Yesterday we ushered the lambs into the barn for a winter wardrobe makover. While they are closer to being yearlings at this point, we still think of them as our  "designer lambs", since all were named for fashion industry icons. Although it's barely been eight weeks since the last coat check round up, some of them were beginning to look like stuffed sausages. While most of the adults are simply piling on the fleece in this season, the lambs are still growing in all directions which means a closer eye on the trim of their little jackets as they get taller, wider and more woolly.

The changing of coats is a pretty mellow process. Some of the lambs clearly like the attention and the opportunity to watch humans in action up close. There's no need to pull them away from their buddies so we carry the buckets of fresh coats right into the pen and work our way calmly through the flock. They poke their noses into the buckets, curiously inspecting the pile of clean coats. Chanel and Diesel press in closer to supervise. Others are less eager to participate. Perhaps Valentino (below)  thought we couldn't see him hiding beneath the feeder.

And maybe Polo and Beckham thought they could escape notice hiding behind the water bucket, where they were deftly out-maneuvered by Holly.

Calvin posed for this shot of his snowy midriff which has been protected from dirt and chaff all winter by the jacket. It takes two people to change a coat. You can do it alone, if using a halter, but my sheep absolutely hate being tied. We use a holistic approach that involves someone (usually me) holding them firmly but gently under the chin, while another person – usually Holly – works each hind leg up and out of the leg strap. I stroke their faces and whisper silly things to distract them while Holly lifts each hind hoof slowly off the ground and like a swedish masseuse, gently shakes and rotates the leg to loosen up the muscles. This keeps them from stiffening up and resisting as she flexes the hoof at the pastern and bends the knee, which is necessary in order to draw the hoof through the strap. Once the legs are free, we pull the coat up and over the shoulders. My task is to work it free of the dense neck wool and to shimmy the collar over their wooly top knots, taking care not to snag an ear. Most of the lambs put up little fuss when we do it this way. We paused to admire Calvin's handsome fleece. A grungy coat is replaced by a fresh one, one size larger.

Stella and Comet model their fresh pinafores for us.

And Calvin (below) returns to me for a little extra attention. 

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copyright 2009 Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs. All rights reserved.

The post-holiday reality of winter has set in. Over the last four weeks we've experienced nearly every known form of precipitation interspersed with bouts of mind-numbing single digit temperatures and hellish winds. Yesterday brought the second ice storm of the new year, followed the new year's second snowfall. Welcome 2009.

The reserves of hay we stockpiled last August are shrinking at a brisk pace, as we've been feeding a little extra during extreme cold snaps. From the lack of hoof prints in the yard (and the piles of droppings in the barn) I can tell the sheep are not venturing outdoors. I don't blame them. While they don't mind the cold, the wind is another story.

On cold but tranquil days I force them out by dragging a toboggan full of breakfast. They follow the hay sleigh as I pull it across the field, dropping flakes on the snow every five yards or so. Feeding on clean snow is about the only way to feed directly off the ground – a practice which can otherwise invite all sorts of nasty health issues. The wind whisks away any leftovers before trodden by dirty little hooves. The march around the pasture is about the only exercise they get. It gives me an opportunity for house keeping. Bedding straw has been hard to come by this winter and my supply is going fast this year.

Amy stops mid-breakfast to show her gratitude. I mind the cold less in moments like this. The blue bucket in the back is heated (thankfully)  and holds 40 gallons of water. The flock has been thirsty so we fill it twice a day.

Things are less settled in the carriage barn where our ram, Teaberry, recently returned from courting, has been re-introduced to his buddies. Bringing a ram back into the guy's club is never a smooth process. There is always a period of duking it out as the boys reestablish their social hierarchy. Parsley, my back-up cormo ram whose services were not needed this year, is rather bellicose. He and Teaberry  battle it out in the shot below. Everything is an excuse to pick a fight: who gets to eat from the long feeder, who gets to stand closest to the gate, who gets to drink first from the fresh water bucket. The others in the group are wethers who just try to stay out of the way, with the exception of Cilantro, a wether who seems to have a bit more in the way of testosterone. Sometimes it's two against one.

Adding a few tires to the pen makes it harder for them to back up any distance for head bashing (and puts our summer tires to good use). The war lasts anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks. Eventually, they get tired of shoving each other around and seem to forget why they were fighting in the first place. As they mellow, I can sense the change in vibe. That's when it's safe to restore the pen to its usual size and allow them access to the yard. We're making progress, but not quite there yet!

First off, thank you everyone for your words of concern and encouragement. It means a lot to hear from friends during difficult times.

The skies were clear and the landscape crystalline the day after the ice storm. Chain saws provided the soundtrack for morning chores as every one on Patten Hill cut their way through the tangle of limbs littering yards and driveways. A curtain of ice cloaked the woodland in lace as the temperatures remained below freezing. We looked around and took stock of the damage.

The pic below shows one of the impassable farm access roads.

And this photo gives you a sense of the thickness and weight of the ice, which was simply too much for hundreds of our trees. The birches were hardest hit. The main drive is now nearly birch-less.

A limb came right through the roof of this shed. Fortunately, there were no sheep inside.

The fence got whacked like this at least 50 places. In some spots it was ripped right off the posts.

