We didn’t do any sort of scientific polling, but the vast majority of the people who stopped and spoke with us had never seen a spinning wheel in person before. Most of those who had seen one previously had seen it as a museum artifact or an unused piece of furniture. I heard a few stories of mysterious family heirlooms that no one knew how to use but no one felt right about discarding.

A very few people told stories of grandmothers who used to spin and weave. One gentleman told of his grandmother who spun and wove outerwear that was sturdy enough to survive his own childhood and is currently being worn by his own child.

But in spite of the fact that I was using an unfamiliar tool and creating something not immediately recognizable by most of the crowd, the vast majority of the people who walked by our booths at least paused, if not stopped to watch for a while. Probably half of the traffic asked questions or stopped for at least a few minutes.

What causes this kind of reaction?

I only have a partial answer to that question: curiosity.

Spinning wheels are mesmerizing to watch. The motion is hypnotic, and if you have the opportunity to hear one working, the whirr is rhythmic and soothing. Some spinners’ movements are graceful and smooth, especially when chain plying, and can look like a seated dance. It’s hard to simply walk by that kind of display without pausing!

My limbs are too short to make any claims on gracefulness, but the action of the wheel and the colorful wool I was spinning was more than enough to capture attention.

And then the questions began:

• What are you doing?
• How does it work?
• Which way is the string going?
• Did you dye that?
• Who taught you to do that?
• Is it hard?
• Do you ever get tired?
• Is that wool from your sheep?
• Can I try it?

It was great.

I got to share this little piece of the story of wool with all sorts of people. Some were interested in Beast to Blanket and some absolutely weren’t, and both were completely fine. It was rewarding to me to provide a few moments of a unique and lovely experience for busy people and families.

It also gave me the opportunity to get in some serious spinning time! Between the two conventions and a few finishing-up hours at home, I’ve completed five skeins, representing about 4,000 yards of spinning.

And about that question about whether it was wool from our own flock and whether or not I dyed it?

No. None of it was from our sheep, though it is all merino wool, from sheep like Mr. Knightley, Emma, Harriet, and Lizzy. And the bulk of it was dyed by the very talented Ginny from FatCatKnits, who I cannot recommend highly enough as a source for beautifully dyed spinning fiber.

I started the process of cleaning and combing Mr. Knightley’s fleece, and I am learning a lot:

1. It is incredibly satisfying to personally complete the whole wool processing arc from lambing to finished knitted object by having learned how to clean, scour, and comb wool.
2. It is hard to overestimate the amount of lanolin in Mr. Knightley’s wool and how tricky it is to get it out.
3. There is a lot of waste involved in combing wool. Part of this may be because Mr. Knightley’s wool wasn’t at the perfect length when it was sheared, and part of it may be because I’m not far enough on the learning curve with #2, but there is a lot less roving at the end of the process than there is fiber going in.
4. I’m learning that carding may be another part of the process I need to pick up to deal with #3.
5. I have a lot more to learn about every step of this.
6. I completely understand those who say “NOPE. I’ll pick the two-year waiting list at a fiber mill, please!” as well as those who are fascinated by this process and can’t imagine outsourcing it to anyone else.

For now, my most recently spun skein is drying in the Kansas wind and I need to turn my attention to the other end of the production spectrum and spend some time on some commission work.

At the same time, we’re keeping a close eye on Babydoll ewe Margaret, who is playing the best “Am I or Am I Not Pregnant?” game I’ve seen since Jane and Fitz. She’s running out of calendar for her possible lambing window, so we’ll have our answer within another week or so.

It’s a show I can’t stop watching!

Greg’s Got Questions

Thank you to those of you who participated in the last poll!

The winning question was:  What will the wool of the VBN lambs (Betsy, Eliza, and Fitzwilliam) be like compared to the adults?

It’s so much softer.

This first shearing of their wool is the softest it will ever be.

I was very curious about how the lambs’ wool would feel as it grew back from this first shearing, and we’re already able to tell a difference in the texture in the new growth. It’s thicker and coarser, and seems more dense as well, although I’m not sure if that’s reality or perception.

Thankfully, Fitzie still has his sweet ringlet curls.

Greg’s Questions for Next Week

(As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

Question 1: Do you realize that 4,000 yards is 2.27 miles? You spun over two miles of yarn, Kiersten! And, I know I asked you’ve this before, but given your demonstrated production capacity, it’s worth asking again. Are you SURE you can’t spin straw into gold? I think I read a how-to book on that when I was a kid. Maybe it was written by Jane Austen???

Question 2: From the list of those asked at the conventions, “Who did teach you how to spin?”

Question 3: I know you’re still learning, but based on your experience so far with the whole wool processing arc, what are enjoying the most and the least?

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J

The post Live and in Person appeared first on Kiersten J.

Shearing is fascinating to me.

When I first fantasized about owning sheep, it was primarily for the purpose of using their wool, so shearing was an obvious element of the equation. But there are so many other reasons to want sheep, and so sometimes, shearing is secondary, or even an afterthought.

I’ve seen more than one post in a shepherding group to the effect of: “Yikes, do we have to do something now that Buttercup resembles a frosted sphere?”

You can take some clippers, take a deep breath, mutter a prayer, and dive on in. Some do. More power to them.

We were fortunate enough to find a wonderful team who was capable of handling the extra wrinkly skin on our Merinos, which we learned can cause some shearing issues.

