One of the best things about visiting the farm is how slow the pace of life here can be. Yesterday, I spun some Cotswold sheep fiber into yarn, enough to add to my collection of handspun yarn that I made back in June when I visited. I didn't dye it, so it's the same color as these sheep (if they were clean), which is to say it's a dusty off-white. It takes hours to spin, but it's rewarding when you're finished. I'm planning on knitting it into a large winter shawl. I don't knit well, I prefer crochet, so we'll see how this one turns out.
The animals are very demanding. They have to be led out to their feeding pastures each day. There are multiple varieties of sheep and goats, but especially the Cotswold sheep and Angora goats, Angora rabbits, and Alpacas. There are also cattle, horses and everything else you'd think of that lives on a farm, but those are over at the neighbor's, my grandma's relatives' place. It's a huge family farm, the farmhouse we're currently staying in was built around 1909.
Staying here always reminds you of how separated you are from the earth and from nature when you live in the city and buy your beef in a styrofoam container wrapped in plastic. When we visited about eight years ago, we all took a nap after our drive only to be awoken by shouts of "Fire!" The small lamb barn next to the rabbit hutch had caught on fire, and my grandfather, who was partially disabled due to a stroke, was attempting to fight the fire. We all ran down, and my dad managed to contain it to the small barn with a garden hose until the volunteer fire department arrived while my mom and brother and I attempted to get the rabbits to safety away from the fire and smoke (we put them all in the back of a truck together -- a lot of unplanned pregnancies resulted from the event). A couple of lambs died as well as an adult ewe. We were lucky that the wind was blowing the opposite direction or the large barn with all of the hay, sheep, and cows would have burned as well.
Just as frightening as fire can be, especially for a farm around harvest time, is the lack of water. You never hear as much talk about the weather because someone is seriously interested in the weather as you do on a farm. In fact, my aunt said grace over dinner last night and her final petition was for more rain. Too much rain, the crops rot. Too little, they become too dry and die. Everything we eat and live on in the civilized world is grown on farms just like this (my grandma's operation is organic and hormone/chemical free, but her relatives' portion of the farm is conventional), and they're being hit hardest by the increase in overall temperatures and the changes in weather patterns due to global warming. People in cities don't see this, of course, beef doesn't moo, it shows up at the store already packaged that way.
I enjoy being on the farm for a couple of reasons, not the least of which because I rarely ever feel stressed here (the barn fire being the one glaring exception). I plan on staying an extra day and returning tomorrow. I hope that I hear back about my interview soon... today is supposed to be the day.
