Letting go

I always have such god intentions before our fall fiber days. This fall I planned to design a new yarn, have kits to sell featuring the yarn I designed last winter, side the greenhouse, start and finish the rain garden that will control the runoff from our south roof, clean the refrigerator, wash the floors and vacuum, clean up the gardens and dye some yarn.

Fiber day this year is this coming Saturday, September 27, four short days away. Last Saturday was the breaking point in my attempt to be prepared; if I didn't get it done by then, it probably wouldn't get done. I swept and washed the floors, dyed 8 colors of wool, harvested the garden, and set my yarn and roving out to sell. Then I watched as Newton the dog walked across the tile floors with big, dirty, doggy feet. By the end of the day, I realized that I wouldn't get the gardens cleaned for fall. I wouldn't wash the wool to dye for a new yarn, I wouldn't do anything on the rain garden or the greenhouse and I certainly wouldn't clean the refrigerator before September 27.

I was over whelmed. This was the fourth fiber day with an unsided greenhouse and bare dirt where the rain garden was supposed to be. I couldn't start on the rain garden until the siding was done. In the last six months, I'd skirted four fleeces and sold three. I still had twenty-four fleeces to skirt and wash and dye for that new yarn. I hadn't found time to create a Northcroft Sweater  or Northcroft Sox kit. In fact, I couldn't even find the yarn I had designed for the sox.

My brain circled around and around all day Sunday berating me for not accomplishing my goals. Although the sun was shining, my day was gray. Monday, Dave and I vaccinated thirty ewes and ten lambs. The we put Winthrop the ram into his marking harness and turned him in with the ewes;  the beginning of our next sheep year. I finished dyeing the last color of yarn needed for fiber day. There was still so much to do.

Then I remembered the important things about fiber day have nothing to do with the cleanliness of my house (or fridge), the state of my garden and yard, or unwashed fleeces. Fiber day is important because people come together to talk, share projects, and use their hands and brains to create.

Saturday, at 4 PM, my sheep year will end when the last car drives away (oh yeah, and we was h the dishes, put away the dyes, yarns and chairs, and sweep and wash the floor). Then Dave and I will put the canoe on top of the car and leave for a week in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. The chores I had set for myself will be postponed indefinitely. After all, they aren't necessary like vaccinating sheep, playing with grandchildren or going canoeing. I just need to remember what's really important and let go of the rest.

How to paint a sheep

                                                                                        photo by Peter Jarvis

What happens when you mix a bunch of little kids, several spray bottles of Kool-Aid, and a flock of sheep? The story is told by Jasper, age three...

"Step 2)

Before you catch your lamb you need to prepare your paint.

Unsweetened Kool-Aid™ works really well  for painting lambs (except grape and lemonade).

Black cherry paints maroon, lemon lime comes out green and raspberry is blue. Those are the best flavors to use. I’m not sure why raspberry is blue, but it’s a very nice blue. Orange is orange and cherry and strawberry make light pink.

Mix ten packages of the same color of Kool Aid™  in two cups of water. Pour it into a hand sprayer.

Hang the spray bottle on the fence so it will be ready when you need it.

Be careful not to spray a grownup by accident. They don’t think it’s funny."

How to Paint a Sheep is the first in the Little Lamb Library, a series of picture books written by Joan Jarvis Ellison (that's me). For a step by step guide on how to paint a sheep, buy a copy of the book for the kids in your life at the Northcroft store on this blog or at the Mercantile on Main in Pelican Rapids, MN.  With this book, as Jasper says, "... seven easy steps. Next time you get invited to a sheep painting party, you'll know what to do. In fact, if you live in the country, you could even get your own sheep to paint."

         

What does a farm mean?

I just overheard an older gentleman talking in a coffee shop. He said "a farm years ago used to be a lot more labor intensive."

I know that the big mega farms are highly mechanized but we aren't. For me, a farm means a lot of hard work. It means herding and controlling sheep. It means lifting 1500 fifty pound bales of hay at least once a year. It means shoveling manure, shoveling grain, and shoveling snow.

For Dave, the farm means the challenge of repairing old machinery, parts frozen in place by time, grease and dirt. It means building metal parts from scratch using his welder, a forge, a leg vice, and a three pound hammer.

Our daughter, Amber, was asked "What's the dirtiest job you've ever done?" Her answer? "Shoveling sheep manure in the rain." Amazingly, one of her ultra urban friends said "That's not a job, that's growing up on a farm." He also agreed with her.

For our grandsons who all live in big cities, a farm means being able to run as fr as they can, to climb fences, to explore the woods for treasure, and to paint lambs.

To Stevie Ray, a friend who as a young man worked summers for us while he was in college, a farm means a source of funny stories for his jobs as a comedian and a business consultant. His memories of the farm include digging a drain field, catching our youngest eating black nightshade berries and treating her with ipecac then holding her while she vomits. His last article for The Business Journals is about alpaca dentistry  and stems from recent experiences on our farm.

There aren't very many Old MacDonald farms anymore, but for most people, especially the ones who don't live on farms, a farm means "a cheep cheep here, and a moo moo there, here a quack, there a meow, everywhere a baa baa."