Flock to the Farm, 2014

Last weekend was the 2nd Annual Flock to the Farm. We called. They came. They Flocked. Fiber and fun.

Spinners came, and shopped for fleece in the shop.

Charts and samples of wool grades and breeds helped sort out facts.

 Longer is not always better they learned.


And, the question of the day, "what does blood have to do with it?"

There was some seious 'spind'lin' going on.

Those girls were good at spinning a yarn.

Then Don the Shepherd got on (the) board.

Some serious shearing for the spectators.

Followed by skirting.


outside up -

Then inside up.  And explaining why.










Meanwhile - what do the small ones do while Mom is talking fleece?

You have fun with sticks in the dirt.

    And then its time for 'all hands on lamb'.

"So have some fleece for sale?"

I think so.

How do you choose from so many?

It's easier when you buy 2 fleeces, and split them 3 ways.


Yup - you get Three bags full.




So a good time was had by all.  On Saturday at least.

Sunday was windy, wet, and cold. Not a great day for the family fun day we had planned.  But a few came out anyway. and we had some fun in the barn.

The last ewe lamb got sheared, so now Don is done.

And the 'Ad Rams' did their job again this year.

We'll call it successful again this year.


Now the load of extra wool has been delivered to the mill.  And several of us can hardly wait till the bats and roving and felt come home, all clean and white - and black - and ready for the next step.  Meanwhile, I'm processing some by hand.  There is yarn and felt to be made.

Progress and produce in a frosty season

So it is now Feb 24th.  So much for Don's retirement.  In the past 3 weeks, much has happened. progress to be sure, but not so good for Don's plan for naps.

We attended the Agri-tourism Conference. Made some new friends, lots of contacts, answered a few questions, and shored up some confidence in our plans for the farm. Since then, there have been numerous meetings, and sign out papers. Still waiting on word about health insurance, but that's still a topic for another day.

Sheep got sheared, and all or near all are pregnant. That, too, is for another day.

Taxes are done, filed, and put away. That's a happy thought. so while we are on pleasantries, I will fill in the details of the produce story.

We have a rather unique local business that specializes in overstock, damaged, and other odd lots of various merchandise. We have been long time fans of the establishment, as it has provided many 'finds' over the years, varying from gallon cans of carrots, curtains, pet supplies, plastic kitchen ware, and so much more. Included is fresh produce retrieved from the distribution center. I have always tried to take advantage of the bargain prices, and happily changed the evening menu at the last minute to adjust for the daily deal at the Warehouse.

One day in mid January, amid a discussion of the current status of hay quality and nutritional needs, the Warehouse was mentioned. A short time later, the discussion came to mind as I placed my produce find of the day on the counter to pay. I looked behind me, and in a rare moment, there was no one. So I posed a question to the owner/cashier -  "What do you do with the leftover spoiled produce?"

The result - said produce is now consumed at Ewe And Us.

The first few hauls were crates of green beans.  A little moldy perhaps, but the girls didn't care.

 What a treat to have green goods in the bunk on a cold January day.

 Then one day, a special treat came in.  Watermelon! and cilantro, and collard and turnip greens. And berries, and bananas, apples and more.

 No, thats not a scene from a horror movie, its just watermelon lips on ewe.

 Here is a view of our 'produce' wagon while Don cuts the melons. Notice the waiting line behind him.

And then came the salad greens - cilantro.

Since then, we have lost track of how many hundreds of pounds of produce we have hauled home to the sheep. Last week it was potatoes. 1200 lbs of potatoes. Had to make 2 trips. They may not be in the form of fries, but it matters not. At 100 plus lbs/day, we still have some left.

I checked back in with the owner, to be sure they were aware and on board with the exchange. It's all good, for everyone. The crew doesnt need to haul everything back down the street. They don't have to pay to have it hauled away. It doesn't get put in the landfill. Its put to use - even if it's just sheep feed. And our pregnant ewes are getting an extra shot of nutrition.

Okay, so we have had a few days of grumbling. It does take time to empty all those berry containers, sort through the foul smelling bags of potatoes, and untie the bundles of greens and cilantro. The slimy cucumbers in shrink wrap were the worst for soaking through gloves and numbing fingers. Not to mention the loss of garage square footage to use as a walk in cooler. (an issue to be addressed before it warms too much).  But it seems to be worth it.

There is no predicting what or how much we will get. We just respond to 'the call'. But we do take notice when advised to 'bring a truck'.

And, for those of you may wonder, NO, even the food bank couldn't use this stuff. It's already been rejected once, maybe twice. But it does spark a little feeling of satisfaction that its one more item on our list of  'sustainable practices.'

