wisconsin sheep and wool festival

I think it's safe to say:  I love the sheep.  I get all giddy-girl squee-ish when I see them--I just want to reach out and hug those puffballs and say thank you and I love your wool and want to come and live with me?  Obviously, if three dogs and a cat (and two hooligan children) (they're such cute hooligans) are a tad overwhelming, then perhaps opening our little squiggle of a backyard up to some smelly, messy ruminants probably isn't the wisest idea, so I will stick with my state and county fairs and my festivals and will do a little giddy dance internally so I don't crash all over the place.

The lambs here were only something like three days old.  Little wobbly legs, sweetest little looks, eager tugging at mama's teat.  I looked at those mamas and my look said to them:  I hear you, mama.  I've been there.  In fact, if one of my babes were here right now, I'd be there right with you.  Yank, tug.

I didn't take a slew of photographs of the barns with all of the roving and yarn and oh and swoon and the spindles and the wheels and the carders and oh and the looms and the books!  I was too busy drooling with my eyes.  The first day, we did reconnaissance, though somehow my little Maya, who came along to meet my own mama on this unique take on the girls' weekend, finagled an all-sheepskin ostrich toy out of my mother, and the second day we came armed with patterns and a plan.  And then the plan devolved, but I did leave with some gorgeous sock yarn, some yarn my friend on Facebook said resembled ground beef, and some yarn to make a really amazing sweater for my girl.