AgriCulture bloggers Peter Davies and Mark Scherzer are the owners of Turkana Farms in Germantown, NY. This week, Peter writes: It has been well over ten years now since we restored our then collapsing barn into a working sheep barn. And we had almost forgotten the arduous process we went through to bring it up to its current state. However, the memories all came flooding back when we recently came across an interview in that popular local farm journal, RuralCreativity. To our mutual astonishment, the subject of the interview was one of our matriarchal ewes, Kybele. How she managed to get an interview and who conducted it remain a mystery to this day. Here follows the article: KYBELE GETS HER DREAM HOUSERuralCreativity arrived one early spring day at Turkana Farms and found Ewe Kybele out on pasture savoring dandelions. “How I love to forage,” she enthused, “so fresh, so local, so sustainable.” She was all too eager to talk about herself, to “chew the cud” as she jokingly referred to it. And ceremoniously plumped herself down on a tuffet, a golden dandelion dangling from her lip. “I, as you probably know, descend from an old Karakul family in Central Asia, but I was born Kybele de Moss-Hill-Farm in Pennsylvania, where my sire, Samson, and dam, Sadie, took up residence on pasture some years ago. But a little bird told me about the glories of the Hudson Valley and how chic it is, yet still delightfully country-like, and I just had to be here!” Interviewer: “And how did you make your way to the Hudson Valley?” Kybele: “Well, to make a long story short: in my county fair days (ah, such times we had!) I somehow met up with my first love, Ryan, the head ram at Turkana Farms, a serendipitous encounter which gave me my big chance. So here I am,” she said, as she struggled to a standing position, flounced up her fleece, ba-a-ed softly, and looked off lovingly at the purple outline of the distant Catskills. “Sadly, my Ryan has been long gone, but it has been wonderful these past years with Dudley, Kraal, Murat, and now, dear Suleyman.”
Interviewer: “And this wonderful abode. So charming. Tell me about it.” Kybele: “Yes, isn’t it though! So rustic but yet with a certain sophistication. A je ne sais ba-a-a-h. Actually, I must confess, my first residence here was only a modest sheep fold on the front lawn of the main house. A darling place. It was so down home, and left a very small environmental footprint, which was important to me in those days, so I was satisfied with it. I was, that is, until all my darling lambs started coming, and a jungle of sumac trees was cleared behind the main house, revealing to me for the first time the sight of the old tumble down red barn on the hill. So divinely quaint. I just fell in love with it and somehow felt it had so many possibilities. And those Catskill views! To die for! But what a wreck--all tipped to one side ready to roll over, the doors and windows virtually gone, and its roof ridge sagging like a hammock.”
Interviewer: “And how on earth did it get from that derelict state to this beauty!” Kybele: “Again serendipidity! I lucked into a marvelous architect/designer. I am not finished with him yet so, naughty me, I am going to keep his identity hush hush. Well, together we saw the project through. I at first wanted something very modern and chic but still retaining that Columbia County rustic country look. Yes, rustic and stylishly modern! He said he thought it was an interesting concept but argued for going for an honest restoration rather than a make-over. And bit by bit, over many glasses of local, artisanal, organic grass juice, he won me over. Once the foundation was rebuilt, the sills replaced, and the building made foursquare again we were ready to, so to speak, roll up our sleeves.” “The concrete floor bothered me and I suggested Mexican tile. But he countered that honest concrete would be best and pointed out that with all the droppings I and my family and guests were likely to deposit on it, the floor would be obscured anyway. As it has turned out, he was right. For the same reason rugs and carpeting were out.” “I did get my way on the large manger—something I find a must for my big dinner parties, and he designed, especially for me, a classic one in a wood that nicely relates to the antique boards and beams of the barn itself. And for those intimate and daily dining experiences between dinner parties, he came up with these cunning little stalls with attached plastic feed bowls in wonderful primary colors, just the grace note to liven up the tableau of muted woods. Despite my pleas, he stated categorically that wallpaper was definitely out. Even in the hayloft cum sleeping loft. And no curtains either. ‘Spare and bare,’ he called it.”
“Our biggest clash was over the kitchen, which he insisted was not necessary since I never cook, and for that matter never eat cooked food. I argued that there were plenty of instances in the Hudson Valley of people who never cook but have beautiful kitchens, that it was probably more than anything else a status symbol, and, therefore, I wanted it. But he was not to be moved, which on the positive side saved a lot of money. And, if you will excuse the expression: ‘That ain’t hay!’” “Despite my pleas, exterior window shutters were not permitted. And I had to give up my choice of taupe and cinnamon for the exterior color scheme. An old fashioned barn red, he argued, was definitely what the barn begged for. As he put it, ‘When painted red, the barn becomes comfortably integral to the rural scene not an exclamation against it.’ Such a way with words he has.” “These halcyon days when I am noodling about on pasture munching contentedly on the lovely spring grass, I often gaze up at this barn that has at last become a home. My home. And fondly remember the close collaboration that brought it all to fruition. While it is true that we did not always agree conceptually, I feel nevertheless that somehow the final vision was actually mine -- which somehow he drew from my secret places. But while this project is finished our collaboration is not, as we are now putting our heads together to transform my former sheep fold into a quaint little guest cottage.” And that ends this shameful article. But it doesn’t close the book for Mark and me since we have a few choice words to say to Kybele about this duplicitous grandstanding on her part – claiming all the credit at our expense. Kybele, now that the cat is out of the bag, has of late become rather hard to find. Invariably at feeding time she seems always to be grazing at the very far end of the Old Saw Mill pasture, a small fluffy blob set against the acres of green. For the complete archive of past AgriCulture blogs, click here.
