Hot and Windy
by graydon - May 25th, 2012This might come as a surprise for some of you reading this, but it does get hot here on the farm. Today was one of those days.
With this in mind we had a few concerns for our herd of sheep. Or is it flock? I’ll rephrase; Our flock of sheep. For the last few days, when the sun is at it’s Apex, the sheep can be found in the shade. Usually they return to the barn where they sleep to lay down and cool off when we are usually hunkered down in the cool of the house having lunch. The discussion always comes up about the sheep being sheared. Rich has told us many times that he is calling around, trying to find someone in the area. This afternoon Gerry* showed up.
The herb garden was being thoroughly handled and the planting of Basil was in full swing when a red Chevrolet pickup pulled into the driveway. An amiable looking fellow was behind the wheel, glancing at his GPS to make sure he was at the right place. We all stood, gave him a wave and Sean took the lead by approaching the vehicle. After a wind buffeted conversation that involved muffled words and pointing Sean walked to the passenger side and got in the cab.
“I hope that was Gerry,” Anna said to me. ”Otherwise we might not be seeing Sean again.”
It was Gerry, and a few minutes later Sean was back up top and asked who would be willing to help with the sheep shearing project. I volunteered and headed back down to the barn. Gerry was getting set up and initiated what would eventually turn into an assembly line of sheep grabbing, shearing, and wool gathering.
The barn, thick with heat and flies, seemed claustrophobic. The sheep kept to a corner, pushing 23 bodies into a 1ox10 area, each giving a few plaintive bleets, and trying desperately not to be the next selected. Our own day was done, but we stayed and help Gerry shear 22 sheep in various stages of woolery. By 6:30 we were done; sweaty, itchy, and covered in sheep shit and fly bites. The sheep look like a roving band of London punks, mismatched mohawks and some blue anti-septic hair dye.
Showers for everyone concluded our day, and Mexican food filled our bellies. It’s back to the grind tomorrow preparing for the inevitability of market Saturday’s and meeting the needs of those who shop with us. It’s hard work out here on the farm, but we enjoy it and hope that you enjoy what we bring.
*I am not sure how he spells his own name, but I have always liked the use of “G” so that is what it will be for this post.






