Reflections...

As 2011 wraps up, it is interesting to reflect on where we have come as a couple and as farmers in this past year. To call it a rollercoaster would be cliche, but also remarkably accurate. I read through some of my past blog posts, and reflected on those things that I did, and did not cover. A lot of the positives I didn't take the time to write down, and some of the hardest moments I didn't write about because some things are simply too personal and hard to share. And other stuff, I was simply tooo busy! When it comes down to it, no one really understands our life except for Luke and I, but that's okay, because when it comes down to it, I wouldn't trade this life for anything. Maybe people don't understand why we would want to live this way - I hear that all the time, but it is a great and complicated life, filled with stories, tears, and bliss. Before I reflect on that, let's reflect on some of the things this year has brought. 

1. Banjo and Murtle!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Such amazing contributions to our farm life - these cute little kittens have grown into large outdoor cats who greet us as the door in the morning, and jump on the hood of my car when I get home from work. I typically say that I hate cats - then why do I like these two? Because they are more like dogs!!!!!!!!! They greet me all the time, they love affection and people, and they go on walks with us! Yes, when we take Tobshu on a walk around the tree farm - they trail behind us closely and cautiously - Tobshu gets a little aggressive out there. But they tag along - and I love it! They are so friendly - during Christmas tree farm season, Murtle even hopped in a customer's vehicle! They had driven for about 10 minutes only to discover a cat in the car - thankfully, they turned around to return her. These two were one of my most spontaneous decisions, but they were also one of my best! 

 2) The greenhouse. This greenhouse has been a whirlwind for us. What started as a "simple" purchase turned into a half-year project, countless bills, countless frustration, an incredibly muddy yard, but most important, and incredible and exciting opportunity. I absolutely love when it is grey outside, and everything is brown and dying - I simply head into the greenhouse and see all the wonderful greens, purples, and oranges that are characteristic of the veggies Luke is growing, and it warms me right up. It is wonderful - and so exciting that our business is growing in this fashion! The future holds great things!

3. The large walk-in refrigerator! We went from the refrigerator crisis of June, to having our very own walk-in fridge in July! And thank goodness - we needed it. I remember in the blistering heat of the summer - when it was 95 and muggy, Luke and I would dart into the walk-in fridge and shiver in there - but it felt so good. Now, it is ironic that when Luke and I are packing for market early Saturday morning and we are shivering - we go into the fridge to warm up! Luke's like it is multi-functional for cooling/warming.

4. The chickens. We have chased countless chickens this year - now we don't even bother to chase them when they escape - they make their way back to the coop! Not only have we chased countless chickens, we also butchered 100+ chickens this year!! That was quite the experience. I can't even tell you what it was like to look outside, see Luke butchering a bird, and then bring it in to me to cook up - while it was still warm! Odd, but delicious when it was all said and done!

5. The floods. In the course of the greenhouse project, we had over 100 dumptrucks of dirt brought in (thanks to the Pulaski round-a-bout project) but it tore up our yard! Literally, a dirt mess. Then, a few downfalls that delivered a couple inches of rain brought us to flood city. See below - we didn't put a pond in - it just appears that way. Muddy, wet, mess. Well, we have a dog - and he loves to play in the water. I think I had to give him a bath every day for two weeks straight. I guess it was worth it because we have the awesome greenhouse now, and I guess Tobshu had fun, but man, that was a pain!

So, we head into 2012. Luke and I said that in 2012 we would take a two week vacation, buy some cool toys (like a new vehicle or something of the like), will fix up the house further and make progress on our yard.We were dreaming big, and after a year's worth of reflecting, its easy to make change some of our 2012 thoughts. Some things we have already accepted won't happen - like the big vacation. Luke and I will never have the lifestyle or the money to do that, and when we finally do, we will want to have children - we already talk about that like every other week! But that's okay, because we don't need to travel to have crazy experiences. We have every kind of moment right here in our very own yard. We might get another dog, and we might venture into the world of turkeys. It will always be an adventure out here, and I can't wait to see what 2012 brings. Maybe I will finally talk Luke into that pool I've been wanting...
One things for sure - I'm going to try to make an effort to blog more frequently - so stay tuned!

My Dog, The Republican

I haven't posted in awhile, so I am going to update a couple different stories over the next day or two. I had to take care of the farm this past weekend, so I have a lot to say about that. But since I don't have time to sit down and type that all out right now, I figured I would give you a short little story for a laugh.

Last week was Luke's birthday party. He turned 24 on Wednesday! I had a dinner party for him on Tuesday night that consisted of his parents, my parents, and both sets of his grandparents. I asked Luke what he wanted to eat, and he picked Winter Vegetable PotPie, only one of the most difficult meals to make. You see, in my family, you don't buy pie crusts, you make them from scratch. They are delicious, yes, but time-consuming! And rolling out 4 pie crusts isn't easy! Fortunately, my mom helped out and made the pie crusts for me, so I was only left with the filling. Luke's mom made some delicious spring rolls and each grandma brought a little something to share as well, so we had quite a feast. Besides some initial lack of organization on my part, the evening was going quite well.

Well, we were all in the middle of enjoying the delicious meal. There was lots of laughter and smiles, and the evening was going wonderfully. Conversation was flowing and everyone was having fun. Then, out of nowhere, Harold (Luke's maternal grandfather) brought up something about Governor Walker. Let's just say that Harold is a staunch Republican, while Butch (Luke's other grandfather) is a die-hard democrat! The rest of us sat divided among our political views and none of us felt the need to share. Again, my belief is you don't talk politics with family. But, nonetheless, the conversation went there. We all tried to dispel that conversation with some jokes and laughs, so I said:

"Harold, you better be careful talking like that. Tobshu is a big democrat."

Harry was shocked to hear that our dog had political views, and I responded that we could ask Tobshu so that he could speak for himself. I had Tobshu sit down next to me, and I thought I had the plan figured out. You see, Tobshu speaks on command, so I figured if I asked him if he was a democrat and then said speak, he would bark in agreement. Well, plans don't always go as they are supposed to.

Tobshu was sitting nicely in front of me, panting eagerly. I said, "Tobshu, are you a democrat?" And then I quietly whispered "speak!" Well, as I'm saying "speak," Tobshu did the craziest thing! He shook his head back and forth so vigorously that my hair blew from the breeze of it! It was a very affirmative no!  Seriously, it wasn't just a no, it was a "hell no, I'm not a democrat!" None of us could believe it, there was about 5 seconds of silence, and then hysterical laughter. I have never seen Tobshu shake his head like that! I'm not joking, there wasn't even a delay! The second I asked the question, he was shaking his head no! We all roared with laughter, the kind of laughter that lightens people's hearts and brings tear to their eyes. The  best kind of laughter there is.

The wonderful laughter that ensued covers up one fact that I have to bring myself to accept - my dog is a republican. Gulp...how did that happen? I guess I won't focus on that end, and instead focus on the fact that my dog can answer yes and no questions now! Maybe that could get us on Ellen! Now, there's a thought!

Updates and Such

Well, it sure has been awhile. Times have been crazy and I just haven't gotten around to blogging. I think I am giving you all the seriously wrong impression that farm work is purely seasonal and stops at the end of September - I assure you, that is not true! Luke is still quite busy with all of his farm work, while life on my end has switched to focus almost entirely on school. I'm a bit of a workaholic,and spend ridiculous amounts of time at school or with a computer on my lab. Although I have a couple wonderful friends who are trying to work on that and getting me to relax a little. I caved and currently go to yoga and have a group dinner on Thursday nights (which I love), but otherwise, I spend a lot of time with papers on my lap.

The middle of September brought the end of the Wednesday night farmer's market, as well as the end of our summer CSA program. It was a successful summer and Luke and I have a lot to be thankful for. The end of October also brought up the exciting announcement that our 100 foot greenhouse was officially complete - electricity hooked up and plants starting to grow. It is a very exciting addition to our farm life.

Three weeks ago we started a winter farmer's market at Kavarna in Green Bay. Week one went awesome and really showed the potential for the market. Week two (last week), was a little rough for me. It seems I always have the strangest occurrences at Farmer's markets!

