Farm Tales and Sheepish Stories

Back in the Saddle

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 15:18:00 +0000

Yesterday one of "my" librarians asked my how my year was going.

I said "It's been free of stress and chaos."

"Are you writing?"

I laughed. "Yeah, actually, that's why it's free of stress and chaos."

Made me think about how we get ourselves into, and through, a bad year.

2011 was one of those years. I had two books come out, so in many respects it was a good year. But it was also a year filled with unexpected frustrations.

We've been self-employed for years, which means we pay for our own health insurance. Since MN doesn't recognize our legal marriage, we're stuck having separate policies. My premiums have been fairly steady, but Melissa's premiums recently shot through the roof, nearly doubling in 4 years. Not to get into it too deeply here, but Melissa was afraid to change policies because an insurer could exempt every sort of coverage she needed.

This was why she had to get an off-farm job. The farm just couldn't support itself and our insurance bills. She found the perfect job for her---locating underground utility lines. She was outside all day, walking around people's yards, neighborhoods, and out in the country. She had her own little truck and laptop. It was mentally and physically challenging.

It also required massive amounts of overtime. She worked from 7 am often until 7-8 pm. Not surprisingly, there wasn't much left for anything, or anyone, at the end of the day. She was so tired on weekends that I asked her not to run any power tools or equipment on Saturday because she often hurt herself or broke something. Sunday was her only day to work on the farm.

The bulk of the farming obviously fell to me. I have broad shoulders, and managed to keep everything alive and healthy, but weeds overtook and drained the electric fencing. The animals stayed put only because they were polite. :-) I fed 3 baby calves 3 times/day for 3 months. I fed two bottle lambs for nearly as long.

By fall, the weight got heavier and heavier. I'd basically spent more time alone than I had for years. I'd also done a great deal of traveling to promote my books. All the household chores fell to me. We had two elderly dogs that required a complicated array of pills, and cleaning up of accidents. How the heck do couples with two fulltime jobs and kids DO this?

By fall, everything started slowing me down. I stopped writing and sank into a major funk. Usually when I get depressed, I get bored and snap out of it in 1-2 weeks. But this lingered and lingered. I spent the fall not only struggling to keep farm and home together, but also sitting on our front deck holding our kitten Emmett, watching Netflix (all 11 seasons of Frasier! All 5 seasons of Friday Night Lights! All seasons of Parks and Recreation!) and drinking wine. Pathetic.

I tried antidepressants (screwed up my ability to daydream, and thus write) and therapy. (When I told the therapist I thought I was a lazy person, she nearly grabbed her copy of Hit by a Farm and smacked me in the head with it. Interesting therapy technique, but I got the point. Maybe not so lazy after all.)

This is why, when the end of 2011 arrived, I said, "Good riddance," (My actual words were a bit earthier than that) and started a fresh year.

I've written nearly every day in 2012. The depression seems to have lifted (although it sneaks back every now and then to slap me around), and I'm excited about the new year. I know that Melissa will be gone a lot, so I'll do a better job of reaching out to friends and family. I know all the farm chores will be my responsibility, so we're freezing the size of the farm---no new animals for awhile. I'm going to line up help to do chores when I'm out of town, and someone to help me keep the weeds off the fences. Our beloved elderly dogs have died, leaving huge holes in our hearts, but less daily chaos. This next year it'll just be Molly and me going on lots of walks.

I've learned my lesson. Stopping what you love to do isn't a way to feel better---it's a way to feel worse. I'm not going to go more than two days in a row without writing. No more Netflix, considerably less wine, and having Melissa home for the winter has been great. We're both resting and recovering, building up the strength we'll need to get us through another season.

Now matter how your 2011 went, I'm hoping your 2012 goes better!

Rescued Sheep Multiply!

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 15:46:00 +0000

It's been a month since I've posted. But I'm back. 2012 is a new year, and I'm thrilled to see the backside of 2011. (Long story....next post)

I wanted to update the rescued sheep and llama story (animals abandoned on nearby farm a month ago---we found homes for them.) Our friend Drew and his family took the sheep. When he got them home he sheared them. A fleece usually weighs 7-8 pounds. These fleeces weighed 30-40 pounds. That's how long it had been since the animals had been sheared.

Animals feel better when they get that matted stuff off. But one ram found it especially alarming. After Drew finished shearing him, the ram lay there for a minute. But then his tail twitched. The ram shot up and began leaping around the pen, freaked out at something. (Leaping around isn't really normal ram behavior.)

Drew finally figured out that the ram had so much wool on his body that he'd stopped feeling his tail long ago. He'd forgotten he had one. But now, with all that fleece gone, he could feel his tail. It gave the ram a bit of a shock to discover there was something moving on his backside . He's recovered, of course, and wags now without fear.

In this rescued flock, there were both males and females. But no one expected any hanky-panky, since, quite frankly, we didn't think a ram could reach his target through all that wool.

Turns out we were wrong. A week ago Drew's daughter found two lambs in the barn, one all white, one nearly all black. And they think another of the females is also 'in the family way.'

So five months ago, a determined ram succeeded. We're thrilled the lambs have been born on an established sheep farm that understands the animals.

And here's an update from Carrie. (Her llama rescue operation drove 7 hours to pick up the llamas)---

"A bit of an update- the llamas are really doing well. The big herd is settled in. One girl was concerning us for a bit, but she's starting to pick up weight nicely now. The three boys are now OUTDOORS and are no longer afraid of sunlight. They are all 3 together and are good friends. The matted boy is so friendly. He has nerve damage to his face and it makes his lip droop. The big white stallion is still not "friendly" but he is FAR from aggressive, he is afraid but coming around. The 5 boys will be gelded this spring once they are at a healthier weight. We want to thank everyone for the support! It costs us about 400.00 a month in hay, and roughly a hundred in grain and mineral to keep everyone in chow. We appreciate all the help! We can't wait for April when we can start shearing and getting the disgusting fleeces and cockleburrs off!!"

(The llamas were so underweight that the vet can't sedate them until they gain 100 pounds each.)

Just a reminder. If you want to help support these llamas' upkeep and vet care, you can give directly at http://whipstaff.chipin.com/saving-12-llamas. This is a legitimate organization, so your money will be spent wisely. (Unlike your donations to the Humane Society of the United States... also a topic for another post!)

Welcome to 2012! It's going great so far....

Llama (and sheep) Drama

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 20:50:00 +0000

Monday morning I found an email in my inbox from a woman in northern Minnesota. She'd found us through the internet. Her brother had been arrested and was expected to spend time in prison. She'd just learned that no one was taking care of the 12 llamas and 14 sheep he left behind.

