Looking Through Old Photos

I was looking through old photos on my pc last night and transferred a bunch onto one of those little devices that plugs into your usb port. (the little thing holds 1 G of memory!) My pc has been running "oddly" (slow) lately, and I thought I'd better get some of my photos backed up! Anyway, I found these of Bill and thought I'd share them!

Bill - March, 1996

Bill asleep with Bumper. Bumper was a kitten that rode in on a truck bumper where bill worked at the factory. No one wanted her so she came home with him. She had a special bond with Bill for the rest of his years. (Bumper is still with us)

Bill Eatmon Showing Spellbound, his 16 hand purebred Arabian Mare. (Russian) I can't remember the year. Several years ago.

Bill with "Betty Boop"...his needle felted "creation". (at Greencastle Fleece Fair)
(few years ago)
My sister, Beth, modelling a hat that Bill needle felted. (3 years ago approx?)

Bill on his Gelding, Koleed. (Arabian Horse) Probably about 1997

Bill relaxing at home

August 26, 2006 - August 26, 2007: A long year of missing Bill Eatmon

Bill,

Today marks 1 full year without your presence here. There are no words to express how much I miss you…just the dull empty void of going on through life without you. You were definitely the reason for Sheltering Pines and it will never be the same again without you.

In some ways the past year has gone fast. In most ways it has dragged on like an eternity. You were always such a positive force….the eternally optimistic one. I remember your bouts with illness and the way you never complained. I can't imagine going through what you did. I would have been the worst possible patient I'm sure!

I'll never forget lambing with you here. When you saw little feet coming out of the ewe…if they were white….we just KNEW the ewe was delivering a wildly spotted lamb which made you quite joyful! You always strung cable to the barn hooked to cameras so you could watch the ewes on tv from your bed each night while I was working 3rd shift. I always knew that while I was working the sheep were in the best possible of care.

You were always a person who loved to laugh, even though much of the time you felt sick. You so enjoyed sitcoms on television and the sound of your audible laughter while watching them is much missed.

You were always "inventing" something new. A new way to do something in weaving…..a new gadget, gate or setup to make my life easier for feeding/caring for the sheep.

The jugs you built are fantastic. I wasn't sure when I came to the barn one evening after waking up and found them all built. You used the asile down between the 2 sides of the sheep where I used to walk. It was a handy walk-way, but after one season of lambing with those jugs I was sold on them! They are worth their weight in gold.

The landscape did not get tended to much this year. I didn't have the will to do it. Even though many of the gardens were originally put in by myself, you put your "stamp" upon them with your creative gardening. The hosta beds, the goldfish pond with waterfall and running creek.

Your studio has not seen much activity over the past year. Mainly storage for your yarns, the fleeces and some of your handiwork.

Thank you for the 10 years and 2 months that you gave to me. I shall never forget you and I shall never stop missing you.

Love,
Steve

The following old Irish Folk Song has long been a favorite of mine. A musical group called "Dead Can Dance" has performed it best in my opinion. It has taken on new meaning over the past year:

I am stretched on your grave
And will lie there forever--
With your hands held in mine
Id be sure we'd not sever--
My apple tree my brightness
'tis time we were together--
For I smell of the earth
And am stained by the weather

When my family thinks
That I'm safe in my bed--
From night until morning
I am stretched at your head--
Calling out to the air
With tears both hot and wild--
Oh I grieve for the one
That I loved and is gone.

The priests and the friars
Behold me in dread--
Because I still love you
My love and you're dead--
I would still be your shelter
From rain and from storm--
And with you in your cold grave
I cannot sleep warm.

In the Beginning there was Julie's Cement Cow...............

NOW........Sheltering Pines has it's very own Cement Sheep!

On Wednesday, July 18, 2007, Rich Johnson visited my farm on his way to Indiana to pick up sheep! He brought me a gift of a "cement sheep" that he had painted. He had seen a photo of my smirslet gulmoget, SheltrgPines Onyx Velour, and painted the cement sheep to look like her. I was delighted. We have always enjoyed cement statues here in the gardens at Sheltering Pines, and this new addition is wonderful! Thank you Rich and Jennifer for such a thoughtful gift. :-) I really like it and will enjoy seeing it every day!

