WordPress informed me that I haven’t written anything for a month and a half. It’s not like there is nothing going on. I’ll do a quick recap.
In late March, after recovering from Covid, we took a wonderful trip to England and Ireland. Here is where we lived for the first four days.
Besides the beautiful, although rainy countryside near Bath, we also spent time in Oxford and London and enjoyed many new sights and experiences with my son and his family.
On the way home, we stopped off for a few days in Dublin to visit a friend and revisit some of our old haunts. Miller’s Pizza was a favorite gourmet spot near our old apartment.
As I expected, 6 weeks later, the fields are green and lush. My husband mows the tufts out of the lawn, and the contrast with the fields is considerably more pronounced each time. The tulips and daffodils have come and gone already, and I had to kill the algae and rake huge piles of seaweed off the floor of the pond. I enjoyed a good morel-hunting season that added tasty side dishes to several dinners.
I am done with both my concert bands till the fall, and it looks like things are all queued up for the change of schedule that summer brings. I’ll save some of that for the next entry!
Spring in Michigan can be such a tease! One day, you’ll wake up to sunshine and bluebirds with buds popping out and daffodils blooming. The next day, you’ve plunged back into the 20s, the daffodils are lying flat, and snow is roaring across the fields. It is whiplash inducing.
Mowing in the snow
We are preparing to go away for a couple of weeks, and so much will have progressed when we return. Living amongst tall grass and wildflowers, we know the old has to be cut away to leave space for the new growth. Otherwise, we’ll end up with a hairy mess of dry brown brush with green shoots struggling to find the sun through the tangled forest over their heads. My husband was determined to get that job done before we leave, so he bundled up to face a wind and snowfall fighting him all the way.
It’s always a shock to see how the topography is revealed when the brush is removed. I can watch the cats hunting an acre from the house, and the rabbit and ground hog dens are revealed in large overturned lumps of soil that the tractor slammed into on the way by.
It is kind of sad to lose the dense cover that waved in the wind all winter. I know from experience that in a month, we’ll have eight inches of new growth already. There won’t be blooms until late summer, though.
We also did a quick catch-up of pruning, rather late because our February trip and a month of Covid and cold symptoms threw us out of commission. The grape vines are all cleaned up, the orchard is nice and neat, and the hydrangeas and ornamental grasses by the barn are trimmed down. I even trimmed the goats’ hooves and cleaned out the chicken coop.
I am looking forward to a pleasant surprise when we return — Spring sprung!
We bottled all our white wine before we went away on vacation. Three full “carboys,” each holding five gallons, made about 75 beautiful bottles of wine that tasted wonderful. We felt so proud and accomplished. Well my husband did all the work, I just assisted with the big jobs.
The other morning, Joe came up to me and asked where did this cork and bottle wrapper come from? I assumed the dog must have dug it out from under something and was playing with it. I was a bit annoyed that the wooden floor in the kitchen was sticky and I assumed it was Joe’s fault for spilling something and not cleaning it up. Today, he put two and two together when he noticed that a bottle in the wine rack was mostly empty. Yes, apparently when we brought the wine in from the garage and stored the cases in the basement, there was a temperature difference and the remaining yeast woke up and got back to work.
You don’t want to see the bulging cork cover that was showing on most of the bottles in the basement! Fortunately, only the bottle upstairs was warm enough to actually pop its cork. We had to uncork all the wine, pour it back into the carboys, along with lots of foam and yeast remains in the bottoms of the bottles. It will now be Joe’s job to figure out how we will know when it is really ready to bottle, and if there is no longer enough sugar left to suit my taste we may need to add something. I suppose this also means that there will be a higher alcohol content than before. Whether that is good or bad, who’s to say?
So, another live-and-learn experience on the farm. At least we did not have to throw away any of that precious grape juice from our first harvest. We did waste our effort and supplies, but nothing is a total waste if we learn from it, right?
