Spinning Yarns

I went to a beginning crochet class today and learned the chain, single, and double crochet stitches and how to read a pattern. My first project is a twisted cowl scarf of super soft Malabrigo Silky Merino. This is my first step toward learning to properly knit and crochet so I can make good use of all that nice yarn I'll be producing as a shepherdess.

I'm not entirely unfamiliar with wool crafts--I tried felting, and I have two somewhat secret hobbies, one of which involves a Knifty Knitter loom and the other of which involves a latch hook and color-coded mesh canvas. Yes, the Knifty Knitter's target market consists of pre-teens (so I've been told), and latch hook kits are popular only among unicorn-loving octogenarians (as is apparent from the plethora of unicorn-themed patterns). What can I say? I have multi-generational interests. In my defense, let the record show that I make cute hats on my little loom, and I only latch hook moderately cheesy landscapes. No unicorns or kittens!

Big Tom

This past weekend the Wrangler and I went to an open house in an equestrian community here in the OC. The house itself was nothing special. I was making a beeline for the car but stopped when I saw the Wrangler squatting down and talking to something in the side yard. I peeked around the corner and was met by a friendly tortoise. The name "Big Tom" and a phone number were written on his shell. (Apparently, Big Tom has a tendency to wander.) Big Tom crawled swiftly over to me to say hello. "How cool is that?" I asked the Wrangler rhetorically. I already was thinking about how pleasant it would be to have a Big Tom of my own lazily sunning himself on our back patio. The Wrangler and I chatted with Big Tom for a few minutes and then politely excused ourselves. As we checked out the rest of the yard, we noticed a raised garden bed that held not produce but tortoises of different shapes and sizes. The sellers had a little tortoise farm! Thankfully there were only four tortoises, i.e., not a gross number of reptiles. Just enough to be interesting.

Thrills and Spills

I fell off Francie during my lesson on Saturday. Things had been going moderately well--I'm still pretty timid when I ride, and this is reflected in my posture. I've developed a bad habit of hunching forward as a protective mechanism, which actually does nothing to protect me and instead puts me at risk of losing control and balance. I'm scared to ride without my stirrups, which used to be a fun challenge and great way to build leg strength. When it comes down to it, the prospect of falling off again is ruining a once merry pastime.

Saturday's lesson was going okay, and I had just rounded the corner of the arena in a posting trot when Francie was spooked by a horse walking on the trail outside the arena. She spooks every now and then, usually at mundane things like a flag blowing in the wind or a person running down the hill. After a sudden lurch and slight rear--while I grab her mane and the reigns and hold on for dear life--she recovers. This time, she kept lurching a little longer than usual. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I didn't fight hard enough to stay on and found myself airborne. "Well, here we go again," I remember thinking, mid-flight. I braced myself for that horrible lifeless feeling when I broke my arm and sacrum last time. I landed in a heap in the sandy footing. Miracle of miracles, nothing hurt! I could tell immediately that I was fine.

"I'm okay," I yelled, and jumped to my feet. Francie, the little brat, was standing quite calmly a few yards away. I walked over to her, grabbed her reigns, and promptly began to cry. I was glad that her huge body shielded me from the stares of the other riders. (Of course, the riders in the advanced class were practicing jumps at the other end of the arena and witnessed my ineptitude.) My wise instructor comforted me but made me get right back on. After a fall, you really do have to get back in the saddle. We ended the lesson with some confidence-building walking exercises and just the slightest bit of trotting.

I landed on my right side, which proves that my broken arm is in fact now healed--it took the brunt of my fall like a champ. I'm still a little sore, but I suffered injury only to my pride and spirits. I get teary-eyed thinking about things. I'm sad that I'm not a more competent rider; I'm frightened by the certainty of future falls; I'm frustrated that I can't get over my fear; I'm mad that a pursuit that was once exhilarating is now terrifying; I'm puzzled by my inability to do something that even 10-year-olds can do quite nicely and with far less drama. But I. Will. Not. Quit. I am not a coward.

But I might be an idiot.

Day Trip

The Ortega Highway

The Ortega Highway runs from San Juan Capistrano here in south OC and winds east through the Cleveland Mountains and several national forests and state parks. It descends into the Lake Elsinore valley in Riverside County, and then continues on into the Palm Springs area. The approximately 45-minute drive over the pass and down to the I-15 is gorgeous this time of year. Yesterday the Wrangler and I headed over to Temecula, which is about an hour and 15 minutes (without traffic) from Laguna Beach, and I enjoyed the ride despite getting a little queasy from the curves and twists. Our mission: to check out some sheep-friendly residential areas.

