Muy, Muy, Caliente*

*very, very hot




It's a long story, but we currently have 6 sheep on the farm who missed their March shearing. And since it's so &^% hot outside, we gotta get that fleece off. They've been living in and around the barn so they can get out of the sun, but it's still too 'caliente' for them.

So imagine this. It's shearing day in late June, three months after the usual shearing day. It's nearly 90 degrees outside, and the sun is beating down on the roof of the barn. You're in the back of the barn where there's no air flow. Every movement you makes sends the sweat pouring down your face, trickling down your back. You feel soggy, sticky, and close to fainting.




If you can imagine all this, then you can imagine what I felt like in that barn....

....taking photos of Melissa and Robin shearing the sheep.

Oh, I was hot. After I'd taken my seven photos, I staggered back to the house and drank a gallon of water to replace the lost fluids. I rested under the ceiling fan for an hour until I felt slightly restored. Melissa and Robin sheared for a few hours, plagued by dull shearer blades and an overheating machine that tended to smoke if it wasn't given a regular rest.




I'm sure they were cool since they seemed to be in high spirits. And besides, their clothing was totally soaked through with sweat, as were their headbands, so I'm sure the breeze blowing across the wet fabric cooled them... oh, except there wasn't any breeze.

Anywho... most of the sheep got sheared, but that overheating shearer (the mechanical clippers, not the human) need some work before Melissa can finish.

Speaking of clipping, our cat Pumpkin had his annual spring shearing, which leaves him a bit naked but free of the horrible matts that form during the winter. I actually was part of that shearing, getting to hold him, wrapped in a towel, as he squirmed and cussed us out the thirty minutes it took to shear him. Pumpkin has claimed the new deck table as his, as well as my knee.









The garden is growing as if on steriods, the lambs are getting huge (photos soon), and we're staying cool. Today for noon dinner we had steamed asparagus (ours), spinach salad (ours), and lamb kabobs (also ours.) Felt really, really good.

An Actual Garden

We, being country dwellers, are constantly asked about our 'garden,' as if it's a given: live in the country, grow vegetables. For fifteen years I have rolled my eyes at this question and tartly replied, "We don't have time to garden." Not only that, but I hate to weed, and lack the necessary green thumbs. Melissa's a plant freak, but lacks the time.

I don't know what happened this year, but we have a garden, an actual garden. Our neighbor Jaycee is mostly responsible. All we did was casually mention we were thinking of planting one this year, and she was over like a flash, helping Melissa set up the lumber, tilling the soil, and planting....all in one afternoon. It was a good thing I was gone, or I'd have fainted from the idea alone. I suspect Jaycee has been waiting 15 years to help us plant a garden.

Here it is!




Plants are actually growing. I have actually weeded a bit. The snow peas and regular peas and beans and potatoes and spinach and squash are all doing well. We thought the line of basil looked nice until our neighbor Karen took Melissa in hand and pointed out there was only one basil plant in that row...the rest were lovely, basil-like weeds. Basically if you get down on your knees and put your face into the soil, you can see this basil plant. My plans for mass-producing our own pesto might be in jeopardy.




Another spring project---I realized early May that our retired friend Joe faced a long, boring summer of doing nothing but golfing. Can you imagine the strain of that? Concerned, I offered to let him build us a small deck to avoid the tedium of hitting a little ball around all day. He gratefully accepted my offer, and by the end of May we had this lovely deck.

Now I must stain it, then plant stuff around it, and track down some real patio furniture. I'm just so grateful to finally have a flat place on which to sit. I intend to spend the summer sitting here, drinking wine and watching my vegetable garden grow.

And finally, there's our rock garden, which over the last few years had been taken over by weeds. Our friend Mary stayed with us for a few days to help with lambing, and ended up redoing most of the rock garden. Isn't it lovely?






We have a growing garden, a great deck, and a lovely rock garden...not because we're skilled at these things.... but because we're brilliant when it comes to choosing friends....

My Dad Called....

No, I'm not in trouble, at least not that much. My dad is so busy that sometimes, early in the morning when he's practicing his insomnia, he reads my blog to find out what's new with me. When he checks a few times and there's nothing new, it's time for a phone call to remind me to keep posting.

Some dads nag their kids to pay their bills and file their taxes on time. Mine bugs me to post.

So here it is: Lambing is done for the year. Of course with 1/3 of our usual number of pregnant ewes, we have fewer lambs. Twenty-five live lambs, which is great. (We had a few tragedies, as is typical, and lost a few.) We had lots of birthing problems, so I spent some time lying on the wet, cold ground holding ewes down at their shoulders while Melissa did her thing at the other end. The steers, immensely curious, would gather at the fence and watch, wide-eyed, at the activity, treating us like their own personal reality TV.

Here are a few bottle lambs we 'arrested' for Excessive Cuteness: Mint 129 and Green 6087. If seen, do not approach. Instead, call a professional shepherd, as we are immune to those big eyes and floppy ears and the happy little hops lambs make as they follow you around the yard.








As you can see, my mother didn't take my advice and has succumbed to Mint 129's charms. These animals are dangerous, people. Approach with caution.



All the bottle lambs went to wonderful homes, so now we're in our two-week Post-Lambing Recovery Period, meaning we're too tired to think straight. Melissa might have been too tired to operate the tractor yesterday: Sitting in the loader bucket was a container of old, rotten eggs she was going to bury in a compost pile. (Sometimes chickens and ducks hide their eggs and we don't find them until the eggs are too old.) Inside the tractor cab she dropped a heavy tool chest, which fell against the controls for the bucket, which lowered the bucket and tipped the container of icky eggs out onto the driveway.

I wasn't there, but I'm sure very bad words were said.

Last night I cleaned up to go in town to the movie (we'd been trying for 2 weeks, failing every night.) Then I remembered I hadn't fed the lamb in the barn. Her mom doesn't have enough milk for both twins, so I'm feeding one, who's going to a good home tomorrow.

I'm in the barn in my clean clothes, trying not to touch anything as the lamb drinks enthusiastically from the bottle. Suddenly the heavens open up and rain pounds the roof. Oh, great.

But the rain lets up a bit, I turn to look out the barn door, and see the most incredible double-rainbow arching across the sky. It's a perfect rainbow, and I wish I could tell Melissa about it but she's in the house. By the time the lamb finished the bottle, the rainbow had faded away and the rain stopped. I walked back to the house, miraculously still clean and dry.

Inside Melissa paced. "Where were you? I was trying to find you to show you the rainbows."

I like that after 25 years, we still want to show each other the beautiful things we see.