Sheep fencing gone wrong…

This farm is a tapestry of wonderful stories. The stories that have made us laugh are the ones we tell time and time again. Believe me, there are more then a few.

This is one of my favorites….

Remember, I was a single gal with no farming background when this all began. Albeit determined, I had a lot to learn and I quickly figured that out. When I bought the farm there had been cattle here but never sheep. Sheep require much different fencing then cattle. I hired the first fence out but after paying that bill I realized I would starve if I hired out all the fencing that needed doing.

What was this educated capable gal to do? Of course, I’'ll “educate” I thought. I started my search. How was I going to find a class on fencing? For anyone considering a life in agriculture, let me tell you, the resources are truly immence. I stumbled upon a wonderful resource, Warren Wilson College. Of all things they had a fencing class. I put on my perfect farm attire and my newly purchased farm boots and drove to Warren Wilson where I participated in a class on putting up a proper livestock fence. Someone asked if I was the only “girl” there. I don’t recall that being the case. Maybe? The good news is if I didn’t notice that I must have been there for all the right reasons. Notes? I took plenty. It was alot to take in but hopefully I was armed and ready.

I cannot say how long it actually took before I put my new knowledge to work. I do hope it was the next day but I’m doubtful. At that point I was still working off the farm to help support my plans so my days were busy. It does not matter when I made my first stab at fencing, only that I did it. Waiting to apply what I had learned might have been a bit worrisome in that I might forget something. Forgetting was clearly not my problem.

On the day of my grand adventure, feeling so proud and capable, I put on my jeans, boots and t shirt (I loved my new wardrobe) and loaded up Floyd, my vintage Ford PU with the fence posts, fence wire and appropriate fence tools, and headed to the pasture where my second fence was planned.

Hands rubbed together in a gesture of expectation, I began. I walked each post to the spot where it would be placed. One at a time I banged the posts into position. It was a beautiful day and I was no doubt full of myself. It definitely added to my state of mind looking around at these beautiful vistas staring back at me. I felt at one with the great outdoors. Now hands brushed together in a gesture of completion I knew it was time to start a strand of wire. I was pulling and securing the wire in about 250 foot stretches…remember a football field is 300 feet. I had 3 sides to complete. The forth side included a barn and my first fence. Pulling the wire around took no time. Securing the wire with clips took a bit more. I had to wear my leather gloves because the clips could be difficult to bend, even with the coolest possible tools. And we all know, the leather gloves just added to my demeanor! One wire near the bottom, then perfectly spaced, 3 more. 4 clips per post, one row and a time. Before I knew it, the job was complete! DONE!

I cannot tell you the pride! This girl had done it! All those nay sayers, LOOK AT ME NOW! I just put up a farm fence! If I could high five my self I woulda. But I think I understood the cock-a-doodle-do of a rooster, if only for a moment.

I pulled my self up to the tailgate of my Ford F-150 pick up , slid up on that “ farmers throne” to take in what I had accomplished!

Golly Girl!

As I peered around the fence in awe, I realized one MAJOR problem.

I had just spent the day building an awesome fence and there was no gate! Yep, you read that right folks, I hadn’t painted myself into a corner, I’d fenced myself in…. Good Lordy. All I could do is laugh….

If you can’t laugh at yourself, your cooked…Elizabeth Taylor

Prada to Carhart

                             Farming Fashion!

Several years ago on my journey to find a farm I'd set my eyes on a place in the hills of North Carolina.   A picturesque 20 acre farm situated on a hillside.  Previously, an alpaca farm.  The owners built a very specific structure with human living space above and alpaca living quarters below.  Warm summer days plus piles of alpaca poop adds up to ripe aromas.  Didn't they know that architectural design went back centuries and had been dispensed with probably because the residents couldn't withstand the rising perfumes?  

They built the place to incorporate elaborate fans and exhaust plans so they would only be consumed with alpaca cuteness...nothing else.  It really was a glorious place.  At the time I really had my sites set on it.  Am I glad today it didn't work out? You betcha.  A switch to farming was a shock to my financial reality as it was without saddling myself with more debt and less land to farm.  Never the less, it was an education and an adventure that entertained me until I could fine MY farm.

At the time this was all going down a friend of mine said, "oh, your going to farm where the farmers wear lace".  I spent my first adult life very conscious of fashion.  I loved clothes and all the adornments.  For some reason at that moment I defended the honor of all female farmers before me and those yet to find their way.

My head spun toward him and I said, "...and why not?"  

Why just because we farm would folks assume "lace" was out of the question?  Maybe it was a path I would soon discover.  

Maybe it was a bra about to be burned?

Now, several years later as I speak from the tractor seat I have a much better understanding of the roots of such perceptions.  No, lace isn't a farm worthy fabric this is true.  There are certain realities in farming that become the "fabric" of your day.  Utility takes precedent over frills.  You wear things that are tear resistant, wash hardy (they get washed ALOT), weather protective and last but not least you look for quality in what you wear more then ever before...your clothes have to stand up to hard wear and tear.  Your adornments are chosen by need not complimentary color or bling.  Your gloves are where you can most easily access them, your cell phone is where it won't fall out as your bending over or hurling bales of hay and your boot socks are usually chosen by what's not currently covered in mud!

So, again back to why I'm writing this today...my female (and male) farming friends have found their own individual way to express their fashionable side. Our designers are different and we probably pick up our farm seed at the same place we choose some of our clothing.

Regardless, the farmer fashionista does exist.   As I've said before, don't ever underestimate what's under those Carharts!