We did find a cute equestrian community just 10 minutes from Old Town Temecula. After touring a property, we couldn't resist a stop in Old Town to visit the Temecula Lavender Company, the charming retail store for a small lavender farm in Temecula wine country. I picked up some lavender soaps and lotions. Around the corner is the Temecula Valley Cheese Company. We were served a delicious aged cheddar from a woman who makes her own gouda and has a prominent "I love cheese" tattoo on her bicep, with which the Wrangler was fascinated.

"Is that permanent?" he asked our cheesemonger.

"Yep," was her gruff reply.

"Then I guess you are all in," he observed, with admiration.

Logistics

Hellhole Canyon Preserve

Well, I have not heard from the second breeder yet, so I currently am expecting only two sheep. I hope that this changes, though! Two sheep really aren't enough. They are herd animals and need companions. It's good to have a spare sheep or two, just in case.

I'm getting slightly anxious about finding a place to live with pasture for the sheep. I try to remind myself that I have two full months, but I am prone to worrying these days. I considered moving to northern San Diego county, which isn't too far from work. There are plenty of ranches at reasonable prices when you're about 30 minutes east of the 5. The area always has struck me as unbearably hot, dry, dusty, and prone to wildfires. But, just like the parents who eschew their hip urban lives in trendy but sketchy neighborhoods to raise their young in the comfort of the 'burbs, perhaps I too must make concessions in order to give my little lambs a proper home on the range. The hot, dry, dusty, wildfire-prone range.

Resigned to this fate, I put my chin up and started looking for homes in the area that still is within reasonable commuting distance from work. I located the community on Google Maps and noticed that it is near a large nature preserve. "How nice," I thought, zeroing in. Oh. The preserve's official name is Hellhole Canyon. I paused to consider. "Yes, my thoughts exactly." On to the next plan.

(Actually, as you can see above, the area looks perfectly lovely for a desert-terrain type of cowgirl.)

Alisal Ranch

View from horseback

Last week the Wrangler and I and some good friends headed out of the OC and up to the Santa Barbara area for horseback riding, spa services (for the girls), and golf (for the boys). It was my first trip to Santa Barbara, which was more beautiful than I'd expected. I loved every minute of our drive up the 101--the wildflowers were blooming, goats grazed on grassy rolling hills overlooking the ocean, waves crashed against rocky shores, and clouds covered the tops of the gentle, distant mountains.

The Alisal Ranch is just outside of the town of Solvang, a strange little town that consists of (1) kitschy Scandinavian-themed tourist fare and (2) wine tasting rooms. (It's the town featured in the movie Sideways, which now is just that much funnier to me.)

We had sunny skies and temps in the mid-70s while we were there, but it snowed just one day after we left! The views from horseback were spectacular. At the sight of all those trees and green grass, I was this close to driving back to Laguna Beach, throwing all our stuff in a U-Haul, and moving up to Solvang--kitschy Scandinavian-themed tourist fare-be-damned. But, like anyone suddenly finding herself in a magical paradise, where the sun glistens off a silvery lake, nothing can be heard but the sounds of a bubbling brook, and baby deer dance just yards from the horse trail, I was skeptical. "Does it always look like this?" I asked our wrangler. "Like, what happens in July?"

"We've had an unusual amount of rain this winter," he admitted. "It's usually pretty dry and brown 'round these parts."

I knew it! I looked back at the Wrangler, who was riding a Clydesdale-mix with furry feet. "No need to get that U-Haul just yet," I informed him. But I just can't seem to reach that itch to move to greener pastures...

Wether or Not

Huh. The Wrangler took the news of our impending road trip and the possible doubling of our flock in stride. Perhaps he's grown accustomed to my little surprises, or maybe he's just thinking, "Well, it could be worse." At any rate, we have a sheep pick-up plan. All we need now is some pasture.

We were expecting two sheep, but now it looks like we'll be getting four. This can't be much different than parents who are expecting a baby and learn that they're having twins, right? You just adjust to the idea and then start preparing. There's never any question that you'll welcome the extra bundle of joy with open arms. This past winter, I researched breeders of Southdown baby doll sheep and reserved two sheep from a reputable farm. The thing is, breeders can't easily predict how many and what type of lambs will be born; they can't exactly guarantee that everyone who reserves some sheep will get what they asked for. Thus, we buyers just have to wait for lambing season and hope we get the call. Waiting lists and uncertainty make me nervous. I decided to err on the side of prudence and reserve sheep with a second breeder as well. Both breeders had emphasized that their waiting lists are long. Reserving a total of four sheep seemed like the safest way to ensure that I'd receive two. Unfortunately, the farms I fell in love with are both located a couple days' drive from Southern California. I suspected that the Wrangler might balk at the prospect of a two-day road trip with sheep in the back of an SUV (they will be too little to travel in a trailer), and so I just might have glossed over some details.

