We Need Some Cute

Anyone would, really, after lyrics to "Die Nebensonnen." Here are, in order, Claire the alpaca from Blue Moon Ranch (where I will be working Saturday), a kitten named Amber off the Kittenwar website, and Oscar, a pug/schnauzer mix who's up for adoption at the Moab Humane Society. (I have been relentlessly pestering my roommate about a getting a dog. I got a "maybe after the first of the year" last night--success will be mine soon!)

Another Druidic Holiday + Some Unrelated Information

Today is Samhain, the Druidic equivalent of New Years Day. It's not an equinox or solstice, but rather one of the "quarter days," along with Beltane (May 1, the big spring fest) and Imbloc and Lughnasa, celebrated February 1 and August 1, to mark the end of winter and summer, respectively. (I know a lot about the pagan calendar for a Lutheran.)

In other news, I think a dog would be even better than an imaginary boyfriend. I found one online! (Don't laugh--I found the last real boyfriend onlne. And many nice pairs of shoes.) This is Joe. Help me convince my roommate Joe is necessary for my happiness.

Maybe inspired by old boyfriends both imaginary and real, I've been listening to the Schubert song cycle "Winterreise" (Winter's Journey) again. There's an incredibe, poignant, creepy song at the end called "Die Nebensonnen," or The False Suns. (Which I hear is a real phenomenen called parhelion: on very cloudy, snowy days, you see the clouds refracting many suns.) Here are the lyrics:

I saw three suns in the sky;
I gazed at them long and intently.
And they, too, stood there so fixedly
As if unwilling to leave me.
Alas, you are not my suns!
Gaze into other people's faces!
Yes, not long ago I too had three suns;
Now the two best have set.
If only the third would follow,
I should feel happier in the dark.

I don't think German translates very well, but it's exquisite with the music, trust me. The liner notes for the recording I have are delightful: "In the stature of this music, the traveller seems at one with the great mystics like St. John of the Cross, who wrote of 'The Dark Night of The Soul.' Never has the composer used his beloved key signature of A major and its inevitable contrast with A minor to more enobling effect."

I'm Only Going Trick-or-Treating If They Hand Out Xanax

I've decided it's time to re-adopt a habit I formed in my youth and get an imaginary boyfriend (past ones included Peter O'Toole and Schubert). My new imaginary boyfriend will be a combination of the David Bowie character from Labyrinth (we knew nothing good could come from that) and Sherlock Holmes. I just can't decide whether his name should be David Holmes or Sherlock Bowie.

I Say Oyster, You Say:

So I spent the weekend cooking and knitting again. (I know.) I made oyster chowder, and remembered this passage from the sixth Little House on the Prairie book, By the Shores of Silver Lake:

"First, there was oyster soup. In all her life, Laura had never tasted anything so good as that savory, fragrant, sea-tasting hot milk, with golden dots of melted cream and black specks of pepper on its top, and the little dark canned oysters at its bottom."

That was New Year's dinner, 1880, in the middle of what would become North Dakota. In all her life, Laura had probably never even tasted an oyster.

Thursday Night Guilty Pleasure

David Bowie is brilliant, Jim Henson was brilliant, I'm suddenly 10 years old and going to some now-forgotten girl's basement sleepover party--it's Labyrinth! I have to confess I own the soundtrack, and the track during the ballroom scene is actually pretty fab, as far as lyrics go. Here, I'll share them!

"There's such a sad love
Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel
Open and closed within your eyes
I'll place the sky within your eyes

There's such a fooled heart
Beating so fast in search of new dreams
A love that will last within your heart
I'll place the moon within your heart

As the pain sweeps through
Makes no sense for you
Every thrill has gone
Wasn't too much fun at all
But I'll be there for you-oo-oo
As the world falls down
Falling
Falling down
Falling in love

I'll paint you mornings of gold
I'll spin you valentine evenings
Though we're strangers till now
We're choosing the path between the stars
I'll lay my love between the stars..."

And then you repeat the chorus a few times while some Muppets dance around. Anyway, you have to love lyrics that spell out the "you-oo-oo's" and remind you of when you were 10. Especially when sung by David Bowie.

Said In A High Kitty Voice:

(Thanks to Miss Amber for cheering me up with this. Who wouldn't be cheered up, I ask?)

