This morning Ballyhoo didn't live up to its name. I heard what I have been waiting for since spring: nothing. Tropical storms have brought enough rain that finally, finally the grass has bounced back and the sheep can graze.
If you wish to raise good fiber, you must grow good grass. Nutrition is the best part of strong, lustrous wool, of the fat reserves that allow sheep to grow more downy undercoat and less armor-like guard hairs, and of course a good diet results in mighty lambs that delight us with their zest for life. I sometimes think winter is easier than summer, though more expensive; at least I can depend on cold and needing to feed hay. Not knowing if I can depend on rain is worse, and wet plus heat brings parasites. In the ewe pasture our fat growing lambs are beginning to use their rumens, and this additional animal load means I'll need to continue supplementing with hay. Nonetheless, they'll race across consistent turf now. The new ducks, when they hatch, will look for bugs among the tender green blades.
I feel I should dance for the grass, wassail it, offer thanks to the universe in some tangible way. Maybe a prayer of thanks as I dump wool tags in the compost. Some people complain when it rains because sky water means they'll have to mow their yard. I admonish them to remember that the rain is a blessing to the farmers who grow their food. I am mindful that, while this rain has brought my pastures back, the storms that caused it have wrought damage elsewhere. They'll be in my prayer too.
If you wish to raise good fiber, you must grow good grass. Nutrition is the best part of strong, lustrous wool, of the fat reserves that allow sheep to grow more downy undercoat and less armor-like guard hairs, and of course a good diet results in mighty lambs that delight us with their zest for life. I sometimes think winter is easier than summer, though more expensive; at least I can depend on cold and needing to feed hay. Not knowing if I can depend on rain is worse, and wet plus heat brings parasites. In the ewe pasture our fat growing lambs are beginning to use their rumens, and this additional animal load means I'll need to continue supplementing with hay. Nonetheless, they'll race across consistent turf now. The new ducks, when they hatch, will look for bugs among the tender green blades.
I feel I should dance for the grass, wassail it, offer thanks to the universe in some tangible way. Maybe a prayer of thanks as I dump wool tags in the compost. Some people complain when it rains because sky water means they'll have to mow their yard. I admonish them to remember that the rain is a blessing to the farmers who grow their food. I am mindful that, while this rain has brought my pastures back, the storms that caused it have wrought damage elsewhere. They'll be in my prayer too.
RSS Feed
