Front Porch Indiana

So I Made These Mittens…

2012-01-30T09:39:00.001-06:00

These super bright colorful mittens to use while I’m out shooting photos. I wanted them colorful to remind me to look for color and not just composition.

I used a pattern that included a small slit in the fabric right where the index finger on my right hand is to make using the camera easy. I thought I would model if for you and take a picture to show you how it works… anyone noticing a flaw in my thought process? Because I sure as heck didn’t until I actually put the mitten on and grabbed the camera. Yeah. Houston we have a problem. Uh, I can’t take a picture of the hand that is taking the picture. You’re just going to have to believe me that it is there.

Sometimes I even scare myself.

She’s Large and in Charge

2012-01-29T08:14:00.001-06:00

“Awe Man, somebody ate all the good stuff,” said Frankie.

“I’ll bet it was that new girl, Minnie. She’s a pig. Have you ever seen a woman eat like that? I mean come on.”

(the room grows silent)

“She’s right behind me isn’t she?”

“Oh, heh, heh, hi Minnie. I didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah, I got that,” she said. “You’d best run, boy.”

Losing Touch With Our Farming Heritage: How Do We Stop It?

2012-01-28T07:58:00.001-06:00

I have a dream.

At the beginning of the back-to-the-land movement of the 1970s a group of residents in the rural community of Parke County, Indiana, home to the famous Covered Bridge Festival, decided to come up with a way to capitalize on the small community’s tourism. Blessed with picturesque countryside, beautiful lakes and a bevy of state parks the county successfully brought in dollars with the many campgrounds and recreational activities available. However, this small group of people noticed how day-to-day “rural America” itself seemed a novelty to most visitors and thought they could do even more. They developed an interactive living history museum encompassing a turn-of-the-century village and farmstead called Billie Creek Village. While touring the historic buildings visitors could not only observe but participate in the day-to-day activities. The vision was for the visitor to feel as if they had stepped back in time. School was in session inside the schoolhouse, the blacksmith was busy making horseshoes, and depending on the time of year a person could participate in anything from maple sugaring to rail splitting.

As with so many things in society today, that wonderful vision became distorted, watered-down along the way. The Village has changed hands many times over the years and eventually started being used more as a public park hosting car shows and Halloween parties than teaching people about the way things used to be. It slowly became a victim of the changing economy; most families are now busy working two jobs so the pool of volunteers has been significantly reduced. This is where the vicious cycle began: if there is no revenue to pay employees to do the jobs then there is nothing for the visitor to see. If there is nothing for the visitor to see they won’t come back. If they don’t come back there is no revenue. The facility has fallen into disrepair and the current owners have decided not to reopen this season.

I had the pleasure of volunteering at Billie Creek Village for the past two years, first in the farmhouse as the quilting farm wife and secondly in the log cabin as the rug weaver. The joy of watching children learn to weave and seeing the seed of interest being planted made the long hours worthwhile. What struck me most though, was that despite the conditions of the facility and the current economy, people are still just as interested in rural American life now as they were back in the 1970s, only they are so far removed from that lifestyle they don’t even know where to begin to learn about it. I was disturbed by the number of children coming through the farmhouse who thought it was the rooster that was laying the eggs. This would have been common knowledge when I was a kid, if only because we heard our grandparents speak of it. Now though, it wasn’t only the children - some of their parents didn’t know either.

The one thing that I was asked most often was, “How do I learn how to do this?” It was asked in reference to everything from cast iron cooking to shearing sheep to spinning and weaving. People want more than a five minute demonstration. They want a class. They want someone to show them how to build a chicken coop for their backyard. They want someone to show them how to make their own soap. They want to learn how to spin yarn. And here is the kicker…they’re willing to pay for it! This is where we who live “out here” often miss the boat. We look at those visitors and shake our heads, wondering how a person could survive for 40 years without knowing where their food comes from. Then we walk away completely missing the opportunity to teach them. The opportunities for them to learn simply no longer exist.

“So what’s all this about a dream,” you ask? My dream is to teach them. To preserve the Billie Creek Village vision by converting the museum from a passive demonstration watching activity to a full-blown hands-on learning experience; a folk school akin to the John C. Campbell school of sorts, with weekend long immersion classes in everything from the lost crafts to sustainable farming practices. I think it is a brilliant idea. The only issue is that it would take a village to save the village and I’m just one person. It is a delightful, vivid dream but unless I hit the lottery soon I fear it, like so many other wonderful things about our past, will simply fade away. And as they do, a little part of us will fade with it.

HALT!

2012-01-27T11:43:00.001-06:00

Who goes there?

I think Willa might need some doggy decaf.

The Black Sheep

2012-01-26T07:00:00.000-06:00

There is one in every family. We call ours Squirrelly Shirley. She is, um, interesting. She would stand out in the crowd even on a normal day yet she always feels the need to accessorize her goth look to the extreme. Sometimes it is a limb piercing her wool making her look like she’s wearing a wide load sign across her behind.

This week it is dreadlocks. It wouldn’t be so bad if she weren’t crazy. She is the least touchable animal on the farm. Helping her remove her accessories proves challenging. She trusts no one.

If she ever got out for a night on the town she’d come home with a dragon tattoo, I just know it.

The New Girls

2012-01-25T11:13:00.001-06:00

The weather has been less than ideal since the new llamas arrived. They have spent most of their time inside the barn. Popcorn finally had to approach them, “Excuse me. Um, you two are supposed to come out and guard us.”

They were not really interested in doing that until today; the wind has finally died down so Thelma took them out for a tour of the pastures and a bit of nibbling. Aibileen was intensely interested in the road construction crew a mile down the road.

Minnie didn’t like the looks of the porch dogs at all. Those are good signs in guard llamas.

Meanwhile Thelma snacked away completely oblivious to anything going on around her.

There were a few intense moments at first while establishing the pecking order. “Hey, they’re eating my hay,” said Aibileen. Thelma is very pleased to have them around since she now realizes she doesn’t have to do anything except eat.

I’ve had mixed feelings about bringing them here. I’m clearly not over the loss of Louise and I’m hesitant to become attached. We’ve made some adjustments in how we do things in hopes of preventing another choking incident. The easiest solution would be to not feed grain at all, but that isn’t possible when you’re working with rescues that need all the nutrition they can get. So a different method of feeding the grain needed to be implemented.

We threw out the plastic grain bins that are sold at every farm store across the country. Just because it’s widely marketed doesn’t mean it’s safe to use, way back when they sold arsenic pills to women so they could have a pale complexion. The bins should be banned just like the arsenic pills in my opinion. Instead we built trays made from poplar 5 inches deep, 3 1/2 inches tall in the back, 1 1/2 inches tall in the front and about 36 inches long then attached them to the wall. This allows the crumbles to be spread out in a long line versus a deep well. This prevents the animal from getting a large mouthful by forcing them to lip along the line slowly.

We also chose to place these at a much lower height in a more natural position for the llamas. The plastic bins we had previously were placed high to prevent the goats from getting to them. I now feel that was the biggest issue in causing Louise’s choke. If you watch a llama or alpaca eat while grazing a pasture they almost always swallow while their head is below their withers (shoulders), therefore grain should be delivered the same. Of course, we no longer have the goats and we can easily put the sheep in for the night before feeding. However we did discover we needed to adjust the height of the trays a few times to prevent certain individuals from trying to lick up any stray crumbs. The llama crumbles have too much copper for it to be safe for sheep. A few little crumbs wouldn’t hurt them, but crumbs every day over time might. Now Popcorn can’t reach it anymore and she’s none too pleased.

This Week is National Photo Organization Week

2012-01-23T06:38:00.001-06:00

Okay not really, I made that up. I spent all day yesterday cleaning up and organizing my photo files. I am ashamed to admit I’d been leaving them here, there and everywhere; my laptop, an external hard drive, an old desktop pc. I thought it would take an afternoon. I realize now it will be more like a week. But in the end I will hopefully be able to find things AND have everything backed up with a system in place to continue said organization and replication. I am very hopeful.

In the mean time, look at the buried treasure I found. My dad feeding a goat in his underwear while laundry dried on the clothesline in front of the outhouse. LOVE it.

Reunited

2012-01-21T06:00:00.000-06:00

“Hey Thelma, remember that pink sweater I let you borrow back at the ranch in Washington?” said Aibileen.

“Heh, heh, yeah. Um, er, that’s a funny story…” said Thelma.

They were mostly happy to see each other after a few awkward moments.

The Help

2012-01-20T17:38:00.001-06:00

Please allow me to introduce…

Minnie

and Aibileen.

I think they like it here.

Overworked and Underpaid: The Livestock Guardian Dog

2012-01-19T07:25:00.001-06:00

It has been two weeks since Louise the Livestock Llama passed away leaving her partner Thelma in charge of guarding the sheep. I’ve since come to realize, unlike Cagney and Lacy, the division of responsibility was never equal. Thelma isn’t security team material, she’s more like the bad teenage babysitter that is so concerned about what the ~~boys~~ alpacas next door are doing she lets all the ~~children~~ sheep run wild. In an effort to pick up the slack, Willamina the Great has taken on the added responsibility and has been pulling a lot of double shifts.

Willa and I have had our differences over the years and I know for a fact a few chickens have met their demise with her. She does seem to be outgrowing her wild youth though and maturing into a responsible adult. She still has the occasional outburst of energy, but now that she resides exclusively with the alpacas that are taller than her she doesn’t seem to want to play chase as much. It seems to only be the smaller animals that trigger that impulse.

Unlike Thelma, she absolutely earns her keep around here. Each evening of late just after I tuck everyone in for the night I hear the blood curdling howling start; there is a pack of coyotes camped out in the ravine behind the barn. I suppose they are using the spring-fed pond as their winter watering hole. It sounds as if they are coming within feet, not yards, of the perimeter fence. Willa makes it emphatically clear where the boundaries are in case they’ve forgotten, going so far as to have created a rut where she patrols back and forth.

We are bringing another rescue llama in to keep Thelma company and hopefully refocus her attention back to the sheep, but it is Willa who allows me to sleep at night. Bringing up a livestock guardian dog from a pup isn’t easy, they will try your patience, they will bark at harmless croaking frogs for hours and they might even eat a chicken or two. Waiting them out is worth it though, eventually you will wake up one day and suddenly realize they have quietly become worth their weight in gold.

A Little Quilt

2012-01-18T07:40:00.001-06:00

It was all good, I was rolling right along with my progress until the border. Then all Hell broke loose. I don’t even want to discuss how many do overs were involved or how I ended up one inch short of fabric. Just know that by the end of the night there was wine involved and I concluded that Operating While Intoxicated could include my sewing machine so I went to bed.

But it’s done. Er, well, the top is done. I’ll quilt it next week.

Keeping the Momentum Going

2012-01-17T07:23:00.001-06:00

I’d like to take this time to point out that not only have I cleaned up and organized my office, I also finished my January knitting project when it is only half way through the month. I finished the Vancouver Fog mitts two nights ago. I think they coordinate well with the neck warmer I made awhile back. Not an exact match but only a knitter would notice the difference.

I also started knitting a pair of Norwegian Fisherman mittens. They are HUGE. They will eventually be thrown in the wash and intentionally shrunken to make nice air-tight/water-tight mittens; supposedly Norwegian fisherman wore these mitts on the ships in the 1800s. They’re going to have to shrink bunches or I’ll be donating them to some guy in the NBA.

I also started in on a quilting project late yesterday afternoon. I was fading fast, getting tired and surfing the web when I noticed Kathleen Tracy’s blog post. She is doing a monthly challenge from her book, Prairie Children and Their Quilts. This month’s quilt is a mourning quilt. It seemed like a sign, right? I’ve decided to play along and in true pioneering spirit force myself to only use my scraps and stash. My scraps were the next area of my workspace needing a major cleaning and sorting anyway. I don’t keep large pieces of fabric so the borders and binding might have to get creative as the year goes on.

I quickly chose fabrics, started cutting and before the night was over had four blocks assembled. I hope to finish the top this evening. I like small quilts, I plan to cover the walls in the upstairs hall with them. I’m not sure I’ll get each one layered and quilted each month but I’d be happy to at least get the tops made.

AND… the news you’ve been waiting for….

the mint/teal mohair will be going to live with WhiteStone! Shoot me an e-mail with your snail mail, please.

And in case you were curious, the kid STILL has not asked why I’m wanting random numbers. I’d love to know what he’s thinking.

