For the love of plaid

It's no secret.  My love of plaid.  And this time of year my sewing thoughts always turn to plaid...and wool.  I recently received several 2-3 yard pieces from my mother's friend.  I'm envisioning varsity jackets, swing coats and pencil skirts.  But to start things off, I opted for a pair of pants.  Nothing fancy, slightly high-waisted (which is how I typically sew my pants) and narrow through the leg. 

God Made a Farmer

How badly do we miss Paul Harvey? 

And how proud are all the homesteads across the country this morning?

God Bless the Farmers.

Barnyard Romance

I've been suspicious for weeks.  Now I have proof.  Bosley, not a puppy anymore, has taken a fancy to our oldest ewe, Mammy.  Well more accurately speaking, Mammy took a fancy to him and is gently encouraging things along with her ewe-ly wiles.  One day while Bosley was chewing on the guard off an apple tree (in general he helps himself to whatever in the yard is not nailed down), Mammy quietly sauntered over to strike up a conversation.

Mammy kept it casual at first, but she was clever enough to keep the conversation about Bosley, throwing in just the right amount of flattery without seeming too obvious.  Mammy's almost 11 years old now and has a few tricks under her fleece.  Her previous extra-ovine affair was with our Collie/Lab cross, Gunther.  Theirs was a long and special relationship.

As I watched, Bosley seemed a little preoccupied.  Most likely the tree guard that he'd selected wasn't quite as palatable as he'd assumed, and he was scanning the yard for other possibilities.  Perhaps he should just go directly to the apple tree itself?  Or a rusty iron wagon wheel is always good in a pinch.  But then maybe, because of his inexperienced youth, Bosley was just a bit shy with the female sex.  Sure, Mammy was easy on the eyes, but really, where would all this sweet-talking lead?

After quite a while, Bosley stood to make his goodbyes.  An exchanged sniff, a quick lick of the nose, and he was off.  Mammy stayed by the fence for a few minutes longer but finally walked out to the back pasture to join the others.  Later CoCo complained to me that Mammy was bragging about how she had another one eating out of her hoof, but then I've never known Mammy to be insincere.  And CoCo is still trying to get over the fact that Dexter was all romance last month, but has now left her high and dry, choosing to live in the ram's barn.  Ah yes, love is in the air this month, if only you know where to find it!  Happy Valentine's Day!

Hair of the Dog

For the past couple of years now, I've been collecting dog fur.  Yep, you heard me right.  Got my dog fur collection sitting on the shelf in the living room right next to the teacup collection.  Okay, not exactly.  It's actually smashed in a box in my sewing room (the dog fur, that is, not the teacups).

Gunther, May 2000 - July 2011

 Being a spinner, I'm always conscious of fibers that can be spun.  And being thrifty, I couldn't bear to simply toss out those soft, fluffy wads of fur that I combed out of Gunther in the Spring.  And all through the Summer, actually.  Why don't dogs ever stop shedding?!  And once word of my collection got around, fur started showing up from family and friends.  My mother-in-law gave me bags of white fur from her Great Pyrenees.  My brother-in-law gave me tiny bags of rabbit fur from the pet bunny at the daycare where his wife works.  My mother gave me fur from her Red Heeler.  A bag of long, white goat hair was given to my mother to give to me from a neighbor of ours from 25 years ago.  Sheesh, word really got around!

Well, after a couple years of smashing fur into that box in the corner of my sewing room, I decided it was time to see if this was even a viable idea.  Let me tell you how lovely dog fur smells after being closed up in a box for two years . . . pretty much like the dog himself was in that box, only a bit dustier. 

Well, I persevered.  Out came the dog fur, some washed wool and the carding combs.  I mixed together all the colors of fur I had, added a bit of wool for strength and went to town.  For those of you who are not familiar with carding combs, they are essentially a pair of paddles with rows of teeth on them.  Very similar to a wide, flat hairbrush. 

The combs untangle the fibers and remove any knots or debris that hasn't been picked out.  It's important to have the fibers all running in the same direction to create a smoother yarn.  If you're trying for a cottage-y, homespun look, you can comb less and spin those nubbies into the yarn for extra texture.  Combing will, of course, blend all your colors together for a more uniform look.  Here, my white, black and brown all combined to give me a dark grey with a bit of brown flecking.

