Ahh, Winter

We have a nice layer of ice over everything, and more ice is coming this weekend.

A coating of ice on the snow and trees is lovely. It sparkles in the sun. A coating of ice on the ground where one walks is not so lovely. I did chores this afternoon, so over my boots I pulled on the clever footwear that helps you stand upright on ice. (Can't remember the name...YakTrak? BakTrak? YakBak?) They are made of rubber strips covered with coils of metal, and work okay.

Somewhere in this house I have something better, but I'm not sure where they are: a pair of serious spikes. They're awkward to attach beause you have to sit down and strap them on, but those things have 1/2" spikes. When you step onto the ice, you know you aren't going anywhere. (I'd gotten them for a winter photography class on the North Shore of Lake Superior years ago, where we were walking on icy rocks paying more attention to the camera than to the ice. One fall and you were a quick five foot slide into the icy water.)

These yakky things, though, provide less confidence. So I walked from building to building with my arms out for balance, gaze locked on the ground in search of less shiny spots in which to step. shuffling along like a 95-year-old (no disrespect intended to those who are 95---you should walk carefully.)

It took me twice as long to walk the 700 feet to the mailbox, and I lost all sense of time as I entered this Zen Zone of step, look, shuffle, step. I didn't have my cell phone with me, and Melissa was inside recovering from a neck procedure she had this morning. (More on that later when we know how it worked---we're aiming for headache relief.) So if I landed on my keister and broke something, it was either crawl back to the house, or crawl to the road and flag down a passing motorist, of which there are about 3 per day. Luckily the Yak things worked well enough, or perhaps it was walking like I was 95.

The dogs are always surprised by ice. Open the back door and all three go blasting out to do their thing. Two seconds later they've spread their feet wide in alarm, and the look on their faces says, "Whoa!" They, too, begin walking as if they're 95 (which is 13 in dog years, and 2 of them are 13! What synchronicity...) When I let the dogs back outside two hours later, they do the same thing. "Whoa!" And the third time? "Whoa!"

Gotta love dogs---they are the best optimists in the world. "This time the world won't be slippery."

The sheep do fine in the ice because they walk the same path. It gets worn down, and the droppings of round sheep poop add lots of traction. The only animal I'm worried about is Chachi, our aging llama. He doesn't like going up and down the hill to the hay anyway, and when it's icy, he won't do it. When he does venture out, he walks like he's, well, 95.

So he's locked in a pen in the barn with his own water and own hay. That way I don't have to worry about any broken llama legs.

I'm all ready to do chores all weekend, and make sure the animals don't have to negotiate a skating rink to get to their hay. But I think I'm going to brave the front hall closet and search for those spike attachments.

I may need them.

Snow, Bad Sheep, and the Loch Ness Llama

This winter we set up a long row of six big round bales, surrounded them with feeder panels, and let the sheep and llamas have at it. It's close enough to the house that I can look out the dining room window and see everything, which I enjoy.

The llamas liked to eat on the far side. Zipper, the dark brown llama, would appear and disappear, looking a great deal like the Loch Ness Monster.

Now you see him...



Now you don't...




And here he is again, coming up for air...





Here's a ewe sitting on the hillside, contemplating life, or snow.





After we got all that heavy snow during the holidays, it took me awhile to notice that the llamas were no longer eating on the far side. They were eating on the closer side. Neither of us paid too much attention until it was TOO LATE.

Here's how sheep are supposed to eat their hay:




Here's how they were eating the hay today:




No, your eyes aren't deceiving you. There are bad, bad sheep standing IN the hay, freely peeing and pooping on perfectly good food. And how much of this peed-on or pooped-on hay do sheep and llamas like to eat? None of it. Can't really blame them.

The snow blew up against the back of the feeder and became hard-packed and ice-coated. It basically formed a convenient ramp leading right up to the feeders, leaving only two feet between snow and the top of the panels. Two feet is nothing for a sheep to hop.

This snow build-up is probably why the llamas stopped eating from that side---they were standing too high above the hay to reach down comfortably and eat.

So today Melissa and I suited up. It was 5 above, so we were comfortable. We marched down to the feeder armed with a shovel and some seriously sharp and dangerous gouging and chipping tools. For an hour we hacked and shoveled and hacked and shoveled, occasionally using inappropriate language as the gouging tool bent back or the ice wouldn't yield. Finally we lowered the snow pack to 3 and 1/2 feet below the top of the panel.