There has been no love lost between me and my current rooster. He had just about worn out his welcome by December and I’d put an ad out on CraigsList offering him up for free. That never worked out, because none of the three or four offers panned out. I guess when the price is $0, people have nothing to lose by saying they want it and never showing up. It was irritating because I had to capture him first in order to meet in a neutral site. I really love the sound of the rooster crowing out at the barn, and he was truly gorgeous. However…
Yesterday, as I was moving around and feeding all the animals, he attacked me from behind and I lost all my patience. That was the third time, and the last! I won’t go into detail, but he felt my wrath and ended up dead in the woods. This morning there was no trace of him, so the circle of life took care of it for me.
Here is the happy part. My two hens from our original batch, Arya and Silver, have been holed up in the coop for months now, refusing to leave the roost except for food and water. They had no interest in that rude rooster grabbing them, and so their quality of life had diminished to sitting in one place all day and night. This afternoon, both girls are out in the run with all the younger ladies, stretching their legs and pecking around for corn and bugs. I took advantage of a day of very mild weather and cleaned out the coop and the nest boxes, so it must feel like they are liberated and life is back where it should be.
Arya and Silver eight years ago, when they really were spring chickens
Three years of carefully and successfully dodging that Covid virus, but it finally caught up with us. We took a train ride down to New Orleans last week and had a wonderful time visiting the city. Lots of good specialty meals, unusual architecture, and live music. We walked way more than usual and were battling blisters, but it was worth it.
Our roometteCemetery outside our hotel
Riding the rails home that last day, my husband came down with a bad cold, so we holed up on in our compartment on the train till we got back to Chicago the next morning and I made him wear a mask in the coach car back to Michigan. The next day, I was curious so we ran a Covid test on him. It seemed a waste of time because they always come out negative, but surprise! It was definitively positive within a couple minutes. I didn’t feel bad till the next day but my test was negative. However, one more day and I was the next casualty.
It has been a week of up and down between the two of us, one feeling better while the other got worse, then a good nap and we traded roles. Somehow, we manage to have at least one of us able to support the one who is worse off. I am so grateful we have each other. Sometimes, you need a bit of hardship to fully appreciate the things you have.
We wanted an accent color in the guest bedroom, and before my husband went out to buy some pillows, I asked him to let me see if I could weave up something. I have a huge inventory of handspun mohair yarn from the early days.
I dug through my many bins and boxes to find colors that would fit the decor. There was no shortage! I found 20- inch square pillows that were not being used and calculated how much fabric I’d need. Then I cut about three hundred 80-inch lengths of yarn I selected by whim for the warp. I started with several skeins of gray acrylic yarn for the weft, but it dulled the colors too much, so I ripped it out and changed to fine green cotton thread that came out much better.
Here is the resulting striped fabric after a good wash and tumble dry. Kinda cool! I am struggling over taking scissors to the fabric I spun, but pillows are more practical than this narrow throw. It reminds me of those throws the hotels put at the foot of the bed. The colors match our wall art pretty well.
I’m now going to go see what kind of pillows I can make. Stay tuned.
My husband has taken up a new hobby, bookbinding. This means he plans to make blank books from scratch, sewing and gluing the paper into a leather cover for use as a journal or diary. One really cool part of the process is marbling the colorful papers that line the inside of the cover. Have you ever seen this on antique books?
I am no expert in the process or the terminology, but here are few pictures to show the wild results of marbling the paper for the inside of the covers.
He is still getting the kinks out of the process but I am amazed by the beauty of what he has already made. (The white down the center is just glare from the flash.) He has probably done a dozen different prints, all unique. I think they’d make nice wrapping paper if nothing else!
I’ll have to say, retirement has turned into a very creative time of life for both of us.
I wove my first blanket from the mill-spun yarn, a batch I had dyed in Monet colors. It is a blend of the pygora from my goat and wool. It is so soft and light, I’d like to just keep it for myself.
I decided that rather than soak it for an hour to full it, I’d add it to the laundry I was doing in cold water. Not the dryer, though…I’m not insane! Unfortunately, the fringes did not fare well. They were about five inches long and I’d already hemmed it so they wouldn’t fray. I thought they’d be fine, but coming out of the washer, they were totally felted up. All I could do was cut them short. It’s a dreadlock throw now.
