Moving on

Sorry for the bare-naked post yesterday. I came into an empty house with sad news – and no computer. I'd left my laptop at the beach house, to be brought back to the valley by a later-staying attendee. So I posted from Rick's laptop, with no access to photos or blog "signature," to share my heart with you, those who visit my little corner of the blogosphere and tell me you enjoy seeing my little corner of the universe and its inhabitants, now one less.

It was so strange seeing my lambs and ewes out on pasture with no Annabelle. I always looked for her first, making sure that she hadn't gotten cast; to make sure she was okay. Now that she's gone, I'll probably feel comfortable leaving the ewe flock out while I'm gone sometimes, which will keep the fold clean longer.

Look at all that space! There was a lot of frantic lamb baaing last night when I brought them in; the fold had changed and they were among more sheep and deep straw and weren't sure they could find their mommies in all that.

The retreat was wonderful, and I got some great photos. But I'm already behind schedule getting ready for work and more (Mondays are usually my most-packed days), so I'll have to wait to share those.

That's it for now from . . .

R.I.P. Whistlestop 0338

I just turning into our driveway from the women's retreat as Rick and Brian were leaving in the pickup. Rick told me they had stripped the sheep fold and were headed to town to get straw. As I was picking my jaw up from the good news, he hit me with the sad news; they found Annabelle dead in the fold this morning.

Annabelle was old, extremely thin, and frail; I knew I wouldn't have her another year. I was just trying to sustain her while she still enjoyed life. She gave me six beautiful lambs - all with wonderful fleece - in addition to the ram lamb that came with her as a package deal, and produced a wonderful fleece herself every year. Once she figured out the routine here, she was a great help in leading the rest of the girls in and out of the fold. Removing the difficult decision of when and how to say good-bye was her final gift to me; she was always the lady and the "good sheep." I'll miss you, old girl....

Happy two-week birthday, boys!

Couldn't get a decent headshot of Boston this morning, but you can see he's turning into a beefier boy than brother Belfast.

Of course, all four brown lambs were out:

They had lamb races and then the boys tried to instigate butting contests, so the girls went off to eat dirt.

"Hmm, maybe grass is better."

Sweet Bree. If I sell one of the girls I'll have a battle on my hands, because Brian's favorite is Brosna.

Yesterday I got a call saying I didn't have to report to work this morning. It will mean a smaller check at the end of April, but sometimes time is worth more than money. I know the sheep were happy for the opportunity to get out again. It started to rain just before I finished homeschooling Brian so my pony will stay pent up, but I did get Lance out for a short ride yesterday afternoon. My mental health is preserved for now. ;-)

That's it for today from . . .

A perfect storm

That's what this week is, and since it's only Thursday, I'm still hanging on for dear life. I would love nothing better than to quietly curl up in my own comfortable cocoon of home and farm when it is over, but as timing would have it, I take off tomorrow afternoon for our church's women's retreat at the coast. I'm praying that ends up being a blessing in the disguise of "one more thing on the list." I'd back out if it weren't for the fact that my dear friend Kate is going with me again this year. She's already pulled me back from the brink once this week, letting me totally fall apart on her shoulder. Totally saved my sanity that day, she did.

Anyway, the ewes and lambs have been cooped up too much of the week, and my horse hasn't been out since Sunday. But that's enough about my life; I will leave you with this and get back to the salt mines:

That's it for today from . . .