In the heart of Vermont's Green Mountains, Helen Whybrow and her partner are presented with the opportunity to steward a two-hundred-acre conserved farm. Whybrow knows that "belonging more than anything requires participation" and radically intertwines her life with the land. Six months after purchasing Knoll Farm, they unload a flock of Icelandic sheep onto the field and Whybrow becomes a shepherd entering into "nature's constant cycle of life into death into life" and all its unexpected lessons.
The challenging and profoundly rewarding work unfolds for Whybrow in the everyday rituals of farmsteading and caring for her family—birthing lambs in the late winter, harvesting blueberries in summer, fending off coyotes and foxes, seasonal shearing—while instilling the lessons of the land in her daughter and caring for her mother. As life at Knoll Farm endures years both abundant and lean, she learns that true stewardship is about accepting change and adapting. She embraces a transcendent rhythm of blood and bone, milk and muck.
At once inspiring and brave, deeply felt and gorgeously written, The Salt Stones is a loving look at the world through a shepherd's interconnected ethos.
I loved every page of this book, which took me on a totally original journey through the highs and lows of being a hard-working shepherd, mother, and daughter living in the mountains of Vermont. I especially liked the unflinching way the author describes the biggest things in life, such as death, sickness, joy, suffering, and parenting, in vivid vignettes from her own experiences that never feel self-indulgent and never drag on. The wisdom that comes from living close to the land and with the constant companionship of animals (mostly sheep) that are born, die, and in some cases slaughtered is profound and offers an unusual perspective on life in the modern world. There are no wasted words in this extremely well-crafted work of literary nonfiction. It's clear that the author is a very talented and accomplished writer, and each chapter held me captivated and wanting more.
It’s been awhile since I sticky noted so many beautiful sentences in a book.
I loved Helen Whybrow’s 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴.
Her words “I didn’t want to sing only of loss, but to sing of the immensity and wonder of what I’ve found, what has been generously given to me, what I hold dearly and deeply cherish” is what the book is about, though the words don’t exactly pinpoint that the book is about home, nature, sheep, and being a mother and daughter and a human in this world.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 made me think of many people in my life, namely Lynn and his immense love for his prairie land.
This book won’t appeal to everyone, but for me it was a notable 5 / 5 stars!
: The thing people don’t tell you, that’s too big to talk about, is the fear that comes the moment you realize—the moment you dig a hole in the rain—that if anything ever happens to this child, you cannot imagine how you will possibly survive. There isn’t another love like this. It’s beautiful and terrible. (13) : How do we look on such a life and make sense of it? Or is there none to be made? Is it enough to know that each life in its creation is essential, part of the earth’s regeneration and abundance, and that each death is also an essential and equal part of the earth’s fecundity? (13) : His words found the ragged nerve endings of new motherhood and began, in ways that I didn’t yet understand, to connect the mundane in my life to the mystic. (20) : …and the baby was like the stone of gravity we all came toward in our wanderings, pausing to look down on her as she slept. (12) : As a family we have talked about how, for Indigenous people here in the Americas and elsewhere, the apocalypse already happened. For enslaved Africans it already happened. In Gaza and Sudan, as I write this, it is happening now. For disempowered populations on marginal lands and in toxic waste sites all over the world it is already happening. For us, for now, we have the privilege of imagining it. (114) : Me, I’m trying to remember that letting go of something is not the same as losing it. (148) : What does it mean that our culture is so intent on preserving the ageless mind when at the same time it teaches us so little to do with our hands, our bodies, our hearts. (199) : Unexpectedly, my story of the land—and of the twenty-five generations of sheep who have taught me to observe and to endure—is also about being a daughter to a mother who is dying and a mother to a daughter who is leaving home….the need to make meaning, to write things down, to hold what is. (237) : Belonging is a two-way embrace. It begins the moment someplace or someone says to you, “Welcome,” and you receive the gift. You set your bags down inside a door, inside a heart. (243) : She might tell me she was lonely, but that women understand loneliness, that even when we’re not alone we can be lonely, because in the arc of history we were the ones who stayed, who swept, who tended, that this is embedded in our bones. (246) : It’s a kind of noticing akin to falling in love, or having a child; when you begin to fully see all the fantastic, alien, mind-blowing, beautiful, and generous creatures and formations of nature, you feel as if you will come apart with joy and also with fear of losing this thing that you can now feel sleeping on your chest, breathing in your face, and wrapping its fingers trustingly around yours. (260)
A peaceful, beautifully written exposition of life on a 200 acre sheep farm. I learned history of variety of sheep and how they came to New England, uses of some plants as they relate to sheep raising - things I wouldn't have thought I would be interested in. It was a calming read, probably not for everyone, but I really enjoyed it.
This was such a beautiful book! I am not really sure how to even describe it. Yes, it's about sheep and grass farming, written by a sheep farmer in Vermot, but it's also SO much more than that. Whybrow really has a way with words and she offers some beautiful and unique insights.
She explores sheep farming (and farming in general) from pretty much every aspect and angle you could think of- environmental, historical, social, etc. The way she describes the relationship between humans and the land I found particularly moving.
She has a strong grasp of the challenges facing our communities and our environment, and she explains all this very clearly, but still offers a lot of hope. I loved it. If I hadn't mostly listened to it (only occasionally using my kindle), I would have A LOT more highlights.
