The Home of Beautiful Bluefaced Leicesters and Shetland Sheep

Come visit us in southern Pennsylvania.


Friday, October 29, 2010

When the phone rings at 2AM it either means that something terrible happened or the sheep are out! Thankfully it was the latter.
Off I went in my PJ's, flashlight in hand, looking for the escapee. All gates were closed so I had no idea which pasture was missing a sheep. After walking the road several times and finding nothing it was time to count sheep. Luckily, I hadn't counted many when I got to the ram lambs in the barnyard. Yup, one was missing. All gates were shut tightly and there were no holes????? At least now I knew I was looking for a white BFL, that's better than a dark wooled Shetland. How did he escape and why didn't the others go with him, as they usually do? Glad they didn't. Now in the car, I began driving up and down the road. Thankfully, the bridge has been repaired the our road is no longer a well travelled detour so there's no traffic. At this point it's getting cold and my flashlight is dimming. After an hour, he appeared ... right in the middle of the road like a four legged ghost that I was delighted to see. By this time, Tim had arrived to help. Our old house and barn are built right on the road so shuushing the big guy into the barnyard was easy but the mystery still remains unsolved. Did he close the gate when he left or was this a Halloween prank? Molly suggested that I check this particular sheep for opposable thumbs.

Thursday, October 28, 2010


Lancaster, PA is always beautiful so I jumped at the chance to drive there with Tim to look at mowers and tractors. Tim needs the mower and Bill and I need a smaller tractor. We have a huge Ford- New Holland that now longer pulls haybines and balers. All it does is bush hog and move manure. It's big and awkward for maneuvering in small spaces so Tim and I thought we'd trade it in for something a little more woman friendly . I'm the main operator now and have trouble hooking up to the PTO alone. Bill's knees wont allow him to get into the cab but he loves his tractor. Through my hours in the cab, I must have learned to talk tractor by "assmosis" because I could converse with the salesman relatively intelligently, or so I thought. (I'd like to hear the salesman's side of this story. He's probably still laughing. ) Home again with brochures in hand there's no response from Bill. Guess I'll be driving Big Blue for another season so I'd better get the AC fixed and learn how to hook up the mower. Guess I shouldn't interfere with a man and his tractor.