It's kind of strange thinking about the last two and a half months. I've just arrived back home {from deep Fall in upstate NY to the middle of spring-it's been a bit confusing, but prettily so}.
Beginning at the end and working my way backwards:
The last couple of days were spent delighting in the company of Nicolette and Tara, Dana and Chris. We went on a fall foraging adventure. Nikky and Tara were shooting/weaving a tale for an online publication, so I won't post any photos but it was pretty magical. We visited an apple orchard where they grew 96 varieties and the grower's son once held {for just a moment} the record for the world's largest blueberry---> 9.3 grams. Later when I spoke to Chris who'd recommended this somewhat unknown orchard he asked if I'd been told the blueberry story. It made me happy to think that everyone who visits probably hears it.
The Fall adventure is going to be featured on Atlas Quarterly, which is a gorgeous publication.
The week before was spent at World's End, Sarah and Eric of Saipua's farm. It spans 107 acres of woods, fields, ponds, a lovely home, and some excellent barn structures. And a chicken coop with a vintage door knob. On the farm they have 19 chickens, a kitchen garden, a couple of flower fields and beds, two dogs and 9 Icelandic sheep.
The sheep were recent arrivals. They are so beautiful. I'd fallen in love with that particular breed of sheep when I was camping my way around Iceland last year. They are so tough and smart-for sheep. Sarah chose them as they are good producers-you can use them for wool, milk and meat. When I arrived there were two older ladies, unshorn and a little flock of shorn youngsters. They have such great variation in colours and each fleece has beautiful variation. One day we were trying to get Coco the older brown sheep into a pick up and a close up inspection of her coat revealed some weird and wonderful tiny golden curls with longer cream-white-grey-brown lengths. Ahhh sheep. Their eyes are so interesting and the way they stare at you intently is fascinating.
Less fascinating is their stubborn propensity to walk/trot/gallop in the direction you don't wish them to travel. We moved them from a lower paddock to a temporary one near the house-it went pretty well with our friend/natural born sheep whisperer Liza leading the flock armed with kind words and alfalfa pellets and Sarah, her Australian cattle dog Nea and I bringing up the rear. We then tried to move them to a top paddock about 500 meters up the road and I think the initial move gave us all false confidence. As soon as we got the girls to the road, they hung a left instead of a right and took off to the green pastures of a neighbour about 1km down the road. Then began my first 3-4 hour sheep herding experience.
I think the sheep wandered into every available drive way and round and round each property. Every time you thought you had them, the older sheep would tramp through some woods and you'd stumble in after them, appear on the other side in a different field. We eventually wrangled them home, and they settled down amongst some clover with their protector, Poochi the Maremma {looks like a polar bear, is incredibly sweet}.
We also spent time cutting flowers which was such a lovely experience. The dew was still clinging to the plants. Sometimes I am so happy it almost makes me feel unwell.
We seeded a whole heap of Campanula and I made little covers for them which act like a mini greenhouse to get them sprouting. I look forward to seeing updates of their progress.
We had some amazing meals at the farm and some wonderful people came to visit. This farm of theirs feels like the centre of something really remarkable. The amount that Sarah and Eric have achieved in the few years they've owned it is humbling.
{I started writing about an adventure we had one day to Heather Ridge farm with our pals but I think it needs its own post-for the photos of fresh pressed apple juice, if nothing else}
I'm so glad I was able to do a bit of work on the farm. However small in the grand scheme of things, I feel like each person that helps adds a little something to the place.