Greetings From My Office & Another Giveaway

2012-01-16T08:52:00.001-06:00

I’ve made enough progress to start calling it “my office” versus “the giant craft closet at the top of the stairs.” For just a mish mash of cast off furnishings it is turning out to be pretty functional. I still have much to do but I can actually sit and work at my desk. This makes me very happy, not to mention that all of my yarn and knitting books are organized and cataloged. Sweet!

The shipping and receiving department in the corner leaves a lot to be desired but there is no closet in this room, and not a whole lot in the entire house for that matter, so I’m stuck with some empty boxes. At least they are broken down and not taking up the entire room. My favorite part about this space is that the window looks out onto the barnyard so I can keep an eye on everybody.

I do still have to deal with this pile. I feel confident I’ll do it today. Everything will be listed on Etsy by the end of the day. If not, check back for another giveaway tomorrow. I’m finding the possibility of giving away everything I own highly motivating.

Which brings me to today’s giveaway. That mohair. In all honesty I didn’t buy it. It came with the loom that I bought in November. I figured I’d keep it and make it into something, I mean it is really good mohair. However teal isn’t really my color and, well, the fuzziness of it really isn’t my thing either, but it is good mohair so I had to keep it. Then all the clutter in this room triggered a memory of my grandmother’s house. Anita was a crafter extraordinaire. She had boxes of stuff stacked to the ceiling with paths going through each room. This is where the Thou Shalt Not part of my title the other day came from. I refuse to become a hoarder. So somebody out there is going to get all this great mohair. Someone who will use it and not keep it in a box collecting dust. Just tell me your Grandmother’s first name and what she was like. I’ll draw a winner this same time tomorrow.

Yesterday’s winner of the quilting books is Benita! Send me an email with your snail mail address at frontporchindiana at live dot com and I’ll get your books out to you right away.

I keep asking the kid to shout out a random number and he hasn’t even bothered to ask me why. Interesting.

Quilts and Another Giveaway

2012-01-15T09:49:00.001-06:00

I received a giant box in the mail. I just placed an order for some livestock supplies and I thought to myself, “Good grief that’s an awfully big box, how many syringes did I buy?” But it wasn’t syringes, it was quilts! The quilts I had sent home with Michelle after quilt retreat. She worked her long-arm magic on them and made them beau-ti-ful. I’d kill for that kind of talent. Okay, not kill, but arm-wrestle. Okay, with my weenie arms maybe not arm-wrestle either but you know what I mean. The girl is crazy talented. Part of me doesn’t want to give you her website address because I want to keep her all to myself, but that’s not very nice so here it is www.michelles-quilts.com.

This is a full-size quilt I made for my guest room and is now my very most favorite. The quilting she did reminds me of the old-fashioned feather quilting. It is exquisite. I can’t even describe how happy I am with this quilt.

Certain individuals around here like to claim this bed as her own instead of using the one I provided her with.

So I made another quilt to cover the first in order to protect it from her fur-flingin’ little body. I told Michelle it was just a quilt for the cat and she could do whatever she wanted for the quilting. It looks like a cat’s tail don’t you think? I love it!

This next one is a throw-size that I’m afraid to admit how long ago I made. It was never my favorite. The concept was that it would be brick paths through a garden. I’m still not sure that’s what it really looks like, but now that Michelle has blessed it I like it so much better.

Look at this awesome pattern. Cool, eh?

I’m going to be hand-sewing binding on until March.

Today’s giveaway is for the quilters out there. Tell me what your favorite quilt block is and why, I’ll draw a winner 24-hours from now for these two great books, Quick and Easy Projects for the Weekend Quilter and Machine Quilting: The Basics and Beyond.

Yesterdays winning number was 5, csndyrn send me an e-mail with your snail-mail address to frontporchindiana at live dot com and I’ll whisk your prize off to you.

I’m making headway on getting my office cleaned up and I’m starting to see the surface of my desk in spots. At least one more giveaway coming so stay tuned.

Giveaway Number One

2012-01-14T09:15:00.001-06:00

I’m giving something away every day here until I reach the surface of my desk. First up…

a lovely copy of Felted Knits by Beverly Galeskas. Just leave a comment explaining which animal is your favorite here at the farm and why. Twenty four hours from now I’ll draw a random winner.

Do They Spit?

2012-01-13T16:14:00.001-06:00

It is almost always the first question I’m asked when I say I have llamas and alpacas. Closely followed by, “What do you do with them?” Normally I explain that they really only spit at each other but from now on I’m just going to say, “Yes. Yes, they do.”

And I just washed my barn coat. *sigh*

On a funny note, the other day The Crazy Sheep Lady was giving me a hard time about my profile photo on Ravelry. She thought it made me look like I worked in a bank. Guess what will be my profile now? Talk about keepin’ it real.

Thou Shalt Be Done

2012-01-13T07:11:00.001-06:00

The small room at the top of the back stairs has become my crafty dumping station. I try to at least keep all of the yarn somewhat organized but it was starting to overflow. The room is stacked with boxes, both full of rubber stamping and scrapbooking supplies that I intend to sell and empty boxes that are just hanging out until I need one. I can only stand clutter for so long. I need to be able to use the desk that is under all of that because I’m pretty sure the drum carder is under there somewhere. I would like to process a few fleeces. Winter has finally come and seems like it will stick around so there’s no time like the present to get started.

Yesterday I pulled out all of my yarn stash, photographed it and categorized it on Ravelry so I’ll know what I have and force myself to use it. I even assigned most of it to projects in my queue and I plan to plug away at it all year leaving me with a pile of finished objects in December. I’m working on some Vancouver Fog fingerless gloves in an alpaca/wool blend right now.

I also started photographing a few items to finally get posted in my etsy store. This I’ve been putting off forever. The room looks worse now than when I started, but after a short break this afternoon for a class, I’m planning to buckle down and spend the weekend in there getting the job done. I like the feeling of accomplishment and hopefully I’ll find that drum carder in the process. I see a give-away in my blog future. Teal mohair anyone?

A New Friend for Thelma

2012-01-12T05:48:00.000-06:00

We could never replace Louise but I think we’ve found a new friend to keep Thelma company. Well, an old friend really. They both came from the same foreclosed mega-ranch. She has no name and is only identified as #172.

During the chaos of dispersing a herd so large about 18 llamas slipped through the cracks. They were not included as part of the auction and were rescued by Llama Reserve from the slaughterhouse at the 11th hour. Number 172 was among them.

She is what they call a non-breeder, or in other words has had some issues with her girly parts and shouldn’t be out making babies. We don’t do babies here so she’s a perfect fit for us. We will value her for who she is not what she can give us. I’ve not yet met her (her foster provided these photos) but I’m told she is very sweet. As soon as transportation can be arranged we’ll give her a home here - and give her a name. I think she deserves that.

Someone asked me about making a donation to Llama Reserve in memory of Louise. I was touched by it and thought it was fabulous idea. As a fledgling organization it is in need of so many things and as Lisa Alayza of Llama Reserve said, “They can’t eat snowballs” every dollar counts. If you feel compelled to make a donation you can click on the logo below to get to the Paypal link.

A Little Chicken Therapy

2012-01-09T16:36:00.001-06:00

I took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather we are having this afternoon and decided to go in for a therapy session. “Come on up girl.”

Everyone should have a lap chicken. They’re good for the soul.

What About Thelma?

2012-01-09T07:40:00.001-06:00

We all miss Louise. Her personality was so huge it filled up the barn, without her it seems empty. Nobody misses her more than Thelma though. Camelids are herd animals so their instinct is to stay with the herd. Some llamas can live alone as guard animals and get along just fine. Thelma is not one of those llamas. She is a follower, not a leader. She’s not at all independent.

Popcorn is doing her best to try to keep Thelma company, but it’s not working.

Thelma continues to stare off into the pasture where the alpacas are. She hums softly expressing her stress at being left behind. They see each other on the other side of a half wall inside the barn too, but it’s not the same as being with each other. We can’t let her join them because, of course, we don’t want babies (alpacas and llamas can breed and create a viable offspring but that would be bad).

So we are working on getting Thelma a friend. Possibly an old friend, one from the same ranch they were rescued from. As hard as it is for me to open my heart once again to a new animal, I can’t bear to watch Thelma be sad either. The only other option would be to find Thelma a home somewhere else where there are llamas. Not exactly an easy thing to do.

The Camera Issue

2012-01-08T13:00:00.001-06:00

Some of you will recall my old Nikon D70s decided to stop working just before the holidays. I had issues with it for years. I would be happily clicking along and it would just jam up for no reason. I would have to remove the CF card and replace it or turn the camera on and off to restart it. It was a known issue I could have had repaired but that would mean I’d have to send it off and be camera-less for months so I never bothered, I just muddled through. Just before Christmas though it decided my tinkering was no longer sufficient and it just jammed up all together.

After hyperventilating during my panic, I placed an order for a reasonably priced camera that I thought would be “good enough” for me. I don’t always use all the bells and whistles a dSLR affords anyway so I figured I could make do. I was wrong. Trying to take pictures of moving livestock with a dSLR is hard, trying it with a point and shoot is nearly impossible. It seems once you use a nice dSLR regularly you can never go back.

So I thought, “Hmm, maybe I should send my old D70s in to Nikon and have it fixed?” As I was preparing to send it in I discovered it had miraculously healed itself and was back to its usual intermittent only issues. I packaged up the new camera and sent it back so fast it would have made your head spin.

It wasn’t long though before I realized the D70s really was on its last leg, now the sensors seemed wonky, and it was only a matter of time before I was going to have to do something. I knew I wanted the D7000 but it was sold out EVERYWHERE. I hemmed and hawed and debated and maybe even moaned a little. Then the other night, sleep deprived and worried out of my mind about Louise I found a refurbished model offered for sale through the local camera shop. Local as in Indianapolis, which really isn’t local at all but closer than say, Dallas, if you know what I mean. I had done business with the company before and decided it would be safe to try it. I knew I wouldn’t have any problem returning it if I didn’t like it.

The only issue with this company is they are located downtown Indianapolis. Don’t get me wrong, downtown Indy has lots to offer, obviously otherwise they wouldn’t be hosting the Superbowl. I lived in the city for three years and can even navigate the streets pretty well. I just don’t like to. I feel like they leave about a half inch of space between my car and the next guy’s and the Roberts Camera parking lot is even tighter. I can barely walk through a door frame without hitting one side or the other let alone drive a car through it. I prefer the wide open space out here in the middle of nowhere. So I ordered the sucker online leaving the navigation issues to the UPS guy. Then Louise took a turn for the worse and I completely forgot about it.

During one of my bathroom breaks while I was nursing Louise the phone rang. It was Nick from Roberts Camera. Apparently the bank thought it was a little strange that a woman who normally only shops at Tractor Supply and yarn shops would be buying, returning and buying again electronic equipment and so declined the transaction thinking it was fraud. I apologized, sighed and said, “I’m kind of in the middle of nursing a sick llama.”

Nick replied, “Yeah, I know I read that on the blog. How is she doing?”

I sat there stunned as a bat, not able to respond. Finally muttering, “Excuse me? You read my blog?”

He proceeded then to explain that they research all their internet orders to make sure someone isn’t ordering it fraudulently, so they had checked into me and made sure I was a real person when he stumbled across the blog. His wife liked llamas and so he’d stopped to read what was going on.

It was all rather surreal given my mental state at the time.

In the end I explained what was happening and I have to say they were the nicest people, saving the highly-sought-after camera for me and telling me not to worry about it until things here were settled whenever that might be.

Something tells me they wouldn’t have done that at Best Buy.

On Friday, after not leaving the farm or even showering for days the Engineer was anxious to get me out and about. He chauffeured me downtown to pick up the camera and as you can see it is working properly. I’m still not a fan of the city, but I am a fan of Roberts Camera so if you find yourself in need of a camera or accessories I would highly recommend you give them a call.

As for the D7000? I’m still learning it but have to say I was quite smitten after just the first two photos. Lightning fast shutter speed and settings out the wazoo. Everything I always wanted. I think we’ll develop a good working relationship. I should mention all the photos on this blog are straight out of the camera, completely unedited. Not only do I not own a copy of Photoshop I wouldn’t know how to use it even if I did.

