I Came Home Stinky and Dirty

... and happy as can be! On Sunday I drove north to glorious rural Occidental, California, to take part in the annual shearing day at Wyammy Ranch.

Carson and I picked up Valerie on the way. Green rolling hills at every turn greeted us as we drove north through Petaluma and Sebastopol, where we turned to head west. Old apple orchards were in full bloom and the road got twistier and twistier, sometimes dipping into deeply wooded valleys and then ascending to open fields dotted with the lovely coast live oaks. 

Aside: Now and then, John and I play the Lotto game: Where would you live if you won several million dollars? What would you change about your life?

It's a fun way to articulate dreams—which don't always require money, when you get right down to it. What is missing in your life right now?

I think, maybe, I'd live up here. But barring the millions (which we have no chance of winning because we don't buy tickets) I think my desire shows that I need to spend more time outdoors.

Maybe I could weed the garden.... 

Hmmm. Not quite so romantic!

The shearer worked quickly despite the paparazzi—the sheep were noisy as they waited their turns, but they were quite calm once it was over. And amazingly slender under the heavy coats! The Wyammy sheep—Romneys, Wensleydales, and some mixes—are all covered, so the fleeces are quite nice. JoAnn, the owner, is a spinner who understands the needs and desires of handspinners!

I got to help vaccinate the lambs by catching them and holding them while they got their shots and their little dose of worm goo. Then the red crayon mark on the forehead, making them look like participants in the holi celebrations. Beyond cute! They were about the same size as Shadow, and I know enough about animals to understand that they prefer a quietly authoritative touch to a doubtful, tentative one, so holding them was easy. 

Love.

I got covered with lots of unmentionable organic material. And I didn't mind!

Carson and Valerie purchased a glorious mixed-gray fleece. I, remembering all too well the pile of fleeces and rovings in my fiber corner, remained firm in my no-no-no stance. Such resistance took its toll, however, and I had no resistance when we stopped at the Wild Flour Bread in Freestone on our way home. 

My car was filled with an intoxicating blend of fresh sweet breads and sheepy goodness for the rest of the ride home!

Comments

[Marji]

Our sheep always hid behind trees after shearing, as if they were embarrassed to suddenly to naked in front of their friends.

[Valerie]

Glad we got to share this fun day! Great pictures.