I've been, as my dad would say, "hangin' tight" these past few months, reading my sheep books and making my way through the home study sheep course. And then I got the all-important email yesterday. My sheep will be ready. I had requested two wethers, one black and one white. Because I was the first to respond to the breeder's announcement, I have been assured of my picks. They will be ready to leave their home near Branson, Missouri, on any Wednesday or Saturday in June.

I sent an APB to some of my contacts to inquire whether anyone knows of a sheep-friendly hotel chain for the drive home. Oddly enough, I did not receive any recommendations. I did, however, receive invitations to post-up for the night at the homes of friends along the way. Charmaine, the plucky Six-Button Cowgirl in Denver even offered to come along for the Branson-Denver leg.

"Here's what we'll do, " I told her excitedly. "I'll fly you into Branson and will meet you there for a night of fun, and then we'll pick up the sheep in the morning and drive the 13 hours to Denver in one-shot. The Wrangler will fly to Denver, we'll spend the night at your place with the sheep, and then we'll do the 15-hour drive home in one day." It did occur to me that the discussion concerning "meeting in Branson for a night of fun before picking up the sheep" probably had never occurred between two female attorneys under age 40.

Charmaine didn't blink an eye. "If Branson is anything like how it is portrayed on The Simpsons, I have no doubt that there's fun to be had." She followed up with another email notifying me of her husband's gracious offer to refrain from mowing the lawn between now and then. Clearly, our Denver hosts are appropriately focused on the needs of the sheep.

The other breeder, located in Washington state, send word yesterday that she will notify me of my exact place on the waiting list next week when all of her lambs have arrived. When it rains, it pours.

It's Happening!

I got the email today that every expectant shepherdess can't wait to get--a note from the breeder confirming that I want two wethers, asking about color preferences, and notifying me that they may be picked up on any Wednesday or Saturday in June! There are some extra details that I need to share with the Wrangler before I write about them here, as it would not be courteous to have him read here first that we may be getting four sheep instead of two (I'll explain later), or that we will be flying to Branson, Missouri and driving back to California with sheep in the back of a rental SUV. So I'll fill everyone in after I make the Wrangler some nice homemade granola and break the news gently.

And THAT ... was AMERICAN IDOL!

I'll admit that I've been an Idol fan since Season Two. I wouldn't say that I'm a huge fanatic, but I do watch it faithfully. Shows air twice (and sometimes three times) a week, from January through May, so it's a big time commitment...I hardly know what to do with myself in the off-season. After Simon left and J-Lo and Steven Tyler were brought aboard as judges for Season 10, I had decided to part ways with the show this year. But curiosity got the best of me, and I started watching the audition shows in January. And what do you know--I got hooked again. Hey, it's good, clean, family fun.

Last week I was thrilled to learn that I'd finally scored Idol tickets for tonight's results show. The Wrangler was considerably less enthusiastic about the idea of attending, but he focus group-tested the idea among some coworkers. The idea tested through the roof--everyone told him to go. And so we headed up to Hollywood this fine afternoon, dressed to impress (as we were instructed). We checked in around 2PM and were seated around 4:30PM. The show, which is aired live on the east coast and in the midwest, began at 5PM Pacific Time.

The studio looked just as I'd imagined, although it was much smaller than I expected. It was fun to see the judges, Seacrest, and the contestants in person. At the risk of sounding like a starstruck 'tween, I'll say it was simply a fabulous show! I just read a recap describing it as the most exciting results show EVER, and I must agree! We got our groove on during the surprise live performances by Stevie Wonder and Jennifer Hudson. (The Sugarland performance was pre-recorded; we all just sat and watched the video on monitors. It was a little weird.) We witnessed an elimination shocker, and we were stunned by the truly dramatic save by the judges.

After the show, we waited out the rush-hour traffic on the 405 with a stop for dinner in Little Ethiopia on Fairfax. We arrived home in time to re-live the glory by watching the recorded show (which airs at 8PM here), freezing the frame to point out our tiny, blurry faces in the nosebleed seats. Indeed, we are so blurry that I don't think this counts as our 15 minutes of fame.