The Big Goofy Galoot

2012-01-07T07:41:00.001-06:00

It is difficult to describe how attached a person can get to a creature that doesn’t even crawl in your lap and purr. One that you cannot touch or caress or bond with in a physical way. Prior to the accident I never even got to touch Louise outside of taking off her halter and giving her injections. She wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of girl. Yet we had a very unique bond.

I’m an animal person. I’m not afraid to admit I like most animals more than most people. I understand animals, always have. It seems to come naturally to me. I’ve never understood humans; that whole saying one thing but doing another. Animals don’t do that. Temple Grandin in Animals in Translation talks about this connection to animals and it makes me wonder if I’m a little bit autistic. It would certainly explain some things.

I hadn’t been around camelids before but I was able to make an emotional connection with Louise quickly. Not unlike the character in the movie, Louise had street smarts. She hadn’t led the perfect pampered life. She trusted no one. Louise was a tough girl with an attitude who was fiercely loyal to the point she would start kicking ass and taking names if need be. Yet she was a big old softie on the inside when she thought nobody was looking.

She changed while she was here. Not just physically but emotionally.

She still didn’t really trust, but she was able to let her guard down every once in awhile and enjoy herself. That alone is the only thing keeping me from throwing in the towel and calling it quits right now.

All your kind words have touched my heart. I know you will miss her too. One comment summed it up well, “life is so fragile”. We need to make the most of every day, don’t we?

Thank you all for being out there. It helps.

I Loved Her

2012-01-05T16:09:00.001-06:00

But she’s gone. Louise died tonight after a hard fought battle against pneumonia.

The Llama Drama

2012-01-04T12:01:00.001-06:00

Sunday evening my son joined me to do the evening chores. He scooped the poop while I doled out the food. The wind was still howling and the temperature had dropped to below freezing levels, needless to say we were working quickly.

I had moved on from the barn to the chicken coop when the kid came running to tell me that Louise was foaming at the mouth. I found her choking on her food. She must have been trying to gobble it up too quickly. I tried to find the obstruction along her neck with no luck. Llamas have long necks.

The fact that Louise was allowing me to touch her scared the Hell out of me. I figured she must be desperate. She could barely breathe. An emergency call went out to the vet. She arrived quickly, although it sure didn’t seem like it.

We continued to try to massage her neck. Then the vet gave Louise a shot of Rompun, a sedative and muscle relaxant, then a shot of Banamine, a painkiller/anti-inflammatory. Louise was obviously breathing because by now a half hour had past but she was choking and clearly distressed. The vet tried inserting a stomach tube to dislodge the obstruction but it did not work, the obstruction was too far down the neck. Pulling a longer, sturdier tube from her car the vet tried again. Still no luck. All this time it was about 2 degrees with 30 mile an hour wind, one and a half hours into it the pain in our fingers and toes was so unbearable we had to go in. All we could do was hope the obstruction would pass on its own. Surgery clearly wasn’t even an option. So we gave her a shot of a long-term antibiotic to prevent pneumonia if the food somehow had gotten into her lungs and the vet packed her things and went home.

I administered another shot of Rompun a few hours later hoping the muscle relaxant would help keep the muscles in her neck from contracting too much. We continued to check on her and massage her neck. I tried to rest on the sofa but never really got any sleep. I was so worried about Louise I made myself physically ill. I was convinced I would find her bloated and gone in the morning. Luckily she was still alive and I administered more Banamine and Rompun. More massage and by this point it seemed I could actually feel the lump in her throat so I focused on that area. This went on all day Monday. I was still terrified she wasn’t going to make it. Watching an animal in distress and not being able to do anything about it is the worst feeling in the world. Having it happen when it is 2 degrees outside made it a special kind of Hell. By evening though it appeared she had stopped drooling and was starting to maybe swallow a little. Either that or she was completely dehydrated. I wasn’t sure. Another restless night went by.

This morning she was standing up when I first entered the barn, a good sign. I watched her for awhile and noticed she can certainly swallow some although it is clearly uncomfortable. I was able to give her the Banamine shot but she pulled away from me when I started to massage her neck. This seemed like progress considering on a normal day she doesn’t want me within 10 feet of her. She seemed tired though and a little shaky. I opened the doors to let Thelma and the sheep out hoping they would leave her so she can rest in peace. I went on to do the morning chicken chores and call the vet with an update. Once I was done I returned to the barn only Lousie wasn’t there. She had decided to join the crowd in the pasture for some sun.

She has since moved again back closer to the barn. I tried giving her a small amount of electrolytes through a syringe. She took about 45 cc altogether. She wants it but it is clearly difficult yet to swallow. I’m hoping this means the obstruction has passed and now we are just dealing with the esophagus damage but for the first time since Sunday night I’ve allowed myself to breathe out. I see a glimmer of hope that she might be able to pull through this. I think she would appreciate your kind thoughts though. I know I would.

Where the Wind Blows

2012-01-02T06:23:00.001-06:00

Living on the wide open prairie always makes life more interesting. Those news clips of weathermen in raincoats during a hurricane can’t hold a candle to everyday life out here. I feel like I need a tether to get to the barn and back. Even the sheep don’t want to go outside.

“Are you going to feed us or are you just going to stand around making clicking noises with that black thing?” asks Tula.

This century-old farmhouse wasn’t designed with aerodynamics in mind. A wind advisory here can be translated to non-stop whistling. During the past 48 hours of nature’s serenade I’ve given it much thought and have determined it has something to do with the wrap-around porch. At least that is where it sounds like it is coming from. The same place it came from at the old farmhouse I lived in as a child. This explains a lot really. I’ve always lamented a homeowner’s decision to enclose their wrap-around porch, but now I realize they were most likely driven stark raving mad by the blasted whistling. They were trying to make the whistling go away. No different than lining the walls with tinfoil to block out the voices.

The Center of Attention

2012-01-01T13:27:00.001-06:00

Just wanted you to know what it looked like so you don’t confuse it with yourself or anyone else you might know.

Yee Haw!!!!

2011-12-31T21:05:00.001-06:00

It’s been one heck of a ride. Looking back through my posts of 2011 actually made me tired. It has been one crazy kind of year. I’ve accomplished a lot and learned many things. That’s all a person can really ask for.

My hope for the new year? Just a tad bit of serenity. I don’t see it on the calendar so I’m going to start penciling it in. Next week for instance, do not call, write or stop by. I will not answer. I have a week long date with the loom room. If you bother me you’d best be bleeding profusely.

After that, all heck breaks loose again. I’ll be back to school part-time. I’ve committed to blogging for GRIT magazine at least once a week. My son is graduating. My daughter is getting married. And that, of course, doesn’t’ even begin to include life here on the farm.

Buckle up and hang on, this ride doesn’t stop.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Why, Oh Why Didn’t I Get That Flu Shot?

2011-12-29T07:57:00.001-06:00

I’m down with the plague. I’ve had to resort to stuffing tissues up my nose in order to post this without drowning my keyboard. I can barely put two words together so this is going to be random, I’m sure.

May I present, the quilt I made for my brother for Christmas. I carefully chose each fabric to match the paint colors in his condo. Now he’s moving. It’s a good thing I like that guy or else I’d think he’s been trying to annoy me lately.

Another smaller quilt I made during that retreat back in November. My friend Michelle did a fabulous job quilting it with her new long arm quilting machine. She has talent I’ll never have and I’m okay with that. I’ll just mail all my tops to her from now on.

While I’ve been sick I’ve been sitting on the couch knitting. I’d have two full hats to show you except I got half way with two before ripping them out. That qualifies as one and then there is this one, which I made with my very first homespun yarn.

I’m not even sure I can knit today. We’ll have to wait and see if my head explodes or not.

Mystery Revealed: The Case of the Missing Clothespins

2011-12-27T09:36:00.001-06:00

Three years ago, about this time of year, I tucked my clothespin bag away for safekeeping until the next spring. I can remember it like it was yesterday. My mind being a steel trap and all. So when the next spring rolled around and I couldn’t find the darn bag I was a bit miffed. I knew exactly where I had put it but it was no longer there. I searched the entire room. They had to be there somewhere. Nothing.

These aren’t just any clothespins. These are the old-style clothes pins. Ones that actually work. Ones that you just can’t go out and replace now days. Some were my grandmothers. I wanted these clothespins, not to mention the handy little bag.

I expanded my search. First just focusing on the first floor of the house. I mean, why on earth would I have taken them upstairs, right? Nothing. I finally gave up and put the clothes in the dryer.

For three years now every spring and a couple other times throughout the year I’ve left no stone unturned in my house in an effort to locate the missing pins. I inspected every surface and every hole, no matter how small. If I couldn’t see into the space I poked a stick in it to feel around. From the attic to the basement I looked EVERYWHERE. At this point it was a challenge. A quest to find the holy grail.

This summer I had resigned myself to the fact that someone had broken into my house and stolen my clothespins. I mean, they are irreplaceable after all. I’m sure I’m not the only one who understand the value of a proper working clothespin. They probably stole them and sold them on Ebay. What other explanation could there be? I can remember EXACTLY where I put them. They were on a hanger in the mudroom.

My in-laws are visiting this week. It is snowing today. When my father-in-law put on an extra pair of work overalls to go out in he found this inside. Exactly where I had left them three years ago.

I’m glad to have them back but if I ever figure out who hid them from me in the first place, they’re a dead man. Gah!

God Jul (Merry Christmas)

2011-12-24T22:44:00.001-06:00

My Dad’s family has gathered on Christmas Eve longer than I’ve been alive. My grandfather immigrated alone from Sweden as a young man. He married my grandmother and had seven children. I’ve lost track of how many descendants there are now. A few years ago my aunt started decorating one of her trees with old photos of all the cousins when we were little kids. The toys under the tree are all ones we remember playing with. They’ve certainly been around longer than I’ve been alive.

A shot of apricot brandy has always been part of the evening’s entertainment. It is passed around by the patriarch of the family. He hands you the shot and you salute him with a hearty “Skol” (cheers) . Not sure how or why it was ever started or if it is even a tradition in Sweden, I just know it goes down smoothly, warms you up and it wouldn’t be Christmas without it.

Things change. Children grow. People pass on. I hope to carry these traditions on though so my children can say they remember them for as long as they’ve been alive. I think it is important.

Does your family have Christmas traditions you still practice?

Barn Carolers

2011-12-21T07:01:00.001-06:00

We’ve all been busy around here rehearsing for the big event.

“The first Noel…”

“the angel did say…”

“Was to certain poor shepherds in fields that they lay…”

*silence*

Louise? Louise, you’re up. It’s your turn.

“Do I look like I want to sing? Louise, doesn’t sing no stinkin’ Christmas songs.”

Some of us are in a more festive mood than others this year. Hope everyone at your house is in a caroling mood.

Come on everybody once more from the top.

“The first Noel…”

Their Mugs on a Mug

2011-12-20T13:17:00.001-06:00

Through blogging I have met some of the kindest, most talented people I have ever known. Tonya at Flat Creek Wool & Pottery is one of the best. I’ve followed her for some time now watching her little one grow up and wonder how on earth she manages to accomplish what she does with a toddler in tow. Her pottery is beautiful, I have purchased a few of her yarn bowls as gifts and even one of her famous Ewenice mugs for myself. So when she said she was taking orders for custom mugs I jumped at the chance.

I sent off a couple of my favorite photos and she worked her magic. First, Louise.

then Peter.

How cool is that? I now have their mugs on a mug and can enjoy their company anytime I want. Next best thing to bringing them in the house.

Tonya even sent along Peter as Christmas ornament.

And included one of her super cute note cards.

The woman is crazy talented. Check out her etsy store. You’ll find good things there.

NOOOOO!! It just can’t be!

2011-12-19T06:48:00.001-06:00

It’s the G word. I mean I love the little kid that will soon be part of my daughter’s family but, Grandma? Grandma”! Are you kidding me? It doesn’t really hit you until you see it on a package.

*faints*

We celebrated Christmas at my mother’s house yesterday. I walked away from it knowing two things.

1. I’m officially old.

2. My daughter and her fiancé are made for each other.

Here they are sporting the gifts they exchanged. Clearly it was meant to be.

The Spirit of Giving: Why I Won't Give To Some Christmas Charities

2011-12-17T13:42:00.001-06:00

You've probably already seen this photo. It has been all over the internet. It sums up how I feel about this holiday season in just two words.

I've never been a fan of all the hype and grotesque consumerism that goes on this time of year. Well, never is not the right word. I'm sure I was all about it when I was a little kid.

