In Between

My Spring Christmas (which is Shearing Day) has come and gone with seven fleeces, right off the back of the animal, sold to hand spinners and 20 fleeces delivered to the fiber mill in Richmond, Vermont to be turned into yarn, ready to sell by late July.  And so we now go about our chores waiting for the next big event, the arrival of lambs. Shearing day confirmed 15 sheep are pregnant and it’s clear looking at them without all that fleece in the way that several are carrying twins if not triplets.  I’ve cleaned up the tool box kit that holds the lambing supplies, found the drying towels, the new 2016 ear tags, and wondered where the cords are for the heating lamps. In short, I’m doing my own form of nesting as the pregnant ones do theirs.  We’re in between times, shearing and lambing, but now it’s all so very close. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not. In the meantime, in the between time, we settle into expectant patterns.

Todd and I have our early morning routine down so pat we not only go about it in silence but we have a bit of a dance to it as well.  Todd rises first, opens the crate for Jack the dog, pulls on his boots and barn coat.  I’m a few minutes behind and pull on a similar barn coat, check to make sure I’ve got my box cutter – never thought I’d care so much about a sharp blade and a light cutter – and head up to the barn yard as Todd walks down the driveway for yesterday’s mail and today’s paper. (Todd and Jack used to go together down the driveway, but Jack’s getting to be a slow riser, so Todd is going solo again.)

I usually have pulled out two bales of hay from the shed, set them up in the hay feeders, slashed the two cords that hold the bales together with my cutter, and spread the hay across the eight foot long feeder before Todd comes into the barn yard and heads to the shed to set the mail and paper on the only shelf having learned that if he leaves it on the ground by the gate, Jack will inevitably tear up either the first section of the paper or a piece of mail.  Last week it was a reply to our daughter’s wedding.  We know from the card how many are coming but Jack ate the section if any are vegetarians.  I hope they like meat.

Todd takes a bale over to the boys’ side as I put out the third bale for the girls and begin to fill the five gallon orange Home Depot bucket with fresh water.  I can hear Todd setting out the large plastic red trays in the barn yard as I refill the heated water buckets.  As I finish, Todd sets the second of two bowls filled with grain, the sheep’s version of crack cocaine, only it’s loaded with protein and calories, on the shed’s window sill. All 15 ewes have heard the noise and know what’s coming and have begun to pull away from the fresh hay and head over to the red round troughs. I pick it up my bowl and move quickly to pour some grain into each of the red bins.  Todd does the same with his bowl and in seconds we have six grain stations and ewes scampering around, some convinced the grain will taste better here, no here. No here.

I finish filling water, Todd retrieves the mail and paper and we head to the back door, Jack tagging along knowing his turn at breakfast is next.  And light snow flakes begin to fall. 

Peggy

Leave a Comment