The whole process is mesmerizing, though, and if you’ve never had the opportunity to watch someone shear a sheep, let me recommend this person: Allan the Shearer. I don’t know anything about the guy except that he’s a total artist when it comes to shearing sheep. He shears all sorts of breeds, which is also cool to see, but what really gets me is that he does both electric and blade shearing. With old-fashioned clipping shears. The monster scissory things.

I could lose hours watching him and his team shearing sheep. See what you think.

Anyway, after our big shearing day, in addition to awkward looking but much more comfortable sheep, we have a whole bunch of wool. Yay!

I’m finally getting the opportunity to fill in the last few gaps in the Beast to Blanket arc by cleaning and combing the Merino wool from Mr. Knightley. It’s a learning experience for sure, and I’ll share more about that in another newsletter.

The Babydoll wool is a big question mark for me. I’m hoping I can clean and comb it, as well, but I won’t be able to really tell how well it will work until I get into the process.

And the Valais wool…

The problem is that these sheep produce a LOT of wool. And they have to be sheared at least twice a year, if not three times a year in hotter climates.

It’s not soft. It’s not great to spin. It’s got amazing visual texture. It’s good for felting.

What could we do with all this wool?

I have ideas. I’ve seen other folks make “humane sheepskin rugs” by felting the sheared ends of a fleece onto other felted wool to make a rug or throw. I like that idea for the Valais lambs’ fleece, especially Fitz’s, with all his black spots.

I’ve seen woven and felted rugs with this wool. Someone made an enormous carpet with twelve fleeces from her VBNs. Awesome. It would cover the entire floor of my house.

I’ve seen some amazing felted replicas of Valais Blacknose sheep made with their own wool. That sounds like something fun to try.

Then, in one of those, “huh, what if I tried…” mental wondering moments, I thought it might be worth experimenting to see if I could build an easy introduction to fiber arts activity with some of the wool.

This will surprise no one, but Georgiana insisted on being part of this experiment.

Look at all that wool.

After a plain cold water soak, a hot water scouring, and air drying of some of Georgiana’s fleece, I grabbed my peg loom.

The photo above shows the lock as I grabbed it from the fleece. The lovely part of this is that someone can make something interesting from wool without having to spin it or make it more workable. It’s just Georgie’s wool, cleaned up a bit, but not much different than when she was wearing it.

Weaving on a peg loom is very easy, and the grippy nature of this wool made it perfect to just overlap locks as I went along.

I loved watching the different colors of Georgiana’s fleece layer against each other.

I intentionally let the locks be “messy” as I continued, thinking of people who might have less ability with fine motor skills. I think my favorite part of this project is that it resists any attempts toward perfection (the wool is going to fuzz) and actually rewards imperfections. Those imperfections are what make the piece so visually interesting.

The more Greg and I think about this project, the more we love it. Anything that helps people discover fiber arts, gives folks an opportunity to slow down and create without the pressure of perfectionism, or gives us a way to share Pemberley Farm with others feels like A Very Good Thing.

I’m excited about the idea of sharing these kits (peg loom, fleece, and instructions) at the convention this weekend and on our website in the future. It feels like such a great complement to Beast to Blanket, and a lovely way to use the wool our flock is producing and introduce others to fiber arts in a way that encourages the experience without demanding great skills.

By the way, we’re at the Texas Homeschool State Convention in Texas this weekend for Beast to Blanket, so if you happen to be there, please come by and say hello! I’ll be the short lady at the spinning wheel, and Greg will be nearby, making new friends with everyone who walks by.

Greg’s Got Questions

Thank you to those of you who participated in the last poll!

The winning question was:  Of all the things you’ve learned since we started our Pemberley Woolworks business adventure, what have you been surprised that you’ve enjoyed learning? In other words, what’s something that you would have never expected to be interested in but now find fascinating to learn about?

This may be a bit of a cheat answer, but it’s the sheep. I think I knew I’d enjoy caring for them, but I had no idea how ignorant I was/am about what caring for them entails.

I had a pretty mental picture of all the wee flock in a pasture peacefully grazing together in a group and willingly coming near whenever I called. They’d subsist in soft focus on grass, water, sunshine, and affection, and we’d remove their fleece as needed in a simple process.

Ha.

Then we learned about hay, dogs, rams, minerals, hoof trimming, vaccinations, feed, breeding windows, lambing (volumes 1-3), colostrum replacement, banding, tetanus, selling, parasites, worming, pasture rotation, electric fencing, blue-kote, body condition scoring, etc.

And I still have oodles to learn.

But the more I learn about sheep, and about OUR sheep, the more I enjoy them and learning about them.

Greg’s Questions for Next Week

(As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

These cover last week’s newsletter as well as this week’s:

Question 1: Based on your experience doing the loose lock weaving with the peg loom, what do you think the minimum recommended age will be for the kits?

Question 2: How did your own “pressure of perfectionism” show up when you first started weaving with Georgiana’s wool?

Question 3: What will the wool of the VBN lambs (Betsy, Eliza, and Fitzwilliam) be like compared to the adults?

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J

The post Loose Locks appeared first on Kiersten J.

I’m pretty sure it was before COVID, so at least six years?

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy movies. I enjoy them most when I can watch them on a cozy couch or recliner, snuggled up in comfy clothes with a handy pause button at my fingertips for snack and bathroom breaks, and the glorious luxury of closed captioning at my disposal. Oh, and the rewind button for those “wait, WHAT?” moments.