It all started right when the market started, right around 9 am. I wasn't done labeling the produce or putting out all the food. One woman, in her mid 60's, asked about the Wolf River Apples. I told her the apples were for sale and that I just hadn't had time to set them out yet. She laughed, looked at Luke, and said (in a very condescending tone) "She doesn't know what she is doing." I didn't really understand what she meant, so I just blew it off. She was looking over our food, and I asked Luke how much the leeks cost so that I could label it, and the woman said, "Wow, she really has no idea what she is doing." Luke looked at me like he was thinking "what the heck is this lady talking about?" and I just shrugged, a little irritated at her rudeness.

Well, then I asked Luke how much the Bok Choy was and the woman laughed and said "She has NO idea what she is doing." She then looked at Luke and said, "It's okay, you have the right to make fun of her, I'm giving you permission."  I was fuming - she was so rude. Luke was very confused, but he saw how irritated I was, and he realized I might slap the lady, so he quickly and gently shook his head at me. Don't worry, I behaved myself...

Towards the end of the market, a man came up. He was an elderly gentleman, and he looked like a sweet old man!  He asked me a question about the micro-greens. Typically when someone asks me a question I can't answer, I say something along the lines of...I will have to ask my husband, he is the farmer and he knows...Well, the man asked what I did for a living, and I said I was a teacher. Such a simple answer got so far out of hand. The man inquired what district I worked him, and I proudly replied Pulaski. Then, he pulled the pin out of the grenade when he said, "Well, let me ask you something about Pulaski teachers." I instantly thought, oh man, where is this going to go?!

The man asked me if I thought it was important to balance the state budget. I said I did think it was important to balance the budget, but that I would not comment on the way in which it was being balanced. He replied that he was glad to hear I thought the budget was important, and then he delivered the dagger. He said:

"So, you weren't one of those teacher that went and pissed on the walls of the capital?!" Such an out-there comment, I was taken aback. Now, I'm not going to make this a political blog - people have their own opinion in politics and I respect that...but seriously, I don't think there were any cases of teachers found "pissing" on the capital. I know a lot of teachers, and we all tend to prefer toilets. As a woman with a lifetime's worth of experience in urinating...I don't think it is even possible to aim your urine at a vertical structure - most likely you would just pee all over your shoe or legs....Regardless...I couldn't believe his completely distasteful comment!

Beyond those wacky occurrences, things are going really well, and Luke and I are very happy. Our kittens are wonderful-they are getting big and killing plenty of mice! Tobshu is doing very well - turning into a long-haired fluff ball again.  The cold weather is here, which means our house is officially like 50 degrees again, but other than that, I have enjoyed the transition into fall.

I will try to be better about updating - thanks for staying tuned :)

Farm Houses

Part of living on a farm is living IN a farmhouse. It took me awhile to get used to. I think I am still getting used to it. The hardest factor to accept was the outside-access basement. In my twisted, over-analytical, excessive worrying mind, I was like "okay, if there is a tornado, I have to go outside to get to safety?!" Can you say The Wizard of Oz or the movie Twister? And, once you get down there, you don't feel too much better. Let's just say that when I have new visitors come over, the last thing I am about to show them is the basement. If you have been down there, then you understand - its creepy. There is a gaping hole in one wall and creeks and cracks everywhere. Luke has been able to make one room quite nice by turning it into our sprout growing room, but otherwise, I don't like to go down there.

Another part of farm-houses is weird angles and steep slants. If someone had a little too much to drink, then they probably shouldn't walk down our stairs, because they will fall. Seriously, a steep slant right into the wall or down the stairs. I was working out and dropped a little weight - it literally rolled away from me. It was like my house was telling me I wasn't working out hard enough. In the book "Coop" by Michael Pollan, he joked how an afternoon sporting event is to put a marble down and see if it rolls to the front door. I tried it once while I was in the bathroom - the marble made it out of the bathroom, into the dining room, and then angled to the kitchen. It stopped on the way, but still, it was quite impressive.  I'm used to the slants now, but in the beginning, I felt like I was tripping all the time - but that could just be because I'm klutzy.

Next, leaky windows! It isn't even that cold yet, but our curtains our blowing, not because the windows are open, but because they are that drafty. Our dining room window is particularly bad - it whistles because so much air comes through. It makes for a chilly house. Fortunately we have a cozy pellet stove to heat it up, but that is only the main floor. In the dead of winter, our bedroom is a blustery 50 degrees - that doesn't make it to easy to get out of bed and get in the shower. Plus, our shower takes 10 minutes to warm up. You can call that a wake-up call. But, it is good sleeping conditions. And it does cause me to bake a lot so that the oven heats our house. And I drink more tea - which is good for me, so I suppose that is a plus as well.

The last part about farm houses, the mice. I'm not going to detail this quite yet, because I have a lot to say about it, so I'm going to save it for another post. However, I think you will really enjoy that one...
And I must say, even if farm houses are cold, blustery, tipsy and creeky - I love it. I love how cozy it is, I love the history in the walls. The columns with paint drips of many years gone by. The cut-out in our wall showing the original wood the house was made of. Showcase of Homes was this weekend, and while our house will probably never be on the agenda, it is our home, and because of that, its awesome. (And it will be even more awesome when Luke finally lets me paint my two front doors bright green!!!)

Something's Gotta Give

I will preface this all by saying, I'm caffeinated. Typically I am a decaf girl, but tonight I'm caffeinated. What does this mean? That I'm all jacked up with nowhere to go - well, sort of. But, I mean it literally - typically I never have caffeine, but tonight, I did. Typically I don't consume caffeine - I don't drink soda, I don't drink coffee or lattes, and I'm currently off candy (that makes it sound like I have an addiction - I guess I do), so my caffeine consumption is relatively zip. That also means that when I do have it, it really gets to me. I really get going when I have caffeine. I needed to drink it tonight so that I could keep my eyes open during farmer's market, and it has gone above and beyond. Literally, I was talking aloud to myself the whole drive home from market because I had so much energy, and half the time I spent yelling (yes, yelling) out lines from the following video clip (which I showed in every class today and I find hilarious: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xaPepCVepCg). So, that is your warning - this post could be random ramblings and gibberish.

But I do have a point in posting. Because seriously right now, something has got to give. Part of the reason I may have talked aloud to myself the whole way home could be because I have gone certifiably insane. Or that is what I feel like. Seriously, I keep on running, keep on running, keep on working, and when I'm done its like nothing was accomplished.

Let's just bring you back to the beginning. I'm a teacher, and it is my first year teaching an AP course, which is super exciting, but so demanding. I think I could eat, sleep, and breathe AP and I still wouldn't be totally prepared. So, I'm working a lot of hours at school. Well, things are complicated on the farm right now - bills are coming, money is tight, and there is so much work to do. Add on the fact that the first frost is coming ridiculously early, and you are talking about a situation where the shit is hitting the fan. So that's what happened, last night. Luke had a freak-out session, and me, being his wife who is eager to please, put my own stuff aside to help him. Rather than grade my work or prepare for class, I picked peppers until it was too dark to see, then I froze older peppers that needed to be processed, then I cleaned the kitchen and did dishes, then opened up the computer to look at our financing, then sent out emails to everyone in the CSA (yes, Luke was working his tail-off during this time as well). I had a momentary thought of baking a pumpkin pie to cheer Luke up, but then it was like "who am i kidding - that's never gonna happen." Regardless, Luke was in a much better place after I helped him with everything, and he felt even better when I told him I would work the farmer's market for him and he could stay at home and cover all the crops to protect them from frost. Add to it figuring out how to apply for our first loan, and you could call me wonder woman. But, it is at my own expense. But isn't that what you do in love? True love, sacrificing yourself for another - at least that is what they say in the movies, and it seems to be true.

Well, that made a tired farmer's wife/teacher, so today was not an easy today. And it's like, I swear, I'm just trying to be a good person and help, and things just continue to go wrong, to get worse. Where is my good karma? Unnecessary things seem to happen when I am just trying to help: like a box will break and the heaviest object in the box will fall on my toe. Or, something will fall and I will break it. Or when I'm trying to be crafty, a door will slam out of nowhere and I will drop everything. It's so unnecessary, there are times when I literally look into the sky and scream (yes, scream) "I'm a good person, I'm just trying to help, why the hell is everything going wrong?" It may seem pitiful, it may seem extreme, but sometimes it feels like the walls are crumbling.

