One of our goals here at NJ Fibershed is to share the smallholding experience with those who are “farm curious.” What’s a day in the life of a sheep owner really like? I invited Sara Bauer, one of our Community Supporters, to spend a day with me. It’s a treat for me to have a helping hand with some of the farm maintenance, and my sheep are always happy for the extra attention.
Anne opens the gate, and we step into a grassy paddock where her Shetland flock has been grazing. We’ve been leaning over the fence, watching the sheep, and a few have started to work their way over, curious about us newcomers.
My mother and I have ventured out on this fine Saturday to visit Anne Choi and her farm, Middlebrook Fiberworks, in Bedminster, New Jersey. It is a brisk October day, of bright blue skies and slanting sunlight. The wind is ruffling everything—the long grass, the sheep’s fleece, our hair. But the sun is strong and warm. It’s the kind of day where you’re not sure whether you’re warm or cold. The most obvious thing for us to do is get into this paddock, get to know these sweet, sweet sheep, and get our fingers into all of their beautiful fleece.
But as we walk to them, the sheep turn and begin to walk away from us, meandering toward various points across the field. We pause. The sheep pause. We continue toward them; they continue moving away. Behind us, Anne latches the gate and explains the gentle nature of her Shetland sheep. “They will follow you,” she explains, “but if you walk toward them, they will move away.”
Anne strides into the center of the paddock, then turns on her heel; the sheep trot quickly over to her side and keep pace as she walks toward us. Several of them are already angling for affection, nudging their heads into Anne’s hands and against her thighs.
The flock surrounds us; their personalities and singular antics are immediately apparent. Astrid is rather flighty, with rabbit-like ears. Clio thinks she’s a dog, dancing and nudging and even jumping up on my back as I kneel down in the grass. Daphne is all black and stands, solid and square, at the edge of the action. Moon, with a dark brown face and prominent white arrow on her forehead, is all about under-the-chin rubs. She gazes at me fondly as I give her a thorough scratch. I think that Moon and I have a special connection.
We could stay here, loving on these sheep, all day. Their beautiful fleeces give Anne’s yarn a distinctive and soft hand. Made in small batches, Middlebrook’s farm yarn is available at fiber events and local festivals, as well as on her website. Produced and sold in numbered “vintages,” this yarn is truly one-of-a-kind. Once a vintage is gone; it’s gone.
Tomorrow, Anne’s shearer will be coming to the farm, and there are lots of chores to be done before his arrival. For one thing, a few of the lambs will finally be weaned at this time, so Anne has been thinking of how to separate the sheep and keep all members of the flock safe and secure during the weaning process. After a hot cup of tea and a long chat in Anne’s beautiful, lofted studio space, we are back outside, working to build a barrier gate for one of the shelters in her field. All afternoon, we measure, cut, fasten, and check the fit of our makeshift barrier.
Each time we approach, our Shetland friends gather at the edge of their paddock, optimistic, looking for scratches and pats on the head. Moon stretches her head through the fence and gazes up with a hopeful look in her large, amber eyes. Finally, we screw the final latch into place and stand back to admire our handiwork. Anne allows the flock in to inspect this new addition to their familiar world. I am struck with their mild, inquisitive manner and perceptible trust in their shepherdess.
Back up in the studio, we are rewarded for our labor with bowls of chili, delicious cheese, more tea, and stories about Anne’s farm, the sheep, and the plans she has to help fellow New Jersey sheep farmers learn more about how to engage in the local textile community. Through the NJ Fibershed, small-scale fiber farmers will be able to access education, events, and promotional opportunities for their farms.
In the late afternoon, as Mom and I drive away from Anne and her sheep, we chat about our adventurous day on the farm. In the rearview mirror, I see my windblown hair and pink cheeks, the result of spending so many hours in fresh air, engaging in wholesome work and lots of laughter. The nagging worries that were plaguing me this morning are distant; I wonder what Moon is doing right now, and how the lambs will fare during the weaning process. I wonder how the clip of this year’s fleeces will emerge in one of Anne’s distinctive yarns, and what I will knit with that yarn.
Sara Bauer learned to crochet in a professional development course called “Crochet for Stress Relief.” She had never been much of a crafty person — but fell in love with the fiber arts. A year later, she learned to knit by watching video tutorials. Then she took her first spinning class and purchased a Louet. When her mother discovered a loom in the attic, Sara took it home. The setting for all of this work in the fiber arts is a lovely Chinese tea house near Delaware Water Gap, PA, which Sara has been renovating with her partner, Samuel. A longtime listener of audio podcasts, Sara began the Yarns at Yin Hoo audio podcast in August 2013. These days, Sara is working on a #mostlyhandmadewardrobe and looking for ways to champion local textile production. You can find her on IG and Ravelry as @sarapomegranate.
