respite

We haven't had new snow in 4 days!

And no snow is predicted until - oh rats.

I was going to type "Saturday" because yesterday the forecast called for a clear week. But I stopped typing to check, and found we are expecting 6-8 inches on Wednesday.

Still. One more clear day!

The snow is still deep. The paths are all packed down and nearly as slippery as ice, so I often just walk through the snow. Especially if I'm carrying buckets, or hay.

Only one gate is functioning now; the rest are snowed in and frozen shut. On Friday, I had to heave a bale of hay over a fence for the goats, then climb over after it and push the bale under the deck on the stilt barn, so it would be protected from rain or snow.

This may not sound like much, but these days, it was quite an athletic feat for me.

Speaking of goats...guess what time it is?

Yes, cashmere harvesting season has begun.

Slowly. It will pick up soon enough, so I am making an effort to do as much combing as possible now to help get ahead of the long push that I know is coming.

When I bring bags of cashmere into the house, I leave the tops open in case there is moisture in the fiber. But the other morning before I was fully awake, I heard an odd rustling sound coming from the table on the porch. I dozily wondered what could be making that sound, then came fully awake with a snap as I remembered the bags of cashmere carefully placed in a plastic carrier on the table. I saw a flash of white as Della hopped off the chair where she had been sitting, busily rearranging cashmere.

The evidence:

I'll have to find a better place for the bags.

Della and Moxie are Wild Girls.

Ms. Piper has also been on a bit of a tear recently!

Raiding the rubbish while I am asleep. Stealing the plastic container of joint supplements and eating ALL of them. Taking off into the woods so frequently that I am now putting a lead on her even to walk down and check the letterbox.

And here's what a cat's little dish looks like when Piper has managed to get to it, two minutes after eating her own big bowl of food:

Maybe it's just cabin fever?

I think I must have the opposite of cabin fever. I've spent the past three days shuffling around, recovering from the longest trip I've made in ages; very worthwhile, but physically grueling.

I left for Maine at 3:45 AM Friday, to visit a cashmere goat expert and try to learn a bit more about this thing I am doing. And it turned out to be four intensely focused hours of information and experience. It was excellent.

You know how sometimes it's the busiest, most knowledgeable person who is willing to generously share their valuable time and superpowers?

It was like that.

One half-hour of the day, I declared "my vacation in Maine."
Here is the sketch to prove it.

When I got home, I knew my Occasional Helper had already done both the morning and evening chores as arranged beforehand, despite this being his month "off." Words cannot convey the gratitude I felt - to arrive home after a 16-hour day, utterly exhausted, and know that there were no chores to be done before I could go to bed.

I did take a quiet walk around with a flashlight, to see each animal and say goodnight. But it was just a pure luxury.

Reliving my Vacation In Maine.
That half-hour has already inspired two sketches.

Which reminds me, I haven't done my daily markmaking and it's getting late, so time to post this and get the sketchbook before I fall asleep. Sleep is a good thing, and if we're likely to have snow on Wednesday, tomorrow will be a busy day.

I hope all is well in your neck of the woods!

~~~~~

once I had a camera

and I took pictures.
All the time.
Sometimes for publication, sometimes for galleries.

Sometimes because I had a camera in my hand.

Here's one:

The view from Loro, Lusitano stallion.  Portugal, 2006.

Now, my little camera is in the hands of the Repair Specialists.

They are Assessing the Failure.

At this point, my biggest concern is that they will press the ON button,

and because the camera will fire up, they will say,

"We have fixed this camera! Send it back."

Because by the time I managed to ship it off, it would turn on again. 

And I thought, "It has fixed itself! Huzzah!"

Then I took a snap and noticed a foggy spot in the frame. 

And I looked into the lens and saw not just condensation, but actual water 

sloshing gently back and forth at the bottom of the lens.

Speaking as a photographer: It was creepy.

By comparison: this water is not creepy.  Maine, 2010.

Well, all I can do now is wait.

And I am sorry there have been no posts,

but apparently I can't string more than 140 characters together
without the spark of images.

Never really noticed it before, because I always have images.

Today, in mild desperation, I went spelunking on a flashdrive,
to find a few snaps to share
so I could write a post, however out of sync.
Welcome to that post!
Stay with me if you can; there's a treat at the end.

