violethillfarm


I Love Ewe(s)…

We are nearing the end of Valentine’s Day 2012…  it is the day of lambs.  Yesterday there was a singleton born. Today? Three sets of twins and, just a few moments ago, another singleton that Paul walked in the barn to the birthing of.  Yesterday we had 7 babies, today we are doubled.  Why? Because Paul wasn’t around the farm and, as I’ve mentioned, they’re sheep – that’s how they roll. 

I imagined them yesterday in one of those Youtube videos “sh*t sheep say when the farmer’s not around”.  Like a video version of a Farside cartoon, the fat bellied ewes sitting and knitting sweaters from yarn coming from their own backs…  “When he opens the gate to feed us, all run past him and scatter.”  “Even if there is lush, green grass, DON’T STOP – go straight for the screaming neighbor’s lawn.”  “The next ram to run straight into the fencing and get stuck for no reason whatsoever is guaranteed 7 eternally virginal ewes in the afterlife.”  “Ladies, it’s raining ice, the temperature is dropping and the farmer is gone… Quick! Stand over a puddle and PUSH!!”  Seriously. WTH.

But I love them.  And I talk to them at feeding time and sing to them when I’m collecting displaced chicken eggs and we commiserate when they are fat and waddling or when their udders are huge and hanging low. 

And I like to sit quietly in their pen and laugh loudly at their many voices – the low and gurgly, the high and machine-gunned, the one ewe that sounds like she’s constantly drowning and the one with the giant BLAAAAAAAT, no baaah-ing for her. She opens up her mouth, sticks out her black tongue and BLAAAAAATS!  And it cracks me up. Every. Single. Time.  So I let the stupid slide and I just enjoy the hilarity they bring to my life. 

Lamb Count 2012:  14! 



Saturday Market Prep
February 11, 2012, 1:31 am
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Paul works.  I am stuck, 7 hrs away with our Little, and he works.  Market tomorrow. Union Square Greenmarket, Manhattan, NY.  As every Saturday goes.  He/we come with our products to sell in the city – we sell, we chat, we educate, we laugh.  I am envious of him heading in and I’m sure he would like to be snuggled up with the Little, playing.  Greener grass and all that… 

Friday is a day of bustle.  Wash eggs, pack eggs, trips to the butcher, pre-orders assembled, resaurant orders accounted for – chicken and some requested mutton,  pack the tent, the table, the scales. Regular chores – collect eggs, feed, water, one last check on the mama ewes. Tweet, facebook, email, website – “Heirloom Pork tomorrow!”, “Organically fed Naturally Colorful Eggs”, “Belle Rouge chicken”… we merge the worlds of small farmer and social media. I’ll do what I can to help from far away and, if he’s lucky, Paul will find some sleep.