And now that we knew about it, it became our problem too. The sister needed help finding homes for the animals. Melissa made a dozen phone calls on Monday, and found someone willing to take the sheep. Tuesday I posted the situation on my facebook page, and found a llama rescue operation willing to take them.

The sheep and llamas that had the run of the place could eat snow, but the three stud muffins locked in the barn had nothing. (I learned today that llama stud muffins are called stallions.) We could find no source of water.

It's been a stressful week. Melissa brought the inside llamas snow. Twice she brought a few buckets of water from home, but of course the water freezes before the animals drink it all. We don't have portable hay bales (ours weigh 900 pounds) so Melissa flaked off some of the hay and drove it to the abandoned animals.

The sister gave us permission to disburse the animals, but we also got written permission from a friend of the landowner, the one who'd owned the animals initially. (Anyone confused yet? We were!)

We lost sleep as we worried about the animals. Their coats were incredibly matted. The sheep hadn't been shorn in a LONG time. Would the rescues actually happen? How would we get the animals out of the barn?

Through ChipIn donations, the non-profit llama rescue operation, located 7 hours away, raised enough money to pay for gas, motel, and some of the other expenses associated with a rescue operation (vet care, gelding the 3 stallions, etc.)

So what follows are the two rescues themselves. Not to give the ending away....but everything worked!

Drew backed his goose-necked trailer down the hill and around the hairpin turn.

They drove all the animals into the barn, then separated the sheep from the llamas (except one. The owner requested that a certain sheep stay with its llama buddy.) Here are Drew and Bunnie setting up panels from the barn to the back of the trailer.

Then with lots of whooping, they drove the sheep straight out the barn and into the trailer.

So far so good. But getting up the hill proved a challenge, even with 4-wheel drive and Drew at the wheel.

Enter Melissa's tractor. We drove home, fired it up, then I followed her in the pickup, emergency flashers on, as we drove 1/2 mile on the shoulder of the highway.

Melissa and her tractor pulled the truck and trailer up the hill.

Sheep leaving for their new home:

Meanwhile, the WhipStaff Ranch and Rescue people drove 7 hours, reaching Zumbrota well after dark.

Sunday morning we drove to the motel, and led them to the llamas. Jeremy's trailer and truck weren't going to make that hill, so he backed it to the edge of the hill. We set up panels running from the barn, creating a walk-way for the llamas.

First step was bringing the stallions out. These guys hadn't been handled. In fact, it'd been so long since they'd been outside that it was very scary for them even to step across the barn threshhold.

By pressing the first stallion up against the wall with a panel, Carrie was able to put a halter and rope on him. Then they waited awhile to let the llama relax a bit and realize he wasn't going to be hurt. We're so relieved Carrie and Jeremy know llamas so well. They're llama whisperers!

Then Jeremy and Carrie "led" the llama out, pulling pulling pulling him up the hill. Melissa brought up the rear...literally.

She took her 'rear end' job very seriously, not stopping until the llama was all the way into the trailer! That's my girl---she commits 110%, no matter what she does.

They did this with the two other stallions as well. The three stallions were tied inside the trailer, otherwise they might slash and bite the other llamas.

Then they herded the rest of the llamas up the hill in two batches. All went well with the first batch. They used a panel to herd the llamas into the trailer.

The second batch was less cooperative, and stood with their butts to the trailer. We were all there pushing, and suddenly one llama went skyward. Hey! Where'd this giraffe come from? How'd he get so tall? Quick-thinking Jeremy held firm with the panel, even though llama hooves whistled past his head. Finally, all were inside.

Here's the happy llama crew: Jeremy, Melissa, Carrie, and young friend.

Here's Melissa saying adios to the llamas.

Jeremy's truck had trouble pulling the trailer up the hill, so I backed up our truck, and Melissa pulled him forward.

And off the llamas go.

We feel really good about helping, but we are so relieved it's over. Thank you to everyone who contributed to the llama rescue through ChipIn. The WhipStaff people will make sure the animals are healthy, then place them in new homes (at least 8 have been spoken for.) Drew will shear the sheep to see what's going on---are they skinny and need extra food? Are they pregnant and about to give birth? The fun never ends...

Once it was all over, Melissa relaxed by going outside and cleaning her shed---a favorite activity. I poured myself a gallon (I mean, glass) of wine, and started knitting a new sock.

And our lives will be quiet, until the next crisis.

The Check's in the Mail

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 02:33:00 +0000

Thanks everyone for loving our yarn, and buying it! We've shipped out about 1/3 of it, but the rest is languishing on our dining room table, waiting for ransom checks to set it free. :-)

So if you attached your name to a skein or two, here's what you owe. Please please please send us a check by Dec. 10. If there are extenuating circumstances (having surgery, kidnapped by aliens, etc), let us know. Otherwise we'll make the skeins available again. (I don't have the energy to bug people for money. Yuck. Hate it.)

If I've totally mucked your order up, please email me directly at info@risingmoonfarm.com.

Please send ransom check to Rising Moon Farm, Box 21, Zumbrota, MN 55992.

Amber $22 (Pink moon) $22 (tangled blue) $6 ship = $50

Amanda $22 (seaglass) $22 (s. sherbert) $6 ship = $50

Beth G $20 (woodland rose), $44 (Gonew/Wind) = $64 plus $7 = $71

Colleen $44 (2 Indian Summer) $44 (2 summer sherbert) $8 shipping = $96

CosmoDK $20 (s. sherbert) $6 ship = $26

goodbobo (sue) $40 (2 tie dye) $6 ship = $46

Gracey is Not My Name $22 (MN leopard) $6 ship = $28

Jamie $20 (napping) $6 = $26

Janet $22 (seaglass) $6 ship = $28

Jilly47 $44 (2 northern lights) $6 ship = $50

Karol S. $44 (2 gone w/wind) $6 shipping = $50

KNITMA $22 (napping) $24 (northern lights) $6 ship = $52

Marian T. Librarian $22 (Forest floor) $6 ship = $28

Robyn $44 (2 winter skyline) $6 ship = $50

Ruthie J $24 (Great balls of fire) $6 ship = $30

Sara $22 (Driftwood) plus $6 shipping = $28

twinsetjan $46 (2 endless sea) $6 ship = $52

Beef customers (pay when pick up beef):
Peggy $44
Sarah M $22
Joanne S. $46
Sherry A $22
Maggie M $42
Jan G. $42

THANKS, EVERYONE. Happy knitting or crocheting....

