Rosy Glow

Thankful for my winter Saturdays.  It's gorgeous out there, with the pink glow of dawn illuminating the sky behind the piney ridge.  The waning gibbous moon was hanging in the opposite sky and the fresh blanket of snow was powder under my feet.  May first means the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival and the start of the Hamilton Farmer's Market season.  There will be no lingering on the farm in jammies and cuddling with doggies on the sofa.  I will be so "out there."  I'm worried about getting it all ready, wool/yarn, etc. but there's no use complaining.  Everyone knows that the maniacal Maggie will kick in get it done.  The real Maggie would rather knit on the sofa, or sit in the hay mow and keep my sheep company.   Still hoping to hang a hammock up there.   One of these years I'm going to pull back a couple of clicks, but not yet.  I'm still  in love with my sheep and dedicated to using only natural fibers raised on my farm, with only hand spun yarn at my booth, no matter how that sly Kimmie Cornerstone tries to slip machine spun skeins in the basket.   I'm wishing my "work room" would be finished, so I would have a decent place to do my thing,  but it's going very slowly.  Matt is overwhelmed at work, writing weatherization teaching curriculum, and has been sick for a week.  I flashed back to when I was sitting in the haunted hay mow at a sewing machine in the middle of the giant room.  I had a bare light bulb lamp standing next to the machine for light, with a wall of blackness all around me.  It was very spooky and I kept my eyes on the needle.  As long as the machine was running I wasn't looking over my shoulder.   I had landed here in August and Rhinebeck was in October.  The bags had to get done.   Matt was working in New Jersey and  I was living in the little trailer and the dogs were fast asleep inside it.   Was that really me?  Yikes.  Those were tough times.   Matt did get my washer/dryer unit installed, making it much easier to wash clothes and leaving the milk room washer dedicated to wool.  The wool washer is still flooding the milk room despite new plumbing going to the outside, requiring sweeping out of the water because the floor drain has been clogged for years,  probably due to a pipe collapse.  There's always something.  I have a collection of beautiful fabrics and hope to make a nice collection of Bundaflicka totes for Maryland.   I took a sewing machine to a new repair guy in Norwich.  Let's hope he's good.  Without a good working machine I'm like a cowboy without a horse.