But a few weeks ago, someone asked me if I’d seen the preview for an upcoming sheep mystery movie.

Heavens to Betsy (and Eliza).

I hadn’t heard a whisper of such a thing, and I was already convinced I needed to get tickets. A mystery movie? With sheep? Sign me up!

Soon afterwards, I saw a preview and I was ready for someone to take my money. It has Emma Thompson in it. She could read a toothpaste advertisement, and I’d pay to hear it.

I don’t know when or where, but this is one I don’t think I’ll be able to wait to hit the streaming services to watch.

The preview of The Sheep Detectives shows Hugh Jackman, playing the sheep’s beloved shepherd, reading a mystery novel to his gathered flock. It’s apparently something he does every evening. He believes they’re following along and understanding every bit of it. The story goes on from there and I’m seriously looking forward to enjoying it at some point.

What already amuses me is the assumption that we should find the premise utterly ridiculous: that this shepherd’s flock would eagerly engage in the plot of a mystery novel.

Of course it’s absurd.

And yet, one of the wonderful things I’m learning from living with animals is that they ARE absurd. And their absurdity is exactly the sort of thing that inspires the imagination to come up with ridiculous stories.

I’ve written in other places about Georgiana, our head ewe. When I come to the paddock or stall, she approaches for a status update. She stands at my hip, I give her her due honors (she likes to be scratched right under the jawbone), and we chat about recent or upcoming developments. It’s a ritual.

Lizzy, one of the merino ewes, is a bit of a cranky bully. She especially dislikes small things darting around her feet. This includes Babydoll sheep. You can see the annoyance build on her face. The weight of outrage and insult to her dignity as her personal space is invaded and she slowly lowers her head closer and closer to the ground.

And then she snaps.

Dust and hay settle back to the ground, and the Babydoll regains her feet and wisely wanders off a few more yards. And Lizzy ponders whether she’s satisfied or needs to have another go.

Then there’s the temporary maternity ward. Pregnant Babydolls are also cranky. And Harriet, the merino lamb who was put with them when she started weaning, is absorbing the brunt of the crankiness. The other day she discovered a method of rising above it all, literally, by escaping on top of an iron bathtub.

Perhaps it’s due to a childhood heavily influenced by E. B. White’s Charlotte’s Web and Trumpet of the Swan, or all the talking animals of C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia, but I find it natural to imagine thoughts, motivations, and simple storylines in these behaviors. I greatly admire people who build those into full stories that entertain millions. I loved the movie Babe. I’m really looking forward to The Sheep Detectives.

Do you have a favorite animal movie or book?

Greg’s Got Questions

Thank you to those of you who participated in the last poll!

The winning question was:  Do you think a knitting version of Tournament of Champions would work? What could be done in 30 minutes? And what would the Randomizer categories be?

No. In the show’s time frame and format, absolutely not. And that’s because precisely nothing can be accomplished in 30 minutes. For Pete’s sake, it takes at least that long to pick out the right yarn for a project, assuming the project is chosen for you. If a contestant had to determine a pattern AND the choice of yarn? Forget about it.

And don’t get me started on gauge swatches.

Now, if you want to change the format so that the contestants have 2-3 weeks between each round, then I can see something like this working. And it could be fun.

Rather than Randomizer categories like Protein, Produce, Equipment, Style, and Wildcard, the Knitting Edition could have Garment (hat, mitten, sweater), Fiber (wool, cotton, acrylic), Weight (lace, fingering, worsted), Style (colorwork, lace, cables), and Wildcard (bobbles, beads, reversible), just as an example.

They could get really gnarly in late rounds, including things like steeking, entrelac, and double knitting. (Yes, the double knit sheep scarf is on my “to knit” list.”

Greg’s Questions for Next Week

(As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

These cover last week’s newsletter as well as this week’s:

Question 1: I know you’re not an expert on this, but do you think the sheep and the animals are somehow “communicating”? I’m thinking about how we watch the teenage chickens that are by Mr. Bingley’s pen interact with him and it seriously makes me wonder what’s the relationship between them is.

Question 2: Of all the things you’ve learned since we started our Pemberley Woolworks business adventure, what have you been surprised that you’ve enjoyed learning? In other words, what’s something that you would have never expected to be interested in but now find fascinating to learn about?

Question 3: What action items did Georgiana give you from the meeting?

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J

The post Sheep on the Silver Screen appeared first on Kiersten J.

Doesn’t that sound lovely and inspiring?

I can’t deny that I love to learn, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to do so. But as most people who care for animals know, there’s a sense of overwhelming urgency to Learn Every Thing Right Now when the consequences of ignorance may include harm or suffering to a living creature.

I have books, I have Facebook groups, I have Pinterest Pins to more farmsteading and animal husbandry articles than Fitz has spots. How great is it to have all this information (along with a hefty peppering of opinions and misinformation!) so easily accessible!

While following one of my Pinterest rabbit trails, I learned that ticks were predicted to be a huge problem this summer. I also learned that ticks annoy sheep. And then that free-range chickens are quite effective at consuming ticks in pastures.

Having had sufficient practice at connecting dots since childhood, I wondered about putting a few free-range chickens in the pasture with the main ewe and wether flock.