Catherine and Melissa

YARN for SALE!

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 17:05:00 +0000

Finally! Our yarn spent 10 months at the fiber mill (they had many business and personal problems, some tragic.) Then it took me a few months to dye the skeins with London Nelson. Then it took another few weeks to reskein the skeins (got tangled because they weren't tied well at the troubled mill) with Kathy's help, and twinsetellen's swifts. (Thanks to both of you!) We tied them with pink yarn, which is why you'll see pink in surprising places in the photos. Here's the reskeining project:

But now I think we're ready. Should I call it "Hit by a Farm Yarn"? :-)

Here's what you need to know---

---yarn from a farm: We haven't yet purchased coats for our sheep, so there will be a little vegetative matter in the yarn. Not much. Just enough to remind you this isn't commercially produced yarn. :-) Also, this yarn is 100% wool, and is not treated as 'superwash,' so hand wash only.

---hand-dyed yarn: It's amazing how differently each skein of yarn absorbs the dye. If there are 4-5 skeins in a pot, some will be brighter, others more muted. Some will absorb more or less of one color. I've been told that if you're doing a project that requires more than one skein, you should trade off skeins every 2-3 rows to better incorporate the differences in dye.

---the skeins: The yarn is mostly worsted weight---but a few skeins look a little thinner---sport? And the weight per skein differs as well. I must say that I'm disappointed in the fiber mill, and I can see that consistency is going to be a problem. But what's spun, is spun.

Ha. Sorry.

The skeins will be enough for socks or mittens or a hat or a scarf. I'd asked the mill to put them in skeins of 250 yards, but it didn't happen---most range from 200-220 yards. If you want larger socks, you might have to make the toe from a coordinating yarn. Here are the socks I knit with a 3.6 ounce skein of Ice Palace:

---skein price: based on weight: 2.5-2.9 oz --$20
                                                      3-3.8 oz --- $22
                                                      3.9-4.8 oz--$24

Shipping is $6.

---ordering: NO RESTRICTIONS on number of skeins. First, skim the comments, then comment with the yarn name and skein number you'd like to purchase. I'll update the blog regularly so you'll know what's gone and what's left. When everyone has had a chance to order and there are still skeins left, the sky's the limit. :-) If you can't comment, email me at info@risingmoonfarm.com

---payment: Send a check made out to Rising Moon Farm (for yarn and $6 shipping) to Box 21, Zumbrota, MN 55992

---shipping: Please be patient. It's just me filling these orders, since Melissa is still making the world safe by locating underground utility lines. :-) And the dogs are not helpful at all.

---books? Want signed copies of Hit by a Farm or Sheepish? Let me know and I'll recalculate the shipping. Books and yarn might make a nice holiday gift... :-)

Thanks SO much for supporting Melissa and me and our farm, and being patient as I find my way through this fiber world. My goal is to keep making the yarn better with breeding and coats, and learn more about dyeing, and find a fiber mill that can be consistent.

SORRY, ONLY 12 skeins left. I'm heading for the fiber mill on Monday, however, to have more spun!

Cherry Fizz---fun range from dark to pink to pale. The camera freaks out at red. SOLD OUT
Skein 1   $24 SOLD to Sarah E. PD
Skein 2   $24 SOLD to Sarah E. PD
Skein 3   $22 SOLD to Paige    PD
Skein 4   $22 SOLD to Barbara L.   PD

Driftwood SOLD OUT
Skein 1 $22 SOLD to Sara
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Peggy PD
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to Sarah M. PD
Skein 4 $20 SOLD to Brenda PD

Endless Sea SOLD OUT
Skein 1   $24 SOLD to twinsetjan
Skein 2   $22 SOLD to twinsetjan
Skein 3   $20 SOLD to MaryEllen   pd

Forest Floor: Quiet, subtle yarn of muted blues, browns, and rose.SOLD OUT
Skein 1   $22 SOLD to Jan
Skein 2   $22 SOLD to Peggy PD
Skein 3   $22 SOLD to Marian T. Librarian   PD
Skein 4   $20 SOLD to Carol (MN bookseller!)   PD

Woodland Rose: Every skein in this batch came out looking totally different than the others. Not recommended for multiple skein projects! SOLD OUT
Skein 1   $24 SOLD to txcat girl   PD
Skein 2   $20 SOLD to txcat girl   PD
Skein 3   $20 SOLD to Mama Tea's mom PD
Skein 4   $20 SOLD to Maggie M.   PD
Skein 5   $20 SOLD to Beth G

Gone with the Wind SOLD OUT
Skein 1   $24 SOLD to Woolstock pd
Skein 2   $24 SOLD to Amanda H. pd
Skein 3   $22 SOLD to Amanda H. pd
Skein 4   $22 SOLD to Karol S.
Skein 5   $22 SOLD to Karol S.
Skein 6   $22 SOLD to Beth G
Skein 7   $22 SOLD to Beth G

Great Balls of Fire
Skein 1   $24 SOLD to RuthieJ   PD
Skein 2   $22 SOLD to Paige pd
Skein 3   $22 SOLD to Cara K PD
Skein 4   $22 SOLD to Eliz M. G. PD
Skein 5   $20 SOLD to Cara K PD

Ice Palace SOLD OUT
Skein 1 $22 SOLD to Barbara L. PD
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Melissa M PD

Indian Summer SOLD OUT
Skein 1 $24 SOLD to Joanne S.
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Joanne S.
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to Molly (Miss Z) PD
Skein 4 $22 SOLD to Colleen
Skein 5 $22 SOLD to Colleen

Lilac Blues   SOLD OUT
Skein 1 $22 SOLD to Susan    PD
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Mollykate PD
Skein 3 $20 SOLD to Mary H. PD
Skein 4 $20 SOLD to Mary H.   PD

Minnesota Leopard: (There really isn't a MN leopard. Just playing with you...)
Skein 1 $22 SOLD to GRACEY
Skein 2 $20 SOLD
Skein 3 $20
Skein 4 $20

Napping in the Grass   SOLD OUT
Skein 1 $22 SOLD to KNITMA
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Mary Ellen   pd
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to Mary Ellen pd
Skein 4 $20 SOLD to Paige   pd
Skein 5 $20 SOLD to Jamie

Northern Lights SOLD OUT
Skein 1 $24 SOLD to KNITMA
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to donateascarfforrescuedogs PD
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to donateascarfforrescuedogs PD
Skein 4 $22 SOLD to jilly47
Skein 5 $22 SOLD to jilly47
Skein 6 $22 SOLD to MollyKate PD

