August Dyeing

Let the dyeing marathon begin! These upcoming weeks will be devoted almost entirely to dyeing fiber in preparation for the Common Ground Fair. This is really my favorite part of the process, as creating the colors never does get old. This first batch is with some of our "Mary" yarn; a blend of 70% mohair, 30% finn, and the combination is just out of this world in terms of the luster. Because of that luster, every skein of yarn is jewel-like in its beauty. 

I am particularly fond of this gradient of blues into greens. I'm just itching for someone to purchase the lot of them and knit up something divine. My favorite of the whole dye batch is the second photo...goldenrod and weld. That color is a shade I begin to crave in the middle of winter, when I can't remember what the sun's rays feel like on my face...

(Late) July, (Early) August

We've been so crazy busy the past few weeks that it's rare for me to have a free minute to sit down at the computer and write. There have been many beautiful, wonderful moments and family times of connection; a 60th birthday party, a visit from my brother and sister-in-law and their little boy all the way from Hawaii, a few perfect days at a lake, a new barn in the works, a bountiful and productive garden, and a quick getaway for just the two of us up North where there is nothing but silence and each other.

July.

Tonight was one of those nights. It rained off and on for most of the day, and when it stopped, we were left with every beautiful scent of a humid July evening. The fog hung in the air like a thick blanket, wrapping itself around our bodies and filling the air with a sticky dampness that clings. There is nothing quite like the smell of damp earth and forest, but those who are lucky enough to know what I mean, well, you're lucky.

The challenge for me during this season is, as always, to slow down. I don't mean slow down and do nothing, I mean slow down and appreciate. Take notice. This can be done simply by taking an extra deep breath on a particularly fragrant evening, such as this. Or, closing my eyes and letting the sun warm my lids for a few seconds in the garden. It is difficult to remember to do those things, but they are imperative. Those few seconds of noticing have the power to change the entire day.

Summer.

Well, I'm going to skip right over the past few months until later, because, well, I can. And it's peony season. I think if peonies and lily-of-the-valley bloomed year 'round, we would all be better people...or, at least our houses would smell like heaven.

Most of the time, my photos serve as a tool to illustrate a story, or promote something, and that's okay. But, there are times when I remember that I can photograph for pleasure too. Sometimes that's hard for me, to not necessarily have an "assignment"...creative freedom can be a tricky thing for a perfectionist. And really, how can one possibly capture the essence of such a flower in a flat image? Well, that's the challenge, I suppose. And yet, the essence of an object is a bit subjective; it means something different to everyone. I can only try to create an image that allows the viewer to see an object the way I saw it, felt it, smelled it, lived it.

Of prolapses and bottle feeding.

Lambing this spring has not been without its challenges. One of our Shetland ewes, who has been a great mom and had no trouble in the past, ended up with a vaginal prolapse three weeks before  delivering. While not dangerous in itself, the prolapse means that the ewe must wear a harness until delivery, to hold everything in. The ewe can be bred in the future, but chances are, she'll always prolapse, and will have to wear a harness every year. However, when Maple went into labor, she never had contractions. The bag appeared, and 20 minutes later, another bag appeared, and that was it. She kept looking behind her and squatting like she had to go to the bathroom, but nothing else. So, we brought her into the barn and when I felt inside her, the first lamb's head and hooves were right at the entrance to the birth canal and Maple was fully dilated. So, I had to go in and pull the lambs out. They are beautiful, healthy babies, but no more breeding for Maple.

The last ewe to deliver was our smallest ewe, Ada, and it was her first time. The short of it is that she rejected one of her lambs, and he's now residing in our living room. He's a tiny thing, and now five days later, I'm still not sure he's going to make it. However, there is no shortage of love for this guy around here...