Last night, thinking about last night...

Hope no one minds if I borrow a phrase from the Traveling Wilburys' song. After a long day of the usual, plus digging thistles and putting our old dog down, I noticed one of the last ewes to lamb was showing signs of impending birth. But she, Ursula, is a rather small 2-year old, and this was her first lamb, so I knew nothing would happen soon.

I checked on her hourly, and not much was going on, but she sure was getting noisy. I moved dogs around so they wouldn't annoy her, and tried to get her into the catch pen, but to no avail. She wanted to stay with the flock, so I got a warm jacket and a hat and went down to sit in the enclosure. Eventually the whole group moved into the pen area, and I rushed up to close the gate. I let out all but a few, and then sat on the hill with a flashlight to keep an eye on her progress: 8 o'clock, nothing, 9 o'clock, nothing,10 o'clock went in for a cup of tea and came back to finally see a nose poking out. A really BIG nose, with no little toes. Damn.

Poor Ursula was restless and annoyed and in great distress, and it eventually became clear that she was going to need some help, and she was going to have to be caught.
Both of these activities were impossible in the dark, so I pulled my car up to overlook the pen and left the lights on. Worked great - for about 2 minutes. Then the lights politely went off. Back up the hill, start the car, back down the hill and try to catch the ewe. Back up the hill, start the car, back down the hill to the ewes. This game went on for a while. Ever try to catch one of three black sheep ... in the dark? Good luck with that!

By now she was in NO mood to be messed with AT all, and all I could do was hope that she would give out before I did. I finally went up to the house get a pail of warm water, iodine soap, towels, etc., all the while muttering, "I hate this, I hate this, I hate this!" Reaching into a laboring ewe is no fun for anyone, especially the ewe, and especially when it is cold and dark and late. I tried to cheer myself up by repeating "You've done this before, you know how to do it, you can do it and you will do it. Besides, look on the bright side: it's not raining ... yet."

When I returned with my paraphernalia, I set it on the ground while I fiddled with the gate latch. That was when I heard a little bleat. YAY - a lamb! She was a BIG, monster lamb, with legs like a colt, and she was wet, covered in membranes and mud, and totally ignored by her mother. It was as if the ewe had said, "Well, whew! That's over with, now let's get out of here!" She and her two cohorts were standing at the gate, ready to rejoin the flock. That white blob was no problem for them to worry about!

In another half hour or so I had dried the lamb off, set up a maze of panels to catch the ewe, let the other two out, and confined mom and lamb to a stall with water and peace. I staggered back to the car, drove back to the house, and collapsed into bed. I knew that I had at least 12 hours before the lamb went south, and hoped to spend at least half of them sleeping.

This morning I crept down to the pen to check on the night's outcome, to find a lovely little lamb bouncing quite happily around her little mum, who seemed none the worse for wear. Wish I could say the same!


Look at those legs!

WOWZIE

Where have I been? What have I been doing? No, really: I’m asking YOU! (ggg)

Barely a week after my last post (in the middle of lambing) I got a call from my uber-pregnant daughter who had been quite ill, saying “Hi, Mom … guess you’d better get a ticket: they’re shaving me right now.” She had gone into early labor, necessitating a C-section (like her previous one). Less than 12 hours later the baby started running a high temp and was eventually diagnosed with listeria, which is probably what my daughter had, as well. Thus began two weeks of IV antibiotics and monitoring in various NICUs in the Bay area, depending on the severity of problems at any given time. I got to stay with the toddler, which was truly a bright spot, bringing her - along with dinner - for nightly visits with the rest of the clan. The good news is that we all survived, and the little family is home and healthy again.

Beautiful Baby Riyana Gramma's new girl

Exhausted daddy and daughter

But, poor Gramma, everything after that seems a blurr. I do know that a lot has happened.

In no particular order:

We had 14 lambs* born, lost 5

Had 4 angora kids* born, lost 2

Sheared all the goats and half the sheep

Had to cull two big rams (wolves were happy about that)

Celebrated some birthdays

Got a firetruck

Had several weeks of farmers' markets

Had family visits

Had lots of rain and cold

Solved the mystery of who was eating all of our eggs*

Had some warm, beautiful days

Spent time with friends

Were told one Kangal might have bone cancer (later ruled out with X-rays)

Had to put down our 20-year old farm dog

Then there were meals and sleeps, and spinning and TV shows, lots of dead things in the bathtub*, trips here and there, etc., etc., etc.

Then, one mild morning morning, as we let the ewes and lambs into the llama pen to eat some lush green weeds, a pair of bluebirds sailed by and landed on the fence just in front of us. There they sat, taking turns darting to the ground, snapping up little bugs, and returning to their posts. Today we saw a SECOND pair, gliding just above the driveway. Could be our bluebirds of happiness have returned.

* - next time

Name the Lambs!

Belle is the first of the ewes to lamb this year, and she was not even one of the gals with obvious baby bumps! Doesn't she look as though she is wearing a really big, so-proud-of-myself grin? She should be: the lambs are both girls and she is taking excellent care of them!

Belle is a rambouillet/merino cross with very fine, nearly-blue-gray fleece. She was a twin, but her sister Blue (get it? Blue & Belle?) is no longer with us. No wonder - Belle will be nine years old next week!

The lambs' father is Max, our white Wensleydale ram, so who knows what sort of fleece they will have. Whatever it is, I'm sure it will be beautiful. Now we need some names!

Max and friend

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.