Miracles

After all these years raising sheep and goats I am still in awe of the miracle of birth.  Stayed home from school today - first time since Rhinebeck last October - to wait on goat babies.  Hard for me to call them kids as that sounds too much like my students, who are not nearly as cute and cuddly as the babies here on the farm.  I have two older does about to deliver, one with not much of an udder.  Fingers crossed that one of the moms with a good udder and a lot of colostrum gives birth first so I can share the wealth.  They are a bit wild as I don't bother with them very much - only at shearing time when they get their vaccinations and worming.  I have them separated in a maternity pen now where they are being spoiled rotten, with egg layer mash and black oil sunflower seeds, along with lovely, fragrant grass hay purchased for a ridiculous price at the local feed and pet store.   When I dragged it into the barn this morning everybody went nuts.  The rest of the flock is eating sticks from a local dairy farm.  If only I had ten more round bales I would have been home free, but I've said that so many times I'm tired of hearing it.  Several years ago I came home from work to find a pretty little newborn doe kid cold and dead, just outside the door of the east end.  Mom had gone outside to have some privacy and dropped the baby in an icy rain.  Trying to avoid that happening again.  We clip a mom in the maternity pen every night.  Takes about an hour for me to do it with my Fiskar sewing scissors, after dinner and chores.  Matt holds the horns for me and is good for one goat.  After a long commute and an exciting day of weatherization training and writing curriculum, he is ready for a cigarette (not in the barn) and bed.  I have two big mohair fleeces from the last two nights and am looking forward to a few more.  I love the stuff.  Black yearling mohair is about my favorite fiber in the world.  Kid is too soft and short.  Yearling is curly and long.  Adult mohair can be too scratchy to wear but it makes great socks and rugs.  Nothing takes the dye bath like mohair.  On deck for today between trips out to the barn - cleaning up this ridiculous kitchen so I can make Almond and Patchouli soap.  At long last my beloved patchouli has arrived.  The stuff is magical.  I'll keep some out of the soap to put in creme.  I've already had an inquiry from someone in Washington about bringing patchouli creme to Maryland Sheep and Wool.  I won't put it out for sale, but will keep it under the table for the few of us who appreciate the precious oil.  Incredibly, many people don't know what patchouli is.  When I did put it out on the table, I must have have explained it forty times that day.  I'll keep the empty bottle to put dabs behind my ears over the summer.  Nothing keeps the bugs away like patchouli, AND it is every bit as antiseptic and antifungal as lavender.  I have 19 Bundaflicka totes hanging and more cut out.  I will have a box car load of soap if I get it all cut up and set out to cure today.  Trouble is, the drying rack is full of fiber art paraphanalia.  I need a dedicated soap drying room with wall to wall racks.  I need, I need, I need....In the meantime better go check the barn for babies.