There are two Christmas seasons in my past that stand out more than any others that have greatly influenced my distaste for the excess. First was the year my parent’s divorced. I was in the fourth grade and struggling to learn my times tables. My Dad had taken an apartment in town above a flower shop. You had to climb a rickety stairway on the outside of the building to reach it. The stairs were only treads with no back to them. I always thought I was going to slip through them and fall to my death. Luckily I never did and looking back now I realize the worse that could have happened would have been a sprained ankle.

The apartment was very small but had an open kitchen/dining area and living room that made it comfortable. It was sparsely furnished with cast off furniture that friends and relatives had given Dad. I can remember he had old wooden barrels that he turned upside down and used as end tables. There was plenty of room left to put up a Christmas tree, just no money to buy one. I didn't know that at the time. If you would have asked me then I would have told you my Dad was rich.

My Dad often piled us kids up into an old Chevy passenger van and went out driving through the countryside on safari making up stories as we drove. This Christmas was no different except this time we were hunting the perfect Christmas tree. Anybody could go to the store and get an artificial one or go to the tree farm, but not us. We were going to go out into the woods and find our own. Just like the pioneers! We drove and drove (probably in circles) faces plastered to the windows hoping to spot "the one". Finally we stopped, Dad pulled a saw out of the back and we started tromping through the woods. We found the straightest, tallest tree in the bunch, cut it down and dragged it back to the van. Boy, were we ever proud of ourselves.

When it came to decorations for the tree Dad had none. Not a single one. One of my aunts gave us a tree stand, a strand of lights and some funky turquoise ornaments (I'm sure she was thrilled to get rid of them.) She owned a gift shop in town and we picked out a beautiful angel tree topper. I don’t remember if we paid for it or if she gave it to us. Then we popped popcorn and strung it for what seemed like hours. When we were finished we had the gaudiest looking Charlie Brown tree you'd ever seen.

But you know what? I still think it was the best one we ever had. It wasn't the quality or quantity of the decorations that was important.It wasn’t the number of presents under the tree. It was the process. The can-do attitude. The memories.

The other Christmas that stands out in my mind was the year my daughter was born. I was only 19 years old and dirt poor. I mean there were weeks I couldn't scrape together enough money to buy a box of macaroni and cheese let alone a loaf of bread, poor. I mean, if it weren't for the Women Infants and Children’s government program I don't know how I could have fed my baby, poor. Had to make the choice of buying gas to get to work over eating, poor. These were not good times.

Somehow, I don't know if it was because of the WIC program or what, but somehow our name ended up on one of those adopt a kid for Christmas lists. I had no idea. So when someone showed up the day before Christmas with a huge box of gifts for my 6-month-old I darn near died. You'd think I would have been grateful or overwhelmed by the generosity and I guess in a way I was. But more so, I was humiliated. Absolutely humiliated. I swore right then and there my name would never find itself on a list like that again.

It wasn't that I was ungrateful, please don't think that. We just didn't NEED it. Sure the diapers they included were helpful but the toys? She was six months old for crying out loud. What I needed was a better job. I needed an education. Or some other method of improving my situation. We didn't need toys.

There are plenty of folks out there who donate to these Toys for Tots type programs and I would never want to come right out and discourage this. If you are feeling generous and this makes you feel good then by all means continue. However, I choose not to participate. I have done it in the past. I guess I felt obligated to give back or whatever. Now though, I don't feel that encouraging consumerism is the right way to give. Having been there/done that, I'd much prefer to donate to a cause that provides the children with books, for instance, or the adults with a scholarship or teach them to grow their own food. Something, anything that will help them become self-sufficient and gets their name off the list. Things happen. People fall on hard times. When they do they need a helping hand, not a box of toys. There are a lot of people out there right now that don’t want to be on the list any more than I did. Give. Just give wisely.

Before I Kick the Bucket

2011-12-16T22:00:00.001-06:00

A high school friend I've recently reconnected with has started an adventure club based on the book 500 Things to Do Before You Kick the Bucket. Each month she schedules something from the list for the club members to participate in. The activities vary from easy to borderline crazy. For instance, I was grateful this month she wasn't able to locate a mechanical bull for us to ride and scheduled a visit to a train show instead. Whew!

When I first read the book I was surprised how many of the things I could already mark off my list.

2. Learn to waterski.
4. Go tubing down a lazy river.
5. Go kayaking.
6. Paddle a canoe.
8. Take a helicopter ride.
9. Take a hot air balloon ride.
18. Jump off the high dive.
22. Ride a motorcycle.
23. Ride one on the worlds fastest roller coasters.
28. Ride in a limousine.
36. Try caviar.
38. Make bread from scratch.
43. Order only dessert.
45. Plant a garden and grow your own produce.
51. Create a family tree.
61. Tell your life story to a stranger. (I believe this blog qualifies, yes?)
63. Buy your favorite childhood story.
64. Watch reruns of a television show you loved as a kid.
65. Climb a tree.
66. Ride on a tire or tree swing.
68. Twirl a hula hoop.
70. Attend your class reunion.
88. See the circus.
91. Attend a laser light show at a planetarium.
99. Sing at a karaoke bar.
103. Start a collection.
105. Make a snow angel. (I confess I do this a lot.)
113. Look at the moon through a telescope.
124. Write a letter to your political representative.
125. Volunteer on a political campaign.
127. Shake hands with a U.S. president. (Bush, Sr.)
132. Buy a membership to your local museum.
134. Witness a solar eclipse.
142. Skip in public. (Doesn't everybody?)
143. Have a pillow fight.
161. Learn to can fruit.
163. Take a first aid class.
164. Learn CPR.
170. Attend a Renaissance festival.
183. Visit Mammoth Cave in Kentucky.
197. Visit the Lincoln Memorial.
200. Visit the Capitol Building and watch Congress in session.
270. Read a classic novel.
272. Write a children's book, even if it's just for your own children or grandchildren.
274. Learn how to play "Chopsticks" on the piano.
280. Visit the Grand Old Opry.
284. Attend an opera.
287. Attend a performance of Cirque du Soleil.
359. Take a cruise.
366. Snorkel in the Caribbean.
410. Attend the Indianapolis 500 (well, of course).
413. Learn to drive a stick shift.
431. Take a horse-drawn carriage ride.
433. Ride an elephant.
451. Adopt a pet from a shelter (ahem, got that one covered.)
454. Tour an aircraft carrier.
455. Visit a historic battlefield near your home.
459. Visit the WWII Memorial in Washington, D.C.
463. Visit the Korean War Veterans Memorial.
464. Visit the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C.
473. Make an anonymous donation.
483. Gather friends and sing at a retirement center.
495. Break a bad habit.
499. Be kind to a stranger.

I was also surprised at how many things will NEVER happen such as skydiving and bungee jumping. I guess that rules out “facing my greatest fear” of falling as well, whittling my list down to a mere 497 things to do. So what do you think? Have you marked all these off your list? No? Well then are you up for a challenge? Let me know and maybe we’ll try a virtual club.

The Story of the Three Wise Men

2011-12-15T07:40:00.001-06:00

So this one time, these three camelids where hanging out on the street corner when they noticed someone shoot a road flair in the sky. They knew that should mean something to them but they were up late smoking frankincense the night before and couldn't remember exactly.

But this camelid dude named Harold knew. It was a challenge to take over his street corner. He was tired of being in charge anyway so he sent the three home boys out to initiate the new leader...

(ring ring, ring ring)

I’m sorry I need to interrupt this story, I'm getting a phone call.

“Hi Mom. Huh? What?”

“What do you mean they RODE camels?”

“Ohhh…”

Dear Cat

2011-12-14T07:53:00.001-06:00

You will note there is an assembled Christmas tree in the front hall. I wanted to thank you personally for leaving it alone for two whole days while there were no decorations on it. You have set such a fine example of willpower, restraint and refinement in your behavior I cannot help but feel as if I might be able to trust you. In fact, I even pulled out the box of "good" ornaments for use this year.

However now that it is decorated, I spotted you eyeing it this morning. Please know that each ornament was carefully chosen and placed in an eye pleasing arrangement. It pleases ME. I don’t care where YOU think the ornaments should go. I have also counted them. I know exactly how many are on that tree. I WILL notice if they go missing. The lights, you will notice, are working perfectly. I would prefer they stay that way.

Each package under the tree was wrapped with the utmost care. Do not chew on them. Do not shred the ribbons. Do not use them as launching pads to the upper branches. It is just a small tree and you, um, are not.

Human family members will be arriving on Christmas Eve and staying until New Years Eve. That is only nine days from now. Surely you can delay any tree climbing activity such as you have done in the past until after that time, Yes?

Good, I'm glad we've got that covered. I'm proud of you. Keep up the good work. I fully trust you will make the right decisions.

“Yeah. Whatever, lady.”

Sweet Cheeks

2011-12-13T16:24:00.001-06:00

The new camera has arrived. Now all I need to do is figure out how to use the darn thing.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock… Why is That Clock So Loud?

2011-12-12T10:46:00.001-06:00

I am in mourning. I'm not sure how long it will last. When you lose someone so near and dear to your heart it can take quite some time to get over it. My camera and I had been together for years. Like glue. My best friend. Now she's dead and I'm not quite sure what to do without her.

It seems I'm a visual person. I need the photos in order to write. They are my inspiration. Sure I could tell you about how Little Joey rubbed noses with me this morning and then tried to eat my coat but it... just. isn't. the same. Because a picture tells 1000 words. Without the photo you can't see how stinkin' cute he is. Or how much his nuzzling made me swoon. I'd have to use words for that. I'm really more of a picture book kind of gal.

I've placed an order for a new best friend. Not of the quality of the old friend. I cannot afford her greatness (good grief have you priced a DSLR lately?) It seems like it is taking forever for the UPS man to get here with it. That's probably okay. It gives me time to mourn and adjust to the idea. And is certainly a better option than going out and fighting the Christmas shoppers this time of year. (Those people are crazy.) I'll try not to scare the delivery guy when he gets here by pouncing on him. I can't guarantee anything though.

Everybody Stay Calm

2011-12-08T09:02:00.001-06:00

My camera is broken. Do. Not. Panic. Let’s think this through.

OMG. My camera is broken!

Kaput. Card will no longer read kaput. I used to be able to jiggle it. Now nothing.

OMG!!!! MY CAMERA IS BROKEN!!!! WHAT AM I GONNA DO NOW?

Somebody hand me a paper bag I’m starting to hyperventilate.

But It Looks Better on Me

2011-12-06T09:35:00.001-06:00

I knit a cowl/scarf to give as a Christmas gift.

The colors look better on me. I’m keeping it.

Oh, PLEASE! Like you’ve never done that yourself!

Five Things Friday

2011-12-02T08:14:00.001-06:00

1. The Evil One, aka Turd, peed in my laundry basket, knocked over an entire can of Diet Pepsi and destroyed the wicker laundry hamper. Yet he still lives. I can actually hear the brownie points racking up for me in Heaven.

2. The writing suggestions you all have made are excellent. It was exactly the kind of feedback I was looking for. It is difficult for a writer to know if what they have in their little pea brain has translated to the page. Now that I’ve read the comments, it is all blatantly obvious. Thank you. There will be more coming. (Did anyone else who knows my brother get a little freaked out by how much he looks like Stephen King?)

3. Did you know that the Kindle can read to you? So you could sit there and perhaps knit or sew and not have to hold the thing or even turn the pages? Where has this device been all my life?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Imagine how much more I can get done! Oh, Santa…may I please have one?

4. I’m still waiting to hear back from the nice people at “The Farm” commune in Summertown to see if I’m in or not. It seems like it is taking a long time. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent them a link to the blog?

5. Thanks to The Crazy Sheep Lady at Punkin’s Patch, I’ll be spending my weekend in the barn choreographing a holiday extravaganza similar to the one in this video. (Click on the picture for the link.)

Cutest thing EVER.

Do I Want an E-Reader?

2011-12-01T08:05:00.001-06:00

Since giving up my high-tech career I have fought tooth and nail to get away from the technology world. Sure I use e-mail and obviously I use a digital camera and blog, but I tried to set that as my limit. I finally got around to adding a smart phone only recently, telecommunications being the bane of my existence for so long. Over the past several years I’ve watched as several family members purchased e-readers and thought I’d never want one. I like books. Real books. I like the smell of books, the feel of books. Why would I ever want an e-reader?