It turns out that this sort of symbiotic relationship is not uncommon. In addition to reducing the number of ticks in the pasture, chickens feast on other insects, including fly larvae that may be in and around manure. And while they are disturbing the sheep manure, they are spreading it as fertilizer around the pasture and simultaneously disturbing the parasites in the manure that would like to compromise the sheep.

On paper, this is all brilliant.

In the first stages of execution, seamless.

We got six chicks of four different breeds, all listed as excellent free-rangers. I’m not sure we needed six, but I’m anticipating possibly losing a few to predators since they won’t be as protected as the other chickens on the property.

They’ve made it through the first few weeks, and it was time to move the wee tractor to the pasture location I want them to associate with “home.”

We placed it last night with the chicks inside. The trip was a little bumpy. I’m sure they thought the apocalypse was upon them.

The sheep were inside when we placed the chicks. They made the discovery this morning.

When I came to the barn, there was a wide berth around the wee coop. Not a sheep within five yards. As soon as I walked over to check the chicks’ water, everyone made a beeline to me.

Apparently, we were going to have a meeting about the new screaming furniture.

Georgiana planted herself at my hip. I think one of us was assumed to be the assistant to the other in this managerial duo, and I bet we each had a different idea of who was actually in charge.

Now, a confession. I actually gave a mini explanation of my reasoning behind bringing the noisy chaos monsters into the paddock. Straight-faced.

Here’s the thing: They mostly stood there like they were listening.

Georgiana nodded solemnly now and again. “Yes, yes. Just as we discussed.”

Lizzy looked like she wanted to ask if she was going to be allowed to punt them if they annoyed her.

Lucas all but asked if they produced milk.

I almost asked for questions at the end.

I did not.

The following picture was taken directly after the meeting.

You might notice that Georgiana is not among those inspecting the contents of the Noise Box.

That’s because she was still at my hip, conducting the meeting debrief.

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J

The post The Staff Meeting appeared first on Kiersten J.

Dearest Friend,

I do hope this finds you well.

It has been a shamefully long time since I have taken pen to hoof and informed you of the most recent events in the neighborhood. Do please forgive my lapse.

I must begin by relaying that the neighborhood seems to have changed dramatically since last I wrote. On one strange day last February, several of my companions and I were led into a long rectangular box. We were placed carefully into a precise and snug arrangement then the doors were closed. After a great deal of bouncing, shaking, and a most prodigious amount of noise, the doors were reopened.

We found all the paddocks, buildings, shelters, pigs, and cows had been removed. The buildings, pastures, and animals that stood in their places were lovely, but unfamiliar.

I have no wish to re-enter such a box again. Should you encounter one in your future dealings, I strongly advise you to consider carefully the risks of insinuating oneself within.

In any case, we have all made ourselves comfortable in the new arrangements.

My dear friend Mr. Knightley and I have settled in as near neighbors in adjoining apartments. We sometimes are joined by a pair of older gentlemen donkeys in the early evenings for a cordial sharing of hay and water.

We can see Mr. Bingley not far off in his own estate, which is just to the north, somewhat nearer to the location where the ladies choose to linger over their gossip and grass.

All of us gentlemen look forward to the time in the Fall when we will be hosting some of the ladies at some special entertainments in our private establishments.

We have had some visitors already, and I must confess that not all have been equally pleasant. You might bring to your remembrance an earlier letter wherein I described Mr. Knightley’s shearing? It seems the change in local scenery did not keep the shearers from finding us again. We are, all of us, in a shocking state. I beg you, if you had been planning a visit in the near future, to give us some weeks to improve our appearance.

We are most undignified at present.

There are two more very important pieces of news I must report to you, dear friend, before I close this epistle.

The first is that, despite the dramatic change in surroundings, we are still quite surrounded by The Regiment. In truth, I believe there are multiple companies inhabiting the local surrounds.

One company, comprised mostly of older veterans, is billeted near my own abode. They seem to be quite vocal, particularly in the mornings, when one and then another will begin singing a rowdy song at the top of its lungs, often joined by its fellows in a cacophonous chorus. It is commanded by a diminutive officer who insists on crowing orders before the break of day.

A second company has its barracks near our Mr. Bingley, and they seem to be younger recruits. They are often in the yard, drilling and making noise. Their discipline leaves something to be desired.

And then there is a tiny little company that is housed in an odd, small structure. Mr. Knightley and I have discussed this subject at length, and we believe one or more of them may be afraid of the dark, as they leave the light on all night. Perhaps the crowing officer is the source of their fear.

In any case, dear reader, I can assure you that the farm is well defended, if numbers and noise are sufficient for a defense.

Finally, I must tell you the ovine population of our little band has been steadily increasing. Since the Box Incident, we have added four young lads to the neighborhood, two just this week.

And so, without further ado, I give myself the honor of introducing to you our latest new gentlemen, Lucas (Maryanne’s lamb) and Frederick (Louisa’s lamb). Mr. Bingley is beside himself with joy to have two little images of himself adorning the paddock.

Lucas (and Martin) on The Rocks (the lambs’ favorite playground):

And Frederick, one hour old:

Most sincerely yours,

Mr. Darcy the Sheep

P.S. To watch more Pemberley Farm videos, you can follow MrDarcyTheSheep on YouTube.

The post A Long Overdue Letter appeared first on Kiersten J.

This is not really a trick question, though it sure feels like one, doesn’t it?