One hour later I looked out the window. All was well. Good. All our hard work paid off.



Two hours later I looked out the window to see this:




Heavy, heavy, sigh.

I really don't know what to say that wouldn't require me to censor the entire sentence....

Tomorrow we will suit up again, and hack and shovel until we get the snow level low enough to foil the leaping beasts.


(On the happy side, though, YARN sale is still going on...scroll to earlier post.)

Treat Yourself to Yarn!

I hope everyone had a great holiday. If you didn't get what you wanted for Christmas, here's your chance. Rising Moon Farm now has yarn for sale.

So here's the yarn's story: The sheep were sheared during a lovely late March party. It's cold here, so if you're going to be outside, you've got to turn it into a party.

Then the fleece hopped a ride with my aunt and uncle back to Broadus, Montana, where a relative who owns the Big Sky Quality woolen mill cleaned, carded, and spun it into white yarn. Then the US post office brought it back to me from Montana.

Then up to St. Paul, where a very talented woman named London hand-dyed and hand-painted the yarn. (www.myfriendlondon.com---please paste this address...I can't seem to make the link work.) London did lots of fun, spring and summer colors, just what we need to get us through the winter!

I've had several knitting experts look at the yarn. When Annie Modesitt, author of Romantic Hand Knits, and Joanne Seiff, author of Knit Green, raved about 'spring' and 'great hand' and how soft the yarn is, it really set our little shepherd-hearts a' poundin'.

It turns out that Merino sheep isn't the only breed to yield a soft yarn---our yarn is wear-against-your-skin soft, and is sturdier than Merino. Our sheep are a Corriedale cross, and Corriedales were developed by crossing Merino with English Leicester sheep.

Our friend Kathy took a skein of undyed yarn and pronounced it wonderful for cables. Here's a little sample she knit: (Thanks, Kath!)




I kept two skeins for myself, and have started a pair of socks. I'm including what I've done so far so you can see that there isn't any irritating striping. London is a master dyer!

Here's the hand-painted sport weight I chose:




And here's the sock, so far...



What follows are your choices:

1) one natural brown yarn (no dye, just Mother Nature and Ewe #704)

2) 10 colors of hand-dyed worsted yarn

3) 6 colors of hand-dyed fingering yarn

4) 7 colors of hand-painted sport yarn


London dyed the yarn in batches of 2-4 skeins, so you may want to buy all of a dye lot so you'll have enough for a project. The approximate length and weight of each DYE LOT is listed after each color, as is the price.


Here we go.... (UPDATE---much has been sold, but there are some lovely skeins left! Here's what's left:

3 Coral, 1 Green Grass, 3 Tangerine, 2 Lavender, 2 Pretty in Pink, 2 Bright Turquoise, 1 Pink Roses, 3 Candy Corn)


1) Non-dyed, non-painted... Just some lovely brown yarn that Ewe #704 made all on her own...



We have 0 skeins of this.
1 skein at 3.1 oz, $ 9 SOLD Laura
8 skeins at 3.6 oz, $ 10 (3 sold 12/28, Amelia...5 SOLD to Laura
1 skein at 4.2 oz, $ 12 SOLD Laura

(This naturally colored yarn is not quite as soft as the other yarn, so you might want to use it for something that won't be worn directly against the skin.)



Hand-dyed Worsted Weight:



I realize that yarns don't usually have subtitles like books do, but this yarn has one: The Color That Freaked Out the Camera. It's a lovely color, bright and lively, but not as flourescent as the camera thinks.

Coral: 3 skeins
3.6 oz (208 yds): $13
3.6 oz (208 yds): $13
3.7 oz (215 yds): $14




Purple Rain: 0 skeins
3.4 oz (195 yds): $13 SOLD--Kathryn
3.5 oz. (200 yds): $13 SOLD--Kathryn
3.8 oz (220 yds): $14 SOLD--Kathryn




Cornflower: 0 skeins
3.5 oz (200 yds) :$13 SOLD: Karen
3.8 oz (220 yds): $14 SOLD: Karen




Tuscan Gold: 0 skeins
3.5 oz (200 yd): $13 SOLD-Ellen
3.7 oz (215 yd): $14 SOLD-Ellen
3.8 (220 yd): $14 SOLD-Ellen




This green is brighter than in the photograph.