Chestnuts (Not Roasting)

Looks like what I thought was a picture of Bombay Sapphire on yesterday's post was instead an advertisement. Damn advertisers. My apologies. (The picture today, by the way, is of chestnuts.) I do like chestnuts. From W.B. Yeats: "O chestnut tree, great-rooted blossomer,/ Are you the leaf, the branches, or the bole? O body swayed to music, o brightening glance,/ How can you tell the dancer from the dance?"

Things That Go Through Your Head While Making Risotto

1. Boy, this takes a long time.

2. What is the etymology of gin, anyway?*

3. I blame the books of my young adulthood for a lot.

4. "I am Lazarus, come from the dead
Come back to tell you all, I will tell you all."

5. I want a curly grey dog. I would call him Sasha.

Item 4 is T.S. Eliot, from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." I almost never remember that part; I think having to help (well, cut) my roommate out of his mummy costume this past weekend brought it to mind. (Long story. But look how literature is appropriate for any situation!)

*from the Dutch word for juniper, "genever". Who knew?

Uncollected

You may have noticed from the posting times lately that I'm pretty much rolling out of bed and writing something--maybe not the best plan, since it leads to obcervations like this:

1. Orrin Hatch's re-election billboards (of which there are two I have to see on the way home from my parents' house) make him look like a cadaver.

2. The word "whiskey" came from Scottish Gaelic uisge beatha and Irish uisce beatha, both from the Latin aqua vitae, or "water of life."

Tomorrow: The etymology of gin! Oh, boy!

Knitting, Part 1

I didn't get the finished project photographed last night, but really, the UNfinished projects are so much more impressive:

We have an ivory scarf for a birthday present in the front, the bluetocking sock yarn, a sample skein of the grey alpaca that will be the travelling cloak (for me), red merino/cashmere tweed for a Christmas scarf for my roommate, two kinds of varigated yarn for a secret Christmas present, a second green fingerless glove for a welcome-home present, and some "gingersnap" colored yarn for a chunky vest for me.

But I did get the black alpaca shrug done. Slowly but surely...

Books of My Childhood

Watch out: I got a package yesterday of paperbacks I loved as a "young adult" (that is, an 11-15 year old). Yes, one of them is a horse book: My Friend Flicka has a sequel, Thunderhead. (There's a third to make a triolgy, but it's out of print.) The other two are by Lucy Montgomery, the author of the beloved Anne of Green Gables series. Watch out, indeed.

I know pictures have been scarce this week. I've been meaning to take pictures of some knitting projects, both finished and un. I'll try to get that done tonight.

Karma

Guess who was on the daily update at Blue Moon Ranch today? Aww....

Recovering

As much as I can intellectually accept that change is part of life, I have a hard time accepting it emotionally. New jobs are hard. Change is hard. (I was going to say "stupid," but reconsidered; it's not a particualrly literary word.)

So how do you recover from a first day? You stop at the yarn store on the way home and buy yarn to make socks. Hand-painted blue sock yarn, so you can make blue socks and thus be a bluestocking. (Because after all, you're literary. You avoid words like "stupid" and embrace semicolons.)

Then if you're not recovered enough, you watch Brazil. While finishing up your big black alpaca sweater. And if that's still not enough? You make the potatoes-baked-in-heavy-cream gratin, which makes your roommate happy and finally puts you into a fatty food-induced coma, so you wake up ready to take on another day.

Soundtracks

So it's Monday morning of a new blog address (so much for thinking I'm anonymous) and a new job. And what song is in my head for the occasion? Surprisingly, it's not a song about a certain Maggie and her farm, as much as I love Dylan. It's not even Carmina Burana. No, it's "Feeling Good," as sung by Miss Nina Simone.

New Address

Come Monday, look for the Cute Kitten Picture, Unrelated Information, Potential Band Names Found In Everyday Conversation, and maybe even the Office Snack of the Day at this new address:

www.karenkaminski.com

And to send us off in style here at the old address, here's a bit of Roethke I don't recall the title of (perfect) and a cute bunny picture (wearing a sweater--even more perfect).

"Arch of air, my heart's original knock,
I'm awake all over."

Random Post

I finished the knitting part of the sweater project (yes, still that one) last night while watching Dr. Zhivago. Now I just have to sew it up.