I have since come to realize I consume large amounts of books. I’ve always resold them after I’ve read them, but the post office recently increased its shipping rates while Amazon didn’t. Now, to resell books there you actually lose money. Without the outlet of selling them, I’m getting buried in books. As I type this I have three books on the sofa with me, six books and a magazine on the coffee table, what looks to be about 15 or so books in a basket on the floor and about 50 lbs of magazines in an old apple crate. That doesn’t include what is on the bookshelves. Or the sack of books my mother gave me or the box of quilting books left over from retreat for that matter. This is just the living room. I’m starting to see the value of an e-reader.

But which one? I don’t just read novels. I read everything. Children’s books, how-to books, non-fiction, fiction, photography, quilting, cook books – No, I don’t like to cook but I do like to eat. That’s not the point. What I’m getting at is I don’t think the el cheapo e-reader would be the right one for me, but do I really need to go to a full-blown color Kindle-Fire or Nook Tablet?

Thoughts? Opinions? Tell me your experiences.

Sniveling About Snow

2011-11-30T10:34:00.001-06:00

I’m ready to pack my bags.

One of my ancestors settled in a town called Summertown, Tennessee after the Civil War. That sounds nice doesn’t it, Summertown? Conjures up images of porch swings and lemonade.

I Googled it.

Population 3,552. It has 4 gas station/convenience stores, 3 resturants, 1 bank, 1 variety store, 1 grocery store, 1 auto parts store, 1 used car lot, 1 golf course and absolutely no traffic lights.

My kind of place! And then I read more…

it also has a ~~cult~~ intentional community called “The Farm” which is based on principles of nonviolence and respect for the Earth. Basically hippies.

Shearing sheep and spinning yarn wouldn't seem at all weird there! But wait, there’s even more…

Average temperature in the winter is ABOVE FREEZING.

I believe I have met my destiny.

He Has 1000 Aliases

2011-11-29T07:47:00.001-06:00

Most of which are not appropriate for a family friendly blog. But most often I just call him Turd.

My brother is moving. Not just down the street, he’s moving all the way to Florida. While he juggles the job change, locates a place to live and packs his belongings I’m keeping Turd and his brother Loki. It is impossible to get anything done with Turd around. He’s not a normal cat. I think he’s brain damaged. It’s really the only explanation I can come up with.

The night of the hay delivery for instance. I was beat. All I wanted was to sit down and relax for a few minutes in my favorite chair. I set my glass of wine down on the second bookshelf nearby, making sure not to put it on the top just in case Turd showed up since he likes to knock things over. Then I sat down in my comfortable chair with my ‘dinner’, a plastic cup of fruit. As I settled in Loverboy Loki arrived to curl up in my lap, that being his only desire on earth, to be adored. As I lifted the plastic cup and spoon into the air to allow him room, Turd rounded the corner of the hallway and immediately noticed a little orange bug in the corner of the ceiling directly behind me. It happened so fast I can hardly describe it, but I’m sure there was terror in my eyes as I realized my mistake. He came flying through (almost literally) like a bat out of Hell across the room, up my legs, the fruit and juice landing squarely on my head and chest, the spoon disappearing to who knows where, while he leapt from the chair to the bookshelf in an attempt to reach the bug. Unfortunately he had underestimated the distance from the chair to the top shelf so instead of landing on top, he grappled with his font legs while his back legs kicked over the wine glass among other things I had safely stowed away. It was red wine. Sticky red wine. And there were books. Lots of books. And bloodshed - all of the commotion caused Loki to freak out and insert his claws into the back of my hand, his signature move. I stood there stunned, fruit juice dripping from my hair, chunks of fruit stuck to my glasses, splatters of wine and blood across my shirt as my son shouted up the stairs, “Are you okay?”

“No,” I replied. “Not exactly.”

A week later I am still cleaning up wine splatter but I finally found the spoon under my sewing table.

There will be no holiday decorations around here this year.

Ol’ Tom Turkey

2011-11-24T07:05:00.001-06:00

He wore a can cozy as a hat, puffed up and strutted about like he owned the place. It is every girl’s dream to have a turkey come to her slumber party. An event that will be talked about for years to come. Even decades thanks to the power of Facebook.

Not every kid at Oxford Elementary had a pet turkey that would follow you around like a dog. I had two. Tom’s wife, Maude, was not quite as flashy him but had a more demure personality all her own. I was the envy of the neighborhood after that night Dad brought the turkey in the house. I’m sure of it.

Tom lived a long life, his destiny unfulfilled. I am thankful to have known him. He helped raise me and shape my worldview. As I sit down to the table today, I’ll remember him fondly.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Stocking the Larder - Again

2011-11-22T05:31:00.000-06:00

I bought this winter’s supply of hay back in July. Before the drought. Before I knew I was going to have to start feeding it three whole months earlier than I expected. It was starting to look like it would be famine around here come February. I was nervous. Very nervous.

I had another 100 bales of hay dropped off yesterday afternoon. My mind is feeling better. Can’t say as much for my lower back. The kid wasn’t here to help this time.

I’m not complaining though. I’m glad to have it. It’s getting scarce and very expensive. The auction prices are enough to make your eyes bulge. People are already talking about having it trucked in from other states. Having it stacked in the center isle isn’t ideal, but nobody will go hungry and that’s all that matters.

Let the Thanksgiving feast begin!

Resident Evil

2011-11-21T13:32:00.001-06:00

You might not have picked up on this, but I kinda like animals. I know, I know, I tend to keep it to myself but it is true.

I generally like all animals. I don’t discriminate. Except this one.

I am convinced he is the root of all evil.

My brother’s cat has some serious issues. He bulldozes everything off every surface.

EVERYTHING. And he never stops moving. It’s worse than having a toddler around.

Does Ritalin work on a cat? I’m seriously thinking about calling my vet. Surely there is some sort of kitty chill pill?

Crafting in the Hollow

2011-11-20T17:11:00.001-06:00

Deep inside the Enchanted Forest is a very special place. A place where magic happens.

Where the trolls who live under the bridge and other woodland creatures come out to play.

It is a place where a few lucky crafters from across the country meet to make special things. Sometimes, if not watched closely, the trolls might curl up and take a nap in the quilt blocks.

Or the bunnies might try to run off with a drink.

If you are one of the lucky crafters to meet in the hollow, you really have to keep your eyes peeled. Or else you could run into a cold, hungry monkey from Texas.

Or a reindeer with a nose that lights up from Minnesota.

The food is fabulous. It is never a dull moment. The projects are incredibly inspiring. My only complaint is that is is always over too soon. *sigh*

I’m Having the Time of My Life

2011-11-17T08:47:00.001-06:00

Dirty Dancing. The original.

Remember the bridge scene?

Chats on the Farmhouse Porch

2011-11-16T08:16:00.001-06:00

While I’m off retreating, I thought I would share a little chat I’ve had on the farmhouse porch. You can link up with Everyday Ruralty to join in on the chatting fun! Just click here!

1. Where would you take the blogger group for a chat, if they came to your house?

The porch of course. After we paid a visit to Popcorn and the others. Wouldn’t want them to feel neglected.

2. How do you handle "toxic people"? They're the ones that are very difficult to be around and generally don't bring out the best in us.

Don’t even get me started… I tend to ignore them. Cross the street to keep from running into them. Whatever it takes to avoid them at all costs. I don’t like negative people or thinking. It ruins my natural buzz.

3. In high school, were you the athlete, the cheerleader (actual or just your personality), the geek, the social butterfly, or lost?

“This one time at band camp”… Yep, I was a band geek. Played the flute and oboe. Quit when they forced us to participate in marching band. Have you ever shoved a reed up your nose? Not fun. Not fun at all.

4. What's your favorite thing made from apples?

There is this little Amish farmer’s market down the road a ways that sells apple dumplings in the fall. They are FABULOUS. I’ve asked the old guy there to adopt me. He never responds. Just takes a step backward and looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. I don’t think he understands my enthusiasm.

5. Do you do most of your shopping in stores or online?

100% ONLINE, I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than go to the mall. Seriously. Like, twice. Once in each eye.

Cleansing of Wool

2011-11-15T18:26:00.001-06:00

So I’m reading The Domestic Manufacturer’s Assistant and Family Directory in the Arts of Weaving and Dying. The book was first published in 1817. It is an interesting read for anyone interested in history and or spinning or weaving. It is nice to have this reference for any demonstration I may perform in the future. There was one section though I fear may not be popular with the public. Let me quote…

“In the first place fill the kettle two thirds full of water and one third of urine, that which is old if you can get it. You will then heat this liquor as warm as you can bear your hand in for one or 2 seconds without scalding. Then put 5 or 6 pounds of wool loosely into it and keep it turning round for 6 or 8 minutes, or perhaps longer. You may ascertain when it has been in long enough by often squeezing it with your hand, if the grease starts, and the wool appears loose and clear, it has been a sufficient time.”

Yeah, um, I think I’m going to stick with Dawn dish soap.

It even goes further and says…

“never throw away the liquor, in time of cleansing; unless it should stand for two or three months in the summer without being used.”

Oh, Hell no.

Retreat! Retreat!

2011-11-15T08:31:00.001-06:00

I’m headed for the hills!

Well, they’re not really hills. More like slight elevation changes. Not a lot of hills in this part of the state.

But I’m outta here none the less. Off to refuel my creative juices. Off to commune with like-minded individuals.

Scary when you think about it, huh? There’s more people like me out there. And we’re all getting together in one place. A meeting of the minds!

Or okay, maybe not.

We are going to eat, and sew, and eat, and shop, and eat and laugh, and eat.

I’ll need to diet for three months afterwards, but it will be worth it.

I’m leaving Thelma, queen of the stink-eye, in charge.

Willa will take over on night shift.

I doubt they’ll even miss me.

The Gatekeeper

2011-11-14T06:14:00.001-06:00

Little Joey had no issues at all fitting right in. Even with the new guy the boys, not having any girls to show off or generally makes fools of themselves for, get along quite well. For the most part anyway. They are of the males of the species though so some horseplay can be expected.

“Peter wont’ let me in the barn again,” said Frankie.

“Why won’t you let him in the barn,” I asked?

“He won’t say the password,” replied Peter.

“Well then you’d better say the password, Frankie.”

“I don’t want to, it’s stupid.”

“Just humor him, Frankie.”

“Okay, fine! Little pig, little pig, let me in,” said Frankie.

“No, not by the hair of my chiny, chin, chin!”

“See! I told you!”

“Stop being a jerk and let me in.”

Baby Blue Eyes

2011-11-13T13:42:00.001-06:00

Blue eyes in an alpaca, although striking, is considered a bad thing. The blue-eye gene is linked to deafness. Not all blue-eyed alpacas are deaf. For instance Frankie here can hear just fine. But he still would be eliminated from any responsible breeder’s program to ensure he doesn’t pass on the gene to his offspring.

Even through selective breeding a deaf, blue-eyed alpaca is sometimes born. So what does a responsible breeder do with a deaf baby alpaca they can’t use for breeding?

They call me.

Yep, they call me and they say “Hey Christine, I heard you were interested in some fiber boys. Why don’t you come over and check out our herd?”

Not being one to resist an opportunity to play with animals and learn from other like-minded folks, I agree. Then once I’m there, and starting to feel comfortable, they casually lead me right to him. Of course, I realize he’s deaf and tell them “I’m not sure I’m interested. I’ve never had a deaf boy.”

While I’m saying this they’re holding him and motioning for me to touch him. This is when it happens. My face starts to contort and from my mouth I suddenly hear a Gollum from Lord of the Rings-like voice saying “Precious! Must have Precious!” I am entranced.

Baby alpaca has to be the softest fiber in the world.

Then they have the audacity to tell me he’s FREE. And they’ll deliver him to my door. For FREE. As in nobody can say anything, I didn’t spend any money, FREE.

“MY Precious! For ME! Must have Precious!”

I mean, I really needed a Joey Bishop to finish the Rat Pack anyway, right?

(From left to right: Sammy Davis Jr., Frankie “Blue Eyes” Sinatra, Dean “Dino” Martin, Joey Bishop and Peter Lawford.)

Even though he can’t hear, he’ll do just fine. Alpacas have a herding instinct so he’ll stick close the the other boys. In fact the only reason I know he is deaf is because he didn’t get up and move away from the loud lawnmower like the other animals did. Otherwise he seems perfectly normal.

Normal with fiber TO DIE FOR.

“My Precious!”

