The Deluge

There's a section in my favorite novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, where it rains for something like 20 years straight.  That's what it feels like this week, although it's really only been 4 days or so.  The chickens have been hiding under the truck bed to keep dry; I guess they have cabin fever too and want to stay out of the coop.  I have a lot to do in the garden (the weeds!  the rain is helping them out TOO MUCH.) but the whole garden is a mud puddle, and every step I take compresses the soil into a concrete brick, which I absolutely want to avoid, so... I have to find other work to do.  I'm getting a head-start on baking for the weekend (this week: lemon-poppyseed chick cookies, peach-strawberry tarts, rhubarb cupcakes, and, of course, wood-fired sourdough bread...) and I've been cleaning out the barn... an adventure that could take a loooong time.  Yesterday I faced the extra-glamorous task of scraping chicken poop out of the barn loft, where they roosted all winter.  Today... I think I'll organize the GIANT PILE OF TOOLS in the front part of the barn--they'll be much more useful if we know where they all are!  My mucking-about boots are getting a solid workout in all of the mud.  Here's hoping it clears up for the weekend! 

Me and My Cow Friends

I'm working on befriending the cows.  I really want to learn to milk, so that I can give Sue some time off.  And so I can know how to milk a cow!  I've been spending a bit of time in the pasture each day with a pocket full of cow cookies and sweet grain, trying to convince them that I'm a pretty nice person, really.  LaFonda is such a sweet and loving cow that the very first time I came out she let me brush her all over.  She's the one I most want to love me, since she's the milk cow. 

Her calf, Lindyhop, is less convinced.  Here he is playing on the compost pile--he's kind of a goof!  He's getting bolder--now he'll come and lick my fingers, if I'm patient, and today he even let me pet him for a second.

Lariat is kind of a grouch.  She knew that I had food today and came right up, and would tolerate petting if I kept up a steady stream of food, but I could tell she didn't like it.  When I tried to spend time with the calves, she actually headbutted Lindy out of the way to get to my pocket-full of grain!  At least she let me touch her--she used to take one sniff and turn around as if to say "nope.  we're NOT friends."  I don't have a good picture of Lariat's calf Jitterbug, who's beautiful and black and very shy.  I can't haven't ever gotten close enough to touch her, although she's starting to get used to my presence.  I'm hoping to start halter training the calves soon, but I'll need to get the piggy mamas out of the way first! 

 Lindyhop, the steer calf, is starting to be convinced.  He'll lick my fingers a little and today he let me pet him for a second. 

A Day Off = A Day On

Tuesdays are shaping up to be my days off--the weekends are full of farmers market and farm store, and once I get home from Church on Sundays its more fun to work in the garden and chat with visitors than to sit inside by myself.  Tuesdays are perfect--the weekend is done and cleaned up after, and there's no rush to get ready for the next one yet.  Last Tuesday, Brendan and I borrowed the car and went to find the thrift stores in town.  It was over 100 degrees, but we had a picnic anyways.  It was a good day to not be working!  

This Tuesday I was on my own, since Brendan's on a family vacation.  I started off the day slow and lazy, reading in bed and having breakfast in my pajamas on the hammock, and then decided, since it was a lovely day, to get off my butt and have an adventure.  Sue got her bike down from the top of the barn, and pointed me towards the Douglas Trail, and off I went!  

The Trail is lovely, deep and wooded, with farms dotting the way.

I was totally overjoyed when, about 2 miles into my ride, the trail crossed the Zumbro River.  I miss rivers like crazy in this, my first summer away from Camp Amnicon.  It was total bliss--with a dash of nostalgia--to sit on the bank and daydream.

 And I found some marsh marigolds, my favorite wildflower!  They grow all over at Amnicon, and they added to the sense of home. 

There was a nice little perch up on the bridge where I could watch the river go it's way.  I wish I would have brought a field guide for trees or birds or wildflowers!

 Did I mention that it was a glorious day?  