The Salt Stones is a beautifully written meditation on what it means to live in relationships with land, animals, and family. Helen Whybrow’s prose is both lyrical and grounded, weaving together the visceral details of farm life, like birthing lambs in the cold of late winter, battling predators, shearing sheep, and harvesting blueberries, with reflections on stewardship, resilience, and belonging.
What struck me most is the balance between the daily grit of farm work and the larger sense of rhythm and meaning that Whybrow finds in the cycles of life and death. The book doesn’t romanticize shepherding or land stewardship; it acknowledges the exhaustion, the heartbreak, and the constant need to adapt. Yet at the same time, there’s a deep tenderness in the way she connects her care for the sheep and the farm with her love for her family and her responsibility to future generations.
This is not a fast-paced book. it moves in seasons rather than chapters, and its power lies in its quiet accumulation of moments. At times the meditative tone can feel a little heavy, but the writing is gorgeous and the reflections are well worth lingering over.
For readers who enjoy memoirs rooted in place, nature writing that doesn’t shy away from difficulty, and thoughtful explorations of what it means to truly belong to a landscape, The Salt Stones will be a rewarding read.
An absolutely wonderful book about shepherding, sheep, and living on the land in a good way. Much philosophy and Jean Giono is often mentioned and quoted. It is a meditational book.
This one was so interesting to read for me, but I think the target audience is a bit focused. I am a knitter and am fascinated by the whole process of how quality yarn comes to be that this book kept me riveted to it. I am not sure that would be so for the average reader. It is a lovely memoir with a rewarding philosophical ending. I loved it.
This was recommended by Maureen Dowd so I had to pick it up. It is a memoir about a family living on a sheep farm. You get a description of all of the seasons in their life and on the farm. The book goes into a great amount of detail on the ecology of the farm through history which I fast forwarded through. A good portion of this book was just a snoozer. A similar book, Raising Hare, is a 5* book for me. I’m glad this one is over. 2.5*
If I were a Biology teacher, I would assign half the class to read SILENT SPRING* and the other half to read THE SALT STONES. Discuss. The science is solid and each author makes an impassioned plea for humanity, nature, ecology, and the survival of our souls.
This memoir is laced with deep knowledge about Whybrow's place in the world, from soil to sky, daughters to mother, sheep and coyote, everything that grows, inside and out. It is beautifully written, unsentimental but rich in sentiment, and wise about living n the world.
*Years ago, I was shocked to discover that the Marine Biology teacher at the high school where I taught had never read Rachel Carson.
Told someone i was reading this and described it to them and they asked if it was more exciting than i expected it to me. No! It was exactly what i expected and I adored it. A perfect book to fall asleep to.
Did not finish. So, so, so much description of things not even relevant to the story. I feel like that makes up the bulk of the words on the page. Very and repetitively preachy, on topics with which I agree with the author, but do not need to hear about every other page, basically said the same way every time.
Not my usual fare but was gifted this national book award long listed non-fiction. Helen Wybrow weaves environmental concerns and impacts of climate change and other human impact on the environment into her well written descriptions of various aspects of being a small scale, organic sheep farmer in Vermont. It’s obviously not a suspense novel and won’t have you staying up to get “one more chapter” before bed. However, if you want a contemplative read that may lead you to assess your own life choices, this will do the trick without being preachy.
"'My boy,' he said, 'don't think you know everything. You know the sheep, but to know is to be separate from. Now try to love; to love is to join. Then, you will be a shepherd.'"
"Nature, I thought, is increasingly a metaphor for our own troubles, which is powerful medicine for us, but it doesn't help nature. It's logical that as nature dies around the world, we engage with her more often as an abstraction, keeping her alive in our imaginations only. But this won't be enough."
This is a beautifully written memoir about the seasons of shepherding sheep, it touches so many senses. Helen was a writer before her days of shepherding, very descriptive writing style. She runs Knoll Farm in Vermont with her husband, each chapter describes the seasons and cycles of farming, family, birthing lambs, fending off coyotes while witnessing her mother’s decline. One chapter was extremely difficult to read, I could tell it was even distressing for Helen, she does her best to write it with deep insights.
Really had to slow myself down with this one because I wanted to sit and read this whole story. I will read this again. A glorious book for MacFarlane "land-love" fans.
Loved learning these words in the context of this story: transhumance heft kulning
Her sentences about her mother's dementia are gorgeous: "My mother's mind, more and more, hops aboard trains that run on a different kind of logic."
"Shortly afterward, my mother's mind began to place itself elsewhere and lose the thread of this world."
And this quote from a book she uses for chapter epigraphs I feel in my bones: "It seemed to me that the days had run from everywhere like water through a basket."
Want to read everything from Milkweed Press. A true gem and balm in a world lost in robot worship, that publisher.
This is a lovely memoir of Helen Whybrow's decades as a shepherd in the Vermont mountains, raising sheep and restoring a 200-acre farm. Whybrow details her experiences with her flock, from her beginning as a new shepherd to gaining experiences over many years. Her stories of the sheep are compelling and honest, full of the difficulties of the life she chose as well as the joys. This is a treat to read.
Wow. What a remarkable book. I don’t often read non fiction but this one pulled me in from the first page. There are so many gems of writing and observations you must have your pen and highlighter ready. I will keep this one to reread again.
This beautiful and inspirational memoir takes the reader into the life of Helen Whybrow as she cares for her family and a growing herd of Icelandic sheep on her 200 acre farm and deals with land management and climate issues in a way that also cares for the land they all depend on. An absolutely wonderful, gorgeously written book!