I Would Like to Thank the Following…

2011-11-11T07:41:00.001-06:00

Thomas Parker, for his current service in the United States Navy

James Parker, for his service in the United States Air Force

Jim Davis, for his service in the United States Air Force

Robert Skoog, for his service in the United States Army

Robert Hinton, for his service in the United States Army during Vietnam

William Hinton, for his service in the United States Army during Vietnam

Sonny Hinton, for his service in the United States Army during Vietnam

Donald Davis, for his service in the United States Air Force

Basil Parker, for his service in the United States Navy

William Lowman, for his service in the United States Marines during the Korean Conflict

David Hinton, for his service in the United States Navy during WWII

Daniel Brooks for his service in the Union Army during the Civil War

Theodore Hinton for his service in the Union Army during the Civil War

John Morris for his service in the Union Army during the Civil War

Justus Brooks for his service during the War of 1812.

James Allison for his service in the New York militia during the American Revolution

James Lowe for his service it the 13th Virginia Regiment at Valley Forge.

It is an honor, gentleman, to share a branch on our family tree with such courageous men.

There’s Something Tattooed on My Forehead Isn't There?

2011-11-09T21:57:00.001-06:00

I don’t see anything but, I mean, there must be. How else could I be such a pushover for every living thing on the planet?

It’s not just Popcorn who has me twisted around her little hoof so that I cater to her every whim. It has become abundantly clear lately that I’m a total patsy.

I’ve quit that temporary part-time job of mine twice already. The evening hours stink. The pay stinks. There are absolutely no benefits. Yet I just agreed to continue to work through the end of the year. Why? Because even in this economy they can’t find anyone else willing to do the job! Why? Because it STINKS!

I have got to figure out a way to get this tattoo removed. Laser surgery?

Off to Google…

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

2011-11-09T09:39:00.001-06:00

The farmer pulled her bedroom curtain aside to get a better look. There it was, a lump in the darkness lying in wait next to the pasture fence. It instantly struck fear in her heart. Earlier that day she witnessed the stray dog lurking about. Luckily the guard llamas did their job and herded the sheep to safety but at this time of night the llamas are asleep. Apparently the guard dog on night duty was doing the same.

“Crap,” she said. “Where’s that stupid flashlight?”

As much as she hated going out at night she had to protect the herd. She just knew they must be hiding in or near the barn, trembling in their hooves.

After fumbling around a few seconds she located the flashlight next to the shotgun shells, tossed them all in her pocket and headed downstairs. While slipping quietly out the door, she loaded.

“I’m a big girl. I’m not afraid of the dark,” she reminded herself. “It’s a dog or a coyote. Not the boogey man.”

The wind was crisp and blowing her long hair into her face. It made it difficult to see but still she could make out movement at the fence line. It looked as if the head was bobbing up and down. Sniffing the scent of the livestock no doubt. Her hands trembled.

“You can do this. You know you can do this.”

Inching ever so quietly she made her way across the driveway toward the dark corner of the pasture.

“Wait a minute? What the…”

“OMG, seriously? A feed bag? Wow, that’s not embarrassing.”

Baa, Baa, Black Sheep Have You Any Wool?

2011-11-08T06:49:00.001-06:00

Yes, I dare say she has three bags full.

Shirley is a bit of a full-figured sheep. So much so she sometimes has difficulty fitting through the gates around here.

“Laverne, is she calling me fat?” she asked.

“I thought Shetlands were supposed to be fine-boned?” I replied.

“I’m fluffy damn it. Really, really fluffy.”

“Okay, okay, don’t go getting’ your wool in a wad.”

Oh for Crying Out Loud!

2011-11-06T15:29:00.001-06:00

Q: How many triangle rulers can a quilter buy before she FINALLY gets the right one for her project?

A: More than 7.

Back to the store I go…

Get ‘em While They’re Hot

2011-11-06T07:32:00.001-06:00

I’m doing some spring cleaning. Yes, I’m fully aware it’s darn near winter, I’m a tad bit behind.

Anyhoo, In an attempt to further organize myself and make way for this new venture that I’m undertaking I need to clear a few things out. I’m ebaying the remains of my rubber stamping and scrapbooking business. If you are interested you can peruse the goods here.

Some of you already noticed the link to my etsy store over there on the right as well. Yes, I know it’s empty. Geez, ya’ll are brutal today. I’m working on it.

I’m not much of a self-promoter so consider that your official notice.

Hmm, I guess I need to work on that as well if this is going to work. Ugh, the to-do list never gets smaller.

Goodbye Goats

2011-11-02T18:34:00.001-05:00

They came.

They saw.

They ate.

Now that the pasture is cleared, Daisy, Bo and Luke packed their bags and headed down the road today. Like, um, literally. They only moved two miles away. I’ll be able to wave at them and toss them a cookie when I drive to town.

The Dukes are going to go live with a neighborhood farmer who has lots of goats. I think I actually heard their collective sigh of relief when they found out they wouldn’t have to live with sheep anymore. I’m trying not to be insulted by it.

The Loom Room

2011-10-30T16:54:00.001-05:00

I have a new friend. I met her on Craigslist. We plan to make beautiful things together.

She is a 45” Loomcraft 4-shaft, 6-treadle jack loom. She came as a package deal with a bench, warping board, 2 extra reeds, 4 sets of lease sticks, a set of warp sticks, 2 boat shuttles, two rug shuttles, two ski shuttles, about 20 bobbins, a bobbin winder, threading hooks, two huge boxes of yarn and a box of weaving books and other miscellaneous things. It was basically everything a beginner would need; a weaving studio in a box.

In anticipation of her arrival I’ve been cleaning out the spare bedroom we’ve been using for storage and pawning all our ~~crap~~ family heirlooms off on my daughter. It is her turn to be the “keeper of the stuff.” I figure it is similar to a right of passage in our family of packrats.

I neatly organized my stash of rug fabric and clean fleeces.

I put my first rug up on the wall for inspiration. I’ll need some sturdier shelves eventually but the plastic ones I already had will work for now.

I saw a great idea to put a chalk board behind the warping board. That will be next on my list of things to do.

The best part is the room is conveniently located across the hall from my sewing room, Sheville. Certain individuals think if I continue to annex any more property I may have to incorporate Sheville as a city. I told him to go back to watching ESPN and not worry about it.

Baton Down the Hatches

2011-10-30T12:24:00.001-05:00

Have you been following the news about that crazy snow storm? I’m not ready. Not even close. We've stepped up the pace and put the fall chores in high gear. Cleaning the chicken coop is a major undertaking; it is the most daunting task of the season.

The dust and cobwebs have to be swept, the nest boxes washed and the pine shavings removed. It’s a lot like cleaning out a giant litter box.

It is no fun but has to be done to keep the chickadees healthy and happy. Not to mention making my visits with Sammy more enjoyable.

Now that it is finished I can move on to cleaning the barn. The sheep, alpacas and llamas all still need their pedicures and a couple of the boys need to have their “procedure.” Then we’ll be ready for the long winter’s nap. After we get more hay… oh and we need to drag out the tank heaters…

I keep working but my to-do list isn’t getting any shorter.

Pretty Paisley

2011-10-28T07:25:00.001-05:00

She is a wallflower, quiet, unassuming and shy. Paisley most often stands back and lets Popcorn steal the show. It doesn’t bother her though because deep down she knows SHE is the pretty one.

You may not realize it but under those brown tips she has the most beautiful grey fleece.

Blond Popcorn may have more fun, but Paisley knows it’s what is on the inside that counts.

“Yeah right,” she says. “I’m still not feelin’ the love. Popcorn has a fan page on facebook for crying out loud.”

“Oh she does not!” I replied.

“That’s what she said.”

“Well no, she’s too young. I won’t allow it. Here, would you like a cookie?”

“Oh sure, now you’re going to make me fat.”

“I can’t win here can I?”

Farmland Border Patrol Officers

2011-10-26T08:33:00.001-05:00

It looks like they’re just standing around, but they take their jobs very seriously.

Yesterday for instance, Thelma noticed that Tula, Paisley and Popcorn were on the same side of the fence as she was. “Uh, Louise. I think we got some illegals,” she said.

“One, two, three, four…Hey, Thelma you’re right we do have more of those little fur balls,” replied Louise.

“Quick we need to determine their intentions,” said Thelma.

“Hey, hey you!” “Stop, I need to see your passport,” shouted Louise.

“Halt, we need to do a sniff search of your bodies,” announced Thelma.

“Run, run for your lives!” shouted Tula, leaving Paisley and Popcorn in her dust.

“Great, you lost them,” Louise said accusingly.

“What do you mean, I lost them? Are you not part of this team?”

“I’m just sayin’, look at the length of your legs and then look at theirs.”

“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Fine, you handle it. I’m going to go roll in the fresh stall bedding.”

And Then The Fat Lady Sang

2011-10-24T09:57:00.001-05:00

It’s over. For the past several months I’ve not known for sure if I was coming or going or if it was 2011 or 1861. I love doing it, but for a homebody like me it has been more than a little over-stimulating. I feel like I could crawl in bed and sleep for a couple of weeks.

I couldn’t have done it without the help of my wonderful family who did a great job of holding down the fort around here along with some good friends.

Peggy joined us at Billie Creek Village Friday to demonstrate quilting. It looks like she’s hard at it doesn’t it?

In reality we only demonstrated when we had visitors. The rest of the time we were huddled up next to the fire, toasting our buns like Karen here. That old house is cold in the morning!

Of course, I have to thank the star of the show as well. Popcorn is now famous in certain circles. Every time we walked to the village for lunch we had visitors calling me Mary and wanting to photograph us in front of the schoolhouse. I had more offers to buy her than I can remember. Of course, I turned them all down. Although… Popcorn did seem really interested in the one lady who asked her if she wanted to go live with some cats. It became rather apparent during the festival that Popcorn doesn’t really understand that she is a lamb; she thinks she is a designer dog.

A good time was had by all, but it sure is good to be home. The barn and coop need cleaning, hooves need trimming and errands need to be run.

All is right in my world again.

Spinning Yarns

2011-10-18T07:12:00.001-05:00

I love volunteering at Billie Creek Village. I only wish I could do it full-time, year-round. The village is currently for sale though and it is anyone’s guess if it will even re-open next year so I’m trying to make the most of the last hurrah the Covered Bridge Festival brings.

I learned quickly last year to sit down as much as possible. There is such a flurry of activity that you don’t realize how exhausted you really are until you drive home. Since Friday I’ve spun six skeins of yarn and have two more bobbins full of singles. I don’t think that’s too bad given all the interruptions.

I love how the spinning wheel has the power to mesmerize people. Most people really are drawn to it like bugs to a zapper. The men tend to look at the wheel and the mechanics of it, the women look at the yarn. Not that I’m being all stereotypical or anything, it just seems that’s how the different brains work. Interesting.

Even the bus loads of school children this year have been engaged. I’ve not wanted to shoot a single child so far. (Hey, no judging, you have NO idea.) There are, however, children all across Central Indiana right now with wads of raw wool in their pockets. Their mother’s will be thrilled when they find that in the wash, tee hee! Some of them have actually shown some serious interest in learning the craft. I feel like a spider spinning a web to catch unsuspecting victims. Mwah, ha, ha…

I also managed to fix up the old Kromski Symphony wheel that belongs to the village and start using it. It had seen better days, as in it was rusted so much it wouldn’t spin. (Now I can bring my cherry Matchless home and e-mail Schacht and prove to them the whirl they sent me is absolutely NOT cherry.)

It has been a great, productive festival so far. Today it is freezing cold and poring down rain though. I’ll be staying home since the wagon rides that bring the visitors to me at the farmhouse won’t be running. As much as I’d like the day off to rest, believe it or not I’d rather be there in front of the fire in my costume spinning yarn and sipping cider. Even if nobody else ever showed up.

Popcorn’s Playpen

2011-10-16T18:24:00.002-05:00

We never could understand what that railing was intended for. Visitors would sit and debate the endless possibilities. This weekend I think we might have discovered the purpose. It is a playpen for bottle lambs.

Popcorn has stolen the show at Billie Creek this week. Sometimes they’ll look at me and pay attention to my spinning but for the most part it’s all about Popcorn.

It has gone straight to her head. On the second day we passed a pasture full of sheep and she yelled out the window, “Hey, I’m a star. I’m going to be adored.”
Or she might have been saying, “Help, save me!”
I don’t speak sheep.

