Fiber Heaven

This past weekend I got to go to the New York Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck, NY.  My mother-in-law was going to pick up two angora goats she had purchased from someone who was showing at the Festival and I decided to tag along to find out a little more about sheep.

My mother-in-law is starting a fiber business on her new farm.  She already has two pregnant alpaca, a handsome llama and now two Rasta goats.  She is an accomplished knitter and wanted to get there on friday so she could see the wool judging.  Let me tell you, these people take their wool very seriously.  A group of giddy women and a tall Texas cowboy examined and discussed each entry like art critics.  We were informed that we could not speak to any of the judges nor could we touch any of the wool.  Perhaps a payola scandal in the past?

We wandered around the rows of fluffy fiber stuffed into plastic bags trying to find the perfect wool to blend with m-i-l's other hairy beasts.  The aroma was gamey to say the least and I soon discovered that the pretty pale yellow color that shaded some of the wool was not actually a beautiful result of years of careful breeding but rather piss stains and the brown "tips" that were an automatic deduction on the judging scale, were poop.  I decided to stop secretly shoving my hands into each soft bag.

We then decided to go check out some of the animals that were being trimmed and primped in anticipation of the next day's competitions.  The sheep were amazing.  Very gentle creatures with deep voices and gorgeous eyes.  One nearly fell asleep as we petted his head.  Goats on the other hand, are insane.  You can see it in their eyes.  They have that vacant hillbilly stare like a kid from the Ozarks whose father is also his uncle. I knew immediately I made the right decision to make sheep cheese and not goat cheese.

We soon found the goats we would be driving back with in a RAV 4 and were less than impressed by these grubby little girls.  There was hay all matted in their dreadlocks along with poop and what appeared to be some loosey goosey poop coming out of their back sides.  M-i-l was not pleased and we decided to go to dinner and figure out how she could get out of the deal.  

We went back to festival bright and early the next day prepared to demand a refund for the dirty goats but were soon convinced by the owner that they were merely wet from a long rainy ride in an open trailer and the loosey goosey was only pee shallac on the "tags" attached to their hind quarters.   M-i-l decides to take them after all and went off to visit the rest of the show before we load them up.

We walk into one big tent and are immediately greeted with eight beautiful angora bunnies.  Without skipping a beat we find out if they are for sale and before I know it, m-i-l is the proud owner of three bunnies and I own one.  When I later meet up with my BFF from college and tell her about my latest animal purchase she asks, "Didn't we just have a conversation about how boring rabbits are and you kind of regret getting Baby Bunny?"

"Yes.  Yes we did, but I am going to breed my girl with m-i-l's boy and have a little angora fiber business of my own.  I may even be a vendor here next year. Plus, the boys will get to have thousands of baby bunnies.  What could be cuter?"

I have visions of angora hats and mittens for the whole family.  I will save tons of money on clothes.  I will just spin angora hair in my free time and whip up some outfits for the whole family.  Just so you know, I came to the Sheep and Wool Festival two years earlier and bought a bunch of beautiful yarn with the belief that I was going to become a knitter.  I was going to make quirky hats and fetching scarves for the kids that would cause people to stop us on the streets of NYC to ask where we got such fabulous accessories. I just finished my first hat a couple of months ago.

Women at the Festival are all decked out in their flashiest knitted pieces that they made from fiber purchased at last year's festival. The talent and creativity at this event is mind blowing and I feel very humbled by my lack of knowledge or aptitude for knitting, but I am OK with it.  I am not a crafter. I am a foodie who would much rather stand in the kitchen for hours coming up with a new umami blueberry jam recipe than sit down with a skein of yarn. Maybe my little bunny business will be hassenpfeffer instead of mittens.

We load up the SUV with some hay, two goats and four bunnies and head out on a stinky but luckily bleat free ride home.  My m-i-l takes my bunny back home with her so we can hopefully pick up a pregnant bunny at Thanksgiving. Maybe we will have some cute little County Fair contestants next summer.