Pink Moon   SOLD OUT
Skein 1 $22 SOLD to Molly (Miss Z)    PD
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Amber
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to Barb   PD
Skein 4 $20 SOLD to Barb   PD

Tangled up in Blue SOLD OUT
Skein 1 $22 SOLD to Maggie PD
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Mama Pea PD
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to Mama Tea PD
Skein 4 $22 SOLD to Amber

Tie Dye   SOLD OUT
Skein 1 $22 SOLD to Bobbie M PD
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Bobbie M PD
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to auntietoast   PD
Skein 4 $22 SOLD to auntietoast   PD
Skein 5 $20 SOLD to goodbobo (sue) PD
Skein 6 $20 SOLD to goodbobo (sue)PD

Sea Glass
Skein 1 $24 SOLD to Brenda PD
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Amanda PD
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to Andrea   PD
Skein 4 $22 SOLD to Andrea   PD
Skein 5 $22   SOLD to Janet PD

Summer Sherbert
Skein 1 $22 SOLD to Amanda PD
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Colleen
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to Colleen
Skein 4 $20 SOLD to Melissa M PD
Skein 5 $20 SOLD to Cosmo DK
Skein 6 $20 SOLD to Eliz. M. G. PD

Winter Skyline
Skein 1 $20 (3 knots.) SOLD to JAN
Skein 2 $22 SOLD to Sherry A. PD
Skein 3 $22 SOLD to Robyn PD
Skein 4 $22 SOLD to Robyn PD
Skein 5 $22 SOLD to Jan

That's it. Hope you found something you like.

Comment to claim your skeins. In the event two people claim the same skeins, there will be a sheep-off (a written test on the information in Sheepish!)

Kidding. Enjoy!

Beef Anyone?

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 19:00:00 +0000

It's time! We're once again offering packages of great-tasting, humanely-raised beef for those readers who live in Minnesota.

(NOTE ADDED 11/19. We've almost sold all the packages. Lordy, that was fast. I need to take inventory tomorrow for a better estimate of the number of packages we actually have. If we still have some left, I'll delete this note!)

Here are the details:

The farm: We make sure the steers have 18 months of natural living---outside, with shelter available in the winter, and shade during the heat of the summer.

The steers: They were bottle-fed as calves, with a bit of grain. Then it was nothing but grass all summer and fall. Then they ate hay during the winter, with a small amount of grain for energy during the cold. Since May of this year, all they ate was fresh grass. No growth hormones given. No non-theraputic antibiotics.

The beef: Tender and great-tasting. You'll find it hard to go back to the beef you buy in stores.

The package: We sell the beef in 25-pound packages. Half of the package is roasts and steaks, the other half is ground beef. Additional ground beef will be available for purchase.

The price: The package is $125, plus a $25 processing fee, for a total of $150. (We spread 1/2 of the processing fee among our customers; we pay the other half.)

Ordering: Call to place your order, or respond by email. Let us know when you're available to come pick up your meat, and we'll set something up--weekdays or weekends---it's up to you! The farm is 60 miles SE of the Twin Cities, on the way to Rochester. (Sorry--we don't ship meat. Just too expensive.)

Feel free to contact us with any questions! Email us at info@risingmoonfarm.com

---Catherine and Melissa

From White to Wonderful---Dyeing yarn!

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 12:41:00 +0000

So how does a color-obsessed writer/farmer turn her yarn into explosions of color? Come with me to London's house, the woman who's been holding my hand throughout this process. She's fearless. "Let's try this!" "That might work!" "Sounds good!" If I were doing this on my own, I'd overthink everything. I'd lay out swatches and analyze the color combinations. I'd bug my friends---"Should I use the royal blue or the navy blue? Bright Yellow or Yellow Ochre?"

But not London. She loves experimenting, so that's what we did.

Here's the yarn, undyed:

Then we soaked the yarn in vinegar water:

We dyed the yarn using three different methods. The first was painting. We stretched out the yarn and squeezed/poured dye onto it, then worked the dye in with our fingers. (By the way, London's lovely counter top is protected by a clear plastic shower curtain!)

We flipped the yarn over, did the other side if needed, then rolled the skeins up like caramel rolls in plastic wrap and cooked them on the stove for awhile. (This is how the color sets.)

The second method was to put dye in the bottom of a pot, add the skeins, then squirt/pour more dye over the top.

A third method was to put dye in glass containers:

...add the skeins and more dye. At this stage the yarn doesn't look that great, but the final yarn is the very last photo in this blog---big difference. We then cooked these containers in the microwave!

Whether in the microwave or on the stove, when the water in the pot is clear, all the dye has been absorbed and we're done.

The final steps are to rinse...

Fling out the extra water...

And admire....

Now I must prepare the skeins, make labels, and then I'll post the yarn for sale on this blog.... soon!

Yarn Names that Rock

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 17:53:00 +0000

Thanks to everyone who posted such wonderful names. I'd put 4 yarns on the previous blog post, but currently have 9 to name. Amazingly, some of the names will work for the 5 yarns I didn't post!

So many, many thanks to the creative geniuses listed below, along with their yarn names. London and I are getting together soon to finish up, then Rising Moon Farm Yarn will be available soon. (Or should it be Hit by a Farm Yarn? Sheepish Yarn? Seriously. How can I write 5 books in 6 years and not be able to name my own yarn?)

Cherry Fizz.... thanks to sanderfarm

Northern Lights... thanks to transFarmer (or rather, the wife, for she thought of it!)

Gone with the Wind... thanks to Elaine Mulligan (I dropped the orange..hope that's okay. The yarn that gets this name looks like that scene of Atlanta burning---all oranges and browns)

Winter Skyline.... thanks to MaggieMaeFarm

Seaglass... thanks to Cindy

Ice Palace... thanks to Mama Pea

Pink Moon.... thanks to Sheryl Robertson

Summer Sherbert... thanks to Mama Pea again for sherbert, which I altered.

And just so you don't think I'm totally useless when it comes to naming yarn, I named one myself: Indian Summer.... which we've been having for 2 weeks but is almost over.

I'm currently knitting a pair of socks out of Ice Palace to make sure a pair can be got from one skein....

Thank you again!

Name that Yarn!

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 13:07:00 +0000

If you've read Sheepish, you know that I've struggled in the past when it comes to naming yarn. I've learned that it's best, when naming yarn, to avoid caffeine, alcohol, and double fudge brownies. You don't want to be under the influence of anything.

