I meant to post long before this, but it’s been That Kind of Week. Not that anything particularly bad has happened, it’s more the mental state of – well, everybody. Just generally crapalicious. The kind of week where I realize I’m calling myself “dumb” every fifteen minutes or so. I actually wound up going to the doctor mid-week and had to get some tests. No results yet, I’ll tell you what happens as long as it doesn’t turn out to be totally gross.

I don’t completely suck: Got an email thanking me for the 18th c, which I’m told fits and makes the girl happy, as it ought. Also got email from that wedding dress – they’re back from their honeymoon and she sent a pile of pictures and a happy review. This is good, I kind of needed that this week.

But! this is not supposed to be some kind of Manic-Depressive Digest, here; this is a craftblog with farm content. Or possibly a farm blog with craft content. (Certainly more what it feels like lately!) So: On to the farm/fibre!

Fibre on the hoof:

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It’s not really a farm, it’s a petting zoo.

I’m so relieved by how much Raven is enjoying the sheep. He actually loves them! I figured that he would warm up to them, being as much of a sucker for animals as I am, but I had no idea. He said he loved them after Freyja ate a rosebush! When I told him that after accidentally stepping on and squashing some chicken wire, Blackie discovered that tomato plants taste really good? He said, “oh well, there was frost last night anyway, and only a couple of fruits left”.

!!!

The rosebush and the tomato are isolated incidents, though. Generally they’ve been munching on clover and crabgrass and weeds and such. They do seem to stay away from the protected plants, and as a special added bonus, they crop grass right up to his borders. Raven dislikes edge trimming, and I’m always annoyed by the weedy grass blocking the view of the gardens. Thank you, sheep!

On the pain-in-the-arse side, the sheep have very thoughtfully been seeking out and escaping from every possible outlet from the yard. This was not unforseen, as we knew the fence needed mending/rebuilding in a few areas, and we never actually get down to doing that sort of thing until it’s an emergency, so it isn’t like it would have been done already if we got sheep next year. The fence is now entire, though not positively sheep-proof, but as long as their beloved Raven is home, the sheep are well satisfied to stay in and crop grass, and alarm chickens, and sleep on the deck. If, however, Raven – oh, I don’t know, let’s say goes into Windsor overnight? The sheep become concerned. Deeply concerned. Concerned enough to try to follow him and bring him back, or at least discover whether he’s actually hiding in an empty cornfield across the road, and not really gone at all.

Wednesday night was a little stressy.

Speaking of fibre on – or rather from – the hoof… Dudes, there’s nothing wrong with this wool. Seriously. Granted, it is not fine wool. I would not be knitting a lace stole from it, nor would it be suitable for a non-penitential undershirt. But arans? Oh lordy yes. Great wooly warm things for my unheated home and my chicken-filled lifestyle? Can’t wait. I’ve spun up about 2oom so far, and still a long way to go, because I have to come up with some more of those felt clogs in time for xmas. Raven and I are agreed, however, that we will cheerfully wear this wool.

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Raven is even more cheerful, because as I was washing my way through the giant pile of dirty wool currently occupying my laundry room, I discovered that we did indeed get a black fleece.

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There’s some of it drying. I can do that without advanced technology, because there is only one squirrel on my line, and he’s justly terrified of the chickens.

Spun some more of the amethyst, too:

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Other than sheep-chasing, barn-building, wool-washing, and what spinning I can do while I’m sitting on the front porch guarding the gate against sheep exodus, I am managing to crawl slowly out from under the pile of UFOs. Got the stole done and off:

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Am now turning the toe on my one pathetic attempt to participate in soctoberfest:

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A pair of socks for Ron out of the Highgate wool.

I think that’s it as far as accomplishments go… I’ve got more to say about the wool, but I’m too scattered (and trying to cram too much into this entry because I don’t post enough… I know…) so I’ll save that for later.

Baby chicken, who we are naming “Patch”, because “Little Scruffy-pants” was a bit long for such a tiny  thing, continues well.  Very well.  I’ve never seen a happier, livelier, more intelligent chick.  It’s getting really nifty-looking feathers as it fledges, kind of orange and yellow and black, but I can’t get a good picture so far, because it’s got a red lamp, and anyway it’s mother leaps in front of the camera every time I try to get a shot.  I am supposed to show you Velcro’s latest favorite nap-spot, however:

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