Today we both walked to the village to have lunch. It was like walking to town with Cher or Madonna. The paparazzi was insane.

She’s staying home tomorrow. You know. So she can rest.
Not because I’m jealous or anything.

We Had Front Row Seats

2011-10-12T22:11:00.001-05:00

This past weekend wrapped up the Civil War reenacting season for us. The weather was fantastic.

The Hartford event was the largest and most well attended event we have participated in.

Our “Suds Row” display was on the very edge of the battlefield.

It seemed like a great location. I had plenty of room to demonstrate and I could even sit right inside my tent and take pictures of all the action.

Then they started firing the artillery.

Several of us, even old Abe himself, were then found cowering behind some tents, covering our ears.

I’m not sure what period-appropriate earplugs look like exactly but I’m adding them to my list of necessary items for next year.

The Festival is Coming

2011-10-12T12:42:00.001-05:00

This month is insane. Busy, busy, busy.

I finally finished tying off the rugs I made at Billie Creek Village. I am keeping two and the other three will replace the worn out rugs in the farmhouse there. Then I’ll re-weave the old ones.

Friday is the first day of the Covered Bridge Festival. We have a couple volunteers to hang out in the log cabin this year. It gets a little crowded in that small room so I’ll take a break from weaving and go back to the farmhouse while they are there.

Popcorn and I are busy getting her wool and nails done for her debut. She will be going with me as part of my sheep-to-shawl demonstration. It will be like Hug-A-Sheep Day for 10 days straight. She’s going to love it. I suspect she’ll be very popular.

If you are in the area stop by and visit.

A Little Lamb Who’s Fleece Was White as Snow

2011-10-07T06:08:00.001-05:00

She follows me everywhere. I try not to play favorites around here but geez it’s hard when they do that. I’d like for her to follow me to camp this weekend for our final Civil War event at Hartford City. I could do a whole sheep to shawl demonstration. Wouldn’t that be cool?

If it weren’t such a long drive during rush hour traffic, I’d totally do it. Well, that and the fact that I’m a little concerned what all those hungry soldiers might think of my little lamb. Her name is Popcorn, not Chops. Er, wait. Um.

Hmm, perhaps we should rename the three new girls? Maybe something that goes along with our TV show theme? Who can think of a show that had a bossy old lady and two young girls?

It is Too a “Real Job”

2011-10-05T07:34:00.000-05:00

The Engineer. He has this highfalutin, high-tech corporate sales job that often requires me to scrape the manure from under my nails and gussy myself up for a fancy dinner out. I like the dinners. Don’t get me wrong. A five-star restaurant is always a good thing in my book. I particularly like it when I’m not the one paying for it. The only part that bothers me is when the small talk attention turns to me and someone asks, “So what do YOU do?”

I used to just say, “I homeschool my son.” But now that he has gone back to school I never quite know how to answer that. I’ve often replied, “I’m a hobby farmer.”

Generally that has been followed by a 30 second hesitation on their part as they try to process what I just said. Then there is, of course, the obligatory explanation of just what that means, “I raise sheep, alpacas, goats and llamas.”

Again, a pause while that little tidbit is digested. Then they always ask, “And what exactly do you do with them?”

Here is where the eyebrows start to inch towards the tops of their heads. When I tell them that I shear them by hand and process the wool, I can tell they are mentally filing me under the hippie weirdo category in their business card files. If not immediately then certainly once they figure out there is no real cash flow being generated yet.

So I am trying to resolve the “What do You do?” question. Instead of “hobby farmer” I need to actually sell something to lose that “hobby” part of the title. You’ll be noticing a few changes around here. A cohesive look and feel to the old blog and facebook page, a new Etsy shop and whatnot. A general attempt at getting my act together and becoming a “real” farmer.

It is either that or answer the question with stuff I make up like, “I’m an excrement expatiation engineer.”

I wonder how long it would take them to process that?

“Well, in Whoville they say…

2011-10-04T09:59:00.001-05:00

…that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day.”

Popcorn knows how to make mine grow, too.

Is she not the sweetest thing that ever lived or what?!

She has me completely wrapped around her little hoof. Which she just so happened to get stuck in the wall of her shack between the plywood and the 2x4 rendering her temporarily helpless and leaving no doubt in my mind we were made for each other. More often than I care to mention I’ve had a heel stuck in something or other. We ARE both blonde after all.

Welcome to the Land of Cookies, Girls

2011-10-02T08:56:00.001-05:00

I have some new friends. They came to me via Theresa and Tori at Under the Son Farm.

Tula is a more, shall we say, mature girl. She’s giving up her stay-at-home-mom job and semi-retiring to the land of cookies and bedtime snacks.

She’ll still be required to produce her drop-dead gorgeous fleece each year. It actually glistens in the sunlight. Wow.

She and Sophia used to be rivals in their youth, should be interesting to see who gets to be the head sheep in charge once they are combined into the same area. Tula has made it abundantly clear that she is in charge of the quarantine.

Then there is Paisley. Just look at that color! She is a beautiful grey under those br0wn tips and sooooooo soft. I simply cannot wait to shear this cute little thing.

Paisley is a little skittish but I’m sure she’ll warm right up once she discovers the joy of cookies.

“Cookies? What are cookies?” she asks.

This next adorable creature is Popcorn.

Popcorn was a bottle baby which Tori and Theresa spoiled rotten. I LOVE Popcorn. Sweetest little creature EVER. I totally want to bring her into the house to watch movies with me. You can’t watch movies without popcorn, right?

The Engineer says no.

I guess we’ll just have to do it when he’s gone.

Welcome to the land of cookies, girls. I think you’ll like it here.

Better Days are Coming

2011-10-01T19:35:00.001-05:00

What do you get when you cross a chicken with a porcupine?

Penelope has seen better days. It has been a rough season for her.

Her molt this summer is a little scary looking and has lasted, it seems, forever. Of course, she’s not been laying eggs the whole time.

The garden here hasn’t faired much better this year. First we had flooding, then severe drought. A double whammy. Production was dim. I managed to collect enough strawberries, tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers to eat on but not enough to preserve. I’d have to chalk this year’s harvest up as an epic failure.

After I turned the calendar page this morning I went ahead and released the chickens into the garden. They’ll spend the rest of the fall cleaning up the foliage, bugs and spreading fertilizer.

Then maybe next year we’ll see better days all around.

I certainly hope so for her sake.

Cuteness

2011-09-29T13:45:00.001-05:00

I’m not even sure what her real name is. We just call her cuteness.

I think she looks like a cherub and fully expect to see wings peeking out of her dress at any moment.

(I’m sure her parents would find that highly entertaining.)

The Weekend in Pictures

2011-09-26T18:10:00.001-05:00

Home Sweet Home

2011-09-25T05:11:00.001-05:00

Another autumn weekend. Another living history event.

The men are drilling.

And marching.

In addition to making a lot of noise.

This, it seems, is all that is necessary to make them happy.

I, on the other hand, have spent the entire chilly day doing the laundry in between rain showers.

I’m currently writing this from a comfortable hotel room where I am planning to take a nice, hot shower and fall blissfully asleep in a cushy warm bed. This makes ME happy.

It’s all good. The men can all make fun of me if they wish. I’ll be a much more pleasant person to deal with when we do it all again tomorrow.

There’s an Awful Lot Going on Around Here

2011-09-20T12:36:00.001-05:00

My daughter.

He gave her this.

I start my new part-time job on Monday.

Oh, and he comes with a bonus.

Instant Grandmother.

I’m not old enough to be a grandmother.

This can’t be right.

I may need to start therapy on Monday, too. I feel a mid-life crisis coming on.

It is For Them

2011-09-18T18:25:00.001-05:00

Why do it? Why spend hours in preparation, drive half way across the state, sleep outside in 45 degree weather and not shower for days?

I suppose all reenactors have their own reasons for doing it, but for me it is all about the kids. What better way to learn history? Not just the kids doing the reeacting but those visiting. Every kid that walks by my laundress setup wants to try their hand at using the washboard. They are drawn to it like bugs to a zapper. They WANT to do laundry.

Did you hear that mothers? We’re doing it wrong! Give those kids a bucket and a scrub board and let them do their own laundry! Sure they’ll get tired of it, but what will they have learned in the process?

One of the most important things I learned when homeschooling was that not all children learn the same way. Sometimes you have to throw everything at them and see what sticks. If they can see, smell, hear, touch and taste history they’ll be more inclined to appreciate it. Which do you think the kid below will remember tomorrow, the date the Civil War started or what a fox’s foot feels like and how and why the furs were processed?

If you told a kid to go outside and beat two rocks together they would think you were crazy. Show them how to make arrowheads, however, and suddenly you’re elevated to hero status.

Any art, any craft has the potential of sparking that interest they never knew they had.

“You mean cheese doesn’t always come in individually wrapped slices?”

Live history and you teach history. That’s why I do it.

My son had the honor of guarding President Lincoln during his speech. I doubt there will be any questions about how that is done on the ISTEP test. I wonder if I send this to his U.S. History teacher if he could get some extra credit? Or do they even bother with extra credit in the schools anymore? Probably not, it doesn’t fit neatly on a computer graded form.

The Covered Wagons are Loaded

2011-09-16T09:29:00.001-05:00

The kid and I are bugging out to Old Settlers Days in Salem, Indiana for the weekend. Other than the food and clothing, we’re packed and ready to go. There’s barely enough room left for us. I think I might need a bigger covered wagon.

(Yes, that is a vintage army cot and modern sleeping bags. It’s going to be in the 40’s at night. I draw the line in authenticity at freezing to death. We’ll just cover them with civil war era quilts so no one can see them.)

Which reminds me that I forgot to show you my finished quilt. Uh, it is crammed in there somewhere. I’ll have to wait to get a shot of it once we get our camp set up.

I’ll be working on hand piecing another quilt while I’m there.

One of the gals in my quilt guild started working on the Civil War Tribute block of the month pattern. She finished six months worth of blocks, by hand even, then threw in the towel and donated the kit to our annual auction.

I nearly had to break a woman’s arm to get her to stop bidding against me.

Hey, no judging. It belonged to ME. When the flag barer goes down in the battlefield, men fight for the honor of carrying it on. I saw a quilter going down. I had to do something.

I totally get why she chose to pass the torch, though. Month seven is a humdinger of a block set. It was time to bring in the reinforcements. It will take me a while to finish this one (it’s humungous). I figured the Civil War spanned four years and my progress on this quilt will do the same.

Llamas, Llamas and More Llamas

2011-09-12T08:24:00.001-05:00

I ventured out yesterday to visit, Lisa, of Llama Reserve. She and her crew were able to rescue 58 llamas from the Nebraska liquidation.

The herd is remarkably healthy, just homeless. They’ve not had any bad experiences with humans but they lived on a 7000 acre ranch and didn’t received a whole lot of training either. So they don’t walk up to you to whisper sweet nothings in your ear but they don’t run away screaming either. They just look at you.

They are the ideal candidates to adopt. I would have given my left arm to bring these three girls home, but It STILL has not rained here. I have nothing to feed them.

Do you have enough room and and green pasture for a few llamas?

They’re awfully cute don’t you think? Some would make good livestock guardians, others have beautiful fiber for spinning. Then there are even mother/daughter combos that just want to stay together as lovely pasture ornaments.

Give Lisa at Llama Reserve a call. Tell her I sent you.

Remembering

2011-09-11T08:35:00.001-05:00

Just remembering.

And reflecting back on the profound effect it has had on our lives. I was living in the city working a fast-pace, high-tech job. My husband was packing his suitcase in preparation for his flight to New York. He had a meeting scheduled at the trade center that afternoon. Our lives completely changed in an instant. Things that were once important no longer mattered.

May we all find the peace we are still searching for.

Who is Training Who Here?

2011-09-09T10:56:00.001-05:00

I just want to touch you, Louise. Why won’t you let me touch you?

You watched me with Thelma. I didn’t hurt her. She even likes it when I scratch behind her ears.

I’m getting tired of running in circles in the round pen and, frankly, getting a little dizzy in the process.

Wait a minute. You’re doing that on purpose aren’t you?

Wipe that smirk off your face. I’m not giving up that easily.

Llama School

2011-09-07T10:52:00.001-05:00

I decided to take advantage of the cooler weather and work with Thelma and Louise in the round pen today. I wanted to try the Mallon Method to see how the girls would respond to it. Either it works like charm or Thelma is the world’s smartest llama. In twenty minutes we went from her not really wanting to be touched at all to me scratching her ears and her wearing a pack. No lie. Of course it helps that she’s a total sweetheart.