A few weeks ago it hit me: "Hey, I could get some help with this." So here are four of the yarns I'll be selling in a month or two. (Please note---they will be tidied up before selling---dyeing sometimes gets things a bit tangled.)

Some people choose themes, but I can't even come up with one of those. Seasons on the farm? Animals? Gaack. (My brain took a summer vacation and has yet to return. I miss her more than I can say.)

So---any names come to mind with these colors?

Wait--- "Will there be a prize?" you ask.

"You mean beyond the personal satisfaction of exercising your creativity? Hmmm. Can't think of anything right now (remember---missing brain) but if I come up with something, I'll let you know."

Yarn 1: (this is a bright red, not pink...darn that camera...)

Yarn 2:

Yarn 3:

Yarn 4:

OCTOBER 12 UPDATE: Okay, submission period closed. You guys are amazing. I'll go through the over 100 suggestions and post the ones I chose tomorrow. THANKS!

Going to Ground

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 15:52:00 +0000

Farmers are considered to be well-'grounded,' meaning they're firmly established, stable, practical. But even though we work with the 'ground,' we don't come in contact with it other than through our feet. (Grounding also refers to connecting electricity to the ground, but let's don't go over my head -- Melissa's the electrician in the family.)

A few months ago I read an article in the Utne Reader about how disconnected we are from the ground, and the electrical charges it holds. We wear shoes, and while gardeners might kneel in the soil, most of us rarely connect directly with the ground.

The premise of the article is that because we're not in sync with the earth's electrical currents, we get sick. I'm not going to debate the validity of wacky theories; the article just intrigued me.

So I decided to get some ground time. It was about 55 degrees out, but the sun had warmed the grass. So with our new barn kitten, Emmett, I lay down on the grass. I planned to spend 15 minutes there, getting connected to the earth's electrical charges.

But when that time had passed, I didn't want to get up. It was weird. So I let Emmett climb over me for awhile. Thirty minutes passed. Then an hour. Then Emmett crawled up into the bottom of my baggy pant leg and fell asleep.

I ended up 'grounding' myself for 1 1/2 hours! The next day I did it for 30 minutes.

Then the sun disappeared for a week, but now it's back, and I plan to spend more time on the ground. I don't know if I buy the stuff in the article; I just know it feels good. Weird.

Here's the link to the article: http://www.utne.com/Mind-Body/Earthing-Grounding-Sleep-Research-Electromagnetic-Fields.aspx

While I spent time on the ground, I amused myself by taking photos of Emmett.

So did it feel good to lie on the ground because of the electrical current running through the earth? Or was it because I spent 90 minutes doing absolutely nothing but playing with a kitten and soaking up the sun... :-)

Happy Anniversary to Us

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 02:15:00 +0000

If you've read Sheepish, you know that Melissa and I flew to San Francisco in the fall of 2008 and legally married. This Saturday will be our 3rd anniversary.... and close to the 28th anniversary of our first date. Holy smokes.

With Melissa's permission (I've shared so much of our lives that I decided I needed to run this blog post past her), here are a few photos from that day, September 17, 2008, the day the farmers got married... Neither of us wanted a traditional wedding, so we created our own day, and we loved it.

San Francisco City Hall

This is the grand staircase. Weddings take place in the small rotunda at the top of the stairs.

Melissa signing the marriage certificate...

Photo op at the bottom of the stairs while we wait.

The wedding party: Lori, Sheryl, Melissa, me, JLee, and Cheryl. It was lovely having our friends with us.

Legal at last. :-)

At the restaurant with wedding party after the ceremony, opening gifts. Mrs. and Mrs. pillowcases!

Ending the day at the Pacific Ocean...

Twenty-eight years. It's hard to imagine that much time has passed, until I found this photo our nephew Jason gave us. He'd had it on his phone. We have no idea who took it, since Jason wasn't even alive yet. Here we are, total babes in our late 20s...

We had no idea then, of course, that we'd end up living on a farm, raising sheep, and writing about it. We're never going to be rich, but we chose a path rich in experiences, animal connections, and nature.

Thanks for sharing my meandering down Memory Lane.

Stealing the Correct Corn

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 16:38:00 +0000

Some people tell me that as teenagers, they used to sneak to the edge of a farmer's cornfield and swipe a few ears. Hmmm. I'm guessing the farmer would have said 'yes' if they'd asked, but it does raise an interesting question: what's the best kind of corn to swipe?

Until Melissa and I moved out into the country, I didn't realize that farmers plant two types of corn. The first is sweet corn. It's what people eat. It, not surprisingly, is sweet. Sweet corn is harvested when the kernels are nice and moist, and the plant is still green.

The second kind of corn is field corn, or livestock corn. It's what livestock eat. This isn't very sweet. This corn is left on the field to dry out, and isn't harvested until the plant---and the kernels---are dry.

But for a few months, both types exist side by side. I've been fascinated by this little secret that most people don't notice as they whiz by on the highway: You can tell the difference between sweet corn and field corn by the color of the tassels.

Sweet corn tassels are whitish-yellow. Field corn tassels are orangish.

See the difference?

It's probably not a good idea to steal a farmer's corn, but at the very least, you can impress friends and family with your knowledge when you pass the two different types of corn.

Hope everyone had some sweet corn for their Labor Day picnic, 'cause the season (at least up here in the north) is almost over.

Sigh.

What Does a Farmer Look Like?

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 20:11:00 +0000

I get lots of fan emails, which is fun. Usually people tell me what a particular book of mine meant to them, or how our lives intersect or run parallel in some way. I love getting these emails, even those that make me stop and think a minute.

I received one of those the other day. The woman enjoyed my books, and was pleased to find my website and see what I looked like. Her comment, however, seems to indicate she was both pleased and stunned. Pleased because, as she wrote, "you look like the women I know." Stunned, perhaps, because after reading Hit by a Farm, she assumed I was a "tall, muscular woman."

Melissa laughed 'til she choked at that one. I've always had muscles; they're just very shy, and prefer to hide under a little flesh. :-)

But, hey, it's true, I am tall.

When we started the farm, Melissa had a bad back, so I did most of the heavy lifting. I used the post pounder to slam metal fence posts into the ground. I did the hammering (when Melissa picks up a hammer with her right hand, her left hand gets very nervous.) I carried the bags of grain from the pickup to the barn.

Over the next few years, farm work actually strengthened Melissa's back, and we eventually shared the heavy work.

