A return to grazing
May 17, 2012 § Leave a comment
It’s happening. Slowly. Because some of us stand behind it. Those who have learned by experience and those who are convinced by others’ experiences combined with ecological evidence. It needs to happen.
Let’s get down to this business of replacing cornfields with pasture, instead of the other way around. Let’s be putting ruminants out on that pasture where they belong. Okay?
Remember when I went to visit my friend Mae Rose at the ranch where she’s working in Nebraska?
Here’s the article that came out of the experience: Learning Mob Grazing on the Nebraska Sandhills.
It has a few opinions in it. We are of the opinionated sort. But I hope you read, learn, think, and enjoy it just a little.
Bad weather and breakfast
May 15, 2012 § 4 Comments
“A friend is someone who stays with you in the bad weather of life, guards you when you are off your guard, restrains your impetuosity, delights in your wholeness, forgives your failures, does not forsake you when others let you down, and shares whatever he is having for breakfast — moon pie, cold pizza, or fish and chips.” – Brennan Manning, Reflections for Ragamuffins
Strawberry plants
May 15, 2012 § 1 Comment
Strawberry season doesn’t begin in Wisconsin until about mid-June; this photo with already-formed berries is from plants that have been forced in greenhouses at the Minnesota Food Association. As a reward for volunteering there two weekends ago (or a matter of being in the right place at the right time), I got to eat a ripe one. Yes. I did.
Our own plants out in the front of the house have their first white blossoms on them. I like walking out to see them, the petals all cheerful and promising fruit. Strawberry plants are just cute. They can’t help it. They mean high spring and summer’s beginning.
Morels
May 14, 2012 § 2 Comments
My kind employers brought me a plateful of morels that they discovered early last week.
I dredged them in flour and fried them in butter, with a little salt and pepper.Yum.
And then, do you know what? When I was out looking for ramps, I stumbled upon a patch of morels myself.
My first experience with mushroom foraging, and it was accidental. I know many others who go to the point of making a ritual out of it. I prepped and served a gorgeous pile of chanterelles that our chef at Meadow Lark found in the Colorado mountains. But I never managed to go mushrooming myself. Now suddenly I understood what all the fuss was about.
That discovery moment is one of those where you feel like jumping around. “Look what I found!” I maybe bounced a little with glee. Maybe. I definitely smiled to myself, and did that funny thing where you look around you even though you know that no one is there. It feels like somehow, the universe is sharing this moment with you, observing your discovery, and receiving your appreciation.
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.
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!
Friday the 13th
April 13, 2012 § 1 Comment
All day has been overcast, with a few steady soft hours of rain and now the insistent wind howling outside the house. I’m sitting in front of the wood stove with a tall mug of coffee and a bag of chocolate chips. And A Severe Mercy beside me, which is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read, and a comforting place to go at the end of a day.
Yesterday I worked most of the day outside, me and my red truck and my shovel. I have a plan for a small hill all run a-muck out here, and yesterday the paper-planning found its way into action. Beauty and health come through hard work sometimes, just as they seem to come effortlessly other times. Anyway, I will do my part here. The feeling you get, settling down onto the couch with a cup of coffee or a glass of water, after hours of physical work – there is nothing else like it.
This afternoon I did nuts-and-bolts tasks, a bit of organizing, and then I found myself at an art event in little Amery, WI. I’m so pleased to say there is a talented and vibrant group of artists coming together here, and I met some quite lovely people while browsing watercolor cranes, clay pots, and prints of draft horses. We had asparagus wrapped in fillo dough with a touch of oil and lemon, and of course the wine was circulating. A few jars of pickles and jam were for sale beside handcrafted cards. The feel in these places is active, and awake. It seems to me that so many creatives have an intentionality about seeing the world. Even, perhaps, if they don’t know it.
Friday night. I am happy to be here with my book, and my plans, and my determination to keep my eyes open.
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.
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.
Good old-fashioned marketing
April 4, 2012 § 2 Comments
This sign is from Sol y Sombra Farm, where I worked from June to November last year. Isn’t there something perfectly nice about a wooden hand-painted sign propped out along a fence in front of the farm? There’s a touch of humanity in it; someone here made this and wants you to know what they have here for you. And on a farm, those can be very good things. To see some of last year’s harvest, have a look here.
Sol y Sombra is a CSA in Boulder County, with a lot happening on a few acres. I’m thinking about Allison and her new crew at Sol y Sombra, as flowers, veggies, and herbs just start to become available. Wishing you all well!
Kinds of Honey 