Happy Anniversaries

Twenty-two years ago today we closed on this farm...and each other.  Technically it was the 23rd, but I liked the idea of the fall equinox (possibly my favorite day of the year :-), so our anniversaries are a floating holiday, depending on the year.

This has been a horribly long, hot, dry summer so I'm especially celebrating that we got some much needed rain and cooler temperatures today, just in time for the fall equinox.  The farm is celebrating, too.  

I actually enjoyed walking out to our oldest pear tree this afternoon to gather some fruit to try to make a pear tart. I tried to set up a photoshoot with the freshly baked tart resting under the tree, but the rain pushed us back to the porch.  That's an okay trade.  I brought the tree to the porch :-).

Twenty-two years ago my mother looked at that pear tree and said it was very old and she didn't think it would last much longer.  That old tree outsmarted the spring freeze that took all the rest of the pears and apples here and at the local orchards and it was loaded with pears this year.

This is a very dear little farm.  Thank you.  For everything.

Work In Progress

Thank you so much for all the kind comments and notes I've received about Maisie.  She was a sheep with a lot of friends.  So missed by so many.  

I think Baaxter is doing okay.  He was pretty unsure what to do the first couple of days, but he's started going out to graze in the driveway a little and I think he's finding his way.  He's a curmudgeonly old guy, but I think he loved her more than he let on.

I've been mostly hiding out knitting the sweater that I'd hoped would have been finished weeks ago.  Maybe it was good to be slow starting as I've needed this time and it's a good reminder that spinning, knitting, weaving, crocheting, felting, dyeing...can help sooth a broken brain and heart.

Remember the walnut dyed yarn?  And the comfrey and goldenrod?  The green is comfrey and the yellow is from the green leaves of the goldenrod.  The tan, rust and brown are from green walnut hulls.  The yarn started as the nearly white with a hint of Baaxter's gray wool mixed in Lamb Camp Bottle Lamb yarn.  

I tweaked the Vintersol pattern by Jennifer Steingass to represent my favorite fall flowers.  I'd hoped to have this finished by the time the goldenrod bloomed, but I'm running behind...as usual...and in case I don't get the sleeves done before the blooms have faded, here's a quick shot.  

As hot as it's been this week, I'm tempted to leave the sleeves off!

Transplants

As I was picking some tomatoes for dinner last night I noticed several monarch caterpillars trying to make a living on some pretty marginal milkweed in the raised bed area.  Even with trying to keep everything watered, this summer has been hot and dry and the milkweed has paid a price.

I was headed off to our weekly Wool House Crafters zoom meeting so I couldn't do anything about them right then, but this morning I headed out to see if I could find and move them to a couple of greener plants in the nearby B Garden.

I stewed about whether or not it was okay to do that, but a couple of them were pretty small and sickly looking.  Moving them might be their only chance of making it to maturity.  I carefully snipped their current leaves from the dried plants and placed them on a greener neighbor.  Each caterpillar immediately started eating the fresh(er) leaves. 

I hope everyone has had a good monarch summer.  I've seen more butterflies this summer than I've seen the last ten years combined.  Same with caterpillars.  The one thing I'm not seeing...or finding...are their chrysalises.  Hopefully they are out there and I should just stick to finding four leaf clovers.

I'd love to find at least one to watch open though.

What are you seeing your way?

To The Moon And Back

It will be a surprise to no one that she didn't go down without a fight.  She'd started having trouble getting up and needed help a couple of times.  She didn't like that, but once she was up, she cheered back up and trucked on like normal.  Not normal Maisie, but normal for these last few months.

She wasn't able to walk around very much and no one was any longer in any real danger of being taken out in a side attack, but she'd still swing her head around to remind us and her teeth still worked just fine if she thought you were not scratching her back enough or being stingy with the cookies.

I had started watching her pretty closely on the barn cameras and noticed Saturday morning she was struggling to get up so I went out and helped her up.  It was 6:00 in the morning.  She didn't lay back down until 1:00 Sunday afternoon.  31 hours on her feet.  Not. Giving. Up.

I couldn't figure out if she was just scared to lay down or if her arthritis was just so bad that it hurt too much to lay down.  I let her decide what she wanted to do and even though I really wanted her to just  please take a nap, I didn't force it.  I'd have helped her get back up forever.

In the end I think she believed if she went down that it was all over.  And I think she was as disappointed as the rest of us that she didn't live forever.  When she finally laid down, she instantly fell asleep for good while and that brought me some peace watching her...like I'd watched her for so many years.

I sat down next to her and then leaned over and put my head next to hers and we laid there nose to nose, both afraid we'd never be able to get up again.  She snuggled into my hands and I'm not sure if she was looking for comfort or trying to comfort me.  She heard the vet pull in and I knew she knew and I could tell she was upset.  I'm not sure if she was scared or sad.  

The vet and I talked about how tough she had been her whole life while she gave her the first shot.  She was chewing on a mouthful of hay and then closed her eyes and went to sleep for the last time.  I held her head in my hands, stroking her face telling her how much she was loved while she got the second shot.  I hope when she woke up, there was a big white dog sniffing her, wagging his tail in greeting.  I hope she's not as gutted as I am.

This morning I walked outside in the pre-dawn to a brilliant rainbow around the full moon.  All the colors were there and so bright.  I went back inside for my camera, but couldn't capture it.  I'll  keep the colors in my memory.  My heart wants to believe it was a gift from over the rainbow bridge.

To end this on a more cheerful note, here's maybe my favorite Maisie memory.  There are so many great ones.  I'm not sure I ever wrote about it and I sure wish I'd taken some videos.  We can curse these crazy cell phones these days, but I'd give anything to have had a smart phone back in her baby days.

She lived in the house for months that first winter.  Once we got her eating issues straightened up and her legs growing in the right direction, she loved to run.  There's only so much some towels on a slick kitchen floor would help, so she was allowed to run all over the carpeted house to play and exercise.

Tim would sit on the couch with his arm hanging over the side and she'd come over and sniff his fingers.  Right when she'd almost touch them he'd make a buzz sound and she'd scream with lamb laughter and race away with her tail spinning...and come right back to do it again and again.  She loved that game.

At a neighborhood gathering once I admitted that "I've never loved anything as much as her...and I'm pretty fond of Tim."  The comment of course got back to him and he quickly replied that he already knew where he stood.  

We all loved her to the moon and back.  

Maisie

November 25, 2012 - September 7, 2025

We buried her on the hill next to Hank.  I thought about adding her angel costume, but ended up just making her a new pretty halo.  I told her she didn't have to wear it, but maybe should take it with her...just in case she needed it.