But what does a female farmer look like? We look like the women you know. We are tall and short and rail thin and medium build and nicely curved. We farm with our husbands, wives, partners, or on our own. We clean up really well when we go into town, but if you were to drop by unexpectedly, you might find we haven't showered for a day or two (or three!), and we're wearing old, ratty clothing.

I've seen women farmers with Michelle Obama biceps. I've seen women with no visible biceps do plenty of heavy lifting.

The fastest growing category of farmers in the 2007 Census of Agriculture was women. And the more that people see women farmers as just like the 'women I know,' perhaps the more women farmers there will be.

That said, there's nothing wrong with a little muscle on a woman farmer. Here's me, just the other day:

Okay, not really.

My Summer Camp

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Sat, 13 Aug 2011 13:05:00 +0000

What happened to August?

Seriously. Where did it go? It's already half over.

I spent a few days with cousins at their lake cabin, then did a book signing at a lovely little bookstore in Dorset, MN during the Taste of Dorset festival. But because I was inside the bookstore, I hardly got to taste anything! Poor me.

Then I jumped right into teaching a weeklong writing camp for kids. The morning class was 3-5th graders. The afternoon class was 6-10th graders. At the end of the first day I stumbled home, sure I'd never make it through the week. Somehow I scraped myself off the living room sofa and moved the sheep and the big steers to new pasture. Then I managed to do 3 hours of prep for the next day. Cleaning the kitchen? Making supper? Nope.

Every day was like that. How do farmers with two fulltime jobs manage? Holy smokes. I suppose if I taught kids writing every day, it'd become easier, so that might make a difference. But this week? Not so much. And every night, did I clean the kitchen or make supper? Nothing left for those tasks.

At the end of every afternoon I felt as if aliens had attached tubes to my brain and sucked everything out. Poor me again.

Good news is I survived. Even better news, the kids survived as well, even though by mid-week there were a few rowdies I was considering hanging by their thumbs from the ceiling fan. Luckily I've been chased by geese and knocked over by sheep and nudged by really large steers, so keeping kids in line doesn't frighten me.

At camp we did some fun stuff, some hard stuff, and I packed their brains as full as I could. Hopefully some of it'll stick. But when it comes to writing, much of what you learn leaks out, and you have to learn it again. Just too much to know.

Here's proof my kids were still smiling at the end of the week:

Here's proof the sheep were still alive at the end of the week:

As for me? I must go clean the kitchen... if I can find it.

Taking a Break

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 00:29:00 +0000

A writer (and farmer) needs a break now and then. Every summer mine is to drive nearly seven hours north until the road runs into the waters of Rainy Lake (or crosses the bridge into Canada.) I stay with nine other writers on a small private island once owned by Ernest Oberholtzer, the man responsible for preserving broad swatches of nature in northern MN and Canada. In the 1930s (?) he stood up against the proposed hydroelectric projects that would have destroyed the wilderness.

The buildings on Ober's Island have been preserved. His belongings, down to his piano music, have been kept in the cabins. All who use the island are respectful of its past, and its future. Oh, and there are spirits still living in the Main House...but that's another story.

So here's my 'cabin' this year, a lovely building called Front House, because it's at the front of the island.

Here's the view forty feet from Front House.

The kitchen is an old river boat, now surrounded by a deck.

You step inside, and go down stairs. This would be the part that was in the water when it was a boat:

The island does not have running water, so if you want to get clean, your only choice is to jump in the lake. During heat waves, it's lovely. On a normal summer day, however...holy frijoles, it's cold. Here's the swimming beach:

I feel so lucky to be part of a group that has been able to visit this island, off and on, for nearly fifteen years. It's been the place where I recover, think about my life, and get excited about writing all over again.

So, new novel, and possibly a new nonfiction as well (acck-not sure), here I come....

Bottle Lambs: A Three-Part Story

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 15:39:00 +0000

Every good story needs a beginning, middle, and end.

Here's the story of two bottle lambs that live on pasture with their moms, but get a bottle from me twice a day. (I tried embedding the videos in the blog post, but blogger went bonkers, so the best I can do is provide the links. Gaack.)

Beginning:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_sahDOpJDE

Middle:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEDugl3VaQs

End:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Am9fv0-7Kf4

This weekend I leave for my annual writing retreat with 9 other writers on a tiny island in Rainy Lake, between MN and Canada. I say 'annual,' but I missed last year, and the year before, so I'm really ready to 'retreat' this year. I wish a week of calm reflection for all of you as July races by.

Melissa will be in charge of the farm.

Hope she can handle it. :-)

The Princess and the Flooded Barn

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 22:09:00 +0000

Sunday Melissa hooked up a hose to the barn hydrant so we could have access to water outside the barn. When she returned an hour later, the entire barn floor had flooded, covered in two inches of water. What?

She dug and shoveled until the water drained out, but then we had to figure out what was going on. She turned on the hydrant again, and about 30 seconds later, water came bubbling up through the dirt floor. We quickly shut it off again.

Water coming up through the floor isn't good. And it literally bubbled.

Monday morning Melissa goes off to work. Dealing with these sorts of problems is now my job as Head Farmer, but I must confess that because Melissa has taken care of this stuff for years, I might have become...well...somewhat of a spoiled princess...

So first the princess calls the wrong plumber, the guy who does the inside stuff. "Nope, you want Mark for that."

So then she calls Mark. He says he'll send someone out. The guy comes a few hours later and is very nice. The princess shows him where the water comes up. He shakes his head. "Mark thought the hydrant might need a new float, but it's clearly leaking from the pipe itself." [She thinks the word he used was 'float,' but princesses don't like to bother with technical details.]

The guy and the princess look at each other. They both know the pipe, which runs from the well to this hydrant, is six feet below ground. There is no room for a back hoe to come into the little barn and dig. "Someone's going to have to dig with a shovel," moans the princess. The hole must be six feet deep and four feet across so the guy can get down there and work.

The look on his face? It ain't gonna be me.

The look on the princess's face? It ain't gonna be me. (She only uses ain't when she really, really means it.)

The guy fiddles with the hydrant. "Let's check the float first.Could you shut off the power to the well?"

The princess asks him how to do this, then runs to the house, fights her way through the laundry room to the breaker box, and shuts off the breaker to the well. She runs back to the barn.

The guy shows her something. "Look, this hydrant is really loose." He turns the thing at least three times until it's tight again.

"How could that be the source of the leak?" the princess asks.

"If the pipe was loose, the water could have leaked out the threads. Let's turn the well back on and try it."

The princess skips off to the laundry room again, this time confident she knows what to do, then returns to the barn. The guy lifts the hydrant handle and they both stare at the ground, watching for water.

