Staff

I've got the world on a string
I'm sitting on a rainbow
Got that string around my finger
What a world, what a life - I'm in love

Abigail looks good in the hat and the hat looks good on her.  She knit it with a madder dyed yarn on circular needles.  World On A String might well be the knitter's song.

I've got a song that I sing
And I can make the rain go
Any time I move my finger
Lucky me, cant you see - I'm in love

Life's a wonderful thing
As long as I've got that string
I'd be a silly so-and-so
If I should ever let you go

Music by Harold Arlen and lyrics by Ted Koehler, 1932.  Frank Sinatra recorded the song in 1952.  It reached number 14 on the Billboard chart.

I've got the world on a string
I'm sitting on the rainbow
I've got that string around my finger
Oh, What a world, what a life - I'm in love

Need help with your hat? Come by the stand Saturday and ask Abigail about knitting with circular needles.

Mary & Abigail

Garlic is magic. To be planted now in November, garlic heads must be split into cloves; each clove when pressed into soil will mature into a head of garlic containing many cloves—one will make ten—a get-rich-quick scheme, growing garlic is.  The cloves we plant this fall will be harvested next July; of that crop, some garlic will be eaten and some will be sold and some will be kept for planting next fall.  So grows garlic and our green dreams compound like interest.

I had Hans plow and disc the field where the sheep over-wintered last year.  This is where we will plant the garlic this week; this coming winter the sheep will be kept in another field, the following year we will plant the garlic there in  the soil  they made rich for us.  On this farm, the garlic follows the sheep around.

We have 100's of pounds of garlic heads that must be split into cloves.  Last Saturday I brought  3 crates to New York so the stand staff, Andrea, Nina, Mary and Abigail, could split it when they weren't selling yarn or lamb.

I'm lucky, I can't help it, I'm evil and I confess I lied  to the staff when I said the name of the garlic they were splitting was German White when its real name was Truth Serum. 

But Mary and Abigail did seem to be have a good afternoon telling the truth to one another.  And by the power of sheep, we should have some Truth Serum for you next July, but if you're keeping a secret, we recommend the German White garlic instead.

Ryan,

I enjoyed your performance and theatergoers sitting around me did too.  The ensemble, Katie, Lee, Dax & you, played well with and off each other; the direction and choreography were always interesting.  I'm glad I went.

You were in a play in New York...that is so cool.

Congratulations.

We have three tenors at the farm and three poets at the stand: Mary, Nina and Simone are at Hunter College completing MFA's in Poetry when they are not helping you in Union Square.  Sheep like poets.

Mary & Nina

Simone

Andrea knows a yarn or two and when she's not spinning you one at the farm stand in Union Square on Saturday, she is left hooking and right crossing at  one of those knock-down drag-out Local Board meetings of WBAI, fighting to return Pacifica to the pacifists punch by punch.  Sheep like contradiction in politics.

When not selling you a lamb leg steak at the stand in Union Square on Saturday afternoon, Ryan is an actor starring in Kidnapped By Craigslist, now at the PIT, 154 W 29th St. NYC.  Sheep like actors.

Kidnapped By Craigslist

Poem loves to work: on command, she brings the sheep to me.

Weighing a mere 25 lb. she runs circles around these big rams.

She dominates with eye.

Poem is two and a half years old; she's my trusty sidekick and goes with me everywhere except to Union Square. Being a dog of the great outdoors—a country girl at heart—she doesn't appreciate the city.  

On the sheep she appears ferocious, off the sheep she is as gentle as a lamb and licks my stroking hand with her warm, pink tongue.   Poem is responsible: running free around the farm, she ignores the flock until I bid her otherwise.

Poem likes the sheep.  She would never hurt them, but she can be a bossy little bitch.  Sheep don't like the Poem.