I love Robbie, but he is a very poor sheep dog. Instead of herding the sheep from behind, he runs them and then runs ahead of them and hold them from the other direction, just moving them back and forth. He has the skills to move the sheep and understand my commands, though they are not the correct sheep dog sayings. It seems that I will never break him from heading the sheep off and forcing them back from where I want them. 

Robbie will go in the bush, find the sheep, chase them out and then run ahead of them and not let them out of the bush. I am not sure what goes on in his head. He thinks he is working. Sometimes I get so frustrated and mad at him though. 

One thing for sure, is he loves to herd the sheep. He practically lives to go and fetch them from the pasture every evening. I tell him, "let's go get the sheep" and he completely lights up and is off like a flash. He can move cows too and is quite aggressive having come from cow herding dog stock. 

But Robbie has so many other good qualities that it almost makes up for his frustrating herding. He is very loving and will put his head on my lap and stare into my eyes to show me he loves me. He is not allowed in my room, though if he was, he would sleep right beside my bed, I am quite sure. He loves to fetch a stick or a ball and knows quite a few commands very well. Although he is already 5, he also loves to learn and please me by doing what I ask (except with the sheep, drat). 

Robbie is the 11th border collie I have owned and he is a pleasure to have. Going for car rides are one of his favourite things, though I have no idea why really, since he has to sit and wait for me, sometimes for several hours. But when he hears the keys, he is off like a flash and I would be hard pressed to leave him behind. When I am not home and have to tie him up, I have to use a harness, because he has learned to slip his collar if he really wants to go somewhere. I am quite sure Robbie will be my last border collie. Josie, his predecessor, lived until 14, so I should have him another nine or ten years and then I may be just too old for the high energy of a border collie. I guess we will have to see when that time comes. In the meantime, Robbie is my dog! 

When I lived in White Rock for nearly 50 years, I was an avid gardener. Everything that I could grow was in my yard, from Turkish figs to Kiwi fruits. There were grapes of different varieties, large cherry trees, and flowers galore, especially roses. I love flowers and at one time was a florist with my own flower shop. 

But here, it is different. It is hard to garden right where I am. The early and late frosts in my little valley microclimate make my growing season extremely short, and it has taken me a long time to figure how to get some results. The tomatoes must be picked green. There is no alternative and although who doesn't love vine ripened in the sun tomatoes, we just do not get a long enough season for that to occur. I think this year I have found a corm variety that will actually give me corn. It is 70 days from seeding to harvest, an ancient variety of squaw corn that can be eaten young and fresh or dried for corn flour and such. I cannot wait for some of those fresh cobs off the stalks! The corn comes in different colours and is quite small, but if I can actually grow it here, I am still delighted. 

Today I planted some herbs, Kabocha and spaghetti squash, swiss chard, beets, two varieties of carrots, scarlet runner beans, lots of flowers, some roses, and nasturtiums. I have cucumbers, zucchini, potatoes, and that corn left to plant, and more flower seeds to scatter. I used to do lots of hanging baskets, but bedding plants are two arms and a leg here. At home they were 99 cents and here the same plant is $3.99, so I only have a few baskets planted. Later in the season, the local grocers sell their baskets for under ten dollars, but I buy some and plant them in the ground. They are already overgrown and do not do well as baskets, though look lovely and grow well in the ground.

I have to fence off everything I grow from marauding chickens and geese, not so much the ducks, and the dogs. The dogs love to dig in the cool moist soil, huge large holes and plant themselves in them. I use electric net fencing and did not electrify it last year. It worked fine, but this year I may have to electrify it because of the rabbits. We shall see. 

I brought the sheep in when I saw the storm clouds approaching, around 9 pm and called it a day. A little shower was expected and the clouds began to roll in. I managed to get in the house just before the first raindrops fell. How timely it was for my freshly planted garden! Hopefully tomorrow will see the garden completed and fenced in and then I can start painting the bed and breakfast house. There is a screw up there with the drywall and the new shower, but the drywallers do not answer calls on the weekends, so tomorrow they will have to rip out and repair the mess they made. That will only delay painting the bathroom, but I can complete the rest of the house without worrying about anything more. I cleaned it up yesterday and got ready to paint, but thought the garden should come first. Once it is complete, the painting can start in earnest. 

There is a pot of Kabocha squash chicken (actually a rooster) soup, with garlic and ginger,  on the stove waiting for me. Then a nice warm bath and finally around my usual bedtime, midnight, I will turn in and tomorrow will be another day. Hope you are here then. 

