We chose this life almost two decades ago as we wrestled with getting caught up in the trappings and panic of urban life. One weekend we wandered near the farm where my mother grew up. During the drive we talked about needing to be more grounded, less concerned about running 100 miles an hour. We went to visit the old family farm and knew what we had to do -- it was time to return to the land of our ancestors.
As if it was intended to be, we stumbled across a farm that had everything we were looking for, and a history we had yet to discover. It turned out that it bordered on the farm where my grandmother grew up. Her parents, my great grandparents, settled it in 1857 when they came to America from Bohemia.
Sheep are interwoven in our family history too. As an avid knitter, I wanted to learn more about the various qualities of fibers. I wanted to care for the sheep that slept under the stars that grazed in the pasture that generously offered their fleeces. We have spent years learning their calm ways, watching them tend their lambs, and studying the vast qualities of their fiber. From shearing each spring to cleaning, carding, spinning and natural dyeing we have learned much. We now marvel at the wool, luxuriate in the handmade sweaters, socks, and blankets and often remark how they were grown by our dear friends in the fields.
It is for the love and respect of these sheep, the land, our family, and fiber craft that we raise and care for our Rambouillet.