That's what I feel like today. Seriously, there have to be a few screws loose right now because I am spent, and don't even know what to do next, but I gotta do something. But, as I drove home from market, I realized that if I don't stop, then somethings gotta give. Seriously, when is Jack Nicholson gonna turn up naked, or was that Diane Keaton? (I don't know, I didn't really like that movie, but I remember there was an old naked person.)

Regardless, I feel that I have to give so much and help so much to alleviate the stress, but all it does is transfer the stress to me. I don't know, you may be thinking "why in the world is she sitting here blogging if she is so busy and overwhelmed?" The answer is that if I don't get some of these thoughts out of my brain, then I won't be able to focus on school-work anyway. Maybe this is what needed to give - maybe I had to stop trapping all my lunatic thoughts inside. I don't know. Regardless, it feels good to get the thoughts out there. Now, I have to do schoolwork. Luke is going to help me grade quizzes. I guess maybe that's what love is - sacrificing yourselves for each other, both doing the most you can for each other, not because it is easy, but because it is love.



I also have to add this story that Luke just told me.  It happened today, at market, before I got there, while he was setting up the booth. A little old lady came walking up and asked how much the broccoli cost. He responded $2.50/pound. She responded "NO!"
 Luke didn't really know why she would yell out "no" to the price, so he gave her a puzzled look. She said to him, "I don't even like broccoli that much, and I especially don't like it enough to pay that for it." Then she turned, and walked away. Classic. I laughed for 5 minutes when he told me this story.  It feels good to laugh.

No, My Husband Does not Grow Marijuana

While this hasn't happened since I started writing the blog, it has happened several times since Luke has started the business. I have been asked this same question by so many different people: by other teachers, by students, by friends, and random people. You see, there is this persistent stereotype about organic farmers, a stereotype that says organic farming is somehow related to the marijuana industry. I believe this stereotype only exists in the Midwest, as organic food is not nearly as common here as it is in other places like the coasts. Even in Madison, where organic farming is pretty common, I was still asked this question. So, what is the question then? It is always something about marijuana, that because Luke grows organically that he then automatically grows weed. Here are some examples:

You see, I get so many crazy responses when I say Luke is a produce farmer who grows organically. Some people respond with "that's interesting, can you even make a living doing that?" Others will comment how organic growing is overrated. Others, ask about marijuana.  It always varies a little, but always the same old thing. I can't count on two hands how many times I've had people ask me. My first encounter was in Madison, of all places, where I was student teaching. A teacher asked what my fiance was going to do when he graduated, and when I said "Luke is an organic farmer," the woman responded with "I can't believe you are so open about growing pot." I was shocked of course, quickly saying that we do not grow that, and that her stereotype was rude and offensive. This of course was my first experience with such a comment, little did I know that I would receive so many more. The next occurrence also happened in Madison, with my students. Luke and I had been in a newspaper article - a front page picture on the "Life and Style" section, with a title that read "Grow your own herbs." Well, my students took the meaning of herbs to a whole new level, which I pegged off as high-schooler immaturity, but I realized how many adults think like this.

One of my favorite examples happened in the teacher workroom last year, when several teachers asked me what my husband does for a living. I told them that Luke was an organic produce farmer. One math teacher that I didn't know very well asked "Now, when your husband started the farm, did the FBI have to come out and investigate to make sure you weren't growing marijuana?" I couldn't believe it - it was so absurd. Yes, 22 elite FBI officials came out and tore the place apart, destroying all the tomatoes and nearly tearing down the house. Give me a break lady. I really hold to hold back my sarcasm when I responded, though I did give a slight snort of "you are nuts lady."

Luke and I have a "grow room." Now before your imagination goes running, let me tell you what we grow in there: wheat grass, sunflower sprouts, pea shoots, and some specialty sprouts. We call it a grow room because it is temperature controlled and humidity controlled - it was specifically designed to be able to keep up a certain temperature and a certain humidity - ideal sprouting conditions. Not ideal marijuana conditions. I guess we shouldn't call it a grow room, not that we do that much, sometimes sprout room, sometimes I refer to it as the room in our overall scary basement. I have however used two slips of the word "grow room" since we have been married. One was to my students when we were doing a lab about salinization and I was talking about proper conditions for germination and growing sprouts. They knew my husband was a produce farmer, but when I mentioned our "grow room" I literally saw jaws drop. I quickly explained what it really was, and made sure to avoid using that term in the future.
A second time occurred at the market, when a woman asked how we grow the sprouts, and if she could grow them by setting them on a porch. I told her that sprouts require very specific conditions, and that we have a grow room where we can maintain appropriate growing conditions. She responded by saying that it is illegal to have a grow room, and once again, I had to quickly back track and explain that it is not a marijuana room. Come on people, if we had a marijuana room, those 22 nasty FBI officials probably would have found it. Alright, I may look at it to sarcastically, but can't people just hear that you live on an organic farm and think you are growing good food for people to enjoy?
Dare to dream I suppose, dare to dream :)

We don't have a microwave

Sometimes on a farm, it is nice to sit back and enjoy the simpler things. Sometimes I think Luke would like to be Amish - in general, he prefers the simpler ways. Of course, every day of our lives we depend on electricity and gasoline, so we could never actually be Amish, but I'll give some examples where we tend to shy away from the daily conveniences.
This first one is one that we have gotten away from but for a very long time, we did not have a coffee maker. We also didn't have a coffee grinder, even though we bought whole coffee beans. So, how did we enjoy our daily coffee? Well, I didn't - because I don't like it, and it would have me in the bathroom for the rest of the day. I don't know how you people drink that stuff! But, how did Luke enjoy his daily coffee? Well, his grandmother gave us an antique coffee grinder - you put the coffee beans in the top, you turn the crank for at least 100 times (I did it every day - I would get bored, so I would count how many turns I made - once I did it in 89 - oh the little things). Well, after you finished cranking, you would have nice, fresh coffee grounds. Then, I would boil water in a tea kettle, and pour the coffee grounds in a bottom of a french press. Add the water, and there is your coffee - no coffee pot needed. I can't say no electricity - I did heat the water on the stove, but all the same, a slightly different approach. This however, was slightly annoying to do at 5 am every day, so Luke did indulge in a coffee pot after a year of the french press.
We also got a hand-mixer as a wedding gift - I just opened it up a few weeks ago - the dusty box had sat for a year. Instead of using an electric hand-mixer, we have another hand-crank mixer. The faster you spin, the faster the batter is mixed. If you pay close attention, you really can get your own speeds of "low, medium and high." One recipe I made called for 30 seconds on low, and then 2.5 minutes on high - I nearly lost my hand that day - I spun the handle so fast, you wouldn't even believe it. Who needs to work out every day - just bake a cake without an electric mixer. Okay, I'm joking - please don't switch your work-out regiment or anything!
The biggie that everyone seems to be shocked by, is that we do not own a microwave. I know, crazy right? People are always stunned by this. Luke's grandma insisted that we needed a microwave so much that she actually brought one over 3 times - we politely declined. When we first got married - I just thought it was an annoying quirk of Luke's. I hated it at first - I couldn't just heat up soup in a bowl - I had to put it in a second dish, on the stove, wait longer, etc. It is amazing how I was so inconvenienced by such a minor thing. Now, I enjoy life without a microwave, and I don't miss it. Popcorn popped on the stove is better than in the bag! I can take my time when I heat up lunch, and I have to be more thoughtful in advance. I can't defrost meat last minute, so I need to plan earlier in the day if we want to eat venison. Scrambled eggs via the microwave sounds awful to me, so I would never miss that, and now I learned how to melt chocolate chips using a double water boiler bath (whatever the heck you call it - I can do it). Through my husband's quirks, I have learned that sometimes it is nice to slow down and do things in a more old-fashioned way. Hopefully he doesn't read this though - otherwise before I know it the stove will be gone and a wood-burning stove will be in its place, or else a solar stove. Who really knows?

Patience - good things are worth the wait.

I haven't written in a while, last week was pretty crazy. I spent this evening making pastas, cutting up melons  (which were either cracked or partially moldy on the outside - I told you that farmers keep the imperfect stuff for themselves), and making pumpkin bread. During this time, I had a lot of thinking to do, but my mind kept revolving back to this idea of patience.