Still, it only took me two days from start to finish. I have several other sets of dyed skeins and I think I will do them up the same way…except for the mistakes.
I just love the things a photo editor can do nowadays. I was looking over recent photos I’d taken and tried out some editing I options. You’d think I was a good artist and had drawn this freehand. This is our Oliver, after a serious haircut to rid him of the mats that had built up after 10 days in the cone of shame.
We were surprised to find that his habit of sleeping in the shower fell away, and now he’d prefer to nestle on a warm sofa. Apparently, he had too much hair and was overheated most of the time. Who knew?
In the spring, I took about half my wool to a fiber mill, and they made lovely yarn. I gave them the batch from Pandy, my black and white lamb, and they were able to separate it by color. It came out at Aran weight, so I went out to the Ravelry site and shopped around for the perfect pattern in that weight yarn.
I am really pleased! It was fun to do and got me through a week of weather too cold to venture outside of the farm. So, a little bragging, but it is an accomplishment for me to get a perfect fit the first time. I guess I’m getting better at knitting!
Next up is a sweater for my husband’s birthday. I guess I should report that all was not happy and peaceful over the last week. The herd was safely in the barn, or so I thought. A goat managed to knock open a steel can of cracked corn and when I went out to check on them I found it empty on the floor. I was mad but figured the resulting loose stools were their punishment.
The next day, one sheep was standing aside, probably with a tummy ache. I called the vet and they said if I want, I could go buy a product for bloating. When I went out to check on her to see if I should go pick some up, she was dead.
I care about all my animals, but strangely the farm stock don’t elicit as much emotional pain as the dogs in the house when they are hurt or pass away. I feel sad and foolish for not acting sooner. All I can do is chalk it up to experience.
Ten arduous days have passed, and this morning, Oliver was released from the stocks. He has to relearn how to torment Zoey, no longer able to snowplow her around the house with his massive front loader.
He was riddled in mats, though, and I had to do a total reboot on the grooming table. He’s never had such a short haircut, but he was surprisingly patient. He did try to lie down, and the noose prevented that. I considered unhooking him to make it easier on both of us, but he’s too big to relax on the table. He is getting a bath now, and I expect he’ll be a terror in the house with this new lease on life.
It’s 20 degrees now, going down to 5 overnight, then down to 4 degrees tomorrow afternoon! I took pity on the herd and rearranged the stall in the barn to accommodate overnight guests. It wasn’t too hard to get Eddy and the sheep in, but Noah, the Pygora goat, never trusts me and I tried in vain for 20 minutes to coax, chase, or lure him in. All the while, he was bleating in his old man, goat voice, about being separated from his herd.
I finally gave up as my fingers became numb from the cold, and I locked him out on his own. I went out just before dark with reinforcements. Joe trapped Noah in the goat shed, and I squeezed into the barn stall to fetch a harness without letting anyone else out. Once I figured out how to secure it over his head, he became very compliant and trotted right into the barn.
I feel a lot better knowing they’ll be safe overnight. This is a pretty rare occurrence on the farm.
We are bravely planning to do some new things in 2024. Friends convinced us that it is not really impossible to travel when you live on a farm, you just need to get inventive. We have signed up for a service called “Trusted Housesitters”, which is kind of like a dating app for people who want to travel and people who want their travel to be at someone else’s house, taking care of their pets. No money changes hands, but both types of travelers get what they want, based on trust.
We will be the ones offering up our home and our animals as a lure to people who might enjoy that experience. As a result, we already have our first sitters lined up to come take care of the farm while we take a week away to New Orleans! We have a second trip that is more extensive planned, with no takers yet, but I am feeling hopeful. There are a lot of details to work out and a guest welcome guide to complete. My friends who have done this before say it is a wonderful experience.
Planning for travel, we decided to finally get the puppy “fixed”. Poor Ollie is feeling forlorn with a cone around his head so he can’t lick his wound. It is for the best in the long run, but it is still hard to put our baby through this. He’s doing better every day, learning to navigate the house with the thing banging into walls and doorways, and enduring the frustration of feeling pain and itchiness that he can’t reach.