I’m coming off a day where we “worked sheep” and so in one sense I’m feeling perhaps a bit older than the age reported on my official government documents. We tagged everyone who needed to be ID’d, gave everyone a booster on their vaccinations, trimmed up the Babydolls for their coming deliveries, and did unspeakable things to poor Martin to ensure he remains safe to stay in the general population. (Sorry, kiddo.)

Advil aside, I’m feeling it a little today.

But most days I think I have a mental image of myself as younger than I am. I remember speaking with a psychologist about this phenomenon who said it was pretty common. A lot of people stop aging, within their mental concept of themselves, somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties.

I don’t know if that’s true for everyone. I wonder if it’s true for more of those people we know who like to keep trying new things or learning new skills as they get older. If the quiet sense of being younger, of having more life ahead than behind, keeps them open to exploring possibilities?

But sometimes I catch myself in the middle of something and I think, “Wow, Kiersten. Could you act any older if you tried?”

Like the evenings when I doze off in the middle of the latest cooking show episode we’re watching, trying to stay awake long enough to watch the weather. On the television. Like we can’t get the same information on the phone in two seconds. Somehow, hearing it from the Voice of the Official Weatherman makes it more accurate?

News flash: It doesn’t.

This happens often, and I feel ancient every time. So, I tease Greg about his age because he’s older than I am and somehow it makes me feel better, and we go merrily along until the next snoozy TV episode.

But in our wild and crazy TV programming, we’ve come across a pretty cool show. Tournament of Champions is a bracket-style cooking competition between some award-winning chefs who are seriously talented. They have a short amount of time to produce something amazing with some randomization thrown in and blind judging to keep it as fair as possible.

What I love about it is that these folks are seriously, seriously good at what they do. They are masters of their craft, and they have such respect for their opponents, because they, too, are masters. I can’t speak to the techniques or the theory or the high-falutin’ cookery that goes on, because honestly, it’s beyond me.

But it’s such a great opportunity to watch creativity and immense knowledge intersect with play and respectful competition. I absolutely love to watch it.

It’s always a unique joy to watch people do something they’re especially gifted to do or have devoted themselves to learning to do well.

This weekend our sheep will be sheared here for the first time. Our shearer has her own Merino sheep and experienced some difficulties in the past with other shearers who couldn’t quite navigate the loose skin some Merino sheep have around their neck and bellies. That loose skin can get caught in the blades, resulting in nasty injuries.

She decided she’d learn the art of shearing herself. She trained so she could care for her own animals and now travels around shearing for others as well. I’m so looking forward to watching her, seeing what she learned, and learning what I can from her.

I have no idea what age she was when she decided to start at square one and learn this set of skills, but I know she was old enough to have her own sheep, watch a few years of unsuccessful (and painful!) shearing attempts on her animals, and decide she was going to take on the task herself.

This is no small task, either. It takes serious physical effort as well as technical knowledge to efficiently and compassionately shear a sheep. Brute strength may accomplish a rough haircut, but it’s a different matter entirely to end up with a usable fleece and a non-traumatized animal. And that’s before we even start talking about rams, who would rather not have anyone trim their locks, thank you.

So, I’ll get the opportunity tomorrow to watch a woman work who has become a master at her craft. I can’t wait to see what I can learn from her.

Greg’s Got Questions

Thank you to those of you who participated in the poll last week!

We had another tie!

The winning questions were:  What’s the most demanding part of using a spinning wheel, physically and mentally? and Based on the many, many questions you had while you were spinning all day for two days, what are people most interested in learning as they watch you?

To me, the hardest part of spinning is the learning process right at the beginning. It is very much like learning to ride a bike and write in cursive at the very same time. You have to learn to pedal your feet and change the tempo easily and smoothly. You have to learn the drafting motion of pulling a few fibers out of many and controlling the twist in them by how tightly you pinch your fingers and the distance you pull the fibers. Once you’ve learned to do all those things individually, you practice, practice, practice them altogether until you don’t have to think about any of them consciously anymore.

Most of the questions I answered at the convention were about pulling out fibers and managing the twist. It truly is amazing to think about how all the tools and techniques we use to spin are all about creating and managing “The Twist” in the fibers.

It can be a little surprising how physically demanding two solid days of spinning can be. In addition to tired legs and hips from pedaling, the shoulders, arms, hands, and wrists can feel some strain after a few hours. If you haven’t built up calluses on your fingers, they might also be a little raw from the constant sliding of wool fiber along the exact same spot hour after hour.

I was very tired after all the spinning, but I truly enjoyed the opportunity to demonstrate it for so many folks. More often than not, it was people’s first exposure to live spinning. What a treat to share it!

Greg’s Questions for Next Week

(As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

Question 1: Do you think a knitting version of Tournament of Champions would work? What could be done in 30 minutes? And what would the Randomizer categories be?

Question 2: Which sheep do you anticipate being the most challenging to shear? The Merinos because of the loose skin? The rams because they’re… rams? Or the twins because of the incredible willpower it’s going to take to cut off that adorable fluffy lamb wool?

Question 3: Apart from me reading the truth here, were you ever planning to let me in on the fact that I’m not the only one who’s been asleep on the couch when you wake me up and give me such a hard time about it?

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J

The post Feeling Your Age? appeared first on Kiersten J.

I am happy to report that the convention went well. Very well. In fact, it went so much better than I hoped it would.