On the plus side, our electricity was restored on Monday. We lost no plumbing at the farm. I know many others who are still struggling without power. I can't say how much I appreciate the Asplundh, Utility and WMECO crews who came from many states away and worked long hours to remove limbs and replace lines and poles. 

While this has been called the worst ice storm in decades, the sheep were rather unfazed. As long as we show up, toss out hay and fill buckets twice a day, everything is right in their world. 

That goes for goats, too, though they're much happier when we bring treats.

I am writing this from the comfort of my kitchen in the midst of a major snowstorm (exactly one week from the date of the ice storm). Another storm is predicted for Sunday. Winter is here with a vengeance. We turn a small corner this weekend as the light begins to return.

Happy solstice.

The storm's severity became apparent as we attempted to make our way down to the farm. We first filled as many jugs as we could find with water, knowing the well at the farm was out of service. Then came the trek down the driveway, which was blocked every 50 yards by fallen trees and limbs. Some were small enough for us to easily pull to the side; others were thick and heavy. Wherever the driveway was impassable, we resorted to off-road maneuvers. 

When we finally made it to the town road, things were not much better. Limbs dangled precariously from power lines; tree trunks lay across the lane or leaned dangerously snagged by other trees. What a mess. Although the roads were icy, we made it safely to the farm where a hungry, thirsty flock awaited.

Fortunately, the  animals were all fine, and the buildings at the farm and studio, though without electricity, suffered no damage. We could tell by looking at the yard that the sheep had not ventured out during the storm (no tracks, no droppings outside). Holly, who lives in the village, seemed stunned to see the condition of things on Patten Hill. Evidently the farm's elevation was a factor in the storm's intensity. The village and  areas of lower elevation suffered relatively little damage.

I confess, my focus was a bit myopic at first. As I dealt with the immediate issues of clearing access to buildings and providing water to the animals while Mike cleared branches from our roads and Holly surveyed the fence line damage, I thought the storm was localized and the conditions on Patten Hill unique and extreme. In the course of the day, we came to realize the extent of the storm's damage to neighboring hill town communities and throughout the Northeast. From radio reports I learned the neighboring towns of Ashfield, Colrain, Heath and Conway had also been hit quite hard. Thousands of homes were without power. Early reports estimated it would be days before electricity could be restored to the hill towns.

Our good friend and neighbor, Norm Davenport arrived with a tractor equipped with a grappling hook. He and his sons removed the massive limbs that barred our driveway. While Mike saw to the clean up at the house, I made calls to the plumber to ensure that pipes in the barn, well house and studio would not burst.

Throughout the weekend, watering the flock meant trucking water, 40 gallons per trip, in plastic jugs from our home, which is generator powered, to the farm, which is not. The trip is 2 miles each way via town roads. While we do have interior farm access roads, they are now totally impassable and will remain that way for some time, from the looks of things. 

There is nothing like the harsh reality of New England winter to challenge one's thinking about life in the country. More on that later, and more pictures of the aftermath to come .

The driveway, post clean up:

We're having a bit of a bad streak, mechanically speaking, both at the farm and at home. It's bad enough that we've had a week that's included single digit temperatures, negative-digit wind chill factors, sleet, rain, ice – but what really frosts me is when things stop working the way they're suppose to when you most need them. I'll say more about that in a minute.

First, let me show you what happens when you carry treats and a camera in the same pocket  . . .

If sharp-eyed Cocoa spies my hand reaching into my coat pocket, she's right on it. Clementines are her favorite treat (followed by bananas (skin and all), apples and hot dog buns). I bring her something special  everyday, well, except for yesterday. She was mega-disappointed that the only thing in my pocket was a camera. Talk about things not working the way they should! 

Butch, ever the opportunist, has learned to watch Cocoa so he can horn-in (literally) on her snack. He too is keenly tuned in to hand-pocket movement. Apparently my lack of thoughtfulness was unforgivable.  He let me know, in his own way.

"No apple??Take that!!"

Systems were malfunctional over in the west barn. We have more than ample feeder space – over 64 linear feet – so crowding shouldn't be an issue. Unless a greedy little doe decides that eight feet of it belongs to her. Yes, I'm talking about you, Gypsy. Little knave. She's the reason the sheep are crowded to the left (and poor Diesel, beside her, has a nervous look in his eye).

And then there's the issue of the automatic waterer, which on most days is my favorite work-saving piece of equipment, except for when it doesn't work. The pan sits on a balance arm. As the critters drink, it automatically replenishes the bowl. A small heating element at the bottom keeps everything from freezing. The sheep love it; they line up like kids at a drinking fountain after recess. For reasons not apparent to me, the stream has slowed to a trickle, taking almost four minutes to fill the bowl. This means I am filling extra buckets. . . .

I expect minor glitches from time to time. Winter has its way of showing what needs attention. The boiler at home has kicked off three times in the last 48 hours. The plumbers seemed mystified,working until after 5 pm last night to resolve the issue. We'll see what happens.

The roads are sheathed in ice this morning. I am waiting for the temperature to rise a little before venturing to the barn. I guess its time to hunt for my snowtires. . . .

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copyright 2008, Barbara Parry. Foxfire Fiber & Designs at Springdelle Farm