Slide Down My Rain Barrel

The Wrangler and I learned how to build a rain barrel today at the Ecology Center, and we might be able to put it to use as early as Monday--there is rain in the forecast. Harvested rainwater is a great source of high-quality water for the garden. Here in Laguna Beach, it's an especially good means of reducing the storm water runoff that ends up in the ocean. As a general rule, a 1,000-square foot "catchment area" (i.e., your roof) yields 600 gallons of water per inch of rain. My rain barrel is a 55-gallon recycled food-grade plastic drum (with no harmful BHT), which I estimate will be filled after only an hour or so of moderate rain.

Constructing the rain barrel was extremely easy. It's just a matter of having the right tools. There are only four steps: drilling a hole in the lid, which will be positioned beneath the downspout of the rain gutter; using silicone caulking to attach a piece of screen under the hole (to keep out mosquitos and debris); inserting an overflow spout; and installing a spigot for the garden hose or watering can. The Ecology Center provides more detailed instructions on its website.

What Are the Bees' Names?

Today at the farmer's market, I purchased some local honey and found myself innocently asking the seller too many questions about the honey: Where was it harvested (Northern San Diego County.) Who is the producer? (A guy with just a few hives.) What kind of flower? (This honey is from orange blossoms, but he's also selling some from jasmine. It just depends on what's in bloom.) During the inquisition, the Wrangler interjected, "And what are the bees' names?" He was referring, of course, to this hilarious clip from the new series Portlandia. Sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself.

You're Welcome

I finished my craft project. When I last reported on this attempt to create replicas of the $7.99 Easter-themed Welcome sign that I saw at Michaels, I was somewhat alarmed that the cost-per-unit had reached $55. Well, I ended up spending approximately $240 on supplies, for a total of $60 per sign. This, of course, does not include labor. My friend Theresa and I spent most of Sunday afternoon painting the letters. Connecting the letters with wire kept me occupied throughout the entire Academy Awards red carpet pre-show and ceremony. I spent a couple hours cutting fabric on Monday evening, and tonight I fired up the glue gun and spent an hour affixing all the buttons. I guess that's about 13 hours of man-power. Assuming a modest wage of, say, $10 an hour, the cost per sign is $92.50.

Theresa offered to sell my signs at her booth in the upcoming craft fair at the Laguna Beach Women's Club. As lovely as my signs are, I suspect that at $100 each they are unlikely to fly off the shelves. No worries. I always had intended to give them as gifts to VERY LUCKY recipients.

In the mean time, I need suggestions for something I can do with the four jars of leftover paint in pink, green, tan, and eggshell!

Urban Flower

Homemade Living

I've been enjoying the four books in the Homemade Living series by Ashley English. Beautifully designed, the books are both informative and fun. Ashley is a former medical professional-turned homesteader in North Carolina and seems poised to become the Martha Stewart of the modern homesteading movement.

Getting Started

I'm making my way through the Sheep Home Study Course that I'd mentioned a couple weeks ago. It's part of the Pipestone Lamb and Wool Management Program started 39 years ago as a pilot program jointly funded by the National Sheep Industry Development Board and the Minnesota Department of Education. For approximately $170, I received a package of 14 lessons and quizzes. I could have opted for the online version of the course, but I'm an old-fashioned gal at times and prefer the hard copies. (No Kindle or Nook for this cowgirl).

The course is designed for commercial sheep producers. I know this because the first lesson, "Getting Started in the Sheep Business," suggests that I start with 40 to 50 head of three- or four-year-old ewes. Clearly, my instructors are envisioning an operation somewhat larger than my huge flock of two miniature lambs. Nonetheless, I'm getting a lot of out this course so far. I don't think it's possible to be over-prepared for shepherding.

'Shrooms

Tonight at Whole Foods the Wrangler spotted a little mushroom garden kit by a California start up called Back to the Roots. The kit comes in a cardboard box similar to a milk carton. Unlike mushrooms in the typical grow-your-own mushroom kits, these mushrooms grow not on logs but in recycled coffee grounds.

The garden must be kept indoors in an area with good air flow and indirect sunlight. We put ours on the windowsill next to my wheatgrass garden (which is, I might add, growing like a weed. I planted the seeds last Tuesday, and the grass is already six inches tall!). The mushroom kit includes a misting bottle for daily watering.

Apparently, we'll start seeing growth in about seven days, after which the mushrooms double in size each day. A crop yields about a pound of mushrooms, and the little kit should give us two to four crops. We'll know by next week how this turns out.