My ride ultimately took me to Pine Island, a cute little town about 8 miles down the trail.  I wandered around a bit, had a muffin in a coffee shop, and decided to head back.  By the time I started home, the wind was whipping up and it felt like rain... and it seems like the uphill stretches are disproportionately arranged for the way back!  Sue called at one point to ask if I wanted a lift, but I persevered and made it back to reward myself with the uber-delicious cinnamon ice-cream I'd made that morning.  

Moo Juice

 Meet LaFonda, our ever-generous milk-cow, and her calf, Lindyhop. 

When we first got here, LaFonda was producing 3 gallons of milk a day--not counting what Lindy drank.  Now, as Lindy gets bigger and more hungry, we get more like 2.  Nonetheless... that's a LOT of milk.  Wanna guess what the fridge looks like?

And that's not counting the fridge out in the barn, which is TOTALLY full of milk!  Needless to say, figuring out what to do with all of that dairy is a daily chore.  Today I made ice-cream, frozen yogurt, mozzerella, and cream cheese.  We had the mozz (which only takes a half-hour to make and is really fun!) and the frozen yogurt with dinner--the ice-cream and cream cheese will be ready (and good, I hope) tomorrow. 

This milk... let me tell you.  It's good milk.  It's raw, so there's some amount of risk, but Sue takes lots of percausions to make sure nothing nasty gets into it.  It is so rich and flavorful that I don't think I'll be able to go back to plain-ole watery bland skim.  If you ever want to take some off of our hands, just come visit and we'll load you down with dairy products! 

Me Vs. The Violets

My title doubles for the name of my new one person band; me and my diggy-prying tool singing to the strawberries.

I used to really like violets.   My favorite color was decidedly purple.  When I was I kid I imagined that I'd name my first daughter violet, and I was always thrilled when I'd find them growing in someone's lawn. 

But the story has changed, I'm afraid.  Violets are one of the worst weeds in my garden, and I've spent all weekend trying to rescue the poor strawberries from their grasp.  When we got here the strawberries were invisible under a jungle of tall thistles and grass; it was our first weeding job to free them.  It's evident now, a week and a half later, that in all of our clueless enthusiasm ("We're weeding!  In a real garden!  Wowee!") we didn't do a very good job.  You can't pull violets up by their roots--they grow in clumps with big, horizontal, tuberous roots just under the surface, and when you pull, you just get the stems.  My tool of the week is a long diggy-prying tool that in the past I've seen used to get out long dandelion roots; it's the best way to pry violets out of the soil too.  The problem is, the violets really like to grow right at the root of my strawberry plants.  More than once this weekend I found myself triumphantly raising a violet clump only to find that I'm also holding up a poor, uprooted strawberry, gasping in the air.  I guess I'm accidentally thinning our over-crowded little patch. 

The best thing about violets, though, is how SATISFYING they are to dig up.  Unlike grass, at which you can dig and pull for a long while without much victory, violets pop out of the ground with a satisfying THUMP! when you get the diggy-pryer under them just right.  This work is full to brimming of little victories. 

Fashion Forward

Here is my all-purpose, chilly-out-with-sun-and-pitchforking-to-do outfit.  It's all the rage!

 I know you were wondering... yes, those are $100 Ray-Ban sunglasses.  To be fair, my dad found them in a dumpster up North, and the hinges are real wobbly, but they fit over my glasses great!  They had a little adventure today--I was pruning around the outside of the pasture's electric fence with the sunglasses ticked into the top of my ubiquitous straw hat, and somewhere along the way realized that the $100 sunglasses were (gasp!) gone!  Luckily, Brendan found them later.  Whew!  

Tools O' the Trade 1: The Crowbar

Says Brendan: "My father always told me never to get between a woman and her crowbar!"