There are at least four litters of baby rabbits in the barnyard, plus the ones I got out of the chicken coop. Their mother is feeding them because they are certainly growing. Their eyes are opening and they can hop around and back to where they want to be, their nest. But their nest got wet, along with everything else on the farm. 

The babies are in the livestock trough and Mamma Rabbit was in there too. I put a wire section of one part and a door over the other, which lets light in but keeps rain out. She escaped through the wire, but obviously she jumps back in to feed the babies. I tried to catch her again and did once, but she was gone again in a heartbeat and now, she stays far away from the babies. There are a few more females out there and I no longer know which she is. I hope to catch her feeding one day and lock her up with them, though until then, she is still a wild rabbit. 

There are two litters under the old, old bachelor house which was later in the 60's a chicken coop and is  no longer used because of contamination from the rotting interior. The roof leaks and the thing should be torn down..maybe this summer. The older litter has only two bunnies left that I have seen, however; the younger litter has at least 5. They were sunning themselves on the front step a few days ago, but as quick as a wink, upon seeing me, they were gone. 

There is at least one if not two in the barn, or I should say under the barn. One Mamma Bunny dug a burrow and she guards it quite well, hiding nearby, but sometimes there are two females there so I am not sure if the other has a litter or not. There is one more in my yard that I am sure has a litter under the shed. We are being over run. I must catch the babies as they emerge from the burrows. 

The mothers will be either caught or shot, but I don't have the heart to shoot the babies and they are very hard to catch. Possibly my friend will have some ideas how to trap them. They are sure cute, but never, NEVER, let them escape. Never. You can see the problem I am having already. Yikes!

Spring cleaning has a whole new meaning on a farm. The barns, which have be frozen all winter, all need to be cleaned, the yard somehow accumulates six months of debris including dog bones, sticks, and twine, lots of twine. Bits of tin from the dilapidated tin roof and plastic from torn tarps are part of the debris. But our dump is only open for half a day on Tuesday, the wrong half for me (the morning) and Saturday. It is difficult to coordinate those times when there is so much to do.

The majority of the debris has now been picked up and piled, but needs to be sorted and bagged to get to the dump in several loads. The wire has to be separated from the twine and general yard trash. In past years much of it has been burned but this year there is a fire ban on. We certainly do not want another scene like Fort McMurray, so no burning here. 

In addition to cleaning the yard, and the barns, the animals need to be moved to summer residences. The sheep and goats were moved a few weeks ago and the rabbits were moved over the past days. The duck and goose house needs to be lifted and moved as well as the summer coop and the chicken coop needs to be cleaned yet again. 

The goat barn was cleaned this morning and the pen raked but a shower came as I was clearing it out and the sheep and goats stampeded into the yard so that was not quite finished. That chore is ongoing. 

The best part is the gardening. I have been here for 5 years and have not made gardens at my house. I love flowers, especially roses. I have planted roses every year and lost most of them to the winter. Last year I learned how to cover the roses to winter them over, finally, so I bought a few rose bushes and clematis and some shrubs with berries (blackberry and blueberry) and created a flower bed with garlic and onions. Every flower bed or garden has to be well fenced for the dogs, birds and now the rabbits. They are everywhere. Little ones have started to pop out of burrows too. I have enlisted the services of my friend to bring his 22 and then to butcher them for me, before this becomes the Fat Rabbit Farm. 

I meant to plant the main garden created last year, a strawbale permaculture style one with swales to collect rainwater between the beds. But a thunderstorm came and I had to go to Cold Lake anyhow. The rain was incredible there and it has been raining at home for a good deal of the evening too. We need that, though my gardening did not go beyond the yard tonight. There are people who plant in the rain and moonlight . I usually would except the mosquitos are too bad to do that here. 

So, some of the flower/vegetable garden is planted and perennial bed too. They are fenced off quite well, but I think the bunnies can get through. I may have to put netting on the fence if that is the case. 

My little house will be painted this summer, pink and white, with pink window boxes and the roses should be in full bloom by then. Rose Bloom Cottage. Wait and see. 

I was born in Edmonton and lived the first 12 years of my life in a small town north of Edmonton called Redwater. It was a pretty good growing up there, a safe place to be in those days where everyone knew everyone in town and doors were not locked. That was then. I think it might be much the same today. The town has only grown a little. My old house is still there. I used to think it was so big! It is just a small 3 bedroom bungalow with an unfinished basement, much like many homes in those days. We moved to town when I was 3 , so that would have been 1957. 