Patience is required on a farm. Patience for late spring so the fields can be tended, patience for the last frost so the fields can be planted. Patience for rain, or patience for heat. Even more patience for when the food will be ready. Trust me, when you look into a field and see acorn and butternut squashes, melons and corn, things that take awhile to ripen, it is so hard not to go pull one off the vine (or husk), cook it, and gobble it up. But it won't be good, the flavor will be missing, the quality not there. It won't be everything that you picked it for, because in farming, it takes time, and though patience isn't always easy, the fruits of your labors are worth it.

Well, lately, I've noticed a strong sense of losing my patience. I have no patience for other people (that was evident in the last farmer's market post), no patience for myself, and a lack of patience for my husband. As I looked back and read my last farmer's market post, I realized I wasn't being patient with people. You see, my wise father-in-law told me that instead of getting frustrated, I should take the time to educate people about why our food is more expensive and why it is important that they eat organic, sustainably grown food. I realized I wasn't giving the people of Green Bay time to realize how important it is to eat local, delicious, biological food. I mean, we don't live in San Francisco - it takes time to change. Well, last week, I decided to take really take on this patient and educational approach.

A woman came up to me and asked about our Swiss Chard - she had heard about it on Dr. Oz. I explained how delicious it is, and some various ways to use it in recipes. She asked how much for a half-pound bag, and I responded "$3.75." She said, "Wow, really, is it worth that?" That was my chance - the door was opened. I explained the price, and also explained how most greens, like Swiss Chard, kale, and lettuce, are very vulnerable to pesticides and chemicals, as they are absorbed right into the leaf - it can't be washed away. I tried my best to be sincere and patient, and thought I did a good job. Well, when I finished my little speech, she said, "Well, Dr. Oz recommended eating Swiss Chard, but he never said a word about it being organic or local, so I'm going to pass." While it was tempting to shake my head in frustration, I didn't. I decided to stay patient - because maybe in a week she will come back. And if not, at least she will eat non-organic Swiss chard, which is better than eating no greens at all.

I also haven't been very patient with Luke lately. I have been jumpy and over-reactive, largely because I'm stressed from combining the work of farming, and school (especially when adding an AP course). Luke wasn't ready to leave at the time I had told him because he needed to check the greenhouse and feed the chickens - I was so frustrated because in my mind, we were running late, again. However, I know in my heart that I need to be patient because he is working so very hard for us, and I need to appreciate that.

I am trying to take a new initiative - a call for patience - in my work, on the farm, and in my marriage. Just as I must be patient for the underside of the acorn squash to turn orange before picking it, I must learn that not everything can happen at the moment I demand it, and that in life, most things are worth the wait!

That's right...keep walking.

Just got home from the farmer's market - sitting down with a nice, stiff mixed drink and going to do a little blogging. Tonight was alright at market, but alas, I must vent - because tonight people drove me nuts.

You see, at farmer's markets, you are trying to sell your food. I know, mind-blowing. But seriously, the pricing varies from vendor to vendor, but the goal is to sell your delicious-home grown, local produce to the people of the area. As farmers, we aren't out to get anyone or rip anyone off - but rather, to sell the food that we (well more Luke) grew. Now with any farmer's market, the customers are going to compare your food to others, and I get that. Not an issue. But some people have a way of throwing in these comments and remarks that just drive me absolutely bonkers.

Lesson 1: yes, prices vary, but you don't need to be rude about it. Case in point: the little old lady on the scooter. While she hasn't visited us in a few weeks, she stopped by every week last year, and the better part of this summer so far. She seems like she will be a sweet old lady, pulling up in her scooter. But every week, it is the same story. She asks us about one item, typically the fruit. Last year it was the blueberries, every single week of August. She says, in a raspy voice, "how much for the blueberries," and I reply (so sweetly and innocently, of course), "$3.00/pint." Her response is so identical each week that it is almost comical, almost. She would take her left hand off the scooter handle, wave at me, scoff, say "too much" and drive away quickly. It takes so much will-power in my body to not yell out to her when she drives up "mam...everything we sell is too much - keep moving." Anyway, I don't do that, every week I just smile and say "$3.00/pint."

To continue lesson 1, I must stay that our food is produced organically (though not certified organic), and this does make prices higher because it is more expensive to produce and more time-intensive. However, the added cost will pay off in the long run because of the decreased health issues in the future (I firmly believe this). Regardless, several people a night will comment on or scoff at our prices, and after awhile, it gets old! Last week, one lady came up and said something along the lines of "Are you kidding me? 75 cents for a cucumber, that is ridiculous." I thought Luke was going to jack her in the face, I had to hold him back! No, I'm kidding, but seriously, when she walked away, he said to me, "I'm so sorry, I'll give it to you for a quarter. I can sell 4 of them and have a whole dollar! Seriously, its like, hello, trying to make a living here." And that is just it - 75 cents for a cucumber isn't that much. We have to sell a lot of them at that price even to get it to add up. I will let you in on a little secret - farmers are not rich. I know, shocking, but true. So it would be awesome if people would just have some understanding for the work that we do and the hours we spend busting our butts in the heat so that they may enjoy a few cucumbers.

Alright, so you may be reading this and thinking, what is this chick complaining about - people have the right to comment on prices. Well, yes, they do, but people also have the right to carry concealed weapons in some states. Just because you have the right, doesn't mean you necessarily should. It really does get old. One lady came up to buy zucchinis, and said "2 for $1.50? You can get them 2 for $1.00 down the road." I responded with, "well, then you just walk on down the road and buy those." She looked at me like I was a bitch, and walked away. I couldn't really believe that I had said it, and Luke was like "did you really just say what I think you said?" I apologized, but he didn't care, he said that if he had more balls he would respond like that to people as well. It wasn't necessarily the nicest thing to say, but it did feel good.

The next part you need a little background information on, and that is, farmers really only want to sell high-quality food. Trust me, Luke brings in piles of vegetables for me to use that don't meet the quality requirements, so I get bunches of deformed carrots, mangled beets, green potatoes, mushy strawberries. However, no matter how cautious you are, sometimes, an imperfect fruit or vegetable may sneak through. Last year, in September, we were selling our watermelons. We had eaten several of them, and so had my parents - they were all delicious. At the farmer's market, we cut one in half so people could see how deliciously ripe that they were. We sold a lot of watermelons. Well, one couple came marching up with a watermelon that we had sold them, and it was white and pink on the inside, not ripe at all. This was an honest mistake - typically if some of the patch are ripe, then they all are. Well, this couple was irate and they weren't afraid to show it. It was like they thought that we had purposely only cut the one ripe watermelon in half and that we had x-ray vision to see into the other un-ripe watermelons, know they weren't ripe, and then intentionally rip people off. Even after we gave them a refund, they were not satisfied. They had to be inconvenienced to drive back down there, return the watermelon, and waste their time (which they didn't seem to notice that they themselves were doing as they were ripping us a new one). So, lesson 2 - forgive the farmers if your produce might not be perfect - trust me, the mistake was not intentional.

Anyway, I just needed to blog about this because my frustration was mounting every time people complained or gave me a snarky comment. Now that I have it off my chest, I can start fresh next week, put on my smile, and say, "Yes, they are 75 cents each, but I promise you, they are worth it."

Excuse me - what do I have to clean off the eggs?!?!

There are just some lessons that you need to learn as a farmer's wife. Some come harder than others. Now, I learned this lesson a while ago, but I never posted about it, because it might be a tough lesson for the readers as well. So, brace yourself, this one might be tough for some of you to swallow (kind of like finding out the ingredients in a hot dog).

Having chickens is fun - it is great, actually. Fresh eggs are so much better than store-bought eggs, there is just something about them. They are healthier too. Here is a fun fact for you! Look at the color of the yolk on your eggs - the paler yellow it is, the more cholesterol the yolk has, and the less healthier the egg. Our chicken eggs, when we crack them open, have a deep yellow orange yolk. That means the chickens are healthier! You see - our chickens are pasture-raised, so they move around more, and they eat stuff off the ground, like grass, or other veggies that we give them, and bugs, or even mice! This varied diet and exercise is so good for them, and then it makes their eggs healthier too. Next time you crack an egg open, check out that yolk - it is your own indicator of the quality of the egg. Deep orange/yellow is what you are looking for.

