Signs of Spring

The birds are back, for one thing. A pair of golden eagles that stitched the skies over our hill all winter now have to share with returning red-tail hawks. Kestrels are once again courting and nesting in the barn eaves, doves sit in pairs on the fence in the evening, and a pair of blue birds have taken up their old nest hole in a dead avocado tree.

A sudden hot spell follows weeks of rain and now things that hadn't planned on doing anything for another month or two are in the mood to grow and bloom. Cecil Brunner blooms and shoots out new growth as he crowds out the forsythia in his struggle to reach the power lines:

Rhubarb and strawberries venture forth tentatively:

And some things that I can't even identify thrive quite happily anyway.


The shearer comes down for a day and we see lots of "baby bumps" on the ewes!


I take advantage of the warm, dry winds to wash and dry some of our freshly sheared fleeces before the next wet weather hits.

Evil Kitty catches small creatures and puts them in the bath tub where she can torment them at her leisure. At least the remains are easy to clean up.

She is particularly hard on the lizard and skink population, though I have managed to save several still-alive, albeit tail-less, skinks. Poor things; apparently they can reach an age of about 5 or 10 years, but I fear our population may not be so lucky. We continue to have words on the subject of predation and conservation. She does not appear to care.

Moths have hit my woolens. I wanted hubby to take a home-grown, spun and knit cashmere scarf with him on his trip to Chicago; alas, it was chewed to bits.

I was sad because I couldn't remember when I had made it or if I had worn it or if I had a good time doing either. I told him to throw it in the trash because it made me feel so awful.

Then I went out and retrieved it. At first Evil Kitty wanted it for her bed,

but I dissuaded her and patiently frogged it, tying the shorter bits together and winding them up until there was just a ball left. I think I will leave it like that for a while.

And then there is always this:

Coming up for Air

I can NOT believe that it is February 2010 and I am another year older ALREADY!! The last time I looked it was fall, we were looking forward to a Thanksgiving road trip to Texas for a family fest. (men working, below)

An amazing time was had by all, and then we came home and then....what happened?

Perhaps it was more than a premonition that hit me as we drove west with the night through Arizona and then on into California. Beautiful, clear starry skies had taken over from the snow storms of the previous days.

We had rested a day near Tucson, and picked up a goat, which dozed happily in in a dog kennel in the back of the motor home (another story).

All was warm and well with the world and I was musing about things that I hadn't done and hadn't become and would never see when I was suddenly hit with the distinct sensation that my body was shooting down a steep slide, or tube. Time and space pressed up against me, stars passing by in a blur, like when one of the sci-fi space ships hits warp speed in the movies.

"It's not you," the spirits chided. "Nobody cares what you do; you're not important. It is what comes through you to your children, and their children, and theirs to come that matters."

Fortunately, I wasn't driving, so I had some time to try to tuck myself back inside my head before we hit the ground running and then ran all the way into 2010.

Hummmm -- do I feel a blog coming on?

The Spin-List is a fun and fascinating place. Always an interesting discussion, lots of ideas, suggestions, stories and tidbits of information. Frequently I save little items that tempt a response, like this one:
"I've gotten a lot of names of places [for processing] as well as information that I was not aware of (skirting the fleece). Boy it's not as easy as I thought. Perhaps I will hire my children to help skirt the fleece, or I will just buy roving. "
I wonder if this person also complains about how expensive "real" roving is. I sure hope not.

Another person opined:
"Vegans are not *supposed* to use ANY animal produce
which includes wool so we should stick to plant/ manmade fibers......."
Man-made -- as in petroleum based? Really? And do you know what is required to manufacture some of the newer fibers from trees, corn, milk, bananas, bamboo and seaweed?

While someone else proclaimed:
I'm a Christian; under grace, all things are for my use; therefore, without let or hindrance, I use all things."

Now that scares the spit out of me.

Discussions involving so-called "vegan" spinning", tend to push my buttons on many levels.
While it helps to be informed (where does my fiber come from? How is it raised? How is it processed?) it seems to me that it is also vital to be pro-active instead of reactive. Instead of vetoing something that you don't like, take that extra step and make the effort to support those things that you feel are right and good. Know where your dollars go, and make choices that will help to keep local and sustainable businesses alive. (Notice I didn't use the words "natural" or "organic." That's a lecture for another day. (ggg)) Without your support, they may not be around for long, and then no one will have a choice.

There are definitely as many opinions out there as there are spinners, but it all comes down to a great quote that I saw on a bumper sticker in Tucson:

Everyone is entitled to his own opinion, but not his own facts.

Daniel Patrick Moynihan, March 16, 1927 - March 26, 2003)

cogKNITive Fun and More

Holy cow, this year is simply ZOOOMing by.

In late September, our Kangal "teenager" Tank (2.5 years old now) blew his cruciate ligament, and so went under the knife just as Yollie had done twice in 2007. He was not a happy camper:

Buzzy Tank on the way home (top) and Staples galore

Resting the hated collar on a chair.

Despite a variety of no-chew collars, he ended up having his cast removed after less than a week. It is hard to keep a 155-pound dog immobilized and entertained. Staples were taken out a little later, but we are still going through the rehab process. He is walking well now, and we're up to a mile twice a day, hoping all the while that the other knee stays strong, and that mine don't go in the meantime.

Our little rig in front of a Tehachipe art train

Shortly after surgery, we were invited to attend the first ever cogKNITive sock event in Tehachapi, CA, so we loaded trailer, dog and kennel and off we went. It was a great weekend, with wonderful people and a dedicated staff.

Their logo and our "Sock Sheep."