So the next time you make some vegetable soup, you can raise a spoon,  think of Us, and say "Here's to Ewe".  Just don't use those rotten potatoes.

Feel'in like Rip

Yawn.  stretch.   !    Uh oh.  Where am I?  what day is it?   JULY 1 !

What happened to June?  Was I sleeping?  I'm not tripping on a beard or anything, but I do feel a little like Rip.  Rip Van Winkle that is.  But wait - its all coming back to me now.

Yeah- June was kind of like a nightmare all right. Good, but in a blurr.

There was a trip to pick up items from the show in GI. Didn't win anything, but did sell a piece.

Then packing and the trip to the Iowa Sheep and Wool Festival.  That was enjoyable as usual. Always nice to work with like minded sheep and fiber people. Ate lamb 3 times in 2 days.  Taught a class of delightful students, and all of us had a good time. No floods this year, but it was hot. Glad the whole barn remembered their fans. Sales may have been down, but the exchange of info among the vendors was great. Wish we could have come home with less rams, but that's the way it goes.  Picture won the contest again this year, so that was a bonus.

Working on a class schedule for a felted ornament family class at the Lux for December.

Garden has exploded. Tomatoes look like flowering plants, and lots of green fruit. Cucumbers and zucchini need picked every other day. Beans are on the increase. First planting of corn is tasseling. One eggplant, 2 peppers in the bag. Now if the market customers would increase the same.

We did have a first this week.  A customer came back to proclaim we had the BEST Swiss Chard he had ever eaten. I guess thats an achievement. (we tried, but appreciation of even the BEST fell short to our palates)

Fencing is commencing. Slowly though. Of course its always 100 degrees on the days Don has or takes off when we can work on it. And, as is typical for June, our absence has put us behind. The weather predictions are not encouraging.  We have resigned ourselves to a summer of sweat.

Then there was the family reunion. My family. (Well, and a short drive and a few hours with Don's brother)
As expected,' interesting ' is good word for a summation.  And Hot, windy, cramped, stuffed (food).

A few noteable quotes from the weekend:

"Spray them?  I have several times, and they're still here."

"Catch' em quick!"   (kid, chip, napkins, lawn chair, - whatever)

"One, two, three, four!" ( Braydon counting the cabins)

to assembly of ages on the grass - "Have you heard about the chiggers down here?"

yeah. It was interesting.  I passed up my 40th class reunion to be there. From what I've heard, I don't think they even missed me.

It did leave me with a renewed sense of gratitude though. And a deeper understanding everything is a choice. Not just a choice of where we choose to go, or what we do but of who we choose to be.

Whether we look forward or behind.  That its true that you can't control what happens to you, only how you react. And who you are shows in those reactions.  I know if the old debate of 'nature vs. nurture' ever comes up, I now know which team I'll be on.

And now here it is July.( But it looks and feels like August). But first, there are things to do.  Birthdays, anniversaries, more birthdays, county fairs, the Farmers Market of course, and oh dear, more fence.

Must feed my sheep.

Much more in my head that needs to be said. Soon, I hope.

May your summer be as abundant as the blessings 'round here.

No summer slumber, Rip

Looking both ways

Things are looking good here at the Farm. The recent 1in plus rain was needed. Last night and again today, there was and will be a mad scramble of picking and planting before the predicted stormy season arrives. The garden is already in early production phase. Strawberries, rhubarb, snap peas, new potatoes, radishes, lettuce, spinach, and the new experiment in Swiss Chard have passed into harvest mode.

Out to the north, the  Sheep are now grazing the first patch of oats. Full sheep are happy sheep. and it didn't take long to train them to the fence.  By day 3, none of them were even coming close.

So - on to days subject.

I am a 'fan' of Harvest Public Media on Facebook, and had taken an interest in their special with NET about Hispanic farmers in Nebraska. It aired last Friday night. It came on before I got out the door, and I found I couldn't leave the couch. It was interesting  -as expected.  But the thoughts and feelings it aroused in me were not.

I had watched some of the video clips linked to those posted on FB, so I had an idea of the story. More Nebraskans need to hear and see what has quietly been happening happening out-state. I was aware, but not to the extent the local culture has shifted. And no, its not what some believe. Change has always been hard. And for both sides. But thats not for today.

As I watched and listened, particularly to one story more local - outside Lincoln, they said - about a farmer on 2 acres, with a calf, some goats, and a few chickens, I felt a strange sense growing inside. I couldn't identify it at first, but it was growing. The show ended (I was disappointed there was nothing about the horse trainers I had seen in the video clips - they were amazing), and I went outside to attend to my chores. but the feeling was still there.