~~~

In other repair-related news:

farewell, thousand-dollar breadbox...

and welcome back, my beautiful oven!!!

Here's how it happened:

The appliance store failed to send me a bill for the service call back in February. The outcome of the service call (= non-functional oven) and lack of follow-through from the store (= getting no closer to having a functional oven) was obviously not what I had hoped for. Still, I felt responsible for the cost of a service call, and expected a bill. So when I was in town one day recently, I stopped in at the store, checkbook in hand.

While I quickly reviewed the Sad Story of the Stove for the manager, the service tech happened to overhear me. He asked a question. Then he looked thoughtful. Then he said he wanted to come out again and have another look, "just in case."

And he did. And he tested a different part than what the original error code had told him to check the first time. And got an odd measurement on his metering device. Suddenly, everything fell into place. (For him, not me. I was just pacing back and forth and trying not to hope but actually hoping very, very hard.) This different part was working well below its proper range which made the thermogizmo think the stove was more or less on fire and therefore the fan was on all the time and the failsafe device that keeps an eejit from using the stove when it's already on fire would not let the control panel respond to input.

(Paraphrasing.)

Anyway, the technician replaced the low-functioning part, and I turned on the power, and my oven was working again.

Can you believe it?

Ninety dollars.

Fixed.

(Cue the Hallelujah Chorus!)

I immediately went out and bought gruyere and heavy cream and a head of cauliflower, and made my favorite baked cauliflower dish. It was lovely. No picture, of course. Sorry.

Also no pictures of the subsequent mushroom quiche, bread pudding, or cranberry cake.

But here's a nice snap of some bowls in my kitchen, taken three years ago:

These bowls are white. Like my oven.

~~~

Still with me?

Finally, to wrap up this disjointed and oddly-illustrated post,

I strongly encourage you to click this link

to read a letter written by E.B. White in 1951.

It is in response to a complaint from the ASPCA

regarding the licensing of White's dachshund, Minnie.

I promise you, this letter will make you laugh.

Promise.

~~~~~

weekend away

Last week, I had a sudden thought:

wouldn't it be a good idea to revisit the farm where I bought my first cashmere does?

NOT to buy more goats.

Seriously, just not an option.

I am close to carrying capacity on my little piece of property,

which is why I bred only two does this year.

No, just to visit, and ask questions, and "talk goats" with cashmere experts.

So I called the farm.

Then I called my new critter-sitter.

Then I had about 48 hours to get ready for a 500-mile roundtrip weekend in Maine.

"Be sure to arrange for daily hay in ALL our preferred locations!"

There's nothing like picturing someone else doing the chores,

to make you realize how many things you've been meaning to get around to

changing or fixing or writing down.

For example:

As I made a chart of the various blends that each goat is fed daily,

it occurred to me for the first time:

nine different components of goat feed

stored in nine identical orange buckets

is not much of a "system."

And the gate that Betula has been pushing against with his head

every single morning?

What are the odds he will push right through it while I am away,

and release three big goats into the bigger world?

Pretty good odds, that's what.

So I spent two busy days patching, mending, reorganizing, and noting.

And then, because of course I want my goats to look their best for company,

I washed all their collars.

Priorities.

I got 'em.

~~~

The trip was a bit of a whirlwind, but certainly fun and productive.

Sorry, I didn't take a lot of pictures - mostly just visual note-taking.

But here is something you may find interesting...

this is the young buck Samson, visiting here in November 2011.

Five months later, LeShodu and Samson's sons Acer and Betula were born.

I liked Samson a lot, and was surprised and delighted to see him again last weekend.

Since making his contribution to the cashmere gene pool, Samson has been wethered,

and is now a companion to a large herd of does. Here he is:

Such a handsome, happy fellow, enjoying a wonderful life.

He walked right up to me for a head-rub, and we had a lovely visit.

It's always a special treat to run into old friends unexpectedly.

~~~

Piper didn't come to Maine, because there are livestock guardian dogs on the farm.

She had excellent company here, though,

and when I got home the last of the snow had melted.

No matter what the weather does now, Piper and I have declared Winter OVER. 

Back to regular romps in the woods!

This picture is after a good run, much exploration, and several plunges through a stream.

One of us was ready for a lie-down.

~~~~~