Settling in for a couple months of winter weather at home, I am eager to wrap up some loose ends so I can get started on knitting and weaving projects. I have a sweater planned that will use the wool from one of my lambs. After that, I will make a sweater for my husband’s birthday with store-bought yarn. I have two table runner kits to make on the loom, and I’d love to make some blankets with the mohair/wool blend yarn I did not sell at the holiday sales. Working on two crafts at the same time is a good way to not get bored with any one project.
I have a new rooster, adopted from a neighbor who ended up with three. “Chilli” is gorgeous but has been getting progressively bolder with me. When I come through the chicken run to feed everyone, I have noticed him posturing threateningly, turning his shoulder to me and walking close by, sideways.
I am a bit concerned that this is going down a dangerous road. I have backed him up, swinging my bucket or my foot, and he scrambles away. How long till he tries to take a bite out of me? He doesn’t have spurs like previous roosters, at least.
I do admire his colors, though. I would like to try to dye my mohair these shades for a sweater. Here’s a good shot of his back.
Fashion model
I may have to give up on him if he gets worse. Perhaps one of my gun-toting neighbors may want to take him for a chicken dinner.
Now that I am less rushed, I am belatedly giving some thought to how to display my creations for sale to give them the best show. My shoelaces didn’t sell well and I thought they’d be a hit, so I went to the store and bought a shoe to lace them into.
I hope they spark someone’s imagination. I also took the little zippered purse and needle felted a butterfly onto it. It’s likely to attract a kid that way.
Speaking of kids, I bought a baby doll to wrap up in the baby blanket I’d woven. I think it makes it a lot cuter than just a small piece of fabric hanging on a rack.
Then, my dog leashes didn’t sell, so I thought they’d do better if attached to a puppy. We’ll see!
Artistic design isn’t really my forte and I’m insecure about it, so I just throw things together. Perhaps this experiment will pay off.
In the mean time, I feel a little lost since the mad rush to get things done has abruptly ended. I am tempted to start another big project, but maybe it would be good discipline to hold back and feel what serenity is like.
I’m gearing up for my first holiday market with the Handweavers Guild, at the Fernwood Botanical Gardens where we meet each month. It is this Saturday and I’ve been working pretty hard at it, carefully labeling and pricing everything and making last-minute items.
A couple weeks ago I decided to make cotton tea towels from a pattern in one of my weaving magazines. I did it exactly according to the instructions and was surprised how much cotton yarn was required. I got stalled half-way through when I ran out of a huge cone of yarn that I was sure would be more than enough. I had to anxiously wait for a new shipment and then hustle to get it all warped up and get started weaving. When you measure your warp, you wrap it around a warping board in such a way that you can keep it all from tangling up (hopefully) and consistently measured.
If you’ve never done this, let me tell you this is ALOT of warp! It was designed to make seven large tea towels, each 42 inches long and 22 inches wide. Once they shrink in the laundry they are smaller but still much bigger than your basic dishtowel from the grocery store. It took me a while to get the hang of weaving the pattern and then I recognized that I’d made significant mistakes in threading the loom. I was going to just go with it but as I was pounding away, it occurred to me that if I bit the bullet and figured out how to fix my mistakes, at least six towels could be correct.
And so, this was a wonderful opportunity for me to learn how to (and how not to) fix threading errors. Long story short, I finally got all the bugs out of it and the resulting towels are quite nice. I had way more warp than I really needed so I also made four large napkins. I feel pretty good about the whole experience because I learned quite a lot about weaving. I went out to ETSY to get an idea how to price them and found some in exactly the pattern I had followed, so it was pretty easy. Here is how they looked mid-weave.
I made them in red, blue, red/blue, and red/green. I am so glad I finally finished because the fun had gone out of it after a week of weaving the same eight rows hundreds of times.
