It has been a curious week since the sheep have arrived on Cello Acres. There’s a sense of naturalness to them being here, as if they’ve always been. Maybe they were, centuries ago when much of Rhode Island was full of sheep and the heartbeat of the American wool industry. Indeed, I see old rock walls all over the property, and the nature of the land, and the signs of the clear-cut days. Yes, they must feel the familiarity in the ground they walk and the grass, clover, and dandelions they graze; it seems it can be no other way.

Though, they look at me as some stranger on their land; their gaze fixated on me as I do my chores around the acres, Laura’s gaze at least I can tell, for Sally’s eyes can hardly be seen with her wool coat flowing down over them. It will be nice to see her eye to eye three weeks from now when the local shearing husband and wife duo pays us a visit to relieve them of their sweater for the coming summer months, giving us in return our first family fleece. I’m not sure exactly what we’ll do with it, but some part, if not all of it will forever be cherished, as the wool that started it all.

Come shearing day, I suspect when Sally’s eyes meet my clearly for the first time, they will find no more strangeness in them, for as each day passes, and each treat pale clatters by them as I go to kindle friendly relations with them, their eagerness to approach me increases. Yes, when I walk out every morning as the sun works its way over the Acre Woods, they greet me with as greater eagerness as I them, and then soon the children too, for they are the most eager of all around here to finally make contact with the sheep in the form of petting them. That’s right dear Laura and Sally, the kids just want to pet you, not terrorize you, I promise. And soon enough, I’m sure, when all the children around start paying a visit, you’ll bequeath them all their much desired pets.

Seeing how natural their existence here on the Acres is, how seamlessly they arrived on this land of ours, makes me think we’ve been a bit deceived in our relationship with livestock. That to have livestock you must also have a sizable farm. But that cannot be, for humans have lived alongside livestock for millennia, and they surely did not all have barns and several acres of pasture land to utilize. Nor did everyone have homesteads, in the traditionally defined, total self-sufficient sense, rather, it probably more looked like farmsteads for most. Not every homestead in the community had the same animals and produce, but all had some, and it was not only a part of the economy of their home, but of the community. Who knows, maybe we could even call them after their primary animal, such as a “sheepstead” or a “goatstead”. At the least, it’s a little fun that way.

Though I’m only one week in, it feels like these sheep, Laura and Sally, have always been here. I find it hard to think more families cannot do something similar, in fact some already are, just from seeing our simple act of doing so ourselves. They’ve become part of our daily routines; they’re a pleasant retreat out onto the property if I have been stuck inside for too long; they’re gentle and beautiful to admire. There’s still so much to learn and experience and share, but at this moment, I don’t know how it could have been any other way.

The days are now settling into a new and ancient rhythm here on Cello Acres. The sheep move across their first paddock like slow white clouds, and something in me settles with them. Perhaps that is the gift they bring, not just wool or company or the promise of spring lambs, but a return to something small and true and good that we had nearly forgotten we were allowed to have right here, on our own little piece of ground. Yes, it has been but a curious week, yet already it feels like the beginning of something timeless, something right.

Thank you for being here with us.

Gregory & Christina

When I first envisioned creating an authentic Made-in-New England wool sweater, I knew that owning our own sheep would be a critical and foundational part of the story. How could I champion something so foreign to the modern mind if I hadn’t the slightest clue what it took to even raise the animal that gives us one of nature’s most perfect clothing fibers? Furthermore, how could I truly control the wool fiber being used in my sweaters long term if I didn’t also own a part of the wool itself through my own sheep herd? Even more so, what better way could there be to ground myself and my family in the land itself, to involve everyone as fully as possible, and to maximize the value from the sheep while raising them as ethically as possible? All these roads led me to acquiring my own sheep and keeping them right here on our property, affectionately known as “Cello Acres”, here in rural Rhode Island, and learning the whole endeavor from first principles.

Not just any sheep would suffice for this vision, though. I needed a true dual-purpose breed. One that could deliver both the beautiful, versatile wool ideal for premium sweaters and quality lamb meat, while thriving on our modest acreage here in New England. After extensive research into countless options, from the ultra-fine Merinos prized for their delicacy to the robust meat breeds like Suffolks, the Corriedale breed emerged as the clear and perfect choice, the embodiment of everything I had been searching for.

