Where have all the flowers gone?

Listen, children, to a story that was written long ago.
‘Bout a kingdom on a mountain and the valley-folk below.
On the mountain was a treasure, buried deep beneath the stone.
And the valley-people swore they’d have it for their very own.
So the people of the valley sent a message up the hill asking for the buried treasure, tons of gold for which they’d kill.
Came an answer from the kingdom, “With our brothers we will share all the secrets of our mountain, all the riches buried there.”
Now the valley cried with anger, “Mount your horses! Draw your sword!” and they killed the mountain-people, so they won their just reward.
Now they stood beside the treasure, on the mountain, dark and red. Turned the stone and looked beneath it...”Peace on Earth” was all it said.
Go ahead and hate your neighbor, go ahead and cheat a friend. Do it in the name of heaven, you can justify it in the end. There won’t be any trumpets blowing come the judgment day, on the bloody morning after...One tin soldier rides away.
-One Tin Soldier (The Legend of Billy Jack) by Lambert-Potter

I was 12 years old in 1969, too young to go to Woodstock, but not too young to be influenced by the peace songs and anti-war protests of the era. I wore bell bottom jeans and blousey tops. My hair was long and straight, parted in the middle. I wore peace sign jewelry and memorized the lyrics to many of the peace songs of the day.
The 60s and 70s were a tumultuous time of war, racial riots, sit-ins, peace marches and music. We spoke our minds, stood up for our beliefs, and wore our hearts for peace on our sleeves.
Now, those of us who lived through those times are in our 50s and 60s. What happened? Where have all the flowers gone? Are they still blowin’ in the wind? Did we ever give peace a chance? Or did the Peace Train roll on past with empty seats?
John Lennon saw it. He imagined “all the people, living life in peace.”
“You can say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope some day you will join us. And the world will live as one.”
And his fellow band members, The Beatles, agreed, “When the broken hearted people, living in the world agree. There will be an answer, let it be.”
Today, we sit in a world still at war. We struggle with issues of neglect for our Mother Earth. We, the children of the 60s and 70s, seem to have forgotten those issues we fought for. We are the ones who grew up, raised families, and helped build our current culture of excess. We are the corporate executives of B.P. Oil. We are the advisors to the President of the United States. We spearheaded the technological revolution. And for all we have built, and all we have used up, we are still at war.
“War, huh, yeah, what is it good for, absolutely nothing.” - War by Edwin Starr
The good news is, we can go back and remember. Our generation, many of us either nearing or in our retirement years, can still change the world. We are the elders. We hold the knowledge of the past, the wisdom to see the present, and the ability to help the young ones move into the future. We can still raise the flag of peace. We can still let our voices be heard.
At her recent performance at Big Top Chautauqua, Joan Baez asked the audience what they were willing to risk. She talked about her youth, the protest marches, and spending time in jail with her mother. She has led her life as a peace activist and is still willing to speak out.
We can be role models for peace. Our stage is our life. Each step we take, each conversation we have, how we treat our neighbors, who we vote for, our thoughts, words and deeds, they all matter.
The 60s and 70s weren’t only about sex, drugs and rock and roll. It was our learning ground, the place where we trained for this present moment. So, don your bell bottoms, and search in your drawers for those old tie-dyed t-shirts with the peace signs on them. Let your hair down and let your voice be heard. We may be old, but we’re not dead yet.
In the words of John Lennon, “If someone thinks that love and peace is a cliche that must have been left behind in the 60s, that’s his problem. Love and peace are eternal.”
This is a call to wear your heart for peace on your sleeve once more. The time is now, before the predictions of Rick Evans, writer of the song In the Year 2525, come true:
“Now it’s been ten thousand years. Man has cried a billion tears. For what, he never knew, now man’s reign is through. But through eternal night, the twinkling of star light, so very far away, maybe it’s only yesterday.”

Everything effects everything

I read an article about the effect the BP oil spill in the gulf may have on loons in northern Wisconsin. It was a good reminder that “everything affects everything.”
We are lucky to live in an area where these kinds of tragedies are few. It can be a relief to think “I’m glad it didn’t happen to me.”
But, it did happen to me.
It happened to me because I live on this Earth, and what happens in the Gulf, or in the Middle East, or the North Pole, happens to me. I can feel compassion for those who are on the front lines by asking one question.
“How does this affect me?”
The BP oil spill affects me because it affects the loons that I love to hear calling on the lake. It affects me because other birds I love may winter by the Gulf. Fish that live in the Gulf find their way to my table and nourish me. Fruit grown on farms near those waters travels through the food chain to my grocery store.
People living by the Gulf watch as oil washes up on their shores. They see the devastation inflicted upon the plants and animals they live with. This affects me because they are my brothers and sisters on this planet Earth.
Science has shown that the extinction of one species can have a detrimental effect on an entire eco-system. This tells us that every small action has the potential for large effects.
Last week I attended the Northwest Wisconsin Lakes Conference in Drummond. The speakers talked about how making a few small changes to the lakeshore environment (like adding rip rap to a piece of shoreline) can cause a decline in the turtle population. Turtles eat bugs, so a decline in turtles can cause resurgence in mosquitoes and flies. To eliminate the bugs, a shoreline property owner may take out more of the shoreline buffers. Removing shoreline buffers can cause a decline in the frog and fish populations, which causes a change in the lake’s ecosystem, causing more algae, cloudy water, fewer birds, fewer mammals ... and more bugs.
Everything affects everything.
The BP oil spill will no doubt cause a rise in oil prices, which effects my pocketbook. But the monetary effect is only one issue. It has also caused more distrust of large corporations, and shown the lack of effectiveness of our system of government and their failed attempt at regulation and monitoring of those corporations. It has shown that there is more concern in our nation for profits than there is for the environment.
What good will all of those profits do when we no longer have a safe planet to live on?
Knowing that a few small changes can have large detrimental effects, reason says that a few other small changes may have large beneficial effects.
What can I change to help mitigate the effects of the BP oil spill?
I can conserve a little more gas. I can keep the dogs away from the barn while the mother raccoon raises her babies in the loft. I can watch how many chemicals I put into the ecosystem. I can help elect honest politicians and try to keep dishonest ones from being re-elected. I can adopt a dog from the animal shelter. I can pick up trash on a beach. I can watch and enjoy a northwood’s sunset. I can find a way to find peace within myself and not add to the energy of negativity created by tragic events.
I can find a place in my heart to pray for the BP corporate leaders because they have to live with the consequences of the oil spill, too, and hopefully learn from them.
Because everything affects everything.