And I found the rules for the Roy Rogers Riders Club yesterday!

1. Be neat and clean.
2. Be courteous and polite.
3. Always obey your parents.
4. Protect the weak and help them.
5. Be brave but never take chances.
6. Study hard and learn all you can.
7. Be kind to animals and take care of them.
8. Eat all your food and never waste any.
9. Love God and go to Sunday school regularly.
10. Always respect our flag and our country.

I like how "be clean" is rule 1 and "don't be a heathen" barely makes it in at number 9.

Cooking

After the Tuna Helper Incident last week, I haven't strayed far from M.F.K. Fisher's ideas about food--two nights ago it was lentil soup wth red wine and tomatoes, and last night it was a "classic potato gratin." The ingredients: potatoes, heavy cream, a smashed garlic clove, salt and pepper, and cheese to spread on top so it gets crispy. I used Edam. If you have never had potato slices baked in heavy cream, run--don't walk--to the kitchen and get going.

I'm blaming Madame Fisher for any weight gained this winter.

In other news, the address of Better Living Through Literature will be changing. Look for an announcement here by the end of the week. (I know all 4 of you who read this will want to update your bookmarks.)

Friends With Photoshop, Part 2:

Just when you think something is safe in its cuteness...

Thinking...

No time for literature (not even picture books)...must keep on task...only a bunny today...

Mousekin's Golden House is REAL

That was the title of a book my brother and I loved, about a mouse who hibernates in a jack-o-lantern. (Sadly, it's out of print and now is selling for "rare book" prices.) Imagine my delight when I checked out Cute Overload this morning and saw this--not Mousekin, but close:

These Boots Are Made For Walkin'

Remember the new boots that were coming Wednesday that made life worth living after all? They came. I am wearing them today. I feel like Jane Eyre. Or Captain Jack Sparrow. (I can't decide if they're Victorian boots or pirate boots.)

Speaking of Captain Jack Sparrow, here's a site where you can create a licensed, branded talking pirate email. It's kinda fun, so visit Dead Man's Mail. And remember, temporary happiness is just a purchase away.

Latin

The (admittedly few) people who read Better Living Through Literature are a good bunch--you ask for a Photoshopped pirate cat captain and you get two of them; you ask for a translation of "Have hobbies and see what happens" into Latin and, by golly, someone finds a friend who was a Classics major and sends it to you. I even got it in Greek, but I don't think the characters would publish online very well.

"Have hobbies and see what happens" gets
translated technically as "Have (hold) the pursuit of leisure and see what happens (becomes)." Which in Latin is "Habe studia otii et vide quid fiat."

So Much for M.F.K. Fisher

Last night's dinner: Tuna Helper.
Last night's quotable quote (yes, I'm quoting myself): "Tough love is letting someone you care about do what they want."

But it's not as bleak as it sounds: New shoes are arriving today, and life is always worthwhile with new shoes.

Let the Randomness Begin

It's only Tuesday, but it's high time for some unrelated information. First, here's the long-awaited picture of the third-prize winning jacket at the state fair:










And here are two pictures of alpacas from Saturday at the ranch (the close-up is of a feeding frenzy that occurred when I gave them carrots, and the distant shot is of them running to the barn to get fed):










Here's a picture of a goat with really big ears, from Cute Overload:















And finally, here's a sample of Worth 1000's "let's photoshop old progaganda posters into something funny" contest:

Cute Kitten Picture Monday!

Doesn't he look tired? I think he looks tired. He's probably tired because it's Monday.

Thoughts from Thos. Jefferson And an Unrelated Thought.

"The care of human life and happiness, and not their destruction, is the first and only legitimate object of good government."

and

"Christianity neither is, nor ever was a part of the common law."

These were written in 1809 and 1814, respectively, by Thomas Jefferson, who's very often invoked as a "Founding Father" by people who want to allow school prayer or keep "under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance. Gives you something to think about.