I knew no other place as a kid. Alberta was my home. My extended family was very large with 8 on my father's side and 11 living on my mother's. I knew all my cousins and we got together quite often. Kids went to weddings and funerals in those days. Death was something we were not afraid of, though I am sure we totally did not understand it. In my mother's religion, Greek Orthodox or Ukrainian Orthodox, everyone kissed the dead body goodbye. We got into trouble for playing tag in the graveyard because it was disrespectful of the dead! 

There were mosquitos and flies and winter was very cold with much more snow than there is now. Those were things we never really thought about. They were just part of everyday life. My parents and everyone we knew grew big gardens and the kids helped out with every stage of them. We were forgiven when it came to my mother's flower beds though. She took care of those herself with pride. 

So, when I came back to Alberta, none of the hardships even occurred to me. I am not that far from where I grew up so the climate is very similar. It is cold in the winter. There are copious amounts of large, ugly, disgusting (can you tell I dislike them immensely) mosquitos and the flies are sometimes a black carpet. Thank goodness for my ducks! In White Rock, where I lived for most of 50 years, there were no mosquitos or flies. Sidewalk cafes abound with completely open sliding windows or doors that fold back so the outside is the inside and vice versa. Screens were really not necessary on windows either. 

I am a night person and often was in the garden until 11 or midnight. I want to do that here but I would get eaten alive. Even going to round up the sheep around 9 pm, I wear a nylon jacket, gloves and long pants all year long! I even bought a hat with a built in mosquito net! I cannot stand those little buggers. Most people are hardly bothered by mosquito bites, but I swell up like a bee sting and the bite lasts 2 weeks. So I try hard not to get mosquito bites. And I have a war on with the flies in the house. No pesticides are ever used on the farm, except once when the ants colonized and huge ants were on the house in such numbers, it was black and crawling, and they were coming in. I hosed them down several times and they were right back in minutes. I still feel bad about the pesticide, but sanity got in the way of sense. Anyhow, I digress. I cannot garden in the evening, let alone til midnight. 

But I cannot garden in the afternoon either because it is too hot and the flies are incessant. I have not tried the morning and likely won't since I don't normally do mornings. I realize now, that what I accepted so innocently as child was a very hard climate to live in. My farm is paradise, beautiful, with a pond, a stream, lots of glorious, fragrant green trees, fungi to eat (if I only knew which was safe), meadows and blue sky. And mosquitos. And flies. And snow. And cold. And hot summers. Alberta is hard. Unless I find a way to accept what it has to offer, I have to go find me a more ameliorative climate. That was always the plan anyhow, but I have mixed feelings about leaving this place, despite all the hardships. Alberta is where I was born, but it isn't my home. Not yet, it isn't, anyhow. Maybe.....

Mike and Joe are sibling brothers that were bought to stay with the sheep. They are mostly Maremma with about a quarter Great Pyrenees , though MIke looks like a Maremma and Joe looks like a Pyr. They were brought up with the sheep. As pups they lived with the lambs, that is until they used a lamb's ears as a chew toy. They were severely reprimanded and put on watch outside the lamb pen. Then they went to the ewes. 
Although they are livestock guardian dogs, and do have the instincts to guard livestock, they still are dogs and need to be trained. They need reminders of where they belong and how to behave with the sheep and lambs. Thank goodness they did not pose any problems with the free ranging birds, not even once. 

Joe is a people dog and so far, would prefer to come out of his pen to be around people, especially if there are visitors. There are 4 other dogs that guard the general farm, but Mike and Joe specifically guard the sheep and goats. When they go out to pasture, the dogs go with them. Ofen Joe will sneak back and sleep under a tree during the daytime, but Mike tends to stay where the sheep are. The night is when they are working. 

The Fat Ewe Farm is at the base of Moose HIlls, where there are acres and acres of free grazing lands and many forested areas that are not inhabited by people. Bears, coyotes, wolves, cougars and even wolverines and badgers live in them hills. Without the dogs, the small critters on the farm would be prey. I am happy to report though, that since I have these big beautiful dogs, the only loss the farm has had is a baby goat to a fox last year. Foxes are the hardest for the dogs because they are sly and quick and silent, unlike coyotes, who announce their presence miles away. Still, one tiny loss when other farms have tremendous losses, is very special and it is all because of these wonderful big white fuzzy mutts, oh and Ofcharka, the black fuzzy mutt. They are not mutts really, but they act silly sometimes. 

I love the dogs and could not do what I am doing here alone without them. I am single and alone. They watch over me and the animals and would give their lives to protect us. I don't own a gun either and am not afraid to walk in the forest at night if I need to. The dogs are with me and will protect me and because there are so many, it is too much trouble for predators to bother the animals here. They would rather go where the prey is much easier. 