Louise on the other hand has already informed me it won’t be quite so simple with her.

“I’ve got all the street smarts I need, lady. I don’t need no schoolin’ and I ain’t carryin’ no stinkin’ pack.”

“Well then, Louise, how about we just work on halter training and toe nail trimming?”

“I don’t trust you. You have beady eyes.”

I’m thinking it might be more like 20 hours rather than 20 minutes with Louise.

Tough Decisions

2011-08-31T05:14:00.000-05:00

It is hard to let go. Even when I know it is the right thing to do.

They are cute, but cute doesn’t cut it when times are tough. The goats are seeking employment elsewhere. A place where Daisy can find a new hunk of burnin’ love to make babies with and where Bo and Luke can, well, um, eat cookies and scratch themselves. Given the drought situation we have to make the decision to focus on fiber producing animals only.

Then there is the even tougher decision.

My sweet Willa has had yet another chicken dinner. She also refuses to stop chasing the goats, sheep and sometimes even the alpacas. She has no desire whatsoever to be a livestock guardian dog. She tries and tries, but she just can’t resist the chase. She doesn’t want to harm them, she just wants to PLAY. She wants so desperately to be someone’s pet. She is such a sweet, smart dog she really deserves it. If we didn’t already have two other porch dogs I’d keep her but my old Beagle isn’t too keen on sharing her space. She’s a grouchy old thing. So, we are looking for a good home for Willa.

If anyone out there in blog land is interested or knows of someone who might be, please let me know. I love them all dearly and would like to make sure to get them good homes.

The Cupboards are Bare

2011-08-30T16:09:00.001-05:00

Yet another drought this year. That makes four out of the five we’ve lived here.

It is hard to sustain anything on a pasture that looks like this. We’ve already been feeding hay for weeks now even though I asked the boys to ease up on the snacking.

“Did you eat all the grass, Dino?”

“No, it was Frankie.”

“Sammy, did you eat all the grass?”

“No, it was Frankie.”

“What about you, Peter? Did you eat the grass?”

“No it was Frankie.”

“Well Frankie, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“What? Who me? Why no it wasn’t me, I never ate any of it. Not a single blade.”

“I’m innocent. Those guys are trying to set me up.”

“Then what is that hanging out of your mouth?”

“I uh, I uh, I was flossing?”

Inside the Log Cabin

2011-08-28T16:42:00.001-05:00

It is coming along. We are almost ready for the big festival next weekend. Some more cleaning and a few new curtains and we’ll be good to go. It is a spacious cabin considering it was built in 1830. The door on the far right leads to a narrow stairway. The other door next to it is a small, under the stairs type closet.

Of course, the fireplace is the kitchen. Just a few cast iron pots and utensils, a bowl, a few cups and a plate or two. How many cabinets do you have in your kitchen? This one doesn’t have any.

The other side of the room is where the looms are. One in each corner.

Notice the completed rug! A visitor today asked how long I had been making rugs. I had to admit it was my first day and this was my first rug. I don’t’ think he believed me but he and his wife were there while I finished it and helped give me a “woo hoo” when it was done.

Most visitors stick to touring the downstairs only. The steps being narrow and steep. Some are brave enough to climb the steps though.

The upstairs seems huge with it’s open ceiling compared to the 6 foot ceilings downstairs.

It needs a serious cleaning. I left the broom there but nobody has gotten the hint. I’m afraid I’m going to have to do it myself.

That trick probably didn’t work for the farmwife 180 years ago either.

Llamas Need Your Help!

2011-08-25T11:22:00.001-05:00

Folks, there will be 250 llamas sold at auction this Saturday in Nebraska. They can be seen at Llama Auction. Not all of them will be sold to loving homes. Lisa, of Llama Reserve is heading out there right now to save as many of the unregistered or aged from slaughter as possible. This is the exact same situation as my Thelma and Louise came from. If you have a few bucks to spare, would you mind? There's a Paypal link on the Llama Reserve website. Even a donation of $25 will help SAVE a llama. Of course, if you have room in your pasture, we’ll need homes for them, even temporary ones. Bless you all, I know you’ll do whatever you can.

Thelma and Louise thank you, too. (I can tell because they’re smiling.)

Well Now Ain’t that Somethin’?

2011-08-22T16:16:00.001-05:00

I put on my big girl panties and went back to the cabin today. I’m not going to let some silly snake skin scare me away from my plans. I have to admit I did stop and buy a couple lottery tickets on the way though. There’s just got to be a way to raise enough money to seal those cracks!

Anyhoo, I set to giving the cabin a good cleaning when I got there (after a quick snake hidey-hole inspection.) It had been a very long time since it has seen a good cleaning. I know there was at least 1o pounds of dirt in the braided rug alone. Anyway, it was a good thing I cleaned because we had some special visitors today.

That would be the sixth, seventh and eighth generation descendants of the original owners of the cabin. Visiting all the way from Chautauqua, New York. I would have been awful embarrassed had I not cleaned.

They didn’t want to keep the snake skin as a souvenir. Go figure.

If You Build It, They Will Come

2011-08-21T15:20:00.001-05:00

This was NOT the kind of visitor I was hoping for.

I’m telling myself someone put it there yesterday while I wasn’t around.

And that it didn’t slither in through one of the 14 million holes in the cabin walls and leave its calling card. It makes me feel better to think that.

However I am immediately throwing a wish out there in the universe that some generous persons will soon feel compelled to pay to repair the chinking in the cabin at Billie Creek.

The cabin needs a fairy godmother or a sugar daddy.

Er, wait. Are snakes attracted to sugar?

One thing is for sure. I’ll never go into the potting shed or the outhouse.

Never.

Nope.

Not me.

Not now.

Always Doing it the Hard Way

2011-08-20T09:17:00.001-05:00

It is the story of my life.

A normal person would go out, take a weaving class, buy a new loom and start weaving.

Not me.

I drag home a pile of pine and cherry wood that someone claims is a loom. Then try to assemble it without any instructions. It was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle without knowing what the picture is.

Once I got it assembled I needed to start refurbishing it. I first had to sand off the paint overspray.

Then replace all the worn out yarn heddles, which meant completely disassembling the loom and putting it back together three times. (It seems I’m a slow learner.)

Finally, the wood soaked up a coat of tung oil like a camel in the desert. After a sufficient drying time I started adding the warp for my first project. I’m half way there.

All this led to a feeling of loom knowledge superiority even though I haven’t finished a single project. Given that I was now an expert I decided to dive into warping the looms at Billie Creek Village.

Yeah.

This is a picture of Karen my trusty spotter, telling Charlie I don’t have a clue what I am doing. She was “spotting” me to make sure I didn’t tie myself up in the loom as I could have ended up stranded there for days before anyone noticed.

She was right. I had no idea what I was doing. It is completely different than the loom at home. I managed to get the sectional warp beam loaded but couldn’t figure out what the next step was. We quit and decided to go home and consult the internet. Baby steps. The goal is to set up a rug weaving studio in the log cabin to sell rugs in the General Store.

Clearly, it’s not going to happen over night.

Before we left we toured the wood carving studio and the pottery shop for inspiration.

Attendance at the Village is way down, just like everywhere else these days. But we are continuing to plug forward with the motto, “If we build it, they will come.”

You’ll come, right?

Right?

Just say yes to humor me.

Creative Farming Practices

2011-08-11T16:06:00.001-05:00

Farmers have always been problem solvers. From the very beginning back when they cleared the land of trees and pulled rocks out of the fields to modern day situations such as how to prevent a goat getting their horns stuck in a fence.

I conducted a facility check of a farm today for Southeast Llama Rescue. The potential adoptive parents had an interesting solution for the notorious goat/fence problem. That is a piece of PVC pipe and some pink duct tape (it’s a girl). I thought if only they used one of those giant dog bones instead of the PVC she’d look just like Pebbles on the Flintstones.

Feeding Teenagers

2011-08-10T20:01:00.001-05:00

No matter what species, can be a bit of a challenge to keep up with.

If it doesn’t rain soon we’re going to have to start feeding hay.

“Hay? Did I hear you say hay?” asked Louise.

“Wait for me!”

“Here I come!”

“Where’s the hay?”

“I didn’t mean now, Louise,” I said.

“Well phooey.”

Anyway, back to what I was saying. If it doesn’t rain soon there won’t be enough growing in the pastures to feed these hungry alpaca boys.

“Did you hear that, guys?” asked Frankie. “You need to ease up on the snackage.”

“But not me right? There will still be plenty for me?”

“Right?”

The Village Looms

2011-08-05T14:16:00.002-05:00

They are Union rug looms. The first one has some serious rust issues going on. I think I’ll set this one up for display only unless I can find somewhere to buy a new reed.

The other one is in much more usable condition. But it is shoved into a corner. It weighs a ton so my weenie muscles can’t move it. I’ll have to convince a few strong men to move it for me.

Because of that I didn’t get any warping done today but I did fix the spinning wheel while I was there. Amazing how much better they work with a drive band.

I didn’t accomplish much but I at least know what we need to get started. There are no tools at all other than the looms so I’ll need to track down a warping board and shuttle. If anyone local knows where we can get some cheap (or better yet free) let me know.
Speaking of free…

I’ve never been one to pass up a free elephant. This one is, um, a bit of a fixer upper. I’m not even sure all the parts are there. No manual. No pictures of what it should look like on the interwebs.
It might just be a fancy looking pile of kindling.

But with any luck, I’ll be making rugs like those in the Governor’s house someday before I die.
If not, the Governor had a lovely quilt I could copy instead…

Edited to add:
We’re getting there.

But does anyone know where this thing goes?

Edited to add again:
Nevermind, I figured it out. It’s the break! Woo hoo! I got this sucker together!

Getting Warped

2011-08-04T19:02:00.001-05:00

There are three looms at Billie Creek Village. All three have been abandoned by weavers past and are in a sad state of affairs. Every time I’ve met a weaver I’d ask them if they would be willing to warp them for us. They generally look at me like a third eyeball popped out between my other two then explain that they’re kind of busy or blah, blah, blah. After that when I’d see them on the street they would cross in front of oncoming traffic in order to avoid me. I never understood why until today.

Today I came. I saw. I warped.

The wonderful folks down at Sheep Street Fibers let me crash one of their weaving classes. I helped loom owners get warped. hee, hee

Given the difficulty and tediousness of the process I find it truly amazing we’re not all running around naked as jaybirds. It HAD to have been the need for warmth to prevent death that possessed people to perfect this skill. Personally, I think it would have been easier to move to Florida. No wonder those weavers are avoiding me like the plague.

I’m heading out to the Village tomorrow to attempt some loom warping. If you don’t hear from me for a few days would someone please stop by with some food and water? I’ll most likely be tangled up in the madness and cannot break free.

The Lunch Wagon

2011-07-31T07:34:00.001-05:00

One hundred thirty-one bales of hay in the yard,

one hundred thirty-one bales,

take one down pass it around,

one hundred thirty bales of hay in the yard.

I’m not winning any popularity contests with the humans around here this weekend after insisting the guys stock the barn with hay in all this heat and humidity. We were able to have it delivered but the wagon couldn’t fit back in the barn so we had to unload it in the driveway and then reload it into the pickup and back that in.

Once the pickup is inside the center section of the barn the driver has to shimmy out the window because it is such a tight squeeze. Then the bales have to be heaved up and into place in the lofts. It is hot, sweaty, sticky work.

Fortunately the day was interspersed with some comedic relief. Watching Thelma and Louise chase down “the lunch wagon” through the pasture was, well, priceless. The organically grown orchard grass hay met their approval to such a degree we ended up needing to lock them out of the barnyard so they wouldn’t get run over.

“Where are you going? I wanted a pastrami on rye.”

Woman’s Best Friend

2011-07-30T07:18:00.000-05:00

Sophia loves me.

I love Sophia.

Simple as that.

A Milestone

2011-07-29T19:40:00.001-05:00

Thelma and Louise have reached a milestone. Today they switched from a weight gain regimen to a maintenance program. Allow me to provide you with visual references…

Thelma before:

Thelma after:

Louise before:

Louise after:

In fact the girls have gained so much weight so fast I can’t help but look at Thelma’s belly sometimes and ask myself, “What if the negative ultrasound was wrong?”