Green Grass: 1 skein
3.4 oz (200 yd) $13 SOLD Peg
3.5 oz (200 yd) $13 SOLD Peg
3.6 oz (208 yd) $13





Faded Denim: 0 skeins
3.4 oz (200 yd) $13 SOLD
3.5 oz (200 yd) $13 SOLD
3.7 oz (215) $14 SOLD



Corn Tassel: 0 skeins
3.5 oz (200 yd) $13 SOLD-Ellen
3.6 oz (208 yd) $13 SOLD-Ellen





Celery: 0 skein left
3.5 oz (200 yd) $13 SOLD: Amanda
3.6 oz (208 yd) $13 SOLD: Amanda
3.7 oz (215) $14 SOLD: Sarah Jane






Summer Straw: 0 skein left
3.3 oz (190 yds): $13 (SOLD--Phyllis)
3.6 oz (208 yd) $13 (SOLD--Phyllis)
3.7 oz (215) $14 SOLD---Pam




This is another color that made my camera cover up its lens and cry out in pain, "Too bright! Too bright!" Big baby.

Tangerine: 3 skeins LEFT
3.7 oz (215) $14
3.8 oz (220 yds): $14 SOLD--Ellen
4.0 oz (230 yds): $14
4.1 oz (240 yds): $15






Hand-dyed Fingering Weight:



Autumn Leaves: 0 skeins
3.6 oz (360 yds): $19 SOLD--Kathryn
3.8 oz (380 yds): $20 SOLD--Kathryn




Lavender: 2 skeins LEFT
3.4 oz (340 yds): $17 SOLD Peg
3.7 oz (370 yds): $19
3.8 oz (380 yds): $20




My Blue Jeans: 0 skeins,
3.1 oz (310 yds): $16 SOLD--Pam
3.3 oz (330 yds): $16 SOLD--Pam
3.5 oz (350 yds): $19 SOLD--Pam
3.7 oz (370 yds): $19 SOLD--Pam




Rhubarb Sauce: 0 skeins
3.4 oz (340 yds) $17 SOLD: Sharon
3.5 oz( 350 yds) $18 SOLD: Sharon
3.7 oz (370 yds) $19 SOLD: Sharon




Pretty in Pink: 2 skein LEFT
3.1 oz (310 yds): $16 SOLD Peg
3.2 oz (320 yds): $16
3.4 oz (340 yds): $17




Bright Turquoise: 2 skeins left
3.3 oz (330 yds): $16
3.4 oz (340 yds) $17
3.5 oz( 350 yds) $18 SOLD---Maggie
3.6 oz (360 yds) $19 SOLD--Maggie





Hand-painted Sport Weight:



Lemon Lime: 0 skeins left
3.3 oz (190) $15 SOLD--Renee
4.0 oz (230) $17 SOLD--Renee
4.1 oz (240) $19 SOLD---Ellen






Wild Blue Yonder: 4 skeins (I like this so much...may selfishly keep..not sure)
3.9 oz (225) $17
3.9 oz (225) $17
3.9 oz (225) $17
4.0 oz (230) $17



Pink Roses: 1 skein
3.8 oz (220) $17 SOLD Peg
3.9 oz (225) $17 SOLD Peg
4.6 oz (265) $19





Lilac Bush: 0 skeins
3.9 oz (225) $17 SOLD-Pam
4.0 oz (230) $17 SOLD-Pam





Mother Earth: 0 skeins
3.8 oz (220) $17 SOLD-Pam
4.0 oz (230) $17 SOLD-Pam





Watermelon: 0 skeins
3.7 oz (215) $17 SOLD: Kath
3.9 oz (225) $17 SOLD: Kath
4.3 oz (250) $19 SOLD: Kath




Candy Corn: 3 skeins
3.8 oz (220) $17
3.9 oz (225) $17
4.0 oz (230) $18


There. That's it. Hopefully there's something here for everyone!

What next?

Claim the skeins you want in this blog post's Comment Section, where I'll also post updates about what's available, or email me directly.

Then please send a check to Rising Moon Farm, Box 21, Zumbrota, MN 55992. Please include $5 for postage if you're ordering 1-3 skeins. Postage for 3-5 skeins is $7.50, and 5-10 skeins is $10. Once I receive your check, I'll ship the yarn.

Sorry we aren't set up to do PayPay yet... something to work on in the future if people like the yarn.

We are SO excited about our yarn...from our sheeps' backs, to yours....

Wishing you a warm and safe New Year's!