Mikey is my favourite (shhh, don't tell the others), but I love them all. In the photo they are watching over the lambs as the moms are grazing nearby. That is how it should be. Sweet big dogs and little tiny lambs are made for one another - and for me too!

Plodding along without attention, my thoughts were unfocused and without intent. I was at home. The forest is where I am at peace, one with nature, blessed and content. I love my trees, the amazing fresh green scent wafting on the gentle warm breeze still kissed by the welcomed soft rains. There is nowhere I need to be except right there with my feet on the Earth and my hands in the air lifted in song and praise to the Creator and in tune with the trees. This is the Fat Ewe Farm. This is the dream come true, the place of my heart in the heart of my place. 

I am actually going to get the sheep with my trusty Border Collie, Robbie. Robbie has been off his tasks lately, not paying attention to commands because he thinks he is smarter than I am. Well, he may be, but I still want the sheep where I want them, while he would rather just chase them back and forth because it is so much fun for him. All winter he impatiently waits for the time when the sheep go to pasture, so every evening, he and I can go and bring them into the night pen for safety. Then I walk through the bush so visit the trees. Today I tripped and did the most ingenious tumble and pretty near landed up on my feet. I removed the fallen tree from the path and wondered why I had left it in the way for so long. What does it take for us to create an action? 

The Fat Ewe Farm is becoming a name and a place. This week there were over 8000 page views. Well, when I started this one woman sojourn to learn about sustainability and to divorce fashion and consumerism, not ever did I think there would be those who would want to come along with me, but thank you, thank you  and thank you. One wonderful woman drove two and a half hours to meet me and chat at the Critter Sale in St. Paul yesterday. Imagine that! I was so honoured and touched. She was a very sweet lady and I wish I had a bit more time to speak with her and learn more about her. 

At the sale yesterday, I did learn that St. Paul is very aware of me and who I am, what I am doing and what I make and sell. Many knew that I live a holistic life, am organically oriented and produce my own soaps, salves, butters, and blend essential oils. I was thinking that I was still hibernating here in my paradise and that though I have tried, the outside world just wasn't ready for what I have to offer. They may not be yet, but at least they are becoming acquainted with The Fat Ewe Farm. 

A beautiful young woman, Joan Klassen of Justalittle Homestead purchased a ram lamb and my Anna, bred, two of the Babydoll Southdown miniature sheep. We have kept in touch via Facebook messenger primarily and I am proud to say that my little Anna, the sheep I raised as my own since her mother abandoned her due to a very difficult and painful birth, has her own little lambie now named Birdie. This makes what I set out to do all so worthwhile! The photos are used with her permission. Thank you Joan. 

So, at the close of this day, at the beginning of the fifth year on the farm, the blessings are multiplying each and every day. I have been able to get fencing completed this year, thanks to the gentlemen from Kehiwin who also fenced for me last year. I wish for new outbuildings, however; the old decrepit ones will have to suffice. Some will get new roofs this summer and a coat of fresh paint. And, soon I will be painting the interior of the bed and breakfast house, Moose HIlls Inn, which suffered a flood and is being renovated and repaired. Once it is painted, the flooring can be installed and then the baseboards and moldings, and finally the interior designer in me (yes, I was once an interior designer in Vancouver) can decorate the home. It will be reopened in August, better than it was before and prettier too. Part of my retirement dream package was to own a bed and breakfast as well as the farm, and so it will be. 

The Fat Ewe Farm is one woman's dream to marry permaculture organic farming with the loving husbandry of animals while supporting nature. There is a garden, fresh eggs from the free roaming chickens, meats from the farm and my love and joy of preparing gourmet meals offered at the Inn. The pleasant camaraderie of the guests at the Inn is most wonderful and keeps me in touch with the hustle of world business and city life, yet my place is here. Won't you pull up a chair and join me for some rose petal and honey tea? from the farm, of course!

It has been a busy day so far. This morning was the day to move the sheep to the summer pen across the farm yard. Normally I grab a bucket and call them and they follow, but there was some spilled grain out for the birds and 5 greedy ewes who live for grain found it and diverted their full attention to eating. The rest ran happily to the new pasture. Some lambs and kids were left behind and had to be retrieved later and one little doeling was asleep behind a feeder and I could not find her until I did a very diligent search. Finally, with a little help from the fencers, the ewes and goats were all over where I needed them to be. I gave them fresh water and noticed already one of the yearling doelings had gone through the fence. Goats! But it was coffee and breakfast time by then, so I am taking a break. 

