Can you believe it's time for Wool Week again? It's been so busy around here that the year has flown by. Plans for this year's event had been falling into place quite nicely . . . until yesterday, that is. Yesterday, when the world stopped spinning for a minute. What a day! Eliot and I were sitting in the old Schoolroom, enjoying our Cornish Pasties and brainstorming this year's theme and logo. (I think Eliot dozed a time or two, but let's pretend not to notice.)
We needed something attention-grabbing and, of course, different from last year's theme. Contrary to Harold's opinion, everyone on the Island is not into the sheep scene, so it's always a challenge to stir up public interest. One last-minute trip to the Rare Breeds Survival Trust website took all the hard work out of the task, though. Their theme for 2020 is "Love a Longwool"! Amazing! You all know that Longwools have a special place in my heart. This was going to be a piece of cake (if personal zeal counts for anything). And the logo was already made for us!
With theme and logo in hand, we began the more grueling work of prepping for Islandshire's 2nd Annual Wool Week celebrations. We already had plans for a huge lawn fete on our grounds, bigger than last year's. Stalls displaying and selling all kinds of food and souvenirs. Outdoor games with prizes. Livestock demonstrations. And a lot of volunteers had already signed up, which is pretty remarkable around here. Eliot puzzled on it for a while and asked, "Is it the food or the prizes, do you think? We never get this many volunteers for clean-up day. Maybe we need to offer prizes for the person who picks up the most trash or carries the most boxes." I had other things on my mind that didn't include looking a gift horse in the mouth. "Maybe it's just that they all remember how much fun we had last year."
Still unaware that the bottom of our world was about to drop out, I started printing logos and sign-up forms. Just then, our cousin, Sioned Peyton, walked in with a great idea for this year's fete. "How about showing the versatility of sheep's milk? Berengaria is such a great milker, and a lot of people don't realize that you can make so many tasty things with sheep's milk. We could sell sheep-milk products!"
Still unaware that the bottom of our world was about to drop out, I started printing logos and sign-up forms. Just then, our cousin, Sioned Peyton, walked in with a great idea for this year's fete. "How about showing the versatility of sheep's milk? Berengaria is such a great milker, and a lot of people don't realize that you can make so many tasty things with sheep's milk. We could sell sheep-milk products!"
Eliot stirred, perking up (waking up) at the sound of this idea. (All the boys get excited when you mention food.) "That's a great idea," he said. "Why don't you make some ice cream, like the kind you made for our picnic a while back? That was reeeeeally good."
Sheep-milk ice cream! That's perfect! In no time at all we had a full list of flavours. We could use my Wool Shop area. A little rearranging of things, and we'd have an old-fashioned ice-cream parlor. Eliot was so enthusiastic that he even volunteered to help. (That bears repeating. Eliot was so enthusiastic that he even volunteered to help. Wish I knew if it was the pasty or the nap.) Before he could change his mind, we accepted his offer.
Sheep-milk ice cream! That's perfect! In no time at all we had a full list of flavours. We could use my Wool Shop area. A little rearranging of things, and we'd have an old-fashioned ice-cream parlor. Eliot was so enthusiastic that he even volunteered to help. (That bears repeating. Eliot was so enthusiastic that he even volunteered to help. Wish I knew if it was the pasty or the nap.) Before he could change his mind, we accepted his offer.
Right then, we heard the familiar sound of Harold coming up the stairs. "You'll never believe it," he spluttered. "My new sheep arrived! And just in time for Wool Week! Wait'll you see 'em! They're so amazing!" (That's a lot of exclamation points for Harold.)
Sioned and I started for the door with Harold . . .
"Wait!" Eliot stood up and held us back. "What about the "Love a Longwool" campaign and the ice-cream idea?" Right. Forgot about that. (The arrival of the Island's first pair of American Tunis lambs just blew everything else clean out of our heads.) While Eliot went to the kitchen in search of a snack, we quickly brought Harold up to date with the new plans. We went back to the webpage about the Longwool campaign and started talking about ways to incorporate it into our own Islandshire Wool Week. I don't know whose idea it was, what with all the noise going on at once, but we soon found ourselves in unanimous agreement about sending the proceeds from this year's show to benefit the Rare Breeds Survival Trust's (RBST) Longwool conservation efforts.
