White Rabbit Farm went on the market around the first part of June. Before I could get it completely staged, before the contractor could fix some minor repairs and before the real estate agent took interior photos, we had an offer. Everyone involved was surprised, to say the least. It was a good offer except for a minor detail: the closing was in 2 weeks with possession in 2 weeks and 2 days. I threw a fit, I must confess. I wailed, I pleaded, I crossed my arms and glared, I stalled for time, but no go. The buyers had 30 chickens and could not extend their rental. I only had 4 chickens. I had to give in.

I cried for about 40 days and as many nights. I tossed and turned, I had nightmares about the chickens. I doubled my sleeping pills. I surfed rentals on Craig's List late into the night and first thing at dawn, even though the listings were the same as the night before.

The boys cried, too. It is very difficult to lose one's home, Eckart Tolle says the land and it's structures are the hardest attachments to break because we think the landscape and home are unchanging. The everlasting beauty of a landscape and our home upon it provides comfort and sanctuary in a world of perceived chaos. I can attest, friends, I can attest. While it has been one of the most wrenching transitions I have experienced, watching one's children grieve the loss of their home is almost unbearable. The buyers don't have children. I'm sure they are good people, I'm sure they don't have a clue what this very short closing and possession are doing to my family. I hope they never have to experience it.

While X2B threw stuff from the barn into the utility trailer, I hunted down housing leads. One country house looked good until I saw the oil-fired furnace and the gaps in the walls. An older house downtown looked good until I saw the neighbors' stunning rat habitat of a yard and gang tags on the fence. A new apartment showcased a small view of the parking lot from its only window. Another house was looking pretty good until the neighbors' mad barking dogs nearly took my fingers off when I peeked through the slats at them. They effectively ruled out any use of the backyard. A townhouse the realtor suggested looked so dirty and unkept Boy B was too frightened to get out of the car to look at it.

Boy B is our acknowledged family artist. It was he who figured out that Tiffany-style lamps look great in our house. He keeps his room perfectly clean at all times. He insists that his bottoms be only khaki chinos or chino shorts and his tops can only be solid colored short sleeved T-shirts or polo shirts. Polo shirt collars must stand up and his blue or black socks must be rolled down. There are no exceptions. Also his sheets must be yellow and white checked only. When he feels like letting his hair down, he wears blue or red nylon sport shorts, but only to play in. I have learned alot from Boy B. I have learned not to settle, but it does make things challenging at times.

Me: Look, that house is for rent!

Boy B: It's pink.

Me: No, it's not pink, it's just a little beige-ish.

Boy B: I don't want it, it's pink.

Me: Sigh. I know. You'll never live in a pink house.

Boy B: Or purple. Those are gril [girl] colors.

Me: Look! This is a nice neighborhood, maybe there's a house here we could rent.

Boy B: I don't like it.

Me: What was the name of that street? It says 'Candlestick'. Hmmm...how odd. And look at that sign, what does it say, 'Dumbledore'? [Doubletree]. Does that say 'Dumbledore' Street?

Boy B: Dumbledore? Candlestick?

Boy A: I like it! Let's look at that one!

Boy B: Are these wizard houses?

Me: Why yes, perhaps they are.....

Finally yesterday, I signed the papers for our new rental house. When I saw it, it was all I could do not to squeal and jump up and down like a girl. It's a country house about a mile from town. It has a beautiful view. It has a giant kitchen. It has pink walls.

The 4-in-1 can be used as a swift for holding skeins of yarn that you are winding off into smaller cakes, as a niddy noddy for winding plied yarn right off the bobbin, as a blocker for drying washed yarns and as a counter for measuring yardages. The arms hold 500g/1lb hanks with ease, even the fluffy brushed mohair that comes from the mill looking like a medium-sized, freshly washed and fluffed dog.

These 4-in-1's sit on a base on the floor and table, I've wound off a lot of skeins and they have never chattered, moved, or fallen over, they work beautifully as described by Fricke on their website. On the website these skeinwinders are called the Heavy Duty 4-in-1. I've owned them about 4 years.

One skeinwinder is made of oak ($135) and the other is made of a lighter wood, perhaps ash(?) and is $100. I think they retail for about $235.

Pick up only, cash or PayPal, email me at shelly at butternutwoolens dot com.