We had loads of conversations with folks about Beast to Blanket, about sheep, and about life in general. It was encouraging and informative, and we are SO glad we went.

Greg was buzzing with thoughts to process and brainstorm on the ride home after the second day. I was buzzing with the aftereffects of adrenaline and two days of sensory overload. Oh, and two solid days of spinning.

Note to self: Train up for the next one, girlfriend.

Several people went home with copies of the curriculum, which feels a little surreal to say. It’s hard to express the combination of excitement, gratitude, and satisfaction that goes along with that statement.

It’s closely related to the feeling I had when I saw the “click” when someone realized they really could learn and teach this stuff themselves. That something that seemed impossible was actually accessible to them.

What a joy that is. It makes this introvert pretty sure that I can manage another convention here in a few weeks even if it turns me into a mass of quivering goo by the end of three days. I may not be able to speak in complete sentences by the end of it, but I’ll be enjoying the experience of sharing what we’re doing!

Labor and Delivery, Pemberley Farm Edition

For those of you keeping score at home, we are about to enter Interesting Times.

First, we are approaching the normal expected lambing window for the first group of sheep for which I have any clue about their procreative behaviors.

Up until now, every ewe has been a Lady of Mystery. I have no social calendar to check for the dates of their romantic encounters, and some are even coy about the identity of their chosen companions. We’ve discussed this method of carrying on. At length.

But finally, there is a group of four Babydoll ewes (Louisa, Lydia, Margaret, and Maryanne) who have a more definitive history. I know the who. I know the when. I know these because the girls were brought from a sheltered environment where they’d never even seen a ram to Mr. Bingley’s enclosure on the evening of December 11. He did not pause for polite introductions, a considerate tour of the paddock, or even a shared snack. No, sir.

You can find sheep gestation calendars online to save you the trouble of counting days. They’re very helpful for general planning.

Based on those calculations, and the fact that Maryanne looks like she’s about to start affecting gravity at a local level, we moved the Babydolls away from the rest of the flock to a separate paddock and two connected smaller stalls that we use for lambing and isolation. If they happen to lamb when we’re not there, they’ll be in a quieter and safer space than if they had to navigate big sheep and rambunctious older lambs during their travails.

The wild card in all this is Lizzy. She is a Merino ewe who is also pregnant. She is a Lady of Mystery in every sense. We have no idea when she went for a midnight stroll with a ram, nor do we know if she went strolling with Mr. Knightley (Merino) or Mr. Darcy (Valais). And she’s not talking.

She’s showing some Lucy energy with some “maybe I will and maybe I won’t go into labor soon” episodes, but I refuse to be drawn in. I have been down that road to Crazytown. I see Lucy’s hoofprints in the dust and I am not going there again. I’m not. I mean it.

(But I am going to check in another 45 minutes.)

Greg’s Got Questions

(As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

Question 1: What’s the most demanding part of using a spinning wheel, physically and mentally?

Question 2: Based on the many, many questions you had while you were spinning all day for two days, what are people most interested in learning as they watch you?

Question 3: If Lizzy and Mr. Darcy did indeed share a special moment together, what do you expect from the Merino/Valais lamb’s wool? Do you think it will still be good for spinning into yarn, like a Merino or will it be better for felting like a VBN? Any guesses on what to expect from that new Pemberley Farm wool factory?

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J

The post Great Weekend. Now Sheep. appeared first on Kiersten J.

As I’m writing this today, I’m looking at boxes of supplies and products ready to be staged and packed to travel the short distance to Wichita for our first experience of sharing these with home educators.

I don’t talk about these a whole lot in my newsletters. I tend to feel a little itchy when I veer into salesy talk. (This weekend is going to be a stretch for me!) But I thought I’d just briefly share the overview so those of you who are newer can see a glimpse of this side of what we’re doing.

The big project has been the Beast to Blanket Curriculum Guide, based off of a class I taught to my homeschool cooperative when my kids were young, and afterwards when requested. I was so encouraged by the responses to the classes by both students and parents that I wanted to make those experiences possible for anyone.

That led to providing some introductory lessons for younger students who might not yet be ready to dive into Beast to Blanket. We’re making printed Meet Three Sheep and Fiber Arts Coloring & Activity Pages available at the conventions we attend this Spring.

Most recently, we’ve been developing materials aligned with how we’re working to slow down and observe what is happening around us at the farm. We’re learning these are foundational skills for observing, listening, and learning at an unhurried pace. We created The Noticing Book and A Year of Noticing calendar that we’ll be introducing at these conventions. I’m looking forward to sharing more about those later.

It’s an exciting time for us, as it pulls together all the threads of Pemberley Woolworks, from the sheep to the knitting, from the laptop in the office to the paddock at sunset. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to share it with others.

My hope is that those who would benefit most from Pemberley will find us.

If you happen to be there, please do come by and say hello! I’ll be the awkward short lady working the spinning wheel.

Greg’s Got Questions

Thank you to all who voted on the questions last week! Once again, we had a tie. Last week’s winning questions were:

What’s the significance or story behind Martin’s name? and What’s the story with the live chicken prop?

First, Martin.

Robert Martin is a minor character in Jane Austen’s book Emma.

Emma takes a young, impressionable woman from a lower class under her wing and determines to “improve her.” Part of her meddling includes persuading this young woman, Harriet (yes, that’s where our Merino lamb got her name), that she should refuse Robert Martin’s proposal of marriage. The reason Emma gives is that a lowly farmer is not “high enough” for someone she has singled out to be her particular friend.