I have gobs of other items in the sale. Cute handwoven shoelaces and dog leashes, blankets, mittens, and lots of yarn the fiber mill spun for me and I then dyed, well as some of my hand-spun and things I knitted from that. I think it is time to stop now and catch up on other things around the house. I actually have piles of dyed fiber out in the barn waiting for me to card and spin but lets wait and see how much yarn sells at Fernwood and my friend Sherry’s pottery sale the next two weekends.
Between the vineyard harvest and the wine and grape juice production from that, and the creations from my little herd, I think we are due for a little down time.
For the first time, we are finally able to make wine from grapes grown here on our own farm. It has been a long time coming, because the first 6 rows we planted died back every winter and my husband gave up on them after 3 or 4 years of disappointment and put in more cold-hearty breeds. Today we picked the 3 rows of white grapes.
We borrowed equipment as well as help from a friend. There was a magical machine that ground up the grapes and then separated the skins and juice from the seeds and stems. I really don’t get how it works even though I stood there and watched.
Then the grapes, skins, and juice were scooped into a special motorized bucket and a bladder around the fruit filled with water and hugged it like a python till all the juice squirted out.
A messy job, for sure! I hear that the juice is very sweet, which bodes well for the future alcohol content. I know almost nothing about what conditions make for a good wine, but I hope this is a good year for Bluestem Pond winery.
We are full into the September changes that come with schools starting back up, apples and peaches ripening, and for me, the final wrap-up of the spring shearing.
Drying out Helen’s wool
I fully enjoyed coloring the yarn the mill created and the lack of effort on my part to spin it all. Still, sweet Helen grew a big soft batch of wool, so I plan to treat it with loving care to make a sweater that commemorates her childhood year. I really didn’t realize there was so much left and that I couldn’t tell if it had been washed. It never hurts to give it another soak as long as I’m in no hurry to get it dried out and spun.
There is a climbing plant down in the vineyard, giving us one last gasp of beauty with a burst of late summer blossoms. I don’t know what it is, but I’m grateful
Last night, we went to the annual Pow Wow put on by the local Potowotami tribe. I would like to post a couple photos but fear that might be disrespectful of their ceremonial dance. We ate wild rice, a corn soup made with boiled corn, beans, and ground meat, and their specialty, fry-bread. A donut by any other name…
I was pleased to see lots of teenagers and little kids dancing in all their regalia behind the military veterans, elders, and other adults. The tradition will live on. I’ll admit all the songs sounded the same to me, but I don’t know the language. It surprised me to see their governmental offices, police, health center, and school. I knew they were a sovereign nation but didn’t realize the infrastructure they’d built.
So, it’s a quiet Sunday afternoon, or it was until I went out to the barn and got distracted by a couple hours of sweaty chores. I plan to try to relax for a couple hours, although that doesn’t come naturally unless I’m sleeping.
I was feeling bad about our raspberry patch this year. The early ones were anemic, with a spotty harvest of tiny berries that crumbled to little balls when picked. The other varieties were overgrown with grass and thistles. It took me till late in July to summon the courage to dig in and clean out the beds. I came out of it with scratched up arms and a sweaty, itchy mess of a gardener.
A couple weeks later, the early bushes are quietly sighing with relief to relax till spring. The ones I weeded are smiling and producing like gangbusters! Was it due to my attention or would it have happened anyway? Who knows.
I picked them this morning and ran out of room in the container. I was forced to pop the rest directly into my mouth. On the way back to the barn, I noticed several nice peaches on the ground under the tree and tucked them under my arm, doing my best not to squish anything. Three steps toward the house and I detoured to grab the eggs. Three more steps and I stopped to check for zukes or cucumbers. I had to move it all to a big bucket to get it safely all the way to the house. It’s always a bigger job than I’d anticipated. You’d think I would have learned by now.
I came home to little Oliver poking his head out the doggie door looking for me. He is so big now, he has to duck through, so I hope this is as tall as he plans to grow.
In the house, I surveyed the damage he’d caused while waiting for my attention. My slippers were scattered in different rooms, a booklet on the porch had several pages ripped out, and he was gazing up at me with proud joy.
Bluestem Pond 