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Pretty Boy Floyd has been added to the cast.

Yesterday was a glorious day to be born.  The sun and wind were amicable, the trees in their full autumn splendor.  Errol and I played witness to the awe of birth as Rosasharn easily welcomed her bull calf into the world.  We’ve been waiting for him.  Pretty Boy Floyd.  It’s a name we’ve had stashed away for a while, in
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Big Momma

Oh, the glow of pregnancy is illuminating all five our our glorious acres these days!  Rosasharn is a majestic Momma-to-be, with an impressive roundness we’ve never before witnessed.  Given that we’re accustomed to the size of things measured at Sheep Scale, the sheer jump in scale to Cow is impressive in its own right.  Wowee.  She reminds me of other
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Usher in the Cormo Fleeces!

Sweet Billy’s Purebred Cormo fleece is up for grabs now, as are those of his kin:  half Cormo, half Rambouillet lambswool fleeces, covered to limit exposure to vegetative matter, awaiting your deft spinning hands in all their raw glory. Find them through the top menu bar, via This is Wool. and then The Fleecing of Sweet Billy.  You’ll find the
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Yep. I made underwear.

There are some things not worth sewing yourself.  I used to put underwear in that camp:  pretty cheap, a rather unsung sort of garment.  Not the sort of thing one can brag about in that “look what I just made” sort of way.  But. Enter into the picture one boy so appreciative of anything sewn and a desperate need for
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At the Wisconsin Sheep and Wool Fest

It may not have the hype and luster of Rhinebeck, but this little Wisconsin fiber festival is not to be dismissed.  After three solid days there, I feel full to bursting with a renewed sense of vigor and excitement for all things wooly. This Coopworth/Silk roving from Hidden Valley Farm Woolen Mill winked at me as I brushed by.  We’re
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Sugar Maple Recap

  Well hello there, Strangers.  You’d think, by my lingering absence, that Summer had swallowed me whole and spit me out this side of August.  And you’d be right. Thankfully I have regained some equilibrium in time to deliver our thrilling recap of this year’s Sugar Maple Music Festival.  If you’ve hung around here for any length of time, you’ll
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Pigs in the Sandbox

The rains have soaked the ground and made wiggly the post with the gate that kept the pigs contained.  The pigs discovered the breach, likely when using the wiggly post as a scratching one.  They got out, were put back, then got out again.  After a quick walkabout, they retired to the sandbox.  The very same sandbox that is enjoyed
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Introducing Rosasharn, our Family Cow

I’ve been holding out on you, Folks.  We’ve had a monumental new addition to the Acres of late:  It’s time you’ve met Rosasharn, our Jersey girl. She is the answer to a wish I made a couple of years ago, named for the character “Rose of Sharon” in The Grapes of Wrath.  We much prefer the vernacular pronunciation of “Rosasharn.” 
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I sheared ten sheep last weekend.

I have a minivan full of fresh-clipped wool. Yet the pounds of wool per acre on my pasture remains as high as ever; none of the shearing was done on my own flock.  I’m about a third into my gig as shearer-for-hire, having started with the relieving of nine lovely ewes of their wool baggage on Saturday.  On Sunday, I
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You just never know what you will find.

Just this morning Leila scared up this brilliant bird, a Brewster’s Warbler, as best we can tell.  It hung around only long enough to rest its legs and allow us a few photos and some gentle caresses with our eager fingers.  That the cat Ruby was spotted nearby shortly after we left the traveler to rest is a sobering suggestion
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