Robert Martin is a worthy, honest, hard-working farmer whose character is esteemed by Mr. Knightley, the hero and moral compass in Emma’s life. When Emma and Harriet come to their collective senses at the end of the novel, Harriet gratefully accepts Mr. Martin’s gracious offer.

Our Martin is destined to be a wether in our flock. He won’t make other sheep but be a buffer and a buddy to sheep who need to be isolated for one reason or another. For example, when the rest of the ewes go into the rams’ pens for breeding, Martin (and Fitz, our other wether) will stay with the ewes who are not selected to breed. Or, when a ewe might need to be separated shortly before lambing, Martin might accompany her, so she still has a buddy sheep and isn’t stressed by being alone.

He’ll be a humble, working sheep, fulfilling an important role outside of the spotlight. Martin seemed like a good name for a Babydoll wether.

About the chicken prop...

We got a new drama teacher my senior year of high school. He had really big ideas.

For the Spring Play, he chose Firefox. I can’t remember the author. I can’t remember much of the story other than it took place in Appalachia, there were six of us in the cast, and I played a teacher who apparently kept chickens.

Oh, and all the action took place at the main couple’s house, so we sort of built a house on the stage, and this new drama teacher hauled in a truckload of actual dirt and had it dumped on the stage. For realism. I have a strong feeling this was one of those “ask forgiveness instead of permission” deals.

That might have also been the case with the chicken.

Anyway, every time my minor character came over to the house, I carried a live chicken. Its name was Gudger. Really.

The best part? I, who had never had previous contact with a chicken not wrapped in clear plastic, was given the following instructions:

IF IT STARTS ACTING FEISTY, JUST FLIP IT UPSIDE DOWN AND HOLD IT BY ITS LEGS. IT’LL PASS OUT AND CALM DOWN.

Sweet honey mustard.

I did it, too. And they were right.

Please don’t tell PETA.

Questions for This Week

(As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

Question 1: Why do you think Martin’s wool looked like a hand-dyed Easter egg when he finally exited Lucy?

Question 2: What sort of purpose do you have in mind for young Master Martin on Pemberley Farm once he’s matured?

Question 3: And, of course, the question I have to ask every time a new name arrives in our Jane Austen-esque world, why “Martin?”

Question 4: Would you be willing to share more about the live chicken prop high school experience? Was there only one chicken involved? Did he or she have a backup? What play involved live animals? Were any eggs produced during rehearsals? Did the Kansas State chicken department provide this bird? So many questions…

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J

The post A Banner Day appeared first on Kiersten J.

Yes, friends, Lucy has ended her long-running drama and delivered her lamb.

He’s a big, strapping ram with fantastic eyebrows and what look like exceptionally fabulous wooly boots. Lucy is enamored with him, and all seems well with both of them.

That’s the short and clean version of the story. Just the facts, ma’am. You can stop right here and enjoy a satisfying and happy conclusion to her story.

But…

Do you for one moment believe that our little Lucy had a drama-free and uncomplicated lambing?

No.

No, she did not.

The morning started just like all the other last eleven million days of Lucy’s pregnancy. My morning check revealed a grumpy, ginormous sheep who looked about as ready to deliver as she did the night before. And the night before that. You get the picture.

I went home to work, setting a mental alarm. The next time I looked up, I realized I must have snoozed that mental alarm and hustled down to the barn.

Lucy was nowhere in sight when I drove by her maternity paddock. I found her in her lambing stall, practicing her statue act again. She’s really mastered it by now. I thought, “ah, well, it’s a gorgeous day, and the poor thing’s miserable…I’ll just sit with her a bit.”

About ten minutes later I texted Greg: “I think it’s time.”

It was absolutely time. There was no question. Looking back, I can’t believe I wrote “I think,” because without going into more detail that anyone wants with a cup of coffee, there should have been no doubt whatsoever. But by this point in time, Lucy’s psychological shenanigans had completely shaken my confidence.

So there we were, quietly watching what all the books and videos informed me looked like textbook lambing.

Until it wasn’t.

We had what is politely termed a malpresentation. It required what is politely termed an assist.

There is absolutely nothing polite about what happened to dear Lucy to get that lamb out of her.

Because not only did we first need to do a little internal rearranging, but then the lamb’s shoulders got stuck. Hard.

At this point, I feel like it’s important to share our agricultural resumes. As far as I know, Greg’s most intense farm experience before this year was being kicked by a cow as a kid. Mine is a toss-up between horse camp as a Girl Scout and being assigned a live chicken as a prop during a high school theater production.

I’m not even all that whippy with birth as a whole process. My kids were all born via c-section. I had zero context for being elbow-deep in a sheep assisting a live birth.

And yet. There we were, in our mid-fifties, four months into this hands-on shepherding adventure, covered in sheep stuff, buzzing on adrenaline and fear, watching Lucy clean her precious little lamb who was only slightly more stunned than we were at what had just happened.

We have now had a grand total of two lambings on this farm, and each were challenging in their own way. Jane’s was an effortless (for us!) delivery, but a big challenge for the lamb to start nursing. Lucy and her lamb only needed a little help getting nursing going, but the labor and delivery…

Here’s what I know. It’s a great privilege to see the things I’m getting to see, and I’m cherishing these days. Not all lambings will turn out well. Had the timing been different, this one would not have. In a few years, I won’t have the strength to pull a lamb. And who knows when circumstances may change and we won’t be able to enjoy things the way they are right now, with these animals.

