Dear Family and Friends,Dear Family and Friends,

The farm family took this past weekend off so I was on animal chores. That meant I had to get the feeding done on Sunday morning before church. I got up to have my tea around 6:30. Than I bundled up (it was 19 degrees), crossed the creek and headed for the far pasture. What a treat to be out in the clear crisp air, the sun just beginning to come up behind me. Rays of sunlight added sparkle to frosted trees and grass. I could see the sheep and the two cows standing by the gate and along the fence. There was something about all those faces watching as I walked the distance from the crossing to their gate. They just stood there, silently, not moving. I felt like part of some ancient ritual. When I climbed over the gate they crowded nearer, then moved with me as I walked about half the length of the pasture to the Gordon* where the hay is stored.

*The Gordon is a two story, 3-sided building. When fence is stretched across the fourth side it serves as a corral. The loft provides storage for hay as well as sleeping quarters in the summer. We call it the Gordon in honor of the intern who came the winter we were building it. By God's grace he came not only with advanced carpentry skills but with his own tools! The building is framed with cedar logs harvested from our woods. Gordon assured us those logs made it a "hundred year" structure. The slanted roof is tin. The open side faces south across the pasture toward a wooded ridge. The north side backs onto a fence that separates it from the banks of Flat Rock creek.

As I walked along I was watching for the little lamb I had noticed the day before. (He was tucked in some hay in a corner. It wasn't clear to me who might claim him. I was checking the udders of different ewes to try to see who looked most likely to have delivered when much to my surprise I saw one, Elizabeth Taylor, go over and nudge him up on his feet. She kept baa-ing and nudging until he came out into the middle of the dirt floor. Then with a little more nudging, he decided he was hungry and started sucking, his little tail wagging away. We call her after Liz because she is quite beautiful. No sagging udder on this one). Since we have had two lambs rejected by their ewes I am always watchful for the first few days. Sure enough there they were toward the other end of the flock. He was on his feet and moving right along with her as she stayed toward edge.

I climbed the eight rungs of the ladder up to the loft, careful not to drop my scissors (to cut the strings on the bales). I have never learned to carry a pocketknife like a real farmer. When I stood up on the floor of the loft and looked down I could see a light coating of frost on the backs of the sheep. Thank heaven for their thick wooly coats. The cows, too, had a bit of frost on their thick fur. I threw down two bales in armfuls of about 3 flakes each, careful to separate the piles so that all the sheep and the cows could, hopefully, have access to the fresh hay. The cows, of course, dominate the scene. They just start walking toward the sheep, or toss their heads, and the sheep scatter from them. At first the little lamb was staying pretty close to his mom. After a while he just walked inside the Gordon-- out of the way of all those horns and hooves. His mom kept a good eye on him.

I broke the ice in their water tubs with a hammer, careful to toss the larger hunks into another tub for melting. I have not yet figured out how to do that job without getting my gloves soaking wet.

Meanwhile Earl was braying away in his pasture on my side of the creek. He wanted his turn, too. So I trudged back, crossing the creek by the far end of his pasture, then along Breeding Road back to my house and the barn. Sometimes I race him to the other end. I love his grace when he is in motion. He can do a collected trot, lifting his knees high, neck arched, ears forward. At other times he gallops around the pasture kicking back smartly, first with one hind leg, then the other; sometimes both legs shoot out to one side then the other. He also does a bucking bronco routine. He's young, two years old, loves showing off.

Since Christmas Paul and the children have been doing boats. Paul made a set of barges, one in bright red enamel, the other in bright blue, as gifts for Sasha and Madeline. (We have a neighbor who started work on the barges on the Ohio last summer). Paul's design called for a single board about a foot long, 3/4 inch thick. Just right for sardine can "holds". There were two barges in each set plus the towboat which had a pilothouse as well as a hold. The weather was warm enough that they could float the barges in our creek for a couple of weeks. I helped collect lost cargo when vessels overturned. Meanwhile we had a visit from friends whose son Ira has a toy dory. Paul spent some time with a woodworker friend who showed him how to make the bent wood sides for such a boat. He came up with a scale model of a dory, beginning with toy size, then graduating to vessels big enough to contain Sasha and Madeline. (One each).

First trial of Sasha's vessel was not a success. A bit of research revealed that some ballast might make the difference. Sure enough yesterday Sasha was able to row his dory around our swimming hole. Paul in his enthusiasm told Sasha he was sure the boat would even hold him. Sasha bet him $100 that it would not. Paul got in. He sank to the bottom.

Our neighbor Scott on the ridge across the road from me is drilling for oil. We can't see any of the operation but he is keeping us abreast of developments. We could hear the pounding for a couple of days. We have lots of questions about what effect that operation might have for our farm. Looks like we'll be learning about drilling for oil this season.

We, however, are planning to plant vegetables! Many of our shareholders are asking for larger shares. Robin has been asked to provide workshops on food preservation. Feels like a shift back to real basics. Hope your eyes are set on the new season. Love, Louise