was warm and beautiful, sales were brisk, and everyone was happy.

 Part of the tents with the weaving barn in the background.

 Our booth, somewhere in the crowd!

 The weaving barn, front and back

 Overview of the vendor area

The first day I used my wheel, second day I demoed the Navajo spindle.

Will they have it again?  We certainly hope so.  Will we attend? ABSOLUTELY!!!

The Sad Situation with Our Bees

Now that it's over, I suspect that I am feeling much like someone who has lost a pregnancy.
For the bees, at least the lucky ones, it may have been the rapture, but I am filled with a sense of loss and emptiness.

Over the decades we've lived here on the hill we have been hosts to several unwanted bee hives, always on a warm, east-facing site.  One was in the crawl space under our bedroom,  two were in the walls of the guest house.  Those unlucky hives had to be destroyed.  Some were swarms that moved out on their own in in due time, but this particular group decided to take up residency in some wooden boards leaned up against an inside shed wall of the barn.  For a long time we judiciously let them be (NPI), they weren't hurting anyone, it was wonderful to have them pollinating our plants, and we both grew to like the idea of keeping them around.

We read articles on bees and bee keeping, watched videos and movies, read blogs and became very excited about the idea of becoming backyard beekeepers.  Visions of honey comb and happy hives buzzed in our heads.

But the more we read and learned, the more complicated, difficult, physically demanding and potentially expensive the enterprise seemed to become.  Even though we found one beekeeper who said he could remove the bees from the barn wall and put them in a hive for us to keep, we finally elected to have them moved to another property when we learned that we would soon be hosting kids and seven small grand children.

So, Michael donned his fire fighter turnouts (below) and spent some time clearing out a path for Shawn, the bee man.

 

Yesterday morning, when the fog had lifted, Shawn arrived with all of his gear.   I sat in the sun and waited at what I hoped was a respectful distance while he donned his gear, hauled equipment, lugged more junk out of his way, and finally brought in his bee vac with attached hive carrying case (on the red can in the foreground).

 

It was very cool - but stressful.The bees had been very calm around us, but they could feel quite differently about someone raiding their honey come, destroying their hive, and sucking them up with a vacuum.  If they were Africanized, they could be REALLY upset.  But they weren't.  And he said it was a very healthy hive, with lots of honey.

The bees were (relatively) calm and  Shawn was calm, deliberate and patient, and eventually had a good portion of the bees in his box, and three nice chunks of golden honey comb in Tupperware for us to keep.

As delighted as I was with the honeycomb, and even though I was relieved to see that potential tot danger alleviated,  it was very sad to see them go.  After two hours of painstaking work, Shawn held up his little box and said, "Well?  Here's your bees, say goodbye."

 I miss them.  I just know they would have been wonderful bees.

ADD Without the H

I seem to have started a hundred projects, then run in circles trying to complete just one.  It's the hot, muggy middle of August, yet these days feel anything but lazy!

A gallon of milk sat too long in the fridge, so I found a recipe for making paneer and spent a few failed tries to achieve a wonderful little cheese!



I learned that:

1. You have to really heat the milk, not just warm it. 
2. It takes some time.
3. You don't need to add anything except lemon juice.  
4. It is as easy as falling down.
5. The result is delicious!
6. You can't really make ricotta from the leftover whey (or at least I couldn't).  

In fact, I don't know what you can do with it: it tasted lousy when used to make rice, and even the dogs turned their noses up at it.

Next and continuously (but not at the same time nor in the same bowls) was washing and dyeing fleece and fiber for Pluckyfluff's Yarnival event next week in Placerville (poster is here), and for other upcoming events in the fall.  The Yarnival is on Boeger Winery's grounds, and should be amazing fun, but work for Mikey since he has agreed (I think) to man the booth while I take a workshop on Saturday and Sunday.  Do you believe this progression?

Of course, the whole thing was on a much larger scale, involving two washing machines, the entire kitchen in the guest house/studio, and most of the week.  But what a lot to show for it!

 Dyes mixed and waiting -- my favorites.
 The simmering pot -- great expectations.

The rack rolls inside at night and stays out on the deck during the day.  Very convenient.

Woolllama, mohair and wool and even some ?????

The roving is a riot of color.