Rugdom

This is Zaria. Last night just before total darkness, I looked out the French doors and saw her looking right back in at me. She knew the grass was greener on the other side of the pasture and jumped the fence. Ian kept telling me that he read that llamas doen't jump their own fences. Ian stands corrected.

I keep saying we live in the arid high desert and then I keep telling you that it is raining, but it rained all night last night. It was too dark to catch her, let alone see her. It was a wrenching night as her cria cried and cried for her mother. She sounds like Chewbacca the Wookie, plaintive. Zaria is about ten and her cria is probably eight. They have always been together and I think the reason we were able to finally nab Zaria this morning is because, while she wanted the green eats, she wanted her cria more. We roped off an area and while Ian hung onto the ropes and I moved toward her, she just jumped right back over the fence from where she was standing, like a deer. We were stunned. Poof. Okay, that's not exactly nab.
So this morning was all about mending fences. Ian was angry at himself for not addressing the weak places before now and I'm happy that, if this was going to happen, it's when we're home and not on vacation for a house sitter to deal with. Catching an unsocialized llama is not high on my entertainment list.

Meanwhile, I have entered into the realm of rug weavers - rugdom! Gold star. I got to spend the afternoon in my studio and have thrown the last of the rag weft here - this rug is just about done. I still need two more inches of double warp threads to end - I've decided to hem and not fringe. I have loved every inch of this project and am already cutting new strips. This isn't rug weaving - this is an addiction.

I was dropping my floating selvedge for the last few inches when I noticed my apron bar. Oh my goodness - look at that bow. In the future, I see that I need to tie it in multiple places. I just assumed that because it was steel it would be rigid. Sharon stands corrected - a day of Campbell corrections.
It's a runner - not sure where it needs to run. We desperately need runners so we're holding an election - which area is the most desperate. These two don't get to vote. It's raining again. We live in the arid high desert and it feels like an alien species has invaded - wait. Did I already say that? Honest. It's dry here and we have water wars because of it.

Meanwhile, Ian dashed out to cover the tomatoes in their walls of water. We have snow predicted tonight. What part of organic are you seeing? This is the realm of plastic farming, but originally a working ranch. They had a garden which was only mentioned in the oral history in passing. I would love to know what they knew. I am exhausted tonight.