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Dear Ann,

What is happening in our country? These are such sad, troubled days. I can’t stand to just yap on about knitting as if there is nothing wrong. Something is very wrong. I don’t have any answers. I’m trying to maintain hope, listen, and demand investigation and action from those in power.

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(Photo by Gale Zucker.)

My preplanned snippet for today helps lift my spirits. Our longtime friend and collaborator, photographer Gale Zucker, has just written a sparkling blog post about this past May’s shearing of the flock of sheep that lives on Nash Island, Maine. On a gloriously bracing spring morning, Gale and a group of knitterly pals boarded lobster boats, to accompany shearers to the island. They stood on rocks and ran at the sheep, who live outdoors year-round, gathering them into one spot so that the lambs could be counted, and the ewes could be shorn. SUCH FUN.

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(Photo by Gale Zucker.)

At the end of a long day of passing lambs around and picking plant matter out of fleeces, they headed back to the mainland in boats laden with enormous bags of wool. It’s a grand story, full of sunshine and air. Gale’s photos are terrific, and her words make me almost feel the lanolin on my hands. Go read it.

Thank you, Gale.

Love,

Kay

28 Comments

  • I did read it yesterday, and you are right!!!

  • Perhaps if we could get more people to snuggle lambs, the world might be a happier place.

  • Shared your shearing post with DH, and asked him to recite an appropriate poem. He said none came to mind. I prompted, “Not even if it began with Bah, Bah…?” We had a good chuckle over seeing all those “bags full” waiting on the dock for the tide.

    Thanks for the morning brightener.

    • Lamb
      by Michael Dennis Browne

      Saw a lamb being born.
      Saw the shepherd chase and grab a big ewe
      and dump her on her side.
      Saw him rub some stuff from a bottle on his hands.
      Saw him bend and reach in.
      Heard two cries from the ewe.
      Two sharp quick cries. Like high grunts.
      Saw him pull out a slack white package.
      Saw him lay it out on the ground.
      Saw him kneel and take his teeth to the cord.
      Saw him slap the package around.
      Saw it not move.
      Saw him bend and put his mouth to it and blow.
      Doing this calming, half kneeling.
      Saw him slap it around some more.
      Saw my mother watching this. Saw Angela. Saw Peter.
      Saw Mimi, with a baby in her belly.
      Saw them standing in a row
      by the dry stone wall, in the wind.
      Saw the package move.
      Saw it was stained with red and yellow.
      Saw the shepherd wipe red hands on the ewe’s wool.
      Heard the other sheep in the meadow calling out.
      Saw the package shaking its head.
      Saw it try to stand. Saw it nearly succeed.
      Saw it have to sit and think about it a bit.
      Saw a new creature’s first moments of thinking.
      Felt the chill blowing through me.
      Heard the shepherd say:
      “Good day for lambing. Wind dries them out.”
      Saw the package start to stand. Get half-way. Kneeling.
      Saw it push upward. Stagger, push. And make it.
      Stand, standing.
      Saw it surely was a lamb, a lamb, a lamb.
      Saw a lamb being born!

      • How wonderful, thank you Judy.

  • Oh, to be on an island off the coast of Maine, hugging lambs, in a hand knit sweater. It sounds so peaceful

  • Reminds me of a book I read recently,”The Shepherd’s Life” by James Rebanks. A way of life we should hold in more esteem. Thank you, Kay!

    • I love that book, and his Twitter feed.

  • This week has broken my heart. Thank you for the daily news that helps point our thoughts to a calm place☮

  • My heart breaks for my nation and I struggle to understand what is happening. As I prepare for a move from small town America to a major city I wonder how safe I will feel in my new home. I’ve travelled the world and lived through a coup but I fail to understand how we can live under this stress. These sheep are a beautiful reminder that there are good things happening.

  • This has been a very sad week, in a very sad year. We seeme to have lost our ability for civil discourse, and our ability to listen to each other, and the same things are happening in so many countries. Yesterdays shooting in St Paul took place less than 10 miles from my home, and ironically , just minutes from the Minnesota State Fairgrounds, “America’s Great Get-together”. If only we could.

    Immediately after breakfast each day, I sit down with the computer, and spend some time with my on-line knitting world, where everything seems so calm, and then i turn to the news and once again the world is in tears.

  • I commented to my husband last night that things were getting to me. The shootings, the rage, the sorrow and the lack of peace in the world. This morning when I started waking up, husband shared the latest horror.

    I am going to knit my ass off this weekend, and find cat videos.

  • We all need an island and a sheep to hug

  • I always appreciate that you acknowledge the terrible and tragic parts of this world, even though this is a space generally dedicated to celebrating beauty, fun, friendship and whimsy. We have to acknowledge and do something about what’s going on, but we also have to feed our souls.

    • Sara, I have nothing to add to your lovely comment (which captures my own feelings precisely), but wanted you to know that if this were Ravelry, I’d be all over those *love* and *agree* buttons!

      • Yes, what Julia said — thank you both.

  • My sister and her large family are spending some time on a small island in Maine right now… wish it weren’t so far away from my home in Oregon.

    • I live in Oregon, too. Today is the beginning of a long-planned weekend on Mt. Hood in a cabin with a woman friend. Guess what: it’s going to SNOW! (Well, only above 6000 feet, but it will be cold and rainy where we are. I think a lot of knitting will happen.)

      This is not just me ranting about cold weather in July. Global climate change is upon us, and it makes me both angry and fearful. And then all these shootings, all these good lives lost. Yes, terrible things are happening, and we’re all feeling on edge and anxious. I feel it in the generally bad behavior of people around me — stress, short tempers, grumpiness, bitchiness. Thank goodness for lambs (and for the coast of Maine, which is my idea of heaven).

  • I believe I spy a stopover in there.

    • Well, Stephanie, this *is* the Stopover Channel you know.

  • Agreed.
    Perfect blog link for today.

  • Thank you, Kay. Needing this, I’m hiding from the news these days.

  • Thank you so much for sharing Gale’s post. I needed it today.

  • So beautiful Thank you

  • Yes, sadness everywhere. In fact, I took a psychic break from reading the news to read your blog(!), and thank you for the link to Gale’s blog. Loved that story! When in doubt or sadness, connect with the 4-leggeds!

  • Great post, I started clicking deeper and deeper and soon will own some skeins from Nash Island sheep. Love it.

  • The link to the shearing story and the the link to the story of these island sheep made me cry. In a good way.

  • Thank you, Kay, for acknowledging the problems we face, at the same as providing stories that provide an antidote to those problems.

    I’m glad to hear you’re trying to maintain hope and thank you also for trying to take steps to make change. This is one of the small steps I took today: https://www.facebook.com/lissa.story

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