A blog chronicling my departure from urban life on the east coast to sheep farm and cheese making life on the west coast. Still recounting the meals I have eaten in my new setting, but with more sheep thrown into the mix.
On a rather misty/rainy day I met up with W. and we went to Roaming Radish for snacks and a drink, and, it turns out, cake.
In case past posts hadn't led you to pick up on it, I like to go to the beach, and I spend a fair amount of time hanging with Rodo the Jack Russell. There is a hierarchy to his affection, which will always start with his true owner, E. But E. has a job and life off the farm, so often enough Rodo will deign to hang with me (or anyone else who he thinks will give him food and a soft place to lie down), but I will say that I am sometimes touched by Rodo's choice to follow me on any particular day. For example, this day. I think it was my day off, and I had run errands and then wanted to go take advantage of the sunny nice weather for a swim and a sit at the beach. I walked down the one big hill, through the ewes' pasture and through the gate that leads to the steep descent to the beach when I heard a whimpering noise above. So I turned around and went back up a bit to check and see what it was all about. Unbeknownst to me, apparently, Rodo had seen me start walking and decided to follow...but then hadn't announced his presence in time for me to wait for him at the gate. He wanted to go to the beach too.
And to the beach we went. I finished my former wine night/grad school comrade's (Lindsay Hunter) book, Ugly Girls, which is a good read for those who like reading.
On another morning, H. and I were milking, but when we looked up at some point, we noticed that the ewes that had already been milked were entirely not where they belonged. This led to a bit of a delay in finishing our last group of milkers, as well as some consternation as to how the heck they got out in the first place. Eventually all was put right in the world, but it wasn't without a bit of effort on the part of H., me and B.... especially because we didn't see where they were breaking out from the first time round, so they did it again. A little frustration, a little laughter, a little ultimate triumph.
Another romance movie painting.
We get asked a lot of questions at markets, many of which are entirely understandable and worth answering. But then there are some questions that are just hard to hear and keep a smile on your face. H. texted me from a market saying "I'm going to make a meme about how my face looks every time someone says our goats are so cute." This is because we have no goats, and all our signage prominently says sheep. So, yeah, we get a bit perplexed. This is the photo I texted her of what my inside face meme would be when such a statement was made.
Peony season is the best season of all.
Sheep selfies. Sheelfies.
Driving a golf cart with lambs or sheep in your lap will never get old.
Wine, salad and foie gras...with letter. Perfect.
Another trip to the beach, this one at a very low tide.
Low enough that we could walk out and pick up Dungeness crabs...and be slightly terrified that their claws would get us.
Then slightly more confident that they would not.
Then totally certain that we could kiss the beasts if we wanted.
Happiness. Also, I am wearing a romper.
You wouldn't think picking up crabs would be quite as entertaining as it was, but it was.
These are the good kind of times that keep rolling.
At one point S. and the dogs started doing a little circular run/jig. It was heartwarming.
T. and his gf M. came up to the farm from Seattle at the end of May. It was the first visit for both of them, but they were pretty game to muss themselves up a bit when saying hi to the sheepies.
Though I think T. worried a fair amount about getting shit on his shoes.
A morning view.
An afternoon view.
Even when they're falling apart, peonies are pretty.
S. flew in to visit with M&A&M and I met up with them in her hotel room for drinks and dinner. So nice to see them all. So glad I know them.
Slightly hard to see, but an eagle diving into the water to get a fish.
Slightly better proof.
Obligatory (to me) photos of me at the beach after taking a swim while wearing my new suit.
Coco and S. came down on this particular beach jaunt and also had some fun times.
Coco was wiped and took a nap on the log behind my set up.
Sun or shade. Sometimes a difficult choice.
L. and H. post-milking. I think this was a night that I was in charge of dinner and chose to make dinner grilling sausages on a fire. Because that is always the best kind of dinner.
Proof that I trepidatiously jump on the trampoline with A. from time to time.
L. and H. again.
A sign I saw on my way to the ferry one market morning.
The double yolk eggs aren't coming quite as frequently as last year, but they still do happen from time to time. H. is the best when it comes to taking photos. She has no fear or shame in just taking one million of them, which sometimes leads to me feeling like I'm walking around this life with a permanent triple chin...but other times I just have to be very strict in choosing from the many options she provides me.
This was me doing a double yolk egg jig. Also known as a dyej.
H.'s boyfriend M. arrived on the farm late last week. I've been hearing so much about him for so long, that I really just decided he was already my friend. Unfortunately it turns out that he's a really unfunny, terrible person. Poor H.
And then this Saturday we took all the new folks on the farm (M. plus two new boys who are going to help us for a couple of weeks) to Goss Lake. A.-the-10-year-old came with and was not the only one to try out the rope swing. I did not try out the rope swing, but I did swim like no one was watching.