Developed in New Zealand in the late 1800s through careful crosses of fine-wool Merino ewes with long-wool Lincoln rams, Corriedale’s were intentionally bred as a dual-purpose sheep. They combine the softness and crimp of Merino with the density and yield of the longwools, resulting in a medium-fine fleece with a fiber diameter typically in the 25 to 32 micron range. Each ewe produces 10 to 17 pounds of bulky, high-yielding wool annually, with a staple length of 3.5 to 6 inches and a pronounced natural crimp that makes it exceptionally well-suited for handspinning and knitting into warm, durable, beautiful sweaters. It is the kind of wool that feels luxurious against the skin yet holds its structure, exactly what I envisioned for our authentic Made-in-New England garments, the sort of timeless pieces that will carry the story of Cello Acres in every stitch.

Beyond the fiber, Corriedale’s offer superior meat qualities with efficient feed conversion and well-muscled carcasses, allowing us to maximize the value from every animal in the most ethical and sustainable manner possible. They are known for their calm temperaments, strong mothering instincts, and adaptability to a variety of climates and management systems, making them ideal for a family-run operation like ours on our small Rhode Island property. Their hardiness means they forage well on our pastures, reducing external inputs while living natural, healthy lives, a cornerstone of our commitment to ethical husbandry from the very beginning.

Acquiring our first Corriedale’s and penning them here has already been a journey of discovery, but now that our first two ewes, Laura and Sally, are here with us on Cello Acres, the real work begins.

In choosing Corriedale’s, I found not only the practical solution to our wool and meat needs but also true partners in a larger story of authenticity, sustainability, and reconnection with traditional New England ways.

So much more to share in the coming days.

Thank you for being here with us.

Gregory & Christina

Today, we made our most significant investment yet into building the future of sheep and wool right here in New England.

We purchased two certified yearling Corriedale ewes. Come October, we’ll bring home our ram and begin breeding them, which will make us the only registered Corriedale breeders in the entire state of Rhode Island.

We’ll also be shearing them next month, kicking off the hands-on process of turning their gorgeous fleece into yarn, the foundational input for what we hope will become the future of New England wool sweaters, made right here at home.

Furthermore, a portion of the lambs born on Cello Acres will help feed our own family, and one day, as we grow, maybe even help feed other families in our community through local markets and shared harvests.

We are, of course, brand new to this and have a tremendous amount to learn. But by starting small and approaching it with genuine humility, we hope to show others that it’s possible to rebuild these skills again, and by doing so, support fellow families who dream of starting their own flocks.

Together, we can help spark what we believe will become a thriving, homegrown sheep-farming and wool-manufacturing renaissance here in New England once more.

Here’s to the future of New England sheep, wool, and manufacturing!

Thanks for being here with us, we look forward to sharing so much more of the journey here with you all.

Gregory and Christina

I put fresh straw down for the chickens today. The previous layer moistened quite quickly with the rain and snowmelt. I expect I’ll need to do this more often this coming spring until the snow is gone and they can forage outside the run again.

In return, I receive pleased voices, and of course, healthier eggs than I’d ever receive from the market.

The layers of straw over this coming mud season are going to, in time, transition into compost, as the layers add up and the chickens scratch at it, especially for the seeds I toss in every day to give them something to peck at. They’re great helpers to the family, prepping another batch of compost for the garden, flower beds, and berry brambles and bushes for me every day as they patiently wait for the end of the snow. Just as we all are.

The run they spend most of their days in came at a most appropriate time this year. It kept the chickens covered through the several feet of snow that buried the acres, and the simple-pitched roof design held up quite well too, not crumbling under the compounding snow, especially the 34 inches we received in the now-infamous, record-setting blizzard of Feb. ’25. The pitch wasn’t enough to quickly shed the snow, but with enough sun, it slid right off. I will be sharing to whole chicken coop and run build in a separate article soon.

Much is in store for the chickens this year. My little raptor relatives will be helping till the garden and flower beds, cleaning up some overgrown edges of the acres, devouring our kitchen scraps, and laying our most prized culinary ingredient in the nest: eggs.

So fresh straw is the input right now with all the water. They deserve it. I truly enjoy my eggs over easy with a slice of home-baked sourdough and milk each morning. As does the rest of the family.

Thanks for being here with us.

Greg