Animals | Kinds of Honey

Bees, birds, and butterflies

May 10, 2012 § Leave a comment

A little video I made for our Hungry Turtle facebook page. Here’s a look into our back yard.

I came across them in a nest tucked just inside the doorway of an unused shed, when I was bicycling around this afternoon taking photos of our farms. The mother robin flapped outside the moment I set a foot in the door – well, I did thump in heavily, as I was avoiding bristly weeds. And then I saw her nest, and peered in hopefully. There they were.

Four little eggs. So well-shaped. The loveliest of blues.

Where we live

May 2, 2012 § Leave a comment

It is late, and I ought to be sleeping. I am tired from a day of organizing ideas and information, checking out bee colonies, and working on flower beds. This is the good kind of tired, where you feel like, Yes. I got something important done today.

Still, I am not asleep. Sometimes the creative mind gets all ramped up at the end of the day and I hate to stifle it. Tonight I have been thinking about two things, in particular: (1) which color I would like to paint my room, and (2) what sort of small house I’d like to create, find, remodel to live in someday.

These ponderings took me all over the web. The dangerous, dastardly, extremely useful web. Before the internet mushroomed into our lives, I used to take an idea and start drawing. Writing. Diagramming. Coloring. Now I hop online and away we go! Is this better or worse? Sometimes the result is helpful. Other times I just get off course.

The good news is that this time, (1) I settled on a color and am super excited to get down to painting, and (2) I found some fascinating small house links, including Tumbleweed Tiny House Company. Could I live in one of these little spaces? I think so. I might want to try it. Though I’m slightly more enchanted with building a Shelter-Kit sort of custom-designed to be at once a home, a studio, a workshop, and a barn. Either that or go about remodeling something divinely old and full of interesting corners and cracks (and probably problems, but I don’t mind a challenge, especially if there’s good history attached to it).

As we’ve been putting together bee hives, creating living spaces for ducklings, and considering the housing for soon-to-come livestock, I’ve been thinking about the whole idea of home – space – what we live within and how we choose to make it. I have always liked home. I want to create serene, strong, happy places for myself and others to dwell in. Even the animals. And it occurs to me that a good farmer makes good homes. Conscientious farmers give their animals appropriate shelter, according to the various animals’ needs. (For beef cattle a shelter belt of trees might actually be the best thing for them, as opposed to a barn. We can talk about this in more detail another time, perhaps). This does not include CAFOs, though I have toured them and been told about their many hygienic qualities (pressing my lips tightly together to keep from getting snarky). It does include space, ventilation, strong roofing, comfortable places to lie or stand, and area that allows for instinctive behavior and even, yes, even comfort.

This human is comfortable now in her bed in the white house with her favorite new-old red stallion lamp and a quilt her sister gave to her. Another rant for another day.

Mama duck

April 29, 2012 § 2 Comments

The ducks around the resort at Lake of the Ozarks had gotten remarkably comfortable around humans. We saw this little lady fly down into the bushes and settle onto her nest. Look how cozy she is in there. (Thanks to Elena for the shot.)

Dandelion

April 25, 2012 § 2 Comments

I’ve known for quite a while that dandelions have some valuable characteristics. No, they are not native to the U.S. and yes, they have invasive tendencies. But did you know: that this plant growing freely in your yard has edible leaves, rich with vitamins and minerals? That the flower petals can be used to make dandelion wine? That the root can be roasted and made into dandelion coffee, or put into a supplement, rumored to aid in clearing skin? (I actually took this supplement for several years and found that it did, in fact, make a difference).

Still, there is that cultured instinctive response to see dandelions in a yard and want to remove them, isn’t there? We didn’t put the plant there and so we don’t want it to be there. Rather than taking advantage of this abundant and hardy little flower, we go to great (and sometimes toxic) efforts to eradicate it. I confess that I wouldn’t want dandelions in the middle of my carefully planned scenic garden, just as many people don’t want it in their well-groomed lawns. I’ve pulled dandelions out of many a vegetable plot. But when we pull it out, could we make a point of using it, at least sometimes? Can we go back even a little bit to our foraging ways?

In all honestly, I hardly ever do anything with the plucky little dandelion (the first picked flower of many a child – isn’t that enough to endear it to us?). I sort of ignore it, other than appreciating those conveniently bottled, easily popped supplements that made my skin so nice. Until now, when I find myself appreciating each bright, sunny, nectar-offering bloom. You know why? Because approximately 9,000 New World Carniolan bees now live several yards from me, and it is early spring, and they need to build comb and start building up their brood. And the dandelion is one of the first spring flowers. We are feeding our bees a bit of fondant and sugar-water and pollen patty to help them get started, but the real nectar is the best stuff. And who’s there? The dandelion.