Back in the Coop

Okay, okay. I know I once proclaimed here that chickens are "so early 2009" before blithely moving on to such things as backyard goats and Babydoll sheep. But what came first, the chicken or the...goat? In my case, it was the urban chicken movement that got me thinking of all the other possibilities.

I've been so caught up with my impending shepherdhood that I've given scant thought to chickens. But while traveling this week I picked up Janice Cole's Chicken and Egg, a simply delightful memoir of suburban homesteading with 125 recipes. Although I'd all but fallen off the chicken bandwagon, I thought the book might be interesting because the author keeps backyard chickens not far from my hometown. I was more than a little curious to see how her chickens fared during the brutal Minnesota winters. What a charming account of learning to raise chickens! Janice, a food writer and former chef, also blogs about her Three Swingin' Chicks.

Because my supernova self often takes things to the extreme, I loaded up on chicken books this weekend. There are many good books for beginners, but I would be remiss if I failed to mention Chick Days, a fun new book by Jenna Woginrich. You might recall that Jenna graciously invited the Wrangler and me to visit her farm when we were in Vermont last fall, and we had a wonderful lesson in beekeeping and spinning wool.

And that is how I've come to be preoccupied with chicks, coops, and delicious fresh eggs all over again.

Unwelcome Knock-off

I spotted this Easter "Welcome" sign for $7.99 at Michaels and thought--rather stupidly, it turns out--that it would be fairly easy to mass-produce facsimiles to give as gifts. Materials needed: unpainted wood letters, including an egg-shaped "letter" as a substitute for the O in "WELCOME"; paint in four country-ish pastel colors; paint brushes; a drill to make holes and jewelry wire to string the letters together; twine to affix to the top letter so that the sign can be hung; ric rac ribbons in a few different patterns; wood buttons; glue gun; and sandpaper (to give the letters a distressed look after painting).

I decided to make four signs. Tonight I found most of the supplies at the store, but I struck out on the wood letters. No L to be found, and the C and M were available only in the wrong size or font. But at that point, I wasn't too discouraged. I could find the letters online. The discouragement began to set in at the check-out counter. The paints, brushes, twine, and jewelry wire came to $86 and some change. Thankfully, the Wrangler already has a drill, glue gun, and some sandpaper.

At home I searched for the letters online. The good news is that I found exactly what I wanted--even the egg-shaped O. The bad news is that the grand total for four sets came to $98 plus shipping. The devastating news is that I won't receive the letters for 15 business days. I consider this devastating news because the odds are good that I'll have deserted this project within 15 business days.

But I haven't lost interest yet, so I'll press on to the fabric store tomorrow in search of the wood buttons and ric rac ribbons. I can't guess what I'll end up paying there, but right now these handmade knock-offs of the $7.99 Michaels masterpiece will probably cost about $55 each and look like a third-grader made them...assuming I even make them. Fifteen business days for delivery? What year is it--1860? Are the letters coming by Pony Express?

Lucky Duck

I've been thinking about how nice it would be to have some rescued animals on the ranch. I love animal babies, so I'll probably get a lot of my livestock directly from the breeders. But I'll be sure to keep space for a few older animals in need of a good home. I just saw this beautiful duck available for adoption from the Best Friends animal sanctuary in Kanab, Utah. Timmothea is an adult female Pekin duck that had been dragged from her pond by dogs. Luckily, a good Samaritan chased away the dogs and took her to the vet. Timmothea is very friendly and waddles around with a cheerful hello for everyone. If only I had a pond!

Baker's Delight

This winter has been particularly brutal. After the epic rainfall here in SoCal, the unprecedented ice storms across the south, the weeks of sub-zero temps in the Midwest, and the record-setting blizzards in the east, I need a little reassurance that the ranch will have heat and a method of cooking if nature shows the power grid who's the boss. Thus, I've been researching dual-function wood-fired ovens. If pressed, I'll admit that I'm probably motivated less by the practicality of these charming ovens and more by romantic notions of stoking a fire in the cookstove and baking bread in a cozy cottage while a winter storm howls outside.

I had pretty much decided on the Baker's Oven featured in the Lehman's Non-Electric Catalog. The Baker's Oven can heat a 700 square-foot room while the cooktop accommodates four large saucepans and the bottom oven is used for baking. But I recently saw a post on another blog discussing the Vermont Bun Baker. Aside from having a catchier name, the Vermont Bun Baker comes with an attractive soapstone hearth, side wall, and top.

Not cheap, these ovens. (The Vermont Bun Baker 1500 pictured here will set you back a cool $6950.00.) Why does it cost so much to have a back-up plan?