This the view I have while sitting at the spinning wheel.  I hold the combed fibers with my left hand and draw them out with my right hand.  While I pump my feet, the wheel turns, the fibers are twisted and pulled into the orifice (that's the official term) and wound onto the spool.  Voila!  Dog fur yarn!

Admittedly, the yarn turned out much more attractive than I had expected.  It's soft and heathered and still smells like a dog.  When I have a full spool, I'll take the skein off and wash it in the dog shampoo that groomers use.  Then perhaps a sweater or hat?  And when I get rained on, I'll smell like wet dog.  And I'll be very popular at the city park.  :)  Who knows.  I'll keep you updated when I actually work up something, but for now, I'm back to spinning . . . and brushing the dog.  Oh Bosley . . . where are you?

And then they grow up

It's no surprise that Springtime on the farm is one of the best times of year.  And I can tell you why in one word.  Babies.  Newborn lambs on wobbly legs, learning to sproing for the first time (and, yes, that's the official term for it).  Fluffy baby chicks, peeping and popping all over the coop.  Kittens mewing from who knows where in the hayloft.  Puppies who trip on their own feet.  It's pure joy.  And then they grow up.

So I thought I'd give you an update on the "babies" of our farm.  A few before and after photos, time lapse approximately 4 months.  Enjoy.  :)

Melly and Arrowhead, standing to about 18 inches at the top of the head, less then one month old.

Melly and her mother, CoCo, full-grown to the same size (about 32 inches) and in full wool.

Arrowhead, still small for a ram at only 32 inches high and bleached from the Summer sun.

Our four miraculous chicks back in early July...

...turned out to be three roosters and one hen, all beautiful snow white.

Bosley, aka. Flock Master JXK 5000, sacked out in the doorway, at 6 weeks old.

Bosley, fresh bone and ready to go!

Zehny, the little stray kitten we adopted back in September, has grown also, but I don't have any good comparison photos.   And the only thing that's grown on our two beefers, is their stomachs!  Good grief!  I'm weaning them off milk because this lugging buckets twice a day is getting old.  But when they hear me coming, it sounds like a whole collection of Fisher Price barn doors, opening and closing.  Bumper and Rusty hit those buckets so hard now that half of it spills.

Ah yes, babies are a joy indeed.  Sometimes it's sad to see them grow up.  But that's life on the farm!  And Life means there'll be more babies next Spring!

the Flock Master: JXK 5000

Allow me to introduce to you our newest addition to the Willow Homestead, our ferocious guard dog extraordinaire, the flock master . . . JXK 5000!  Because everyone knows that the 3500 model is sooo outdated.

Okay, so that's what my husband wanted to name him.  But the kids and I wielded our collective power and officially secured the name, Bosley.  Bosley is much easier to yell at bedtime than JXK 5000.  :)  What we looked for in choosing a new puppy was (1) the bigger, the better; (2) a mellow personality bordering on dormant; and (3) a dog that would bark at strangers and coyotes.  I think we did good.

Bosley is Great Pyrenees with perhaps a bit of Newfoundland mixed in, seeing as he has webbed toes and black patches.  He is two months old now and settling in quite nicely to the daily routine of chores.  Mostly he just lumbers along behind me and tries to nip my heels.  Luckily he doesn't nip at the chickens or cats.  But pretty much anything else that comes into contact with his sharky-shark mouth is fair game.  Shoes, toys, butterfly nets, picnic table legs, car tires, you name it.  He's all puppy.

Although for being all puppy, he's seems pretty low-key and certainly enjoys his nap times.  We're hoping that within the next 9 months or so we'll have to wake him up to feed him.  We're also hoping he'll stop being scared of the sheep.  We prematurely took him in the pasture, and he plastered himself up against the barn door (see Photo #1).  So now I just set up visitations through the fence.  He's not meant to be a herding dog, but his main job here is to protect and serve.  Our previous dog kept our yard completely free (and I mean completely) of all woodland creatures.  No squirrels, no rabbits, no deer dared step foot on our dandelion-infested lawn.  Bosley has big shoes to fill!

It really is fun to have a puppy on the farm again.  I'll be sure to keep you updated on how the Master of the Flock grows into his position, both literally and figuratively. 

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