A happy ending...

On the farm, you can plan for one kind of day but often another sort of day shows up at your doorstep. Today was one of those days.

Tom, Tony and Shannon gave up their weekend to join us in the vineyard; weeding and end-post duties were on the agenda, but not until after a morning browse through our beloved Farmers’ Market. The group had just arrived when my cell phone rang.

It was my next door neighbor playing third stop in an old-fashioned round of “string-and-can” telephone, the kid’s game where a story’s details change with each retelling. “Your sheep are out!” the neighbor told me. “The man who lives down by the electrical substation woke up this morning and looked out and saw sheep. He called Kruse’s and they called us – everyone wondering who had sheep. I told them it was you.”

I looked at my market visitors, who were eyeing snap peas and jam and the frittata I had cooking on the grill. “Our sheep are loose!” I told them. I never had to say the word “go.” They were gone.

Ten minutes later I got a text message that read: They’re back.

Seems they never left in the first place. I called my neighbor back. This time she told me another neighbor had driven his hog carrier to where our herd was last seen, and found only one sheep. It was our little lost lamb! At least, it had to be.

The crew dispatched on the 4-wheeler with a rope, determination, and a former high-school football linebacker. I wasn’t witness to the pursuit, but apparently a gas-powered engine can outlast a stressed ovine, especially when a 180-pound linebacker goes for her knees.

The ewe was raced on the back of the wheeler back to the pasture, where she immediately bolted through the fence – again! She made it only 30 feet before former number 99 flattened her again. This time, she was shuttled into the lean-to in order for fence repairs to commence. And then the clouds opened. Fortunately, barbed-wire repels water nicely.

While hubby and Tom added layers to the wire fence, the nine sheep (who, despite rumors, never did leave the pasture) used their time to get used to their voices, scents and demeanor. The flock opened up. It also started communicating with the sheep sitting in confinement – a ewe who has affectionately been named Thelma-Louise.

When the fence work wrapped up at day’s end, Tom assumed the duty of shepherding Thelma-Louise back to her sorority. The reunion was amazing. The nine ewes bleeted to their stray, and when she was freed, from a spot well inside the perimeter, she dashed to rejoin her flock. The others nuzzled her – as warm a welcome as any of us humans have ever seen.

Of course, the end-posts are still sitting on the ground where they’ve been since early May. And just a few weeds got picked today. But none of that matters. Little Bo Peep may have lost her sheep, but we found ours and once again – we have ten.

Hubby spending a day in the rain stringing barbed wire.

Thelma-Louise put up a fight, but this guy knows how to throw a tackle.

Even with friends awaiting her return, Thelma-Louise puts up a fight.

Thelma runs to rejoin her herd, where she was welcomed with lots of friendly nuzzling. Sweet!

Pre-dawn challenges of sheep herding...

At 4:00 a.m. and with lightning brightening the western skies, Marc and I attempted to move the flock into shelter. It took us 30 minutes to move two sheep. What happened next will go to our graves, unspoken.

Suffice it to say, the seven made it through the thunderstorm unscathed. The other two are fine as well. Marc and I, on the other hand, have altered our expectations of what it means to have sheep grazing at Four Cedars Farms.

On the lamb...

As a writer, I'm always fascinated to learn the origin of those catchy phrases that have become part of our venacular. I'm even more excited when I find common, some-all-too-common-borderline-cliches are rooted in agriculture.

Like "pecking order" for instance. I watched that work itself out in the chicken coop out back.

Or "don't count your chickens before their hatched," another lesson from the coop.

Out in the vineyard, I get first-hand experience with "grow like a weed."

And "if it's not one thing; it's another," pretty much sums up farming "in a nutshell."

Our friend Brad and his son-in-law Charlie, both fellow viticulturists and farmers, pulled into the drive right at dusk tonight with ten Targhee yearling ewes. (That's sheep, in case you were wondering.) The gals were stuffed into the back of Brad's pickup for the 25 mile drive in from St. Peter. The gals didn't appreciate the ride.

Brad offered to have the gals summer with us so we wouldn't have to mow the back pasture anymore. The deal works well for Brad too. He's only got about 2 acres of pasture for his flock of forty-plus sheep, and feed is as costly as fuel these days.

Marc had been working hard to string up barbed-wire around the pasture to keep our guests safe. But Brad knows his sheep well and thought they might be too skittish in their new surroundings to be held in place by strings of wire. We had another area enclosed with woven wire, which was a garden last summer, so Brad and Charlie and Marc attempted to herd the gals into that area for safe keeping overnight.

Well, the herding wasn't exactly "a piece of cake," and one frightened ewe broke through the barbed wire and bolted. At nightfall, she was last spotted three properties north, heading toward the lake. We hope she rests well, stays safe, and emerges with the sun so Marc can locate her tomorrow. All we could do tonight was tell the neighbors that if they see a white sheep with a green ear tag, that's our girl. She's on the lamb...

P.S. Pictures coming tomorrow.

The mundane aspects of farm life

We've been through a warm, dry spell, which means the vines are growing well. And so are the weeds. Today, I'm torn between weeding and watering -- two activities of equal importance to the success of the vineyard. Alas, there's only one of me so I must choose. I will start with the weeding and make the switch to watering later, as the temperature rises.

Last evening, Marc and I battled swarms of mosquitos in an attempt to finish another project here on the farm. The mosquitos won, Marc became badly bloodied, and we gave up and went inside about 6 p.m. That just means we have our work cut out for us preparing for our summertime guests, who arrive on Thursday. Curious? Stay tuned!

A little 'free press'

I consider the pitches I make to the Mankato press on behalf of the farmers' market, akin to picking red apples right there at the bottom of the tree. You know, going after that low hanging fruit! I mean seriously. It's Mankato.

Nonetheless, it's still gratifying to have young reporters take the bait and it's even more gratifying to this "seasoned" hack when they lift my "pitch" word for word as they develop their stories. It could only be better for them if I'd added gift wrapping.

On opening day in May, my pitch garnered the market coverage on the front page of the Sunday A section, above the fold, with four color photos. This past weekend, newspaper reporters were back and joined by the lovely Kira Klapper from the local CBS affiliate, KEYC television. I steered the TV reporter to one of my favorite vendors in an effort to stay off screen. (They say the camera adds 20 pounds!) I wasn't lucky enough to avoid the paper photographer though. At least the angle was good.

Find the newspaper story here.

Find the TV piece here.

It's says a lot about this south central Minnesota community that when children of color come to town, it's news.