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Sort a reverse cocoon. The new hay shed (in progress) covering the wilting remains of the old hay shed. It may (fingers crossed, thumbs held) even be big enough to hold the mower!

The really hot weather has passed, but it’s still in the low-to-mid 90s. In the warmest part of the day, all of the sheep grab a spot of shade and either idly chew their cuts or snooze. I like to peek in on them at the height of the heat and make sure they’ve got plenty of water and hay. They have access to pasture, but typically venture out only when it’s a little cooler (morning or evening), so I make sure they have snacks.

Fudgy the Whale usually chews.

Agnes prefers to snooze.

Jayne was sound alseep.

I’m always struck at how much these three hang out together. You seldom see one twin without the other, and Agnes is usually close by as well. Fudgy and Jayne are kind of tight, but not like these three.

When I think back at their dramatic entrance, it’s very sweet to see them such a cute little family.

We’ve had a few cancellations and I’m working down the waiting list, so if you’re interested in Yarn School, Felt School, or both, email nikol at harveyvilleproject dot com! We just might be able to squeeze you in!

Spoke with Adrian today and she’s about to get started on the special Yarn School spinning fiber colorways, woo hoo! For my part, I can’t wait to get going on the spin/kint of my 4-Ounce Challenge pattern. I’ll be using one of the Yarn School colorways from days gone by. I’ve got EIGHT bags of Hello Yarn Yarn School fiber burning a hole in my stash, so it’s just a matter of deciding which one to use!

Ever since meeting with our extension agent on Monday, I can’t stop thinking about weeds! When Uncle Honebunch spend three days sulking with a tummy ache after gorging on horseweed, I got a bad case of weed angst. Now that I can identify a few more, they menace me less. And while there are plenty of vexing weeds out here, a few otherwise useless ones are pretty enough, and favored by the bees and butterfiles, so I’ll let them be for now. I’m a little hamstrung without a dslr (you really can’t sneak up on bugs with a point and shoot), but I did snap a few pretty butterflies before I scared them off:

I learned that the X-files weed I was fretting about is the perfectly safe Illinois Bundle Flower (and, it turns out, good forage for the sheep). 

 

Our friend Tex Jernigan’s new project, what will no doubt become hundreds, if not thousands of portraits styled thusly:

Go here for dozens more, plus a marvelous time lapse of the whole thing.

Tex is all about the series. And he doesn’t fool around when it comes to numbers. A collector at heart, I can’t wait to see how these portraits pile up.

Tex was the fella responsible for these:

These came from a K-State demolition. Since RampHouse will be constructed almost entirely of recycled materials, we’re going to have a breakout illustration that shows the materials origins. We’re hoping to get some nice shots of the original construction this was in.

These are for the ramps, but this old laminated arches are way too pretty to hide, so hopefully the ramp construction will leave some of them exposed.

There’s a lot of this everywhere lately:

Straw Bales by crystalseas on flickr

Now it always reminds me of last summer, when I walked by Ellen’s room and saw this:

The fan was particularly inspired.

A few days later, it became this:

It’s funny how you see these things every year, but you don’t quite notice them until you have a fresh set of eyes.

Saline County Barnage by clay.wells on flickr

One day, there’s grass; the next day, it’s all cut. A few days later: bales everywhere. And a few days after that, they’re half gone, half clustered in the fields. And because there’s only a handful of people doing all the hay in the area, you almost never see it actually happening. You go to work, and there’s grass. You come home, there are bales. Later, fewer bales, or maybe clumps or stacks, or a long, long row. And maybe later, they just vanish. It’s staggered in pastures all around. Grass, bales, cut grass, rows, bales, grass, bales, bales, rows of bales, empty pasture, empty pasture, bales, grass, empty pasture, bales. Some of them disappear, some of them stay, grow snow, gray, sink, sink more. Sometimes there will be rows upon rows of varying age. I always wonder what they’re for. Wind break? Winter bedding? Erosion barriers? Fortification against the coming army of zombie cattle?

I suppose I could just ask someone.

(Thanks to Ellen Delbourgo for the photos. I’ll be sharing more of her work this week.)