Thus far, this is my favorite gardening tool--a crowbar with one bent edge and notches out of both sides.  I use it for hacking up chunks of dirt and also for the more delicate work of weeding in between closely spaced plants.  It got a lot of use today--I spent all morning weeding between the rows of peas, radishes, lettuce, and beets, with this bad boy in my right hand and a bunch of weeds in my left. 

By lunch time I had weeded, thinned, and mulched these four rows.  They look lovely, but I'll admit that I was a bit disappointed.  Five hours of work for four measly rows??? This is one of my big lessons so far.  This work takes time, and the gratification is the opposite of instant; it'll be another month before we're enjoying the crops off of these plants.  Life on the farm is forcing me to slow down, do one task at a time, and do it well.  It reminds me a bit of the taoist idea of wu-wei, or "actionless action."  Followers of the Tao are supposed to act without being attached to the outcome of their actions.  Of course, I'm terribly attached to the dream of peas coming off of these plants, but I know that any number of factors could get between today's hard work and next month's salad, and I have to work hard anyways.  It's incredibly satisfying to work so hard, so simply, in the clean air.  Just me and my crowbar. 

Whipping the garden into shape has been a full-time job for Brendan and me these last few days; weeding, planting, mulching, weeding, weeding, weeding, researching, strategizing, weeding, planting, taking hydrating breaks... and it's been HOT.  and HUMID.  We both got our first farming sunburns yesterday.  We had intended to take the day off, but it rained overnight and we wanted to take advantage of the easy weeding with moist soil, so... we worked all day.  We had to find some inside work around noon, though--it was just TOO HOT to be doing hard work outside. 

The garden is clearly seeping deep into my subconcious; as I've been sleeping, I've had the strange sensation that I'm a vegetable.  I wrote a poem about it...

Garden Night

These days my sleep is vegetal,
soak through, heavy with
unborn fruit.  Tomorrow I weed
the potatoes and tonight's is potato
sleep, underground, heavy and close.
My arm loses feeling underneath me,
a blind root reaching down, and my
dreams nudge above the surface,
new, green things, seeking light.  

And Now We're Farmers!

I'm sorry that I haven't posted anything yet--the four days since we got here to Squash Blossom Farm have been FULL of work and learning, and there's been no time or energy to spare for futzing with computers. I just got my computer hooked up to the wireless here, so I should be more connected from here on out, but if you really want to get a hold of me, call and leave a message on my cell phone, and I'll (probably) get it by night time. I'm trying to be as present to life HERE as possible.

Anyways. An update is, I think, in order.

It is BEAUTIFUL here. I feel like we've walked into a dirty little piece of heaven.


Here's the view from my window.  Yup.  Pretty darn spectacular.  I catch a great sunrise every morning, too.

Our first day here we were cleaning the outdoor kitchen when I heard a new noise.  I walked into an unused (except for junk storage) room of the barn, and found a whole bunch of baby chicks!  9 of them had fallen into the holes in a cinder block and couldn't get out.  Their poor mama was terribly flustered... she'd hidden them away in that room and then couldn't get them out!  We're letting her keep them in there until she wants to join us in the outside world, so she can take care of them on her own terms.

Brendan and I spent some of our time yesterday gathering wild yummables to sell at the farmers market.  These were surprise goodies--nettles (yes, the stinging kind!) and wild parsnips, which can give you a terrible rash!  If handled and cooked right, they're both excellent, and we'd like them out of the meadow, so... here I am with some muddy parsnips, freshly dug up.

We spent the rest of the day BAKING.  One of our major projects is to learn the art of sourdough bread.  We started multiplying the starter on wednesday night, mixed the dough on Thursday night, and baked all day on Friday for Saturday's farmers market.  We made 48 loaves total, all in the outdoor clay oven, which had to be refired between every batch.  It was a lot of work, but also a lot of fun!  Here are some of our whole wheat loaves, fresh from the oven.  Below that is a picture of us at the farmers market.  We sold all of our bread, and (surprise!) all of the nettles and most of the parsnips!  It was a good day, and when we got back we all took a well-deserved nap.