The Sheep Barn

Samuel heard laughter before he reached the sheep barn.

Inside, the smell of fresh hay mixed with the earthy scent of sheep.

Several dozen sheep stood quietly in nearby pens while two men worked together on the barn floor.

Sam E. Miller knelt beside a large ewe, holding her gently but firmly against his legs.

Years of experience showed in every movement.

The sheep seemed almost relaxed.

Across from him, Peter Willie guided a pair of hand shears through the thick fleece with smooth, practiced strokes.

Long blankets of creamy white wool peeled away almost in one piece.

Samuel stepped quietly inside.

"Looks like you've done this before."

Sam grinned without looking up.

"A few thousand times."

Peter smiled.

"The sheep usually know we're helping them. This heavy coat gets mighty warm before summer."

Another strip of fleece fell onto the growing pile beside them.

Samuel picked up a handful.

It was surprisingly soft.

"I never realized how much wool comes from one sheep."

Peter nodded.

"And this is only the beginning."

He pointed toward several women seated farther down the barn.

They were already washing freshly shorn wool in large wooden tubs before spreading it onto drying racks.

"Once it's dry," Peter explained, "it'll be carded, spun into yarn, then woven into cloth."

Samuel watched as another fleece came away in one nearly perfect blanket.

"So this one sheep will someday become clothing?"

"And blankets."

"And socks."

"And mittens."

"And coats."

Sam looked up with a smile.

"If winter comes, we'll be thankful we took the time today."

Just then Rebecca appeared in the doorway carrying a covered basket and a stoneware jug.

"I had a feeling I'd find two hungry shepherds."

Peter laughed.

"Shepherds?"

Rebecca smiled.

"Well, sheep don't usually shear themselves."

She uncovered the basket.

The aroma of warm cherry pie filled the barn.

Both men laid their shears aside.

Samuel accepted a steaming cup of fresh coffee while Rebecca handed each man a generous slice of pie.

Peter took one bite and closed his eyes.

"Mercy."

Rebecca looked around at the piles of fresh wool covering the barn floor.

"I've heard of pulling the wool over someone's eyes..."

She paused, smiling.

"...but I never imagined pulling pie over a sheep."

Everyone laughed.

Even Sam chuckled hard enough that the sheep looked up in surprise.

After coffee, the men returned to work.

The rhythmic snip... snip... snip... of the hand shears filled the barn once again.

Samuel stood for another moment, watching another fleece fall away in one beautiful piece.

Every building he visited revealed another craft.

Every craft supported another family.

Every family strengthened the settlement.

The Good Earth was becoming more than a place to live.

It was becoming a complete way of life.