Nothing! 'That's amazing," the guy says. "We fixed it. How did this hydrant get so loose?"

"Perhaps partying racoons, or evil ducks, or barn ghosts," says the princess. Really, she has no idea, but she cleverly disguises this with her reply.

Then it hits them both. "No one has to dig," they say in unison, heaving a mutual sigh of relief.

The princess feels so proud that she's resolved the problem (with a little help from the well guy), that she returns to the house and replaces the broken toilet seat in the master bath.

Princess power!

Duck Drama: The Conclusion

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 12:45:00 +0000

Some of you may remember that in late May, a visiting (and unleashed) neighbor dog startled our duck, Mr. Bodgepie, into the air. Instead of circling around the house as he usually does, then landing, Bodgepie was so upset that he just kept flying. He flew south, and we found out a few days later, from a neighbor, that he'd taken up residence on the Zumbro River, maybe 3/4 of a mile to the south.

Several captures were attempted, but failed. We resigned ourselves to the idea that he was down there to stay, since he'd have to do some major flying to get up out of the river bed and over the trees, high enough to see our house and barn.

Late last week, 39 days after Mr. Bodgepie's flight, Melissa looked out the front door and shrieked, "He's back!" Somehow the boy managed to get his heavy carcass up into the air high enough, and far enough north, that he recognized home.

That's the good news. The bad news is that his wife Helen was a little miffed that he'd left. She had to raise their three ducklings herself. (Actually, she does this anyway---the males don't really participate---but this is my blog post, so I'm going to imagine she's feeling a bit huffy about this.)

As we watched Bodgpie pie waddle toward the barn, I said, "If he turns left toward the food, he's hungry. If he turns right into the barn (where Helen was), he wants sex."

Not surprisingly, he turned right. Both Bodgepie and Helen wagged their tails, so this was good. But then Helen decided to punish him for abandoning them. No nookie for Bodgepie.

Here are Helen and her 'babies':

Mr. Bodgepie was frustrated, to say the least. (I should note here that our rooster died last fall, so our hens have been celibate, not by choice. Whenever I come up behind one of them, she assumes the position, hoping I can help. Ah...no.) Sunday morning I witnessed a most disturbing sight: Bodgepie trying to mount one of the hens. I broke it up before he damaged the hen, but I suspect she might have been inviting some action.

Bodgepie has always been polite---he spent months wooing Helen before she would trust him. Turns out this time he wasn't willing to wait months. Yesterday, in a flurry of wings and huffing, he chased her out of the barn and, well, nailed her. Apparently this is how it's done down on the river.

For his sake, I hope he remembers that this isn't how it's done on this farm. We'll cut the boy some slack, given his traumatic nearly 40 days and 40 nights on the river, so hopefully he'll remember how to be a gentle duck again.

Another neighbor came to visit last night, with her dog unleashed, so we had to tell her the whole story. It's great that neighbors visit, but we may need to post a signed: If your dog scares our duck back into the air, you'll have to go get him and bring him back. Thanks.

June Mish-Mash

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 15:35:00 +0000

I keep waiting to have something interesting to say, but it doesn't seem to be happening this week. I think I'm too tired from all the promotion. So here's just a mish-mash of stuff:

1) I have 11 promotional events in June---3 left, and then I can hibernate for six weeks. I'm having lots of fun, and people have been very gracious and enthusiastic. I am, however, getting a little tired of the sound of my own voice. Talking about myself does NOT come naturally. The morning after an event, I always feel a little funny, as if I'd talked too much at a dinner party the night before.

2) Mr. Bodgepie (the duck) is proving to be elusive. We drove to the neighbor's where he's been hanging out. There he was, in the entrance to a big equipment shed. We pursued him deep into the shed as he scooted under the equipment. It was dark and confusing, with all the tires, etc. We were on our hands and knees. "Do you see him?" Melissa calls. The neighbor replies from the front of the shed. "He's out here." The little @#*& had doubled back on us. Melissa approached with the net and he took flight. Clearly we're going to have to be smarter than the duck...

3) Melissa, lover of delicate flowers (which, I might add, doesn't describe me!), is at it again. Found these scattered around the house the other day.

4) A few years ago Melissa planted a wild rose on the south side of the house, in an odd place. You couldn't see it from the front yard or most of the back yard or the driveway. Why there? This spring, while sitting at my computer, I turned my head to the left and looked out the window. Oh, that's why. What a sweetie....

Here's to a wonderful summer for everyone, a summer full of surprising wild roses and other romantic stuff.

Would I Choose to Farm Again?

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 01:02:00 +0000

At one of my recent presentations, a man in the audience asked if I would do it all over again, meaning choose to farm.

It was a fair question, but hard to answer. I can't 'un-know' all I've learned during the last fifteen years, so if Melissa were to once again ask me to help her start a farm, I can never again be that young, fairly clueless woman of 37. I can only start from here. If Melissa were to say to me tomorrow, "Hey, let's sell the sheep and start a dairy farm," I'd say, "If you want to remain married to me, I wouldn't recommend it."

But as I think about the question, I realize he was really asking me if I have any regrets about my choice to farm. Americans tend to get all twisted in knots about our decisions---am I making the right choice? the wrong one? For years I've tried to side-step this anxiety by just accepting that I make a decision, something happens, and I make the next decision. This feels easier to deal with than worrying about right vs. wrong.

Do I regret being a part of this farm? There are hundreds, if not thousands, of blogs now being written by men and women who've moved to the country and started farming. These blogs are written by people who clearly want to be there, who thrive on crazy hard physical labor, sweating in the sun, etc. I'm not them. They aren't me. I seem to have made a career out of being different, of being a somewhat reluctant farmer. It's a weird spot to be known for doing something that doesn't always feel comfortable to me.

Do I regret being part of this farm? Since we started farming, eight out of the eleven books I've written since then have been influenced/inspired by the farm. My three novels were an escape from the farm, so the farm influenced these as well! I cannot regret something that has given me so much to say, that has shaped my writing voice and helped me connect with so many people touched by our stories.

I live in a lovely location, surrounded by wildlife and livestock. I feel closer to nature than ever before. I'm more aware of both my strengths and weaknesses because farming shines a relentless spotlight on both.

