Back to the Garden

Twenty four hours is a long while to be gone from a place like this: a labor intensive-dependent place, with living, breathing, eating dependents. We got back late yesterday afternoon, ate, relaxed, and slept. This morning, the celestial choir awakened us. All 9 roosters were going off, simultaneously, in pairs, in quartets, in…well, you get the idea. They were just so needy. Artie, the muse, on the other hand…



She is laying on, you guessed it, Sally’s fleece, all rolled up in an old sheet. I haven’t yet had time to skirt, weigh, etc, so there it sits. And, as you can see, she knows a good thing when she feels it. The gal who has to sleep with mommy, and has, for 15 years…well, there’s something better.

The garden needed attention. I planted borage seedlings, cotton seedlings, a couple rows of Jacob’s Cattle beans, and lo, oh, yeah, and behold…the Contenders are blooming. Also, we have 3 little ears of corn on corn stalk #1. Also, we pulled a dozen or so plump crisp red potatoes out from under. Also…oh pah, I won’t go on. I did have a lot to do out there, though. Fertilizing the Seminole squash and the Cocozelle…good ol rotted chicken poo hay. Watering the onions and the Brandywines. Half the dang day.

Then there was food to make. Blueberry muffins, daily bread, sausage & peppers…another good chunk o time. And, needless to say, I had to drive to the feed store.

So…the spinning didn’t get going until about an hour ago…and what should I spin? Well, Gracie came today. Gracie is a CVM Romney cross. The darkest dark brown. And as soft and silky as a bevis.


An Ounce of Gracie

This is what I did. This soft, slidey stuff takes a little bit of gettin’ used to…so, I took that ounce that I washed this afternoon, and spun ‘er up using a variety of tensions and ratios and speeds. Light, medium, and slow. There you go.

One thought on “Back to the Garden

  1. Hey I recognize that bouquet of Things in the foreground of the top picture. Artemis kinda looks like our old Tippy. Though I suspect she’s far less grouchy (and bitey) than Tippy was.

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