You could poke your eye out, or worse

In doing some creative web surfing, I came upon some things called Wool Combs and Hackles for carding wool. Hmm, something I haven't seen yet, let's check it out. What I found were pictures of tools with spikes.
Wanting more, I emailed my source for all things, my sister, and asked what she knew. We talked on the phone and she said she used to have combs and hackles but she didn't think she had them anymore. Bummer. And she said the history of hackles was very interesting, something about muscular men swinging wool at nails.
Hmmmm, again.
Today I looked up more on the internet and found photos of women using wool combs and THOSE THINGS ARE HUGE!
Forget about bb guns, you really can put your eye out with these things!
My mind started to wander (I'm a writer you know) to scenarios from the middle ages where a disagreement breaks out between lovers in the barn and someone is murdered using a set of hackles.
It could have happened.
Now, I'm more curious. Does anyone know of a good website that shows more info on hackles?
I think I'll stick to the drum carder and hand carders.

Evergreen's dog blog

No, I haven't changed the name of my blog, but it seems I'm writing alot about my new dog, Rocky. He's always giving me something new to say.
Last night, Rocky and Lisha (our other dog) were in the house. I was calmly spinning some wool, enjoying the quiet.
Rocky began to go wackoo. He started chasing his tail in a wild circle at about 100 mph. The noise his feet made on the carpet broke the quiet of my spinning. He would gyrate in a circle in one place, then run to the other side of the room and start again. Lisha decided there was something to be scared about and began to whine at Rocky.
When he continued his frantic chase and bite at his tail, I wondered if maybe something was biting him, like a woodtick and it itched. So I called him over, (he actually came when called, this is good), and began scratching his tail for him. He liked that but I wasn't getting the right spot, so I held his tail in one spot so he could bite it. I thought he probably knew the right spot better than I did. This went on for a while, but didn't solve the problem.
Now, Lisha is getting mad. She is starting to bark at Rocky and gets off the couch and bites at him. "Stop that, you're scaring me," she says.
I decided Rocky probably needed some exercise to run off his energy. I took him outside on his retractable leash and he ran back and forth in front of me, jumping and acting like a dock dog. I held up his sock toy and he jumped to get it, then ran around me shaking the sock toy. This went on for a while.
I wondered if it was possible to teach a dog to lunge like a horse. He obviously had more energy that I did.
I walked along the edge of the hayfield, while he ran back and forth through the tall grass. He finally decided the hayfield was a good place to poop and that seemed to settle him down. We went back inside and he took a long nap.
Is my dog psycho? Maybe. Or maybe he is almost two years old and needed to run off some energy.
Today it's Lisha's turn to be psycho. There was thunder this morning.

What a good dog!

This morning I let the dogs out before I went to work. I put Rocky on his long leash and let them run around. This is usually tricky, as he likes to run around me and get me caught in the leash.
He saw the barn cat, Kronk, by the garage and immediately gave chase. He chased until he got to the horse corral and stopped at the fence. This is improvement. I called him and he turned and came to me. I rewarded him and then started doing my tai chi practice. Rocky sat down on the grass by me and watched the cat, but never got up to chase.
What a good dog!
I think the relaxation of my tai chi practice had some effect. He seemed to like the gentle energy, which counteracted his wild side.
My husband has been taking him for lots of walks and giving out lots of treats for come when called. Rocky sleeps with me in the screenhouse at night and I put treats on his dog bed. He is starting to remember that and gets excited to go right into the screenhouse, no more deer chasing.
We love Rocky.

the next step, dying

No, I'm not dead. I was adding color to wool. This was my first attempt at dyeing wool. My sister and niece came up and we had a dyeing party. We used acid base dyes and a microwave that my sister got free by putting up a sign where she worked.

We did the process outside on a beautiful sunny day.

I dyed my grey and black homespun with one color and it came out beautifully. The dark shades of the wool took the dye differently so it turned out to be a heathery result.

I also had some Lion wool that I got on sale from their website in white. I dyed those skeins in a painted fashion with different colors.

The photos are of the dyed wool hanging on the clothes line to dry. And some that were re-skeined.

Now, I need to do more carding and spinning so I can dye again.

getting fleeced photos

Photos of the washed wool on screens and whatever else I could find to allow it to dry. I love the fluffy white photo, looks like clouds or cotton. The darker fleece isn't as fluffy but it is very soft and longer fibers.