Catherine and The Farmer (who will never take up knitting, but who's proud as punch of the yarn from her sheep)

I'm a Yarn Tease

So we raise sheep. We shear the sheep. Our shearer Drew says, "This wool ain't worth much." We like Drew. We believe Drew. Drew knows a great deal about sheep and wool.

But our dear friend Drew isn't a spinner or a knitter (at least not that we know of), so he must be forgiven for not knowing that our wool is actually very good for spinning and knitting. We sold some yarn and roving made from it a few years ago, then had more spun into yarn this year.

Our friend Kathy knit with it, and raved about its softness, even though there isn't a speck of Merino or alpaca or angora in it. She said it makes great cables, which will mean something to those of you who knit, and not much to non-knitters, or to knitters like myself too cowardly to try cables. She showed it to a friend who designs patterns for Vogue and teaches knitting, and Annie thought it had great 'spring' and immediately took some home with her.

It's been interesting, as shepherds, to begin paying more attention to what happens to the fleeces once our sheep are done with them.

And now we've hooked up with a great hand-dyer, and she's happily dipping our yarn in dyes and painting them with dyes and having all sorts of fun. Here's what she's done so far....




So, this is just a tease, 'cause she's not done yet. When she finishes, we'll give the yarn silly names, perhaps put labels on them, then offer them for sale on this blog, and on our website. So check back mid-January, when you've recovered from the holidays and feel a need to increase your stash (that's knitter talk, by the way. I'm so good at picking up jargon, no?)

Dental Day on Rising Moon Farm

We have three llamas, hard-working guys that protect our flock from coyotes and any curious humans. We sheared Chachi, Zipper and Tucker last year, so they look better, (Thanks, Annie), but they still had 'issues.'

We didn't realize it, but llamas need to have their teeth trimmed.

Yowza. What to do? Then our friend Ann, a vet working for the University of Minnesota, suggested that a class of vet students could come to our farm and perform the llama dental work as a learning experience. We jumped at the chance.

The llamas, however, were less enthused. But their teeth were really bad, so we had to. I was occupied elsewhere, so Melissa took the photos and shared the experience. Here's Chachi's mouth.




Here's Zipper's mouth.




Because the llamas weigh between 350 and 400 pounds, and they don't like to be touched, the vets gave them a gentle sedative. Even then, our guys didn't want to settle down, so before the dental work, they wrapped a towel around the eyes, and like magic, the llama got all sleepy.

First step---mark where on the teeth you're going to trim. Note the blue marks on the teeth.




Second step---put a black tube toward the back of the mouth so the animal will chew on that instead of on young vet fingers. (Note: llamas don't have upper teeth in front---just a pad)

Third step---use a sort of small whirling grinder to trim the teeth, all the while squirting water on the teeth to keep them cool.








And once those teeth are nice and short, flossing is a good idea.





The vet students at work:




Here's Zipper with his new teeth. Much better! (The ears back, however, mean he's not a happy camper. Good thing he's not a spitter.)




The llamas also had their hooves trimmed:




The more experience, the better, so the vet students checked the udders of all our sheep, and found one with active mastitis. Yikes. Antibiotics for that girl. They examined a lamb with a joint problem. They took a blood sample from a ram to have it checked for the scrapies gene.

We'd never had our ram tested for sperm count, so they did that as well. ***Please note: there are no photos of this procedure!*** They used an ejaculator to collect the sperm. (Gosh, so sorry I missed that.) Then the students used Melissa's microscope to determine that Erik isn't just okay fertile, he's SUPER fertile.

Mid-afternoon the students left. We kept the animals by the barn for a few more hours to give the llamas time to feel better, and shake off their sedative. By evening, they were back out on pasture, munching grass with their fine new teeth.

A Big Day for Two Professional Shepherds

For weeks all I've been focused on was preparing for the fundraising event that would bring Garrison Keillor to our little town last Sunday, October 11.

Finally the day arrived and boyohboy was I anxious about how this show would work.

Melissa and I had the task of greeting Garrison when he arrived, giving him a quick tour of the movie theater, then getting him backstage for a sound check, then to the green room for practice with some of the musicians, then after the show to the press area, then walking one block to the dinner building, then back to a private dining room, then to mingle with the crowd, then back to his car. Easy, right?

Let me say this. It was nearly an impossible task, even for two professional shepherds. Amateur shepherds would have melted or exploded.