Now, off that tangent - the lesson. I'm a biology teacher, and in college, I learned that chickens only have one orifice (or opening) where materials exit their body, called the cloaca or vent. It is the only opening that materials exit a bird's body. I never really thought about this, until I started living on our farm. You see, that means, the opening that the eggs come out of, is also the opening that the bird's wastes come out of. To put it shortly, there is typically a little "poo" on the eggs!

You learn this lesson when you first go to take the eggs out of the coop, and they aren't very clean. Now, stop right there, don't let your imagination get the best of you - it's not like they are completely poop-covered eggs. But, there is little bits, here and there. Now, some eggs are spotless, you know its a good day when the eggs are all clean. But, others, require a little cleaning.

When we first had chickens, Luke would clean all the eggs up - and he was good at it! Now, I frequently here the statement, "Mel, can you go clean the chicken eggs for me?" Oh brother, it isn't fun. Scrubbing poop off an egg probably isn't any one's idea of a good time. A lot of industrial companies bleach the eggs, but this isn't good for the egg- because egg shells are porous membranes, which means chemicals can go in (or out). Plus, bleaching the egg starts to break down the shell, hence, it gives the eggs a shorter shelf-life. No, the best way to clean an egg is to just use good old-fashioned paper towel, water, and a little scrubbing power.

Well, sometimes I am a little over-zealous with my scrubbing, and I make a mistake. For example, today, there was one pretty dirty egg, and I had it almost spotless, one tiny more spot. And then, I pushed to hard and broke the egg into pieces - it is very frustrating! That happens rarely though, and it is all part of the business I suppose. But still, cleaning eggs isn't the funnest thing in the world.

And since I'm talking about eggs, I'm going to go ahead and give you another little fun fact! Eggs do not need to be refrigerated when they are fresh! We take them out of the coop and put them on our counter! They are just fine this way - nothing wrong with it! They stay very good! People are used to having them refrigerated, so they think it is gross. But, refrigerating eggs actually decreases the shelf life! Once they are refrigerated, they have to stay that way! So don't go taking your eggs out of the fridge - but if you ever go buy eggs from a farm, don't be freaked out if they aren't in the fridge, because they don't need to be.  And, peeling farm-fresh hard-boiled eggs can be difficult, so the best thing to do is put a tiny bit of vinegar in the boiling water. Then, they peel like a charm!

Alright, some of you may be reading this and still can't get over the fact that bird feces is on eggs. But don't get all freaked out and over-react - you have been eating eggs your whole life probably, and it never bothered you before, in fact, you never knew. You learn something new every day. It is all part of the natural process of life, and the eggs are all cleaned when you get them, so there is nothing to worry about. In fact! We rarely clean the eggs we use - you crack them and compost the shell anyway, so there is no reason for us to clean them up (unless there is hay on them, we take that off). So, if I could get used to this, you should all be able to! Just being thankful you aren't the person cleaning them...

Why don't you just....can it?

Well, it is pickle season, green bean season is in intermission, and tomatoes are on their way. What does that mean? I am canning like crazy. Canning, freezing, blanching, depending on whatever the particular vegetable is. Now, for those of you thinking that it sounds great to take excess food in the summer and turn it into meals for the winter, you are right, in a way. However, canning is not fun. It isn't. I'm not going to sugar-coat it. It used to be okay, when I only had 7 jars of beans to make, or a few dill pickles. Now, however, I look out the window and see Luke carrying 3 bushels of pickles. That makes a lot of jars of pickles. When he set 6 bushels of cauliflower in front of me, I literally had tears roll down my eyes.

Part of the problem with canning is that there is no immediate reward for canning. You kitchen starts a mess with food all over, and it ends a mess with more dishes, and hot jars sitting on a towel on the cupboard. The food you preserved you don't enjoy for several months, so it seems like you got nothing out of it. Regardless, I'm going to tell you a little about canning.

Canning is a several step process; wash and clean the produce (which takes FOREVER for pickles), then, cut it as necessary (like dicing tomatoes or snapping green beans). Seems easy enough, right? Wrong - it can take a few hours to cut up all the tomatoes or to snap all the green beans, and that is supposed to be the easy part! Then, cooking the food. Now for green beans and pickles, this is easy - you don't have to cook them. But for tomato juice, salsa, pasta, or any tomato product, you are looking at 3 hours of sitting in the kitchen and stirring to prevent burning. You are basically trapped next to the oven, but it gives you a good chance to clean up!

Then comes the canning part of it - either a hot-water bath, or a pressure cooker. For I long time I worried that I was going to screw up and have the pressure cooker explode, but I got over that! (mostly, I'd be lying if I said a small part of me didn't want to tie couch cushions around me for protection - but again, I am nuts).  Then, you take the jars out, and let them sit until cool, usually overnight. Now, this is the most annoying part, because no matter how hard you try to ignore it, deep down you are sitting there listening for the "ping." The ping that says, "yes, this jar is sealed." Now, somedays it is like "ping, ping...ping ping ping." That is a good day. Right now, I just finished canning 7 jars of pickles, and I have been sitting and waiting patiently, but, NO pings! I am getting mighty nervous that they might not seal....which is the worst. You are sitting there thinking you made this great product for the winter, and then it doesn't work. I better start hearing some sealing happening pretty quick - or I'm retiring from this business.

Okay, I know this was a bit of a rant session, but I needed to get that out. If you ever want canning lessons, let me know - it is better to can food with partners! And, this winter, when I'm happily munching my pickles and eating pasta, you can shove this post  in my face and I will admit it was worth the headache. Now, keep your fingers crossed for those pings...

Worrying

The art of worrying is a pretty crazy thing, and let me tell you, I have mastered it. My whole life I have spent worrying about one thing or another, and when I get over one thing, of course something else pops up. I have never been diagnosed as a hypochondriac, but I might as well be. If you knew everything I worried about, everything I have irrationally told myself I had, you would think I'm nuts. My worrying is so entirely irrational but I can't do anything to stop it. It truly doesn't matter how many rational people I talk to, my mind is always at the extremes. Today is no exception...

I am all alone this weekend...and while many people love that, I do not. One thing about living on a farm is that you don't have next door neighbors, you have neighbors that are 1/4 mile away. Well, when I lived in Madison, there were plenty of times where I would stay in my apartment alone, and it never bothered me. There were people everywhere. But here, it is just weird to me - a big house in the middle of a bunch of farm land. So, typically if Luke is going to be gone, I head over to my parent's house for the weekend, or drop by Luke's parents for the night. Unfortunately, this weekend, Luke is gone, and so are all my parents - mine on the way to Seattle, Luke's are camping up north. So, I'm left here. And, I don't think I'm doing a very good job keeping myself busy, because worrying is something I've been doing a lot of in the past 24 hours.

You see, it seems like when I am about to be tested (ie, staying alone), that a bunch of other stuff also has to go wrong so that I can really test my sanity. Last night, I had some family friends over to play games, and the daughters were staying with me to keep my company. When they pulled in, they were in a convertible! I wanted to check it out, and I was holding Banjo, the kitten, while looking at it. They were showing me how the hard-top convertible worked, and when he was putting the top up, Banjo freaked out and bit my middle finger, drawing blood. While most people would think "ouch," I thought "rabies."

Now, I do a pretty good job of covering up my worrying in the beginning. I rinsed out the wound with water, washed good with soap and water, then stuck my finger in some hydrogen peroxide until it stopped burning. Seemed good enough, and then I enjoyed a few games with the family friends. But yet, every second that I had a spare thought, it was about rabies. Banjo doesn't have a rabies vaccine yet, and that freaks me out.

So, I decided to text our vet, and hear her thoughts. She said it was "probably" nothing to worry about, and that I should just keep it clean and take some ibuprofen. While it was momentarily comforting, I still couldn't sleep most of the night. I decided I would call my friends at the Wildlife Sanctuary. But first, it was off to the Farmer's market, which I thoroughly enjoyed going to and not working at! As I walked through the market, I ran into the senior animal keeper at the Wildlife Sanctuary, so conveniently! After catching up, I asked for her opinion on the cat bite. She said that she has been bitten by many barn cats, and none of them were ever vaccinated. She also said that I shouldn't worry, but instead, watch the cat, and if I notice odd behavior, then go to the doctor. I learned that cats can't be carriers of rabies like a skunk can; instead, cats will die within 10 days of contracting rabies. So, if my cat was still okay in the next 5-10 days, then so am I. She said that since I play with the kittens every day, I would have noticed a bite or a bump on it, and that odds are more than great to say I'm fine. That made me feel better, when I had company with me. But, left alone to think, my mind wanders. I keep checking Banjo to see if his behavior is "normal," and am being totally obsessive.