I watched the sheep race through the 'woodland gap' (the windbreak) in from the pasture. I filled the water tanks. And I thought.  And somewhere in there, it occurred to me - the feeling was resentment. I felt bad, feeling hostility toward those hard working emigrants, who I full knew were pursuing dreams I understood so well.  Aha! There it was.

Through the night, and into the next day, it became clear. But not until I looked back.

In 1975, Don and I were newly married, farm raised kids, with 2 college degrees in agriculture, and eager to stake our claim - as farmers. We found 40 acres of gently sloping farmland, made a plan to raise sheep and vegetables, and went to the only likely source of financing  - then called Farm Home Administration. Granted, sheep were little recognized as financially viable, and vegetables? They would have to be marketed to restaurants and smaller grocery stores. Farmers markets were yet unknown.  We filled out papers, and made our plea.  A few weeks later, a letter came. Rejection. They didn't think it would work. Discouraged, but not defeated, we modified our plan, and 3 years later planted our now little family on 5 acres.

Fast forward 35 years to today. Where we own a small farm where we raise sheep and vegetables. So why the resentment? - other than the obvious time and much work?  And the struggle to be recognized as 'farmers' on so many levels.  As female. With sheep. And vegetables. On only 5 acres. The struggle with neighbors, the public, and County, State, and national government to establish ourselves as 'real'. It took a long time, a lifetime almost, but we did it. Without help.

And the resentment?  Well,  now days there are all these programs. Community Crops, Beginning Farmers, grants, and now an focus on loans to Minorities and women? Hmmmfp.

Wait....... Could it be that things are changing?  Maybe. I hope so. I hope the changes will be of benefit, and not just more red tape and regulation. I hope the help gets to those who need it.

Maybe, just maybe, (I may be thinking this as self consolation), we have helped in some small way. Like our ancestors, we have been pioneers, unknowingly. Re-claiming a homestead. Breaking ground for a new way of farming and farmers.

I do not resent the individuals. Empathize more like it. I saw my own reflection in those dark eyes. 

Thanks HPM. Keep telling the stories.

They may be differed, delayed, detoured, and discouraged, but dreams should never die.

Farm on.

Success and Epiphany

So the new year is off to a roaring start. So much is happening all at the same time, I have given up trying to stay ahead - I'll settle for barely keeping up.

My first success of the year is the Wings Over the Platte Art show at Stuhr Museum. I entered 2 pieces, and they both won 'Merit Awards' in their respective categories. This is a needle felted picture on hand dyed wool fabric. It was quite impressive in the gallery with the lighting - although a bit deceiving, as it looked like it was back lit. (Pardon the picture, my mate was kind of in a hurry to get the picture, as we thought the batteries were dying in the camera).



This is the 3-D piece - a 12" sculpture of Sandhill cranes.

The opening reception was fun also - chocolate fountain, flvored hot chocolate, and cousin Carla too.

That over, I'm now back at work. Three paint jobs lined up. Income taxes waiting for Kansas papers to arrive. Classes for girl scouts and 4-Hers lined up for March. One special order filled, another on the slate.

Meanwhile, in the sheep fold, Don is hoping to start shearing tomorrow. That is, if they are dry. The recent snow, mud, and more rain has made us postpone a couple of days already. Time to get with it, as lambing is fast approaching. Of course I'm anxious to get a look at this years larger crop of covered fleeces and get some on the market.

So today I finished up a special order for 12 pairs of sock yarns. Customer specified what color combinations she wanted, and I had no qualms about being about to produce them. So yesterday, while I began the first round, I was a little surprised to realize I was unusually irritated with the process I normally find much pleasure in. On the third batch, I stood there in the shop with turkey baster in purple gloved hands, and had an epiphany. I am an artist - not a chemist!

I realized that the tedious process of keeping 'recipies' of the dyes I was using, trying to keep careful records of it all so I could 'match' it again if desired, was pushing all my buttons. The wrong ones. I realized it had to be the artist in me. If I am not free to 'paint' as I choose, and feel in the moment, its just no fun. And call me selfish if you like, but I have worked too long not to claim my fought for freedom of expression. I shall not be held captive by a color code!

Life is too short not to live it vibrantly. Paint your own reality. Gray is the color of fog. I prefer to surround myself with the colors of life. Saint Teresa of Avila had it right. Let me live green.

And green life soon will be again. The receding snow on brown grass is already showing hints of green. The other day, I heard birds sing. And even by the calendar, Spring is only a few weeks away.

But first, we must shear sheep. And I will live to dye again.