I have shepherded sheep here on Cape Sable Island for wool, meat and milk for the last 10 years. My decision to become a sheep farmer was part practicality-they do amazing on the seaside forage; part durability-for our weather; and part agricultural heritage. My grandfather was a sheep farmer. And when I moved to this island 25 years ago after marrying a “Cape Islander “ I felt an instant bond to this landscape, and heritage of the island, and to island sheep. This also included the Barrington Woolen Mill. A historic working mill preserving agricultural heritage. It is also one of the 12 museums scheduled to close by recent budget cuts in Nova Scotia.
Over the years I have been embraced in a close community of sheep farmers, wool producers and fibre artists on this island and surrounding area. I believe that is in part due to the strong bond of agricultural history through the woolen mill. I’ve done sheep shearing demonstrations there, bought supplies for producing my wool dryer balls there, and had wool from my sheep spun and sold at the museum.
Even those who know nothing about wool or sheep are in awe of the history of wool in Barrington when visiting the museum. It smacks you in the face: the stark contrast between today’s fast fashion and the intentional footprint and painstaking beauty of wool. If we are to combat the heaping landfills of discarded polyester and spandex, we need to first understand how it used to be. How durable textiles were made to last, all parts of the animals were used, the health benefits of wool (sheepskins are still used for wound care in healthcare today) and produced sustainably. We need to understand why people choose wool so we can choose better today. We still have so much to learn.
Who knows how many future agrarians will be lost because of the lack of this inspiration? At a time when we need more farmers the most. This sturdy wooden building set just high enough over the Barrington River, backdrop to countless wedding and prom photos, dedicated to preserving and providing access to all the stories, the old ways, the machines-all gone forever.
We are participating unwillingly in a dismantling of the backbone of our communities and agricultural heritage. I know budgets are complicated beasts but a clear direction has been established with this one. This isn’t about political party outrage (because let’s be honest distrust of any government in a fishing community is inherent). In fact it feels like a quiet disappointment. A disappointment in the loss of a small part of democracy. Because even if you WANT to learn about this now you have no choice . You can’t. This cut to our culture feels like a swipe to wipe out an integral part of our values as a rural community.
The kind of rural communities politicians retire to and plan outings with their grandkids.
“C’mon kids, let’s go look at the new data center.”
I fear it just doesn’t hit the same way.
Love Jenn xx