"Baa, baa, Poppy...have you any wool?" "Yes, sir, yes, sir...a big cart full!" This is a two-year growth. The outer side is sunburned and matted, and I won't use this fleece for spinning. It's doubly unfortunate, because Tim obviously shears for spinners, with no "second cuts," those hesitation cuts that leave nubbles in the wool, shortening the usable strands.
A shadow of her former self.
Poppy is a Suffolk ewe...black face and legs, cream wool. Suffolk wool makes good, utilitarian yarn for socks and outer sweaters. It's not particularly soft, like
Rambouillet or Merino, but definitely serviceable.
I learned my lesson. These photos were taken
before starting to milk. That's Sheila with her back to the camera, Inga is facing Poppy, Cindy's black behind is at the rear, and Esther and Ruth were too busy eating to pose for a picture. Lucy is having breakfast in the milking room, and Nineteen and Tessie are still in their stall, munching on orchard grass.
Like an English lady protecting her delicate complexion, Poppy spends most of her day in the shade now. Given that she's lost thirty pounds or so, she isn't waddling around; probably feels like she's dancing on air!