No, I don't regret saying 'Yes' to Melissa all those years ago. I feel as if I have one foot in the city, and one foot on the farm, and if that turns me into a bridge between the two worlds, then that's where I'm supposed to be.... for now. :-)

The Duck Saga Continues

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 16:19:00 +0000

A month ago I wrote about our duck, Mr. Bodgepie, being startled by a neighbor's dog and flying a mile to the south. Neighbor Bill saw the duck and called us. I 'visited' Bodgepie several times, but couldn't catch him. And Melissa agreed that if she went down there with a net, she'd be so determined to catch him she'd end up in the swollen Zumbro River.

So we let go.

I just got a call from another person on that road (Bill's daughter) who said Bodgepie has been showing up in their yard late at night, and early in the morning. They live about half way between the river and our farm. So Bodgepie is making progress.

The good news is he's still alive, and he gets off the river now and then. I just called Melissa and she's SO excited.

This weekend's activity? Duck hunting...with a fishing net, not a gun.

Memoirist Caught Telling Lie

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 15:11:00 +0000

James Frey (A Million Little Pieces) and Greg Mortenson (Three Cups of Tea)? Move over. There's a new memoirist in town who's been caught lying.

In my first memoir, Hit by a Farm, I wrote about a doll I had as a child. The Jane West doll had bendable arms and legs, ugly tan plastic clothing, and a horse. I sold her years ago, and regretted it because she's now sort of an antique.

Last fall our friend Karen pulled a Jane West doll out of a box of junk her father gave her. Karen generously gave the doll to me. But in our discussion, someone raised the question---was there more than one doll of this sort?

I jumped online and found the truth. Jane West looks like this:

She's tall and blonde.

My Jane West, however, looks like this:

Oops. This isn't Jane West. She's Jane (and Johnny) West's daughter, Janice West.

Call the New York Times! I've lied! Punish me by putting my memoir on the bestseller list! Frey and Mortenson have survived the punishment (and have become incredibly wealthy,) so if that's the fate I must suffer for lying, so be it.

How do we (as in all of us) do it?

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 00:59:00 +0000

It's been a week since I've posted. Darn. And I was doing so well there for awhile.

The good news is that I'm managing. I'm keeping the animals fed, moving them from pasture to pasture. I'm weaning the baby calves---down from 3 bottles a day to one. I know which ones are likely to sneak up on me and put their noses in inappropriate places. (If they weren't my animals, I'd report an assault.)

I'm not afraid of the four massive steers, and lead them from place to place like they're babies. (They ran up to Melissa one night in the dark and startled her, so she's been a little skittish around them. The next time we passed through their pasture, I volunteered to hold her hand if she was afraid. I'm so bad!) The other day they were so excited to be moving to new pasture that they thundered toward the gate, inspiring me to start humming the theme song from Bonanza. They must be at least 700 pounds now.

I'm appearing lots of places to promote my new book. And I've started a new novel and am playing with a few ideas for a new nonfiction book. Our capacity to create in the face of so many other distractions amazes me. I wonder if the distractions actually help focus our attention.

I've always wondered how parents juggle jobs and kids and kids' activities and house/bill needs and sleeping. I see now that you just do it because you have to. Just because we're having a bad day doesn't mean we can sell the animals or stop taking care of children.

In the past, if I'm not feeling well or am lacking energy, it's been so easy to let Melissa take care of whatever needs doing. I can't do that now. Other than a few minor meltdowns, I'm doing what needs doing. If the animals need checking on in the middle of a 100 degree day, I do it.

I think everyone should take a minute to give themselves credit for stepping up, and doing what needs to be done even if we'd rather make a batch of popcorn and collapse on the sofa....

which I plan on doing tomorrow... :-)

Meet the Lambs

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 02:01:00 +0000

It's been two weeks since we finished lambing. (Hurrah!) Everyone's out on pasture and doing great. I tried to take a video of the two lambs I'm supplementing with bottles running toward me, and then feeding them.

Two hands holding three things? I held one bottle between my knees, and one in my hand, while I filmed with my camera in the other hand. I kept dropping the bottles, frustrating the hungry lambs, and I ended up holding the camera backwards so I photographed my t-shirt instead of the lamb.

Gaack. I should stick with still photos. Speaking of which, here are a few....

Duck Drama

noreply@blogger.com (Catherine) — Tue, 24 May 2011 23:54:00 +0000

Sunday was a bad day. Melissa broke the fence containing the steers, so she and Mary had to move them to a new pasture in the pouring rain. Later a neighbor brought his riding lawn mower for us to use (both our mowers are broken) and just started mowing himself. Pleased, I went on to other things, then remembered I'd left a net fence down in the grass near the vineyard. Would he mow up that way? About the time I'm thinking this, he hits it with his mower. He had to take the deck off in order to free his mower from plastic and fence wire wrapped around his blade. Totally my fault. Gaack. Luckily the mower wasn't broken.

Then his dog startled our duck, Mr. Bodgepie, and Bodgepie took flight, heading south. He didn't come back.

The next day, still no Bodgepie. Today Melissa leaves a message for a farmer who lives about a mile to the south (as the duck flies.) He called back late this afternoon. This morning he'd seen what he thought at first was a bald eagle, then he realized it was just a really big duck.

I drive three miles to the general area, a narrow road that follows the Zumbro River as it snakes through pasture and plowed fields. I'm scanning the trees, the road ditches, then happen to look up and see, way the hell out toward the river, a black and white spot.

I race home, get the binoculars, then race back. Sure enough, it's Mr. Bodgepie, perched on a dead tree about 10 feet out into the river. Crap. The Zumbro is fast and dangerous. I stop by the farmer's house and determine the pasture bordering the river is his, and I get his permission to walk out to the duck.

The grass is long, over my knees, and crawling with wood ticks just waiting to creep onto me, but I must try. I don't want to face Melissa--who loves that duck---without trying. So I crawl through the barbed wire fence with a container of cracked corn, and begin the long trek through the unfamiliar pasture toward the river. I get as as far as I can, about 20 feet from the river, then hit muck so soft I start to sink. I talk to Bodgepie, but he just stands there on his log. I don't think he can 'take off' because he needs more real estate for that. He's a duck, so he could swim to shore, but I'm not sure he knows that.

I dump out all the corn on the ground, thinking that might entice him onto shore, and hike back to the car. Melissa won't be home for awhile, but she won't be able to do anything since without a boat, there's no way to reach him.

I'm fairly convinced this story won't have a happy ending. We'll either return and find him gone, or be unable to rescue him and something larger will eat him.

I share this story because sometimes it's so easy to think that farm life is all cuddly babies and cute calves. It's also animals getting themselves beyond reach, through flight or accident or disease.

Farmers, whether they're aware of it or not, do a lot of letting go.