This is the beast of an outdoor wood boiler that heats the farmhouse, doing its best to evoke 18th century London or 1950s Pittsburgh. I cringe every time it fires up, but I don’t have a good alternative right now, so I keep feeding it ash logs.
I share my new farm with 38 sheep, and though I’m responsible for their care, I’m still just discovering their rhythms and predilections. They spent last night (about 9 degrees, dry, still) in the shelter of the trees at the top of the hill, though they don’t always. They usually wait for me to come into the field in the morning before they file down to the bale feeder, even though I’m arriving with food for Bravo. And they walk single file, on the same path every day. I wonder if they’re as puzzled by me.
Tagged: bale feeder, Hollow Oak Farm, sheep, snow, winter
My dream is a cliché, and I’m at peace with it: Boy gets border collie, boy introduces border collie to sheep, border collie likes sheep, boy chucks it all to become a shepherd. The story reached its logical conclusion, ad absurdum, when I moved to a 56-acre hill farm in southwestern New Hampshire this October. In my defense, my longing to live somewhere rural began many years earlier, intensifying when I adopted Musti. I found myself spending every free moment exploring the local parks and forests with him; Boston’s urban playground, whose appeal was already fading, became a barrier rather than a perk. Shortly after Luc joined us, the vague sense of needing to get out of the city sharpened considerably — must…
Tagged: border collies, Dogs, Hollow Oak Farm, livestock guardian dog, maremma, New Hampshire, sheep, winter