In early April we brought home Muir, our herding trainee Border Collie pup. We were back to being up late at night, up early in the mornings and clapping like fools at any tiny bit of urine done outside.
In late April all of our sheep got their spring haircuts. Everybody raced back into the winter paddock naked and afraid. We piled all of our wool into bags and stored them in the hayloft.
Early May saw us arriving at the farm with a box (think takeout) of week old baby chicks. We piled them into our new hen house we call the “Youth Hostel”. They needed twenty-four-hour-a-day warmth and constant attention to correct amounts of crumbles and water. Baby chickens do imprint on humans: the imprintee is then the replacement for their mother. Each time I walked into the hostel they would simultaneously begin to peep adoringly and race over to any corner that I chose to work in. I have four sons… why not?
In June the dogs and I took our first trip down the dirt road to the summer paddocks with the sheep ladies who did a lot of their stiff-legged hopping as they saw the green of the spring pasture. We relished the familiar squeak of the gate as we swung it open and they all rushed past us.
Also in June we took Mount Poosuveus, our collection of winter manure and moved it, with the help of our friend Bob-the-Bucket-guy. Hours of transporting poop up and down our hill to the pile intended for composting for fall spreading. We found a manure spreader from the 1950’s and it sits in the corner of our pastures, ready for fall action.
Farming is always about what is coming next; in the spring we are thinking about the fall, in the middle of winter I was walking gingerly on the top of crusty snow using my canvas bag seed machine to spew grass seed across the top of the snow. (Don’t you want that photo?) Much reading about growing grass helped me to become a believer in the no-tilling method of planting.
We have moved from the idea of rotational grazing to Managed Intensive Grazing – so we watch the pasture, anticipate its growth at various times during the summer and move the flock accordingly. This constitutes many conversations standing at the corner of the fence and arguing over grass height and density.
My hens are terrific layers, but I am looking toward the fall and hoping that my young chicks will pick up that mantle and become part of the production team. The care I put into everyone now will be, effectively, our product.
We received ten beautiful wool blankets from the wool we sent for processing six months ago. So now we are selling those (feel free to contact us!) but simultaneously packing more wool to send.
I was happy and grateful to receive an International Indie Book award in the children’s category for my book, The Violin Family. Covid had derailed so many of my scheduled signings and book events that I had become somewhat discouraged and worried about how I would be able to move forward with what I had planned to be a series of musical books. But this, and advice from friends John and Jennifer Churchman, the brilliant author/illustrator team of the Sweet Pea book series, propelled me – or kicked me in the rear- see it as you will, and I have decided to begin a second book. I have missed my characters. Basil Bass was named after my father, who was delighted at the honor. My dad died this past March and I guess I would like to see him continue to live, in a big, beautiful bass of a body. Violet left Luthier Paul’s shop and began to play again – I wonder about what pieces she is playing with devoted Val. Sweet Biz with her busyness: I ponder what kind of mischief we could get into together she and I. And of course Celia Violoncello – the mother to them all. Celia watches over the goings on in her Violin family. She puts aside her own blueberries to be sure everyone else can have them in their pancakes. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we looked at her? If we found out what really makes her sing?
I can make that happen, in more ways than one, and that – is a fortunate string of events, if you ask me.
Melissa Perley