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I have always loved winter….the reduced hours of actual daytime work spent in critter related farm chores, and the long quiet evenings. All through the busy spring, summer and fall, I crave the deep internal time that winter brings. The possibility to do all the things that I don’t have time for the rest of the year….time to relax.

I have been knitting, exploring Gansey designs using yarn that came back from processing this fall (more about that later). And this was to be my winter for weaving; I was very thrilled when Brook helped me move my loom to the newly completely studio above the wool-room. I had a small project all planned; only had to do some calculations, wind the warp and weave.

But with growing anxiety, I am forced to realize that shearing is now 5 weeks away! New wool is coming soon, so I have tried to devote a part of each day to work in the wool-room (skirting fleeces, pulling samples, sorting wool to go out for processing). Progress has been slow, but steady and I have had the help of Minden, a young woman (an angel!) who lives in our valley and who loves working with wool, and with the sheep. Nevertheless, there are still quite a few 2007 fleeces to sort through. A consolation is that many of the fleeces that are for sale as raw wool have been put by in their boxes, and those with samples (sent out to spinners) are all in one place.

That part feels good….but oh, the rest of it. We are low on roving, low on yarn, need to sort wool for more throws. My weaving time, my knitting time, my relaxing winter time has been fading on the horizon of possibility. It isn’t as though the work is difficult (I love having my hands in wool), just that the magnitude of it has been a bit overwhelming.

But the winter is evolving in its own way….even work in the wool room has to move aside for other events in my life. My mother has been very ill and there need to be frequent trips to Ohio to be with her. And unexpectedly, the radiologist that I cover for has had back surgery this week. I will be working more or less full time at the hospital until he feels able to be up and about, and to read the studies on his computer at home (thank goodness for digital radiography!).

I should add here that I LOVE my work; it is fascinating, rewarding, completely enjoyable. But my winter isn’t even remotely the one that I planned. However it is the one that I am living….I can accept all the changes or resist them. My lesson is to let go of all expectations…and live each day as it presents itself.

A fragment of a poem by Tony Hoagland (which I read recently in the Writer’s Almanac)….

What I thought was an end turned out to be a middle.
What I thought was a brick wall turned out to be a tunnel.
What I thought was an injustice
turned out to be a color of the sky.

Eva…December 28, 2007

A bright light has gone from our farm…Puddleduck Eva has passed away. She would have been 15 years old this spring, and has been with us for the last 6 of those years. Although she was never bred heavily, over her lifetime, Eva has been mother and grandmother to nearly 60 sheep. She was everything a Shetland sheep should be…

When Eva first came to live with us, she was not particularly affectionate, yet never timid. When she lambed at 10 and then again at 12, she got extra feed and quickly grew to expect it, following me quietly…watching carefully, waiting patiently.

She was such a loving and competent mother. Unlike other lambs, her young ones stayed with her, or if they were off playing, they always came when they were called.

She gave us four lambs:
Plum (above with Eva) and her brother,Willym…

And in her last pregnancy, she gave us twin ewe-lambs, Viola and Valeria (aka Valentine). They were clones of their mother, in their beauty and their sweetness. Viola stayed with us and Valentine has gone to make her home at Boulderneigh.

From the winter of her 13th year, we invited Eva into the feed-room each evening (along with another older ewe) for extra groceries. She was very careful to remind me that she was ready to eat, baa-ing when she saw me coming to the barn. And if she thought that I was too slow, she would bang on the door with her hoof. Once inside, she was always calm and bold, never disturbed by my presence. When she was finished eating, I opened the door and she walked out with great ceremony.

At first Eva didn’t want to be touched, just fed. But this past year, she began to stand beside me for long minutes while I petted and talked to her after she had finished her meal.

She loved apples….and understood the word. When I asked her if she wanted some apple (she knew that I would go to the house to bring it back), she would lick her lips over and over, looking at me imploringly.

Over the past year, she has had good days and bad days, sometimes seeming quite lame, sometimes trotting across the barn and bouncing (really) into the feedroom. Even as recently as the beginning of this week, she was spry and hungry.

But two days ago, she didn’t want to come for her evening feeding. I encouraged her, but once in, she only nosed at her grain. I gave her some probiotic and B vitamins that evening, but she hated it so. Even though I might have been more aggressive in my efforts to keep her alive, she was getting to be very frail, and I couldn’t bring myself to make what seemed likely to be her last days uncomfortable or frightening.

Yesterday afternoon at choretime, she lay in the lean-to by the barn when everyone else was eating their hay. So Brook and I helped her up, and she walked into the barn. I knew that she must be cold, so I put up some jug panels and bedded it deeply in straw. Eva walked purposefully in and began to paw, making a warm place for herself. I put her feedpan in beside her, and heaped more straw around her.

At bed-time, I went to visit her and brought her some apple. But for the first time ever, she wasn’t interested. It was obvious that she meant to leave her body; I sat with her a while, and told her goodbye, that I had been so blessed to know her. This morning, she was gone….

I will miss her so much. We have been friends…two old souls together.

I haven’t been able to bring myself to write anything for weeks now. So many little pleasures and beautiful moments have gone quietly by. Not because they didn’t matter to me…they do matter very much, and ultimately are all we have. I haven’t sat down to write because my mother has been very ill, and it felt wrong to focus on the little details of our lives while this weighed so heavily on my mind. But she is better now, for the time being at least, and I can focus a bit better, and share some photos taken this month:

The sheep are a constant solace to me…making me smile, filling my heart with their sweetness.

We spend our days with our wonderful Border Collies, who help us feed the sheep and keep them back from the bits of hay that inevitably fall from our arms as we bring it into their pens.

They (especially Angus) would love to help us with the horses too…he is always in his little niche watching intently!

But we encourage the other two to stay back…we sometimes sit on the haystack with the dogs while our oldest horse (26 years this spring) finishes his grain each afternoon…and so Brook planned this photo of us all:

The world around us has been heart-stoppingly beautiful…

I love winter and the deep peace it brings. The animals are all cared for well before suppertime, and there are quiet settled-in evenings in the warm house, and long nights that let us get the rest the we crave after going full-tilt for the three preceding seasons. And of course, knitting and spinning projects finally get attention after being put aside for so long. This winter will give me time for weaving…Brook and I moved my loom up to the studio above the wool room….a bright welcoming space. So there is NO excuse now!

I have been spinning in the house with some help from my friends….although some folks DO spin from the bunny, but I am not spinning from the kitty!

Time to go work in the wool-room…my constant occupation, especially now that shearing is only a couple of months away.