It doesn't help that I don't have company to keep me occupied. The thing is, I know that I am being super irrational, but I can't stop it. I have talked to my mom, dad, brother, sister, husband, vet, senior animal keeper, and my family friends - all of them said it is nothing to worry about. But, yet, here I am. It is hard to stop, I'm hoping that writing about it will make me realize how ridiculous it is. But that's the thing about worrying, while it isn't rational, it is hard to stop. I know this from a lot of experience. A pretty crazy place to be trapped in is my mind, and right now, that is where I'm at. I know that if I want to live the farm life, then I have to get used to things like this and just move on - I guess I still have some work to do to get used to the farming life.

Banjo and Murtle (Myrtle, Mertle)

Last Wednesday, I did what was probably the most spontaneous thing I have ever done in my entire life - on my way home from market, I called a lady who had advertised two free kittens, and I went, got them, and brought them home. Luke couldn't believe it - I never do anything random, but I did. Two little kittens - one gray, one black. We were still mourning the loss of dear Kat, and Luke wasn't sure he wanted to go through that again, but I missed having a four-legged friend lying on the porch. After watching them play for two minutes, Luke said they could stay and that he already named them - the black one Banjo, the grey one Murtle (Myrtle, Mertle). I spell it like that because while I picture it as Murtle with a u, Luke thinks it should be Mertle with an e, and the vet spelt it Myrtle with a y. Don't tell the Murtle though, I don't want to give her an identify crisis.

Murtle and Banjo are awesome! They are so playful and friendly, they love to wrestle each other, and they quickly made themselves at home. The first few days they took to sleeping in the wash shack and curling up around Luke's toes while he worked, but now they picked a new home, and Luke doesn't really love it. You see, Banjo and Murtle have decided a good home is to crawl up in Luke's engine and sleep on top of the motor. He keeps acting like he is concerned that they are going to do some damage or ruin some wires, but deep down, I know he secretly thinks it is adorable. He just can't quite keep a straight face when he says they were in his car again!

I brought them to the vet yesterday to get their distemper shots, and found out that Banjo is a boy, not a girl! The vet also informed us about a program that aims to keep barn cats and outdoor cats population down, so they neuter and spade for free. Luke and I are going to do that once the kittens are old enough - we don't want to have 10 cats next year. Plus, spaying and neutering your pets is important you know - I watched "Price is Right" when I was little - I know these things.

Banjo and Murtle love to play and they love to purr. They motor like no other kitten I have ever met. Seriously, I can hold them in my lap and they purr and purr. Tobshu still isn't quite used to them - he is for too energetic for him. He runs up to them to check them out, and Murtle freaks, hisses, and tries to claw him. I think they will eventually be good friends :) It is so nice to have some new porch-mates, and they are very enjoyable to have around; I love our new little pets. I hope that they stick around for awhile, they are quite fun to watch. I will post pictures soon - I can't find my USB cord right now...typical. Anyone want to be my maid?

A Rather Crappy Night

Yesterday was Wednesday, which meant Farmer's Market. Well, if you aren't currently living in the state of Wisconsin, let me update you on our current weather. Yesterday, was record breaking heat - 101 degrees, with a heat index over 110 degrees! That is hot...and humid. Standing outside in the heat from 2:00-9:00 isn't exactly a blast, especially when the farmer's market was so slow, that time was crawling. People were not out and about, so the market was not that successful. That makes time move very slowly, and I was continually drinking water/rubbing a cold-wash cloth on my neck and arms.

When I got home from the market, things were going great. Luke and I sat on the tail-gate of the truck, had a beer, played Frisbee with Tobshu, and just talked. About a week ago, I had asked Luke to treat me more like his wife and less like his employee, and he has been doing a great job at that in the past few days. It was a really gorgeous night, a little cooler and less humid. I was in a pretty good mood, even though the market wasn't that great.

Well, then I walked in my house to get another drink. I noticed, it smelt a little funny, like dog poop. My stomach instantly dropped. Tobshu needs to be locked up from 2:00-9:00 on market days but we allow him to roam the house. But, he is always fine, and typically just eats his bone that we give him and sleeps, typically on our couch. He has never had an accident before.

Well, I'm slowly and carefully searching my house for what I don't want to find, and trying to protect my feet from finding it as well. I searched the kitchen, the dining room, the bathroom, the hallway. All in the hopes that he had his accident on the wood floor - much easier to clean up. Every step of checking the hardwood, I was getting more worried. I headed toward the carpeted living room, and turned on the light. My heart sunk, it wasn't pretty.

Poor Tobshu didn't just have one accident, he had four. And, he wasn't feeling well, if that should give you an insight into consistency. I won't go into more details than that.

I turned around and walked right back outside, longing to just be able to sit on the tailgate and finish my drink. Instead, I went into the wash shack and grabbed two pairs of latex gloves. Luke inquired what I was doing, and I just told him to follow me. He was puzzled, but followed me into the house, and said, what stinks? I showed him the living room, and he, in his ingenious husband nature, said "Oh boy, that's terrible. I need to finish unloading the produce from the truck, sorry sweetie." And then he Bolted! Ugghh.

Well, needless to say, I was scrubbing and spraying and carpet cleaning for over an hour, with breaks to search my house for as many candles and incense as I could find, and light those. My house now smells like a blend of fruit, apple pie, sage, and rosemary incense. It is odd, but better than the alternative. The carpet looks pretty good, I can't really see the spots, but this morning there was a faint smell (that I may have imagined, but it was real for me). I looked at the four spots that I had scrubbed for over an hour, and thought to myself this morning:

"Luke and I lay on the floor all the time. I don't think I can ever do that again now." Well, that is being a little dramatic, but I did go ahead and make an appointment with Stanley Steemer Carpet Cleaners for tomorrow :)  Terry and Dave (our parents but also our landlords) I am sure you are happy to hear that! Looks like I will be lugging furniture out of my living room tonight. But, I guess I could look at the bright side - it gives me a perfect excuse to rearrange the living room.

Good-bye New Friend....a Moral dilemma

When I first started this blog, I imagined it being an outlet of laughter and a positive spin on things. So, in the past week, I kept looking for goofy occurrences or life lessons to blog about. Well, I don't have a happy tale today, but I need to write about it to get it off my chest...so sorry for the sadness.

Let me first say that to me, pets aren't just animals, they are friends and family. They latch on to your heart and leave permanent marks there. Well, Remember awhile back when I told you about the kitten that showed up and that we named "Kat." Well, I have never been a "cat" person - I have always found them sneaky and mischievous and just not a real pet. But, I grew to love Kat. She was such an awesome kitten from day one. The first day I met her, I was walking home from the neighbors (aka, our grandparents), and she followed me all the way home - to get the mail, past the greenhouse, right to the doorstep. 10 feet behind me the whole way, an adorable little blonde kitten. The next day, she was still around. I took a cardboard box, laid a blanket in it, but a water-bowl near there, and picked up some cat food. She stuck around, for days. She took to sleeping on our porch. I loved it. I would get home, and little Kat would be lying on our doorstep, ready to greet me. She even learned her name - I would call her from the pergola and she would come running over, and I would pet her belly, and she would purr and purr. She was the sweetest cat. She is the sweetest cat. That is what makes this post very difficult to write. Luke and I both loved her - she would come over to the greenhouse, or wherever you were, and she would plop on her belly and just want some petting. She even held her own with Toby - scaring him away in the beginning. But then, one day, Toby and Kat laid about 1 foot apart, just looking at each other, content, as if they both knew that this was home for each other.