We attended as vendors, but the class offerings were wonderfully tempting, and so inspiring that folks literally filled the hallways and common areas spinning and knitting for the entire day. Lots of people tried out the Navajo spindle for the first time, while Tank kept a watchful eye on the proceedings from his spot in our "booth."

This month we drove up to WeFF (Western Fiber Festival) in Torrance - sans dog - and had an even busier day. Whew, what a stimulating and busy place!


A good chance to practice keeping my head attached. Thanks to all of the patient people who waited for me to find stuff, show stuff, and write stuff up. And especially to those people who were good enough to tell me what and how much they bought afterward when I realized that I had not put any numbers on their credit card receipts!

Well, the shearer has come and gone again, another 100 pounds of wool and llama have been delivered to Shari at Morro Fleece Works for processing, and summer is AT LAST pretty much behind us. Cool and crisp days give hope that we may yet see some fall - maybe even winter? - weather.

The ants come marching ...

The Ants Go Marching One By One is a children's song set to the tune of When Johnny Comes Marching Home.

The posted lyrics read:

The ants go marching one by one. Hoora, hoora!

The ants go marching one by one. Hoora, hoora!

The ants go marching one by one, the little one stopped to suck on his thumb,

And they all went marching, down to get of the rain. (BOO- BOOM!)

The ants go marching two by two. Hoora, hoora!

The ants go marching two by two. Hoora, hoora!

The ants go marching two by two, the little one stopped to tie up his shoe,

And they all went marching, down to get of the rain. (BOO- BOOM!)

The ants go marching three by three. Hoora, hoora!

The ants go marching three by three. Hoora, hoora!

The ants go marching three by three, the little one stopped to climb a tree,

And they all went marching, down to get of the rain. (BOO- BOOM!)

The ants go marching four by four. Hoora, hoora!

... etc.>>

Well, this time of year we are totally inundated, and I wish more than anything that they would climb a tree or stop to suck their thumbs -- if ants have thumbs. Right now, they are marching here by the tens of thousands. They may be after the rain, as the above suggests, but rain will not be due here for several more months, so they must make do with the cat food, the dog food, the eggs, anything in the kitchen or in the house or the garbage or in the surrounding half-mile.

The cat would make periodic pilgrimages inside to cry at us when his food bowl was totally over-run. The dogs' food would remain uneaten - by them - while the ants feasted. But when I found myself waking up several times a night to pick ants out of my ears, off of my face and out of my eyes, I finally realized that we had a serious problem.

Since we live in the country, I tend to adopt a live-and-let-live philosophy whenever possible; I despise the idea of using poisons of any sort. Ground squirrels and rabbits pretty much have free rein. Bugs enjoy the fruits of our garden pretty much at will. But enough is enough. When I can't sleep, the war has begun.

I dug out a recipe that I had used in years past, and prepared a snack for our little friends.

Measure 2 cups of sugar, 2 tablespoons of boric acid, and one cup of water into a pan and boil for several minutes to make a syrup. I put a few cotton balls in jar lids, soaked them with the syrup, and let things be. In about three days the ants were gone. That nest had been dessicated. Unfortunately, every few feet there seems to be a new tribe, so we are now working our way around the house. Boric acid does not seem to be very toxic, and no one else in the household seems to be interested in it, so ... so far, so good. We'll keep you posted.

Karabey

It has taken me a few months to bring this to post, but this piece is:
In loving memory of Karabey
4/3/04 to 6/20/09

Sired by ASLAN (Herkul and Sultan) born to MELEK (Panter and Duman)
Breeder: Salim B. Yilmaz
Owner: Kathy Gluesenkamp/Lambert

At 16 weeks Karabey was taken to the Veterinary Specialty Hospital in Rancho Santa Fe, CA, for a full work-up and was diagnosed with probable cerebellar /vestibular disease (unknown cause) along with other skeletal, neurological and systemic abnormalities (congenital hydrocephalus and distemper not ruled out) and given less than two years to live.

After a full and loving life, he was euthanized at 5 years 2 months of age, due to severe congestive heart failure, skeletal abnormalities, neuralgic deficits and cardiac insufficiency. He had an amazingly full life.


Karabey at 3 months


Handsome as an adult


One of the gang, Karabey continued to enjoy life far beyond given expectancies.
The dark pup in the background is our Turkish import Yollie, who was dyed black in order to expedite her trip from Turkey. She has since had surgery on both knees, and is now a lovely, natural blond.


Karabey (left) was the role model's during our stressful week-long fire evacuation.


Farewell, dark lord.

Karabey was one of the gentlest and kindest souls that I have ever known, in any corporeal form, and I hope that he finds peace and rebirth quickly. It is also my fondest hope that I might meet his reborn soul sometime before I die.

Goat by Any Other Name

Goats are one of the oldest domesticated species in the world, having been been used for their meat, milk, hair, and skins in many cultures and in many countries.

Chivo, chevon, cabrito, chèvre or mutton: no matter what you call it, goat meat is eaten around the world because it is lean and delicious. I have had it in Mexico and Texas, and figured it couldn't be all THAT hard to make meal-sized portions out of our late kid. Another day-long learning experience. Eventually, I ended up with several pounds of stew meat, some loin pieces, LOTS of bones for the dogs, and - amazingly enough - four legs.

A beautiful blog featuring pictures and recipes to make you drool is Masa Assassin -- and he knows about Talones, too!

My favorites are too numerous to mention, but old-style pot roast, with potatoes, carrot, onions and peas is outstanding, as well as virtually every other lamb recipe you have ever tried.