The drum carder is sold to Amanda. Her mom is giving her the drum carder for a graduation present for finishing her PhD. Way to go, Amanda! Check out her Japanese crochet granny hex afghan, it's on my to do list.

Fricke's Finest was designed for all fiber lengths. This is a wonderful deal at $400, they are now $925 new. Pick up is required, I don't have time to box it for shipment. I might be able to meet you for delivery within a reasonable distance of Portland.

To purchase, email me and I'll send you a PayPal invoice, or you can show up with cash, but email me first as it is first come, first served.

shelly at butternutwoolens dot com

Thanks.

I've been working hard at shampooing the carpets, it's a task I do every Spring and Fall, the Spring cleaning is harder because of the crud that builds up as we traipse into the livingroom to stock the firewood. Some of us forget to take off our boots first.

I have a Fricke's Finest drum carder for sale as well as a pair of Indigo Hound wool combs. I'll get those posted this week along with photos. In the coming weeks you can expect to see wool handling equipment, Landscapes of Australia dyes (ahh, so that's how she does it;), and if I have enough time, undyed yarns and some combed tops. These will be big lots because I won't have time to divide them into 4 oz hanks or skeins, nor time to wash and prepare them for knitting. The prices will reflect this of course. Unfortunately, I won't be able to accept returns on these things, but I promise they will be such good deals you won't need to change your mind!

Saturday, day after tomorrow, is the last day to order. Thanks everyone.

I've added this fine adult combed top to the Fiber Shop this morning. Fawn, Silver and Black 4 oz hanks $14.65 each.

As always, your satisfaction is guaranteed and I think you'll be very satisfied with the hand of this fiber. There doesn't seem to be any coarse fibers or guard hair, it feels like Suri to me. I think it would felt easily, too. Enjoy!

It's time to clean out the Studio Under the Stairs and put away the dye pots, so I won't be doing any more dyeing. I have a fresh batch of 80/20 merino/tussah silk combed top in the Quitobaquito colorway that will be posted into the Fiber Store soon. If there's anything you've had your eye on, now's the time to make your move, I'll be taking the e-commerce site down sooner than the end of summer.

Thanks again to all of you who have bought my hand-dyed yarn and fiber, it's been a blast and I hope to meet as many of you as possible at Black Sheep in three weeks.

There was another time when I took my life down to the core. I rented my house, paid off the credit card, quit my job, put my belongings into 6 Rubbermaid totes and hit the road. For about 10 months. There's a book's worth of stories in that adventure, you can read one of them in this compilation Drive: Women's True Stories of the Open Road. My story, "In the Land of the Saltbush" is the lead story in the book and is excerpted on Amazon's web site if you care to have a peek.

Two other earlier stories appeared in anthologies of western women's writing. My contribution to Woven on the Wind: Women Write About Friendship in the Sagebrush West was a piece called "Common Ground", a story about my sometimes contentious relationship with my mother and how we have found a common language in gardening. She hated it and was utterly scandalized I would air the family laundry. I thought it was a flattering piece. They say you can't please all the people all the time and I can't please my mother any of the time perhaps.

I wrote the submission "Feeding the Spirit" for Crazy Woman Creek the day it was due at the editors'. My computer was broken and the resident computer guy was uninterested in helping me, so I banged the story out on a $2 Remington typewriter I had found at a farm sale and had cleaned up and re-ribboned by a creepy guy living in his garage in Hillboro, but what the hey, I was grateful there still was someone who knew how to fix manual typewriters. A gal's gotta take help where she can find it. That story was about my experience of taking my organic apples and corn my farmer friend Corrine had grown to a women's shelter in Portland and teaching them how to freeze it so they could have a stash of good food.

I learned a lot about homelessness then and thinking back now these 5 years, it seems to me that being without a home means different things to different people at different times. I will not be without shelter, but shelter is not necessarily a home. In those months on the road I never felt homeless, the land itself was home, but now, with my farm in jeopardy, I feel the edge of panic in my chest. Where will we live? Will I be able to see both the sunrise and sunset? If I can't, will I lose my connection to God? If I have to listen to the neighbors on the other side of the wall will I lose my mental health? The feeling is almost always there now, right under the surface of my skin. The experience is like that nightmare of falling and seeing only the rocks below and knowing it's gonna hurt real bad. I hope I wake up soon.