Kat had a bad leg in the beginning, but it seemed to be getting better. Yesterday, I woke up and walked outside to feed Kat. She normally always came right up to me, let me pet her, and then she would eat right away. Sometimes, she would even try to sneak in the house. Yesterday, something was different. Kat was barely breathing, and she wouldn't get up. She had a couple flies on her leg, and she just didn't look well. I started crying right away, and called Luke out. Luke didn't think she looked good either, but didn't want to give up on her. We gave her fresh water and petted her, but her purr was different, it was sad and painful. I knew then, she probably wasn't going to make it. But then the moral dilemma, do you let it happen naturally, or do you stop her pain? Luke and I thought it might just be the heat, so we moved her more in the shade, and just let her be. She never moved to the porch, she didn't move much at all. She made it through the night, and when I checked on her before I went to bed, she was grooming herself. I got so excited - I thought that meant she was getting better.

This morning, Kat was back to looking like she did yesterday. I have a hard time looking at her because I know she is hurting, but I can't bring myself to be the one to end her pain, and I just can't ask Luke to do it either. There is this hopeful part of me that keeps saying it is just the heat, that she will be back on the porch, purring in the morning. But, I'm lying to myself. Her leg is much worse, I think it is infected. And it is wrong for her to suffer for more days. Her breathing is fast and shallow, and when I look at her, I cry. It is a true moral dilemma with pets....keeping them alive because you are hopeful, or selfish? Am I keeping her here for me, so that I can see her on the porch or hunting in the landscaping? Deep down, I know it isn't fair anymore - she is barely moving, barely breathing. My grandma, aunts, and mom, all veteran farm girls, all said that when it is an outdoor cat, you can't treat it like a pet - they lead a different life and you have to adjust to seeing them come and go. But to me, Kat was the best cat I've ever met, and it is so hard to say good-bye. I will miss my new pet dearly, and the porch will look barren for days to come. As I wipe my eyes and finish this post, I am still hopeful that Kat will make a rapid recovery, and I will see her hunting bugs in the flowers in the morning, but deep down, I know it isn't true. She was a good cat. Good-bye Kat - I have loved you.

Welcome to Thistleville, USA

It was a big day today! After summer school, we were having a pick-up for the chickens that we butchered. Since I had to be outside and watch for people to come, I decided to work on our landscaping. I weeded for an hour, and then laid rocks in front of the woodchips, and it looks awesome. Then Luke made a so-called "simple" request - he was busy preparing for the CSA deliveries tomorrow, and he was wondering if I could pick the raspberries.
Our raspberry patch was decent last year, about two 50-foot rows, and we got a lot of berries off of them. But, if you recall last year, the rain was ridiculous, and we lost most of our patch to the rain and floods. Such a bummer! Well, Luke thought we only had a few bushes to pick - and we did. I only got 2.5 pints worth, but it was brutal. I think the only reason Luke asked me to pick them was because I'm the only person who can't just up and quit like his employees and volunteers. Seriously, the thistles were EVERYWHERE!
My first encounter with the first thistle in the patch may be funny to you, but it was quite uncomfortable for me. I leaned forward to pick a raspberry that was a little further away, and I was trying to be so careful to not get my hand prickled from the raspberry bush. Well, in my reach, I got a little unbalanced, and I started tipping forward. I really didn't want to fall onto the raspberry bush, because they have little thorns on them. So, I overcompensated, and boy did I pay for it! I tipped backwards, and my butt landed right on top of a thistle! OUCH! I felt like the hyenas in "The Lion King" when they jump into the thistle patch. I leaped up so high, and yelled out a few harsh words. Then, I looked ahead of me and saw that the whole patch was surrounded in thistles. Even when I would be extra careful to avoid them, one would rub on my leg, or I would reach for a raspberry in the middle of the plant, only to find there was a hidden thistle in there. It was ridiculous - I felt like I was at a hospital - getting pricked and prodded over and over again. I may need to ice my butt, or at least use a tweezers to pick the thorns out.
Luke will probably be picking those on his own from now on....

Goodbye Chickens, Hello Life (and fridge)

We are done! All the chickens are butchered and froze! We can now leave our house for more than 3 hours at a time without finding a babysitter (not for a kid that I didn't tell you about - but for the chickens)!!  It is just so exciting - who knew that those birds could control our life as much as they did?! Chicken butchering went well - we had a good team of helpers with Luke's dad and grandparents. I would clean up any remnant feathers and remove the legs, and Luke's dad and grandma did the rest (I won't share the nitty gritty details). We had it worked out to a pretty smooth process. EXCEPT...I had to spray down each chicken with the hose, and I always felt like chicken juices were ricocheting into my face, yuck! But, for the most part, it felt good to be a part of it, and know that we raised healthy chickens with no added hormones, and that they had a good life before they died (unlike most conventional chickens). And, I even got to put my biology skills to the test an identify some chicken anatomy :) Too bad I couldn't preserve some specimens for class. Little things like this excite me! But, they were all butchered, so it was time to celebrate.

Luke and I like to keep a pretty tight budget - it helps us save up money and make sure we aren't spending money unnecessarily. I was so excited to say goodbye to the last chicken that I drove straight to the local grocery store and spent $60 on beer and liquor! We threw ourselves a spontaneous "Yay, the chickens are gone" party - and it was a good time! Now that our chicken adventure is over, I wonder what exciting things are to come!

I know what else is getting easier - we are just a few days away from having a walk-in cooler all installed! It is all built - now it just needs to get hooked up to electricity. Exciting things at Twin Elm Gardens. Now if only the stupid mosquitoes would go away. 22 bites later and it was time to put out the campfire (I didn't actually count the bites - but that feels pretty accurate. Time for some much needed sleep....

Can a girl get a foot massage please?

I'm exhausted...long day today. It is a sad thing when I sent my alarm for 5 am just so I know I can get my dishes done before the day starts. If you plan on making a surprise visit to my house any time soon, do me a favor and don't make it this week....it isn't pretty. We had a great night at Farmer's Market though - it was a beautiful evening and there were so many people out and about. I thoroughly enjoy running in to so many people that I know from my past, and meeting new people. Although, I did definitely ask a guy how his business was doing, only to find out it was the wrong guy. He seemed a little offended... Oops...hopefully he still comes back next week! :)
We did pretty good at market, I'm always hopeful we will sell out. Not just because I'm a greedy gold-digger either (cause I'm not, I mean honestly, I am a teacher and I married a farmer) No, I'm hopeful we sell out because, if not....I have to hull and clean the strawberries, or process tomatoes, or freeze broccoli, or take care of whatever left-over vegetable that the CSA won't get. The less we sell, the more work I have. I suppose I could just compost it, or donate it to a food pantry, but we (well, more Luke) like to maximize our food production. So if we don't sell it, we can freeze it or can it, and then sell it in the winter. It really is good for our business, but it makes me quite tired at the end of a market day.
Plus, I made a BIG mistake today. Seriously, I may permanently have flat-feet because of it. I was teaching summer school until 1:30, and needed to leave by 2:00 for market. Well, I was in a rush to exercise my dog (by quickly biking around the Christmas Tree farm and exhausting him as he tries to keep up), water the greenhouse and the seedlings, and then take care of the chickens. When I got home, I thought, "I must change my shoes before market." Well, I was in such a rush, I totally forgot! Having the hose-head break off and explode water all over me didn't do much for my memory. I simply hopped in the car and left, and it wasn't until I walked to our stand that I realized what was on my feet. I was wearing flip-flops that have essentially, a card-board (or plywood) bottom. My feet hate me now - they hate me so much that my toes are actually tingling with anger. That isn't a metaphor either - my pinky toes are literally numb, and seem to have a permanent crease in the bottom. Oh well, my toes were never that cute, but still!  Standing on card-board and concrete for 5 hours really wears our the tootsies. At around 7:00, in an act of desperation, I put down a no-slip pad that we use for our coolers to try to give some cushion. It didn't help, I might as well been standing on glass. I'll be paying for this one for a few days. That's what you get when you rush so much you don't stop to think.
I better head out - I need to cut the tops off the 10 pints of strawberries that we didn't sell. Night everyone :)

Farming isn't a job, it's a lifestyle.