So, dandelion, with your sunny face, you may grow widely and well in my lawn, and down along the path, and all around the beehives. My bees need you; and as you share your sweetness with them, I hope they’ll one day be able to share theirs with me!

50 Dispatches

April 11, 2012 § Leave a comment

“Your hands are going to bleed.”

Anne Cure, owner of Cure Organic Farm in Boulder, Colorado, said this softly while looking off into the distance as Jack, one of the other farmers, described the day’s task of transplanting thousands of seedlings from the greenhouse into the field. The “bleeding hands” comment was not ill-natured in any way; it was merely a statement of fact, one learned through many springs of transplanting thousands of seedlings into the field. This was the acknowledgment that today the fields were going to be especially tough to plant. It would be a painful process for a new farmer’s hands.

This is an excerpt of an essay featured in The Atlantic from the Greenhorns’ new book.

And it makes sort of warmly proud and glad for a couple of reasons:

1. I had the privilege of preparing and serving farm dinners at Anne Cure’s farm two summers ago – her smiling face is a familiar one!

2. I also sort of know Jeff, the author of this particular essay, as he had dinner with us on occasion, and he ended up dating my friend and co-worker. AND he’s from Iowa.

3. I’m just excited about what the Greenhorns are doing here. I love the idea of this book. Sharing stories of enthusiasm, passion, pain, discovery, purpose. And dirt. No – better word – soil. I wanted to contribute when they sent out their call for essays, but I wasn’t farming at the time, and they requested words from farmers. That’s all right. I’ve got my own farm and book plans. For now, I’m happy to read others. Hooray, everyone!

Good things are happening.

Deux poissons

April 10, 2012 § Leave a comment

Photo Credit: US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

Well, fancy that

April 9, 2012 § 1 Comment

Williams-Sonoma has an agrarian section. Did you know?

Jenna of Cold Antler Farm puts it best, I think:

Yes, I’m looking for an immersion blender, a tabletop espresso machine, and a chicken coop, thanks.

The “I know farming’s waaaaaaaay grittier than Williams-Sonoma” part of me wants to laugh. The “I want everyone to love farming and growing things and eating close-to-home good food” part of me is just tickled pink. This is lifestyle-changing stuff, people. And if we get it – if we really get it, learn it, and live it? Call me optimistic, call me ambitious . . . but I’m convinced it can be world-changing.

Birds on a screen

March 26, 2012 § Leave a comment

At the Minneapolis Institute of Art. Not sure why I like it so much, but I do. The gray-on-gray. The sense of movement. There is at once a feeling of life’s spark and of calm.

Bad dog, Danny

March 26, 2012 § 4 Comments

You know the black dog?

He is black as night. Especially in this snow storm where I first took his picture. Remember?

Here he is a few days ago, exploring a very wonderful tree.

Well, this Danny-boy has a sweet, affectionate disposition but a bad, bad happy of chewing. As a puppy he chewed the cords off my father’s power tools. And the legs of the porch furniture. And shoes, of course. And anything else he fancied.

He’s gotten much better, but one of his favorite things still seems to be chewing packages that get dropped on the front porch. Usually we try to leave a note or put in special instructions: Packages must go INSIDE! Or, Do not deliver package without a signature!

Guess what came at some hour of the day when we happened to be (or be focused) elsewhere?

My first shipment of my books.

Guess who chewed the box open and spilled books all over the (dewy, wet, morning lawn)? Guess who put teeth or claw marks in at least half of them?

That black dog.

Good thing it was only a shipment of ten copies. Good thing I’ve learned to find humor in unfortunate circumstances. Good thing for that dog, and good thing for me.

I scooped them up in a half-panic, with my mother’s help, and wiped them down. A few were still presentable. The others will be family copies, I suppose.

We’re still dog people around here. Don’t worry. But Danny’s position in the family was, that afternoon, somewhat up for review. Good thing for him he’s the friend of the little Shar Pei we’re all smitten with. It keeps him around despite his unruly antics. (His kindly brown eyes and affectionate pet-me nudges may also help.)

And, nevertheless, what a little satisfaction it is to see this pile. A little beat up. But mine.

Where Am I?