So Far Away (Song sung by Amici Forever)

There's a land
That gave me life
That made me free
That made me proud
And someday
I will return
Home to the land
Of the long white cloud

Where is home?
I hear you say
So far away
So far away

I hear your voice from afar
It haunts me wherever I stay
But I must follow a star
So far away
So far away

In the song
Upon the breeze
And in the roar
Of rolling waves
Like the roots
Of ancient trees
That run so deep
In the earth I crave

Where is home?
I hear you say
So far away
So far away

I hear your voice in my heart
I miss you much more than I can say
But I must follow a star
So far away
So far away

Where is home?
I hear you say
So far away
So far away

Another photo of one of my Father's paintings

A small picture of this subject used to hang over the sofa in my Grandmother's house when I was a child. I was always infatuated with it. I don't know if it is a well known picture/painting or whether it was just something she liked and framed. It looked old at the time! (and I'm 53!) :-) Anyway, my father borrowed it from her back in the late 60's and copied it (painted it) for his art class. It is not a large painting...I'd estimate about 8 inches tall by 14 inches wide. It is still one of my favorites. If anyone knows anything about the original...I'd sure enjoy hearing from you. (If it was done by a known artist) The one that used to hang on my Grandmother's wall is now gone and no one seems to know where it went! I'm glad my father copied it!

The Frozen Shoreline

On Saturday, Feb. 10th, my brother and sister-in-law invited me to go down to the Shorline at Lake Michigan with them. They were going to Chequer's Pub there for a late lunch - early dinner as they serve wonderful Fish & Chips. On the way down it was dark and snowy. I had my camera along with me and snapped a shot of the sun breaking through the snow clouds.

At the Lake shore we drove down Lakeshore Drive. The waves on Lake Michigan had frozen out nearly as far as we could see. We were able to see with the naked eye a "gray line" which would have been the open water...quite a ways out. This shot was taken from up on a "bluff" driving down Lakeshore Drive. (Saugatuck, Michigan) We then went to Chequer's for Fish and Chips! After dinner we drove up to the "Oval Beach"...where in the summer it is packed with swimmers and sun bathers and people enjoying the large sand dunes. It was frozen solid and here is the view out over the beach. The sun had nearly set. It's hard to see, but if you look closely, you can see the waves on the lake frozen in time. It's an odd sight.

As we drove away, the sun had nearly set.

As we drove home I longed for spring and warmer temps!
It won't be long before lambs start arriving!

Another Painting by my Father and a Poem by Emily Pauline Johnson

Aspens by Emily Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake)

A sweet high treble threads its silvery song,
Voice of the restless aspen, fine and thin
It trills its pure soprano, light and long--
Like the Vibrato of a mandolin.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

*****

(My father was very good at drawing and painting. He took an art class when I was in junior high school and one of the first assignments to all the students in the class was to paint a picture that was conjured in their minds from reading the poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". The picture at the top of this page is a photo of the picture my father painted. It was his interpretation of the poem. It was probably painted about 1969. It has always been one of my favorite pictures that my father painted).

A WINTER JINGLE
~ Sir Edmund William Gosse

The soft wind blows
Across the snows,
And turns the palest face to rose;
The wind it goes
Where no one knows,
Like water round the world it flows;
The sunlit air is warm and light
Though all the earth be wrapped in white.

But owlets shrill
Shriek round the hill
When twilight fades, and all is still;
The keen gusts fill
The frozen rill
With treacherous snowdrifts deep and chill;
The wanderer findeth small delight
In crossing there at dead of night.

Sadness and Joy

Sadness and Joy

I PRAY you, Sadness, leave me soon,

In sweet invention thou art poor!

Thy sister, Joy can make ten songs

While thou art making four.

One hour with thee is sweet enough;

But when we find the whole day gone

And no created thing is left --

We mourn the evil done.

Thou art too slow to shape thy thoughts

In stone, on canvas, or in song;

But Joy, being full of active heat,

Must do some deed ere long.

Thy sighs are gentle, sweet thy tears;

But if thou canst not help a man

To prove in substance what he feels --

Then givve me Joy, who can.

Therefore sweet Sadness, leave me soon,

Let thy bright sister, Joy, come more;

For she can make ten lovely songs

While thou art making four.

W.H. Davies