And hey, as long as we're thinking, here's a part of John Galt's speech from Atlas Shrugged I came across again two days ago. Again, more Ayn Rand:

"Money is your means of survival. The verdict you pronounce upon the source of your livelihood is the verdict you pronounce upon your life. If the source is corrupt, you have damned your own existence. Did you get your money by fraud? By pandering to men's vices or men's stupidity? By catering to fools, in the hope of getting more than your ability deserves? By lowering your standards? By doing work you despise for purchasers you scorn? If so, then your money will not give you a moment's or a penny's worth of joy. Then all the things you buy will become, not a tribute to you, but a reproach; not an achievement, but a reminder of shame. Then you'll scream that money is evil. Evil, because it would not pinch-hit for your self-respect? Evil, because it would not let you enjoy your depravity? Is this the root of your hatred of money?"

Wow, so much thinking going on this week. Where are all the cute animal pictures?

Have Hobbies and See What Happens

That's the motto I adopted for myself about two years ago, and it's served me pretty well. (Someday I'll have to break out the old Wheelock's Latin from high school and see if I can translate it into a more motto-appropriate language.)

Because one never does know what will happen, or who will show up at your doorstep bearing a recording of Ravel quartets, or who will call, or who will be happy or sad, or even whose house will burn down. So one just waits and sees. And has hobbies to pass the time between events.

Speaking of, the yarn above is spun from the Blue Moon Ranch herd and will be available to buy on Saturday at the Open Farm Day. I'm going to get about 1100 yards of that luminous light grey (like Karma!) and make this next:

















I suppose this could technically be called a cape. I hope I feel heroic when I wear it.

Shirts

Last night I was ironing the sewing project I just finished, which made me remember how much time it took to make a pretty basic shirt. Then I ironed a shirt from J. Crew, with nicely finished seams and a real collar and cuffs, and thought of the amount of work involved there. Then I remembered this Robert Pinsky poem I found in college, called, appropriately enough, "Shirt." And it was literary and appropriate and very blog-worthy. So here it is.



Shirt

The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams,
The nearly invisible stitches along the collar
Turned in a sweatshop by Koreans or Malaysians

Gossiping over tea and noodles on their break
Or talking money or politics while one fitted
This armpiece with its overseam to the band

Of cuff I button at my wrist. The presser, the cutter,
The wringer, the mangle. The needle, the union,
The treadle, the bobbin. The code. The infamous blaze

At the Triangle Factory in nineteen-eleven.
One hundred and forty-six died in the flames
On the ninth floor, no hydrants, no fire escapes--

The witness in a building across the street
Who watched how a young man helped a girl to step
Up to the windowsill, then held her out

Away from the masonry wall and let her drop.
And then another. As if he were helping them up
To enter a streetcar, and not eternity.

A third before he dropped her put her arms
Around his neck and kissed him. Then he held
Her into space, and dropped her. Almost at once

He stepped up to the sill himself, his jacket flared
And fluttered up from his shirt as he came down,
Air filling up the legs of his gray trousers--

Like Hart Crane's Bedlamite, "shrill shirt ballooning."
Wonderful how the patern matches perfectly
Across the placket and over the twin bar-tacked

Corners of both pockets, like a strict rhyme
Or a major chord. Prints, plaids, checks,
Houndstooth, Tattersall, Madras. The clan tartans

Invented by mill-owners inspired by the hoax of Ossian,
To control their savage Scottish workers, tamed
By a fabricated heraldry: MacGregor,

Bailey, MacMartin. The kilt, devised for workers
to wear among the dusty clattering looms.
Weavers, carders, spinners. The loader,

The docker, the navvy. The planter, the picker, the sorter
Sweating at her machine in a litter of cotton
As slaves in calico headrags sweated in fields:

George Herbert, your descendant is a Black
Lady in South Carolina, her name is Irma
And she inspected my shirt. Its color and fit

And feel and its clean smell have satisfied
both her and me. We have culled its cost and quality
Down to the buttons of simulated bone,

The buttonholes, the sizing, the facing, the characters
Printed in black on neckband and tail. The shape,
The label, the labor, the color, the shade. The shirt.

Heavy

Here are a few Ayn Rand quotes to ponder on your Tuesday: "The uncontested absurdities of today are the accepted slogans of tomorrow. They come to be accepted by degrees, by dint of constant pressure on one side and constant retreat on the other--until one day when they are suddenly declared to be the country's official ideology." (Keep in mind she died in 1982.)

And this one came up watching V for Vendetta Sunday night with my roommate:
"The only power any government has is the power to crack down on criminals. Well, when there aren't enough criminals, one makes them. One declares so many things to be a crime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking laws."