Once in the theater, the guy made a beeline for the popcorn machine, and from that moment on, he went where he wanted, when he wanted. Melissa and I just tagged along, murmuring helpfully that it was really time to go here, and now it was really time to go there. At the dinner we were having trouble getting him through the crowds to the private dining room, so Melissa took his arm and said sweetly, "Follow me or I'll scream."

It almost worked until one of the guest musicians insisted he pose with them for a photo. Arghh.

Anyway, moving Garrison from spot to spot was like herding cats.

The show, by the way, was amazing. He kept 270 people enthralled for nearly three hours, and some people were laughing so hard they were crying. The music was great, and the volunteers were amazing.

Even the radio script actors and the sound effects people stayed relatively calm as Garrison began rewriting the show 30 minutes before it began.

For example, we were doing a Lone Ranger radio script, and we'd asked Garrison to be Tonto. (Ha!) He agreed, but decided that it would work better if Tonto was Norwegian. The audience roared every time he opened his mouth and delivered Tonto's lines in fake Norwegian.

Here he is singing with the Sawtooth Bluegrass Band...




And giving a hysterical Lake Woebegone monologue...




And accepting a painting of Zumbrota's Covered Bridge as a gift...




And the finale sing-along....




And the sing-along at the dinner... (which he started spontaneously)




And finally, here are the two professional shepherds and their charge, a herd of cats disguised as a very tall, very talented storyteller.

Hardly a Farm in Sight


We had a marvelous trip to the North Shore of Lake Superior, where we met two faithful blog-readers, Chicken Mama and Mama Pea. Not only are they DELIGHTFUL women, but their spouses are great, and we enjoyed meeting all four of them.

As a blogger I should have snapped many photos, but the camera went AWOL half-way through the trip, and I didn't have the energy to track it down. And then some of the photos I did shoot didn't actually get taken. I seem to be a Digital Dummy.

So here are a few. Basically my view of Melissa was the top of her head as she scrounged for agates and other interesting rocks. The first photo doesn't show that she is basically soaked along the lake side of her body---too busy watching the rocks to watch the waves.





We didn't find anything but small pebble-sized agates, but on the way home we stopped at a rock shop in Beaver Bay, where the guy was selling fist-sized agates (for $400!) that locals find. Melissa and I looked at each other, and the thought passed between us: Let's sell the farm and move up here and become 'locals' that find fist-sized agates!

Okay, perhaps not.

Chicken Mama's little cabin was lovely, and the wood stove was toy-sized, but it could sure kick out the heat. Mama Pea kept us in treats---homemade coffee cake, homemade ginger snaps, and bags of fresh popcorn for the ride home. Yes, it's true: we were spoiled.

One evening we drove 90 minutes to reach Chicken Mama's incredible home in the middle of the Superior National Forest. As I remarked to Melissa as we drove and drove and drove on a narrow, winding gravel road, "there'd better be a damned good view at the end of this trip." I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to live this far from civilization.

I figured it out when we arrived. Boy, was there ever a 'good view.' We could see Canada and river valleys and tree-lined bluffs, and the nearest neighbor was not 10 blocks away, but 10 miles. We had a wonderful dinner, lots of dog time, and some wine.

Then on the drive home in the dark, we kept hoping we'd see a moose along this narrow, winding gravel road. Nada.

But when we eventually hit blacktop, a young bull moose showed up in front of us, loping along, his hooves clicking on the blacktop. We didn't pass him because he'd weave now and then, and we didn't want to hit him. So we'd stop, turn off our lights (we were obviously alone in the wilderness), and wait for him to go into the ditch. Then we'd turn on the lights, start up, and he'd come lumbering out of the ditch to mosey along in front of us. He'd look back at us every once and awhile, not all that concerned. After nearly three miles he decided to stop using our car as a flashlight and moved off into the woods.

The one odd thing? Molly the hunting dog loves the woods, has no fear of guns, and will play in ponds and streams. But Lake Superior? It was Talking Water. It was Shouting-Booming-Spraying Water and she wanted nothing to do with it. She was so scared there was no reasoning with her, so at this beach I finally gave up and found her a nice spot in the trees, where she was content to sit in the shade and avoid the scary lake.



We brought home 47,000 pounds of rocks, a tired puppy dog (who got plenty of running-around-in-the-woods time), and sense of renewal.

Shouting-Booming-Spraying Water does that for me, and I highly recommend it.