It was all "go, go, go", with everyone tossing out their ideas faster than I could type. While they wrangled over some of the fine points, I casually looked up the weather forecast for the coming week. "I've been training Alton a lot this year, and he's become a pretty good herder." Harold was very proud of his black-and-white Sheep Dog. "Maybe we can have sheep dog exhibitions every day." "And don't forget a door prize," added Sioned. "And maybe some photo ops with Alton and the sheep. What about a feeding pen?"
I didn't hear anything else after that. The weather forecast had just popped up on the screen, and I'm not sure that my heart didn't stop beating for a second or two. It was awful! Just awful! The whole ten-day forecast for Wool Week looked . . . awful. All but two of the days were grey, windy and cold! And the rain. Rainy and cold. Oh, no! This hadn't happened in living memory! How was I going to break the news . . .
My distress must have been felt or heard, because the others stopped talking and stared in my direction. "What's wrong? What happened? Is it a repeat of last year's disaster with the printer? Do we need to call Jill again?" A hush came over the room as I stammered out the news. "A rare cold front is blowing in during our Wool Week. It's going to be windy and grey and cold on all but two days. And rainy. Did I say rainy? And . . . and . . . . awful." A crestfallen Sioned collapsed onto the sofa, and the boys stared in deafening silence. This was just awful. What to do? Our Wool Week plans would have to be cancelled, because no one was going to want to be out at a garden fete in this kind of weather. Not on Islandshire. I don't even think anyone on the Island owns clothing for foul weather. And it was just too much work to set it all up in hopes of the weather man being wrong.
While the rest of us wrangled with our disappointment, a thoughtful look grew on Harold's face. A germ of hope sprouted, and we all waited for him to speak. Harold's always good for two things: a box of doughnuts and a way out of even the worst of predicaments.
"Let's not panic here. There's got to be a way to have our events during this abysmal weather. I've heard stories about how our families used to cope with this before they moved here. People all over the world live with this all the time. (I hear that people living in the state of Ohio know little else.) They must have figured out how to have fun when it's grey and windy outside. Hmm. Let me think. Hmm." We waited. "I've got it! Why don't we come up with a way to have Wool Week indoors?"
"Why couldn't we use the new Community Center, instead of having a garden fete? You can get a whole lot of people in there, with plenty of room for speakers and vendors. It's only the sheep end of things that we have to rethink." Animation returned, and we all perked up. Harold to the rescue again! "I'll borrow Eliot's scooter, and Sioned and I can deliver flyers with the new plans to everyone on the Island."
Harold continued with a suggestion for "holding the outdoor Sheep Dog exhibition and sheep display on one of the two nicer days". Harold even volunteered to take charge of the arrangements. "We could have the photo ops with the sheep after Alton's exhibition, too. Let's just nix the feeding pen."
"And on the other nice day we can open the ice cream shop," shouted Eliot and Sioned at the same time. "Everyone likes ice cream. And I bet we could raise a lot of money for RBST!" The silence was broken, the relief evidenced by the normal loud voices and laughing.
The boys were so ready to help with the change in plans that they headed right out to the Wool Shop to see about rearranging the counters and shelves. Even Eliot was excited about working with Harold. It's great to have boys around at times like these.
Sioned and I decided that we should call a meeting of the volunteers who were exhibiting or selling at the fete. "We'll get together tomorrow afternoon to make new plans. I'll go and spread the word now, and you get the paperwork and brochures ready. Toodle pip!" Sioned took off at top speed, and I thanked God for blessing me with such a cousin.
Sioned and I decided that we should call a meeting of the volunteers who were exhibiting or selling at the fete. "We'll get together tomorrow afternoon to make new plans. I'll go and spread the word now, and you get the paperwork and brochures ready. Toodle pip!" Sioned took off at top speed, and I thanked God for blessing me with such a cousin.
Check back tomorrow, when you'll find us "Full Speed Ahead". Meanwhile, I'd better get to work . . .