And there's always this:
"When you have established that one alternative is good and the other is evil, there is no justification for the choice of a mixture. There is no justification ever for choosing any part of what you know to be evil."

And there's this, because sometimes you just need to see a picture of a fawn smaller than a horse's head after contemplating your system of values on a Tuesday morning (from Cute Overload):

A Kitten and Some M.F.K. Fisher

There's a cute kitten picture for Monday.

Here's all the M.F.K. Fisher I promised last week:

Talking about polenta:
"...its fundamental simplicity survives, to comfort our souls as well as our bellies, the way a good solid fugue does, or a warm morning in spring."

Talking about a recipe for roast beef with prunes:
"This roast, served on a generous platter and carved at the table into thick slices, with ample sauce and a bowl of buttered noodle and a crisp bowl of salad greens, with good bread and wine, and cheese to follow, makes a delicious dinner to come upon, It is pungent and hearty, and the world seems more real."

And, rather than try to cook scrambled eggs in cream too quickly:
"I would rather have my scrambled eggs turn into hard, fanged snakes and writhe away."

Who wouldn't, really?

It's Kind of All Unrelated Information Lately

But here's some more:

1. It's the equinox tomorrow, as noted yesterday, and that means Halloween is coming soon, and we all know Halloween means one thing: CANDY CORN. 20 million pounds of it. (Really--I read that's how much the U.S. produces every year.)

2. I never knew Laura Ingalls Wilder didn't start writing novels until she was 63, and that her daughter Rose was ghost writer. I also never knew Rose was one of the most famous writers of her day and won the O. Henry Award.

3. It's snowing at the alpaca ranch.

Here's A Happier Thing To Think About Than The Equinox:

Lambs! And I do believe they're on a blue blankie. You need a blankie in the fall. (Courtesy of Cute Overload.)

Druidic Things

The autumnal equinox is later than I thought this year: not until the 23rd. However, that does not mean that today is still summer.

Forgot This Update

I finished this sewing projet, back from the beginning of August. And the knitting project will be done soon!

Updates

I finished both my M.F.K. Fisher books (How to Cook a Wolf, 1942, and An Alpahbet for Gourmets, 1949). Some fallout: Lots of good passages I need to write down and probably double my usual amount of cooking in the last two weeks. Also a new awareness of different types of hungers--not just those for food. I highly recommend Ms. Fisher.

My big brother wouldn't like me mentioning his birthday today on here, so I won't.

Here's a completely un-retouched photo from Blue Moon Ranch (use the link, as the image is bigger that way). Rowdy is the one posing.

Happy Talk Like A Pirate Day!

Aaaarrrr! Avast! Shiver me timbers!
Me mateys with Photoshop get a special "yarrr!!" today!
KEEP TO THE CODE, ME HEARTIES!

Why Is This Kitty So....

...well, something? Because it's MONDAY, of course! And because tomorrow is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Are we all ready for the piratitude? (I just made that word up. Not bad for a Monday.)

A note to friends who have Photoshop: I think this kitty would look mighty nice with an eyepatch and a pirate hat.

Friday

1. I know I promised more M.F.K. Fisher this week, but I was too sleepy to pull my favorites.

2. International Talk Like a Pirate Day is coming up on the 19th. That's TUESDAY. Get ready here.

3. Some etymology: I've never liked the word "maroon," probably because I don't really care for the color it describes. (I don't mind it when it refers to piratcally stranding someone on an island. Or when used in Warner Bros. cartoons: "What a maroon!") But I looked up its origins and it's directly from the French word for chestnut, marron. And I like chestnuts.

The State Fair

Although we could hear some of the Kenny Rogers concert, it was not a musical. I did see my sewing project, which took third place (that's worth $5! And I got a ribbon!) but didn't get a lot of pictures, as the batteries in my camera died.

However, I did see all the fancy chickens. And the rabbits. And the goats, who were my favorite. Then we saw draft horse pulls: imagine a tractor pull, but with Clydesdales. The winning team, Sam and Bill, pulled 9,500 pounds 8 feet. I guess I'll have to add goats and draft horses to the ranch.

Cute!

So my new favorite site is called Cute Overload and that's what it will give you. This little piggy picture is from there (go to the "Farm Animals" section and be prepared for the lamb in the sweater). Can anyone tell I watched Babe last night?