But for now, I’m soaking up the experiences, because they are rare and precious.

And I’m putting Advil on the Walmart pickup list because my back muscles are still talking.

Greg’s Got Questions

(As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

Question 1: Why do you think Martin’s wool looked like a hand-dyed Easter egg when he finally exited Lucy?

Question 2: What sort of purpose do you have in mind for young Master Martin on Pemberley Farm once he’s matured?

Question 3: And, of course, the question I have to ask every time a new name arrives in our Jane Austen-esque world, why “Martin?”

Question 4: Would you be willing to share more about the live chicken prop high school experience? Was there only one chicken involved? Did he or she have a backup? What play involved live animals? Were any eggs produced during rehearsals? Did the Kansas State chicken department provide this bird? So many questions…

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J

The post A Happy Conclusion appeared first on Kiersten J.

It was the finals round for Original Oration in a regional forensics tournament hosted at the local high school, and I was lucky enough to be asked to judge.

I have very fond memories of participating on my high school debate team. For three years I practiced how to speak and think on my feet. I learned how to construct arguments based on facts, research, and logic, and how to disagree respectfully in a public forum. Most importantly, those years helped build the foundation of learning to appreciate that there are usually several reasonable perspectives and approaches to solving problems, and it is wise to be open to hearing, examining, and fully understanding those you may eventually reject.

The event I got to judge was a little different. These students had the task of informing their audience about a topic and persuading us to think or act in a certain way. In my day, the event may have been called “Persuasive Speech.”

I learned quite a bit that day! Did you know there’s a literal island’s worth of trash in the Pacific twice the size of Texas? Were you aware that doomscrolling is tied to our need for vigilance?

The things you can learn!

I don’t think it would qualify as doomscrolling, exactly, but I think Lucy’s lambing watch is a close cousin.

Here’s the deal. We don’t know exactly when Lucy interacted with sheep of the male persuasion. We only know when those interactions stopped.

We know that she is progressively getting enormous. She has entered “wider than she is tall” range.

We have learned that she is not very tolerant of discomfort. Or, perhaps more accurately, she is quite expressive about her discomfort. She grunts, sighs, bleats, baas, and positively hollers. She butts her head against the wall, the feed trough, the hay feeder, the straw bale, the water bucket, and has gone so far as to go shoulder-deep with her head into the water bucket and stay there for a good three to five minutes for a proper fuss.

She will go into statue mode, complete with the thousand-yard stare, for minutes, and you can see ripples along her enormous flank, she braces like she’s about to embark on a momentous journey, and we think YES! FINALLY! THE TIME HAS COME!

And then she urps up some cud and goes back to normal Lucyness.

And she’s done this for two weeks.

After the first few times, we were so convinced the time was now that we went on literal watch. I set alarms to check her every 90 minutes through the night.

For a fair few nights.

I checked her rear more times than I want to confess and took eleventy billion pics to compare with all the “How Do You Know When Your Sheep Is About to Lamb” sites that exist out there.

Because Lucy is only the second ewe to (potentially) lamb under our watch. The other was Jane, who managed to completely hide that she was pregnant until 20 minutes before she started labor. Suddenly she was rolling on the ground, showing parts she’d kept hidden (SURPRISE!), and shortly thereafter we had a little ram bleating out his arrival. Bing, bam, boom, lamb.

Lucy is not pulling a Jane.

Friends, we called our vet friend for advice. She came out and was kind enough to examine her…nothing doing. NOTHING.

Lucy is just pregnant.

Perpetually pregnant, enlarging at an astronomical rate, sometimes mad about it, and only becoming more of all of it.

Again, not exactly doomscrolling, but it feels awfully close. We go check the feed (drive by and lay eyes on Lucy), get the same news (no lambing activity, but sometimes sheepy disgruntlement at her current state of affairs), and a teaser (well, but does she look a little different? Better not wait too long before the next check…).

It’s funny how “just checking” can become something else entirely.

Greg’s Got Questions

Thank you to those of you who participated in the poll last week!

The winning question was:  When you think of Lucy, what makes her unique compared to our other sheep, especially the baby dolls?

In addition to all the aspects of her personality that we’re learning during her pregnancy, Lucy is the smallest of all the adult ewes.

She’s lowest in the hierarchy and tends to be shoved and butted out of the way at the hay feeders and feed troughs until the bigger girls are finished.

She came from Illinois with the Valais and Merinos, and I wondered how the Arkansas Babydoll ewe flock would react to her when they were all put together. Lucy sort of drifts on the outskirts a bit. When she’s in a tighter group, it’s usually with Emma and Harriet, the Merino mother/lamb pair who she shared space with while Emma was lambing and the pair was bonding.

It will be interesting to see how the dynamics shift when Lucy is back with the ewe flock after her lambing time. Jane has become more willing to interact with us and assert herself around her lamb. Maybe Lucy will alter her behavior a bit, too?

Questions for YOU:

Would you be willing to take a moment and give some feedback on what you would like? I’d appreciate it! Thank you!

(As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

Option 1: More photos.

Option 2: More videos.

Option 3: More knitting.

Option 4: More farm life.

Option 5: More educational tie-ins.

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J

The post Checking In appeared first on Kiersten J.