I went to a store called Ardene recently. Nothing in that store was made from real materials: no wool, cotton, linen, silk or anything remotely real. The shoes and boots were plastic and so was the jewellry. Everything! 

Part of my journey here was to stop contributing to the massive plastic crisis on this Earth. Sheep provide lovely wool and I do crochet and knit in the winter,but I also want to learn to felt larger items, such as coats and even slippers, shoes and boots. The processing of the wool from the sheep to the point that it is ready to use is not something I enjoy, though, so it has not been very progressive. I do not want to buy ANY materials made from plastic. No clothing, no bowls or containers, but that is almost impossible in this world. I certainly did not buy any clothes from that store, either and have been slowly weeding out of my wardrobe things that are synthetic.

I want to wear only beautiful natural fibres and live with them too. I want my sheets to be cotton, organic, and the duvet to be wool, which it is. I want to have only linen and cotton dish towels and organic cotton towels in my home. My summer clothes should be cotton or linen and even wool. I love the mohair socks so much that I wear them the whole year round for foot comfort. Curtains of cotton and linen, upholstery of cotton and linen or leather, and no synthetics are mostly already in place in my home. I have the sheep that produce lovely wool. I just need to make a stronger effort to learn how to use it more and to eliminate synthetic cloth from my home entirely.

​I wish others would. Will you?

The father goose is a pure Sebastopol and mother goose is an American Buff. They make beautiful babies together, though some might have been from the tufted Toulouse gander. The parents protect these babies with their lives, both of them and they move slowly to accommodate the little feet and short legs as they take them out for their walks. Three of the babies were late hatchlings and cannot keep up. I put them back in the nest this morning to keep warm. 

Geese are very polite. People...not so much anymore. 

In written communication isn't it most pleasant to see, "thank you" instead of no problem? Isn't it nice to see, 'thank you and you're welcome" at all rather than a thumbs up icon? In real life how many people maintain the pleasantries of politeness. I called my elderly uncle the other day. He thanked me for calling and told me he loved me. Older folks do that. They thank others for everyday actions that most take for granted. But who calls a 91 year old anymore? Maybe they are more thankful for being thought of than the younger generation is. I learned though. I learned that I felt good when I was thanked for the simple act of calling, and I thank others for the same. I have done that for years, but then again, now I am am of the older generation too. 

Politeness should not be forgotten. People should respect and revere their elders, give up their seats, offer a hand to carry things and so on, no matter what. If we cannot help one another, then why are we even here? It should not be just help for the elderly, but for anyone that needs help. 

Take this tip from the goose family. Be polite, take your time, accommodate those with shorter legs (or shorter incomes, or shorter arms or whatever) and help out. For the geese, the survival of their young depends on it. What about the human race? Our survival does not depend on being polite, however; by helping one another we certainly can improve our human plight. 

I don't just mean in the face of disaster, like the Fort McMurray evacuation for the fire or a tsunami aftermath. I mean everyday, all day, all the time. 

Love is what makes the world a better place. Don't you agree?

There are a lot of different rare and exotic sheep breeds on The Fat Ewe Farm and 11 different rams. The logistics at breeding time can be quite a challenge. Who will go in which pen where? 

Friar's group of Babydoll ewes were in the middle pen which has large openings. Friar was alert and is a good breeder. The smallest ewe lambs were in that group, though I did not think they were old enough to cycle. None of the yearling lambs have ever bred in the past, so I was not too concerned. They could get out of the pen and run around in the main pen if they wanted and they did on occasion. 

So far 3 of the purebred Babydoll ewes have lambed, one black ewe lamb, one white ram lamb, and twins, one male and one female. Today Lily lambed and she does not have a purebred Babydoll lamb. It seems that the Blue Faced Leicester, who is a tall sheep, twice as tall as Lily, was busy through the fence. Darn! Darn! Darn! Although I am grateful that the lamb is healthy and strong and Lily is a great mother and is doing well, I am a little perturbed with the breeding. It will be interesting to see how the lamb grows and what the fleece will be like. Lily has very short fine fleece and the Blue Face Leicester sheep have one of the finest quality wools possible, not particularly long, but longer than the Babydolls. I am wondering if I should whether the youngster or not. I do not usually do so, but unless he is chosen as a breeding ram for a little backyard miniature flock, the only other fate is lunch. And he is adorable. 

This year was not a very successful lambing year with 5 ewes being bred in the fall by ram lambs and then the poor quality feed resulting in lots of singles and tiny lambs, strong and healthy, but very small. And now this! That pen is too close for comfort! I sold Quinn, the ram, and the rest of the Blue Faced Leicesters to a family from the south of Alberta. Good thing!