In other news, Karma from Blue Moon Ranch is for sale. For $19,000. Donations, anyone? Here she is:

What Monday Night at the Apartment Looks Like:

I went into a cooking frenzy last night and made both pasta with fresh tomato sauce and ratatouille, in the process setting a new record for dishes dirty at one time. (Bear in mind, the kitchen at I Street is the size of an average home's hallway.) The finished ratatouille is hiding behind the almomst-finished bottle of wine.

I blame M.F.K. Fisher (also on the table) for all of this. I've been reading How to Cook a Wolf for the last few days, and it's delightful. Take a paragraph like this, for example, about shrimp pate:

"Such a [pate]can be kept for weeks or months, or perhaps even for years, if it contains enough spoices and alcohol, is correctly sealed into its mold with coagulated fat, and is kept reasonably cold. Given these three prime benefits, it can be produced when you will, like a mad maiden aunt, or a first edition (in Russian, naturally) of Crime and Punishment."

Another favorite, preceding a recipe:
"It is called Date Delight, through no fault of mine."

I'll put more of her up this week. There's a passage about cheese that I love, too. Here's Tuesday's bonus photo: "Still Life with Zinnias, Nasturtiums, and Saint Candles On My Dresser."

Yeats + A Kitten = Monday (Alpacas Are a Bonus)

So no one is disappointed, here is a kitten picture:

And here is me talking about my weekend:
I ate a lot of apples(sliced in a salad, with cheese, plain, and baked). That reminded me of the phrase "the silver apples of the moon, the golden apples of the sun," from a poem by Yeats, which I found this morning. It's called "The Song of the Wandering Aegnus"

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by me name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

In other news, a visit to the fair is tentatively scheduled for Wednesday. And here's today's Blue Moon Ranch picture: Meadow and Laurelin eating willow leaves.

Friday Information, All About Me

1. Did I mention I will be volunteering at Blue Moon Ranch's Open Farm Day September 30th? I will be WORKING WITH ALPCAS, folks. I just didn't want this to get overlooked.

2. Did I mention I entered a sewing project and a knitting project in the Utah State Fair, which is now going on? I may have won a blue ribbon (worth $7), a red ribbon (worth $5) or even a grand prize trophy (worth $20!). I'll let you know.

3. And allow me to mention my feelings about Blueprint Magazine: I thought the first issue was pretty caught up its own pretension but am a sucker for craft projects (could you tell?), so bought the second issue yesterday. They actually used the phrase, "artisanal cupcakes" in it. Now, there are many things that are called "artisanal" in this day and age (bread, cheese, whatever) but CUPCAKES SHOULD NOT ONE OF THEM. They are cake. And frosting. There are no cupckae artisans.

Enjoy the weekend!

Meanwhile, Back on the Ranch...

It might be a week of fiber-bearing animal pictures: Here's a picture of Navajo Churro sheep. (Speaking of the world of sheep, look them up sometime on Wikipedia. There are breeds from Africa to Iceland, some look like goats, and there's even a variety called the Barbados Blackbelly Sheep, bred in--yes--Barbados.)

In other fiber news, I will be helping out at Open Barn Day at Blue Moon Ranch on September 30th. Mark your calendars!

Word of the Day

caprine (adjective; KAP-rin): of, relating to, or resembling goats.

Caprine shares the same root as "caper" (to prance about, frisk, gambol) which is Latin for, of course, goat. "Capricorn" gets in on the etymological action, too.

These are angora goat kids, from a delightful website: Crookabeck Farms. They're a farm in the English Lake District--Beatrix Potter country--that raises exotic fiber animals, apparently.

Cute Cria Picture Tuesday

Don't they look speedy? Maybe I'll have to investigate breeding a new strain of racing alpacas...

Things on my mind this Friday

1. The Soldier Hollow Classic (I'm going Sunday), which consists of sheepdog trials and a fiber arts fair. Of course.

2. The Utah State Fair (their website will astound you, but probably not in a good way), in which I'm entering two projects today.

3. This quote from the Jorie Graham poem yesterday:

"An origin is not an action though it occurs at the very start

Desire goes travelling into the total dark of another's soul
looking for where it breaks off

I was a hard thing to undo."

4. The latest from Blue Moon Ranch (this is Annie).