Catching up.
In the land of good intentions, I have about 6 saved blog posts in my draft folder stretching from February until now. The fact that I haven’t posted a single one probably says a lot about both the nature of what I was writing about as well as the life timing that made it impossible to edit any of them. While I write a lot with whimsy, there are some things that require a lot of both eloquence and emotional fortitude and every time I sat down at a keyboard (also admittedly few times in the chaos) I felt I was lacking in both.
This has been a rough spring. My day job at a CPA’s office was full, mentally complex and surprisingly exhausting during tax season. I held on with the hope that as soon as April 18th hit, the pressure would ease and I could dive headfirst into the seasonal things that spring usually brings - gardening, finally getting to shear the sheep, spring cleanup around the property, etc. What I didn’t count on was a series of grief events that would completely annihilate both Adam and myself on top of what I can only describe as the most uncooperative weather I’ve ever encountered in Colorado. Man makes plans and the gods laugh, or so it’s been said.
In March, a sweet cat that we foster for my military daughter somehow got out of the house and into the backyard with the dogs. I was halfway out into the first pasture trying to repair a fence that Georgie the goat kept busting through when I heard a ruckus light off. By the time I got back to the house and found Bagheera, she was taking her last breaths. The absolute agony of her death coupled with my anger at the dogs, and my guilt over the inability to keep her safe was the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. Messaging my daughter to tell her that her cat was killed is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I still have a lot of guilt over it. The dogs live peacefully with the cats inside, but outside of the house they are just as much a predator as a cat would be to a mouse or a bird. It was absolutely a crap situation and the only thing I can do is make sure that I don’t walk away from the back yard while the dogs are loose ever again.
A few weeks later, we received the news that Adam’s best friend (and fellow US Army veteran) had committed suicide. Our entire world went dim. It’s not something that I feel I have the right or even the wherewithal to go into here, but the loss of Tori quite literally took one of the most brilliant, charismatic, loving people I’ve ever known from us. We have spent many long hours grieving, talking, aching and asking questions that nobody really has an answer to. I only hope that she has found her place among the stars.
Somewhere in all of this, we finally rounded the corner into April. The weather wouldn’t quit dumping snow and rain (and it still hasn’t quit, for the record) and while my shearing date was set, it became pretty obvious that if we didn’t come up with a solution to keep the sheep dry, I wasn’t going to get them shorn on time. For me, that timing is everything - I have to work around my day job, so when I eventually breed, I need to schedule lambing to land AFTER tax day. Shearing needs to happen before lambing - both because the wool needs to be out of the way for nursing babies, but also the nutritional demands of lambing and raising babies can put a lot of stress on the ewe’s body. This can lead to weak spots in the fiber. If the ewe is newly shorn when she lambs, weak spots (if any) will end up on the tips of her next year’s growth where it can be easily mitigated in processing. Because I want a year’s growth in each fleece, I had to make that shearing date happen come hell or high water. With no signs of the wet weather letting up, I got out my credit card, rented a trailer, and hauled a load of lumber and plywood home. Adam sacrificed a weekend along with additional efforts contributed by my younger daughter and her SO. We rebuilt a shed. With a solid roof. Sheep were penned in, kept dry, and kept their shearing date.
In mid-April, grass was coming up everywhere and I had completely run out of my winter’s supply of hay. Georgie the goat was becoming so adept at getting out of the fence, that I was terrified she was going to run out onto the busy highway in front of my house. I called up the farm she had come from and asked if she could come hang out for a couple of weeks until I got everything repaired. I prioritized fixing the fence at the back of the property so the horses could graze and then shifted my attention up front.
May finally showed up, but it didn’t come peacefully. On the night of May 3rd, Mindy started panting and groaning in distress somewhere around 2:00 a.m. I took her outside to discover she was unable to climb the stairs to come back inside. Her abdomen was extremely distended and when I checked her capillary refill time, her gums were pale. I rushed her to the emergency vet. She was diagnosed with an unusually large abdominal tumor that had ruptured and was filling her abdomen with blood. There was an outside chance that it was operable and benign, and an over 60% chance it was fast moving and malignant. When the surgery was quoted at over $9000, I realized that I just didn’t have the wherewithal to save her. Adam met me in town and we chose to give her a peaceful death in our arms. She left this world knowing that she was loved beyond all measure.
Understandably, the remainder of May passed in a blur. I hit a bit of a wall after Mindy’s passing. Between the hours spent solo staring at a fence stretcher and all the loss we’ve experienced this spring, I’ve been pretty deeply embedded in my own thoughts. I let go of the idea of a garden for this summer. It’s now June and fencing is more important right now. I have a few tomato plants and some herbs growing. I did spend Memorial day weekend putting flowers in planters out front, and the color has brought a little cheer. My concord grape, currants and all of my roses came back from the winter. All of that is sufficient. I think I’ll focus on hitting up the farmer’s market and doing my winter canning from there.
Looking forward, Estes Park Wool Market is next weekend. I have finally gone back through the fleeces we harvested in April and have re-skirted them, picked out the second cuts as best as I was able, re-bagged and weighed them. The five Debouillet fleeces will be entered into the fleece competition and I’m halfway tempted to also enter Dolly and Janis - they aren’t fine wool, but I think both are lovely hand spinning quality fleeces. I’m also attempting to finish a skein for the hand spun yarn competition and this year I also made it onto a Sheep to Shawl team. I’ve signed up for a couple of classes as well. This weekend has been spent trying to throw together a farm logo, print out some materials for the Sheep to Shawl competition and wrap up any last minute stuff I need to get done before Wednesday night. I’ve sorely needed some inspiration, so this is welcome.
Speaking of, I still have some things to finish. I am hoping that Estes Park Wool Market brings a lot to write about, and being around fellow shepherds and fiber artists is always inspiring and uplifting. Here’s to a hopeful, peaceful, and productive June.
Until next time, be well and make sure you tell the people (and pets) that matter to you that you love them.