I'm a teacher, and while I wouldn't say that I have the summers off from teaching, I do have a lot more free time to dedicate to the farm and to my house. Well, I also look forward to spending more time with my husband, but summer is his busy season. Last week, I was getting stressed out that we weren't spending much quality time together. Sure, you are sitting there thinking, they are both home all day, how are they not together? Well, Luke may come in for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but then its back to the fields, the greenhouse, the wash shack. It was a crazy week, and he was working every night until after 10. Meanwhile, I was helping him out, while working around the house and making dinner, and like a true woman would, I began to feel... under-appreciated.
What made me feel this way? Well, you see...I must take you back...back to Tuesday. Ooohhh, the wretched Tuesday of last week. I was going to help Luke out by doing the CSA deliveries. Well, we have 24 customers, and the only way to get all the bags to fit is to take his car...a stick-shift. Now, I do okay with his car, but deliveries means a lot of stop and go, a lot of reverse, and a lot of first gear (my worst gear, by a mile). I started off strong! I was so proud. Then, I even crossed the highway - something I have feared since I started to drive the car (my imagination said I would stall in the middle, and then...you can figure the rest out). I was feeling great.
Until I hit the hill. One of our customers has a bendy twisty driveway that you have to reverse out of, because there is no way to turn around. As you reverse out of the driveway, you enter the road...a RIDICULOUSLY STEEP hill! It was my fear, seriously. Well, I said to myself, "I've been nailing this all day - I can handle this hill." I put the car in first, and I began to go forward. No snubbing, just solid movement. I was so proud, I made a lil cheer! Then, over-ambitiously, I put it into second. But it was tooo soon!!!! The car snubbed, and began rolling down, down, down. I put the brakes on, I started the car, I took my foot off the brake, started to roll backward, so then I panicked, and...car snubbed. Try again, try again! Snub again, snub again. I said a few really nasty expletives, put the car in neutral, and let the stupid thing roll all the way to the bottom of the hill. Pathetic, but I was on flat ground and could take off no problem. The deliveries were almost done, but I was pissed! I was so angry I couldn't concentrate, and that poor little car - grinding gears, snubbing in every driveway. By the time I got back to our house, I was FREAKING out. Luke, not knowing the hell I had been through, just said, "Great, your home, what's for dinner?" Needless to say, I stormed into the house, and here ends step one towards my under-appreciated feeling.

Step 2: The Farmer's Market. Luke needed to leave the Farmer's Market early to pick up more chicken feed, so I said I would pack up and bring everything back. I gave him my car key's and he headed out. An hour later, market ended, I loaded the truck, and I was ready to go. Turn the ignition...NO KEY! I had given him my keys but he forgot to give me his. I was trapped, in the middle of the road, with no where to go. I couldn't leave the truck, because I couldn't close the windows so everything was vulnerable to be taken. I just had to sit there and hope that they didn't open the street up. I just kept imagining myself, sitting on a dark street, with flashers on, either being mugged or rear-ended. (The more you read this blog, the more you will realize my imagination is insane!!!!!!) Luke was still getting chicken-feed and couldn't be back for an hour. But, father-in-law to the rescue, Dave brought me a new key in 45 minutes and I was on my way. Luke did feel awful, he apologized like 100 times. But, when I got home, it's not like we could sit down and just relax and de-stress, he needed to unload the vehicle and finish up outside. I just wanted some time together, which led me to feel more under-appreciated.

Well, by Friday the week had been so busy and we had spent less than an hour in the same room (besides sleeping), that I got in a little tizzy. I told Luke that just because his work was at home, didn't mean he could work all the time. I said he needed to "Separate work from home." My wise husband just let me be for a little - that cooling off factor is a good thing. When we got home from our friends that night (that unexpected visit I told you about earlier), Luke said to me, "Mel, farming isn't work, it's a lifestyle. Just because we had fun with Sam doesn't mean that right now (At midnight) I don't have to go close the chicken coop, close-up the greenhouse and check on sprouts. I don't want to work, but this isn't just work, it is a lifestyle."

This may not be revolutionary for you, it may not even be applicable, but it was a big deal for me to figure out. It put things in perspective. Farming isn't a job that you leave at 5:00 on Friday and pick-up on Monday morning. It is non-stop, every day. If you leave the potato bugs until Monday, you can kiss your potato crop goodbye. So, farming isn't work, but a lifestyle. And it is a truly wonderful lifestyle, especially if you like to be kept on your toes.

A Trip to the Mailbox is Never Just a Trip to the Mailbox

(First of all, make sure you start with the first post - that gives the initial set-up). Okay, so I said my second post was going to be "Farming isn't a job, it's a lifestyle," That post is still going to happen, I have a lot of great ideas for it. But I can't have just finished with this incredibly crazy day and not write about it. We had a great friend return from Argentina yesterday, and visiting with him shifted our schedule. The work won't wait until Monday - it is there, when you get home. We needed to plant sprouts today instead of on our typical Friday. I told Luke I would help him out by washing all the sprout trays for him. Washing trays isn't an easy job, they need to be thoroughly washed and then sanitized to meet the requirements of planting sprouts. So, 2.5 hours later, I was feeling good about being done. Luke was going to finish up with his work and then be able to plant his sprouts, and then we could start focusing on our day up north. Well, things are never as they seem. I started my blog, and then decided to take Tobshu on a trip to the mailbox to get the mail. Well, a trip to the mailbox is never just a trip to the mailbox. Not on a farm anyway...and so the chaos ensues.
On my way to the mailbox, Tobshu (the loyal farm dog of Twin Elm Gardens) decided to take a joy ride through the Christmas trees. After finally attracting his attention and getting him to run up the house, he noticed our new yard cat, that we so fitfully named Kat. Now don't go thinking that my husband and I aren't creative people - the cat is named Katherine, we just call her Kat for short. You won't get it until you meet her; my mom thought it was a terrible name, but after seeing Kat, she realized it was perfect - it fits. Tobshu and Kat decided to get in a fight. During this time, I noticed 6 chickens had escaped from our fence! And oh boy, Tobshu loves chickens more then cats. I quickly got him in the house, and preceded to chase chickens around for 10 minutes to get them back in the pin. Catching a chicken isn't easy, you can run around in circles forever and still not catch the damn thing. They are quick, and you can't hesitate. Just go and grab. If you ever want to experience it, just let me know - chicken chasing is a regular thing around here (One of my favorite days was when Luke chased a chicken around a Christmas tree for 5 minutes - both of them just running perfect circles).
Well, then I decided I should transfer the new berries from their freezer trays to bags. I noticed that the freezer was much warmer than it should be - definitely not 0 degrees. The freezer wan't working! Mind you, we had just butchered 40 chickens 2 days ago that were sitting in the freezer! Fortunately, I had found it very quickly after it happened, and every chicken was still frozen solid. Phew. But what chaos. We checked all the other fridges, and it turned out they weren't working either! We had to transfer all the veggies and strawberries to our fridge and our grandparent's fridges. It was chaos, literally. Moving boxes everywhere, and lots of stress. Also, a thrown PVC pipe, but if you weren't here, you wouldn't understand how we almost lost a few thousands of dollars with of food because the fridges decided to shut down. Fortunately, my parents showed up, and in their unending support, preceded to help us out for the next 4 hours. Food safe, strawberries cleaned and froze, sprouts water, sprouts planted, raised beds watered, greenhouse watered, potato bugs picked, and another chicken butchered. Wow... I thought we were going to have a relaxing evening, and we worked our little butts off until 10 pm.
Alas, where my rambling all points to: things are never as they seem on a farm. It may seem like an easy day and that relaxation is right around the corner, but the work doesn't stop and new things constantly arise. A person needs to be flexible, because being static means panic. If you aren't willing to work with what you are given, then you won't make it through your day. Also, count your blessings - because even if it seems like everything is crumbling around you, you still got a lot going for you. That is what I was trying to remind my husband as he picked up the PVC pipe and chucked it 50 feet into the air. Sometimes the stress does overcome, but hey, just another day on the farm.

Let's Begin with Introductions

I must say, I never imagined that I would be married to a farmer, live on a big farm, know how to drive a Ford 9n tractor, and practice the art of butchering chickens. But alas, this is the twist my life has taken. And oh, what a twist. It has been a roller coaster ride, but I love it. I have also come to realize that I have learned (and will likely continue to learn) a lot of life lessons in the process, and it would be shame, in my opinion, not to share them. So, for the few family members and friends I sent this link to, enjoy the wisdom. Haha, okay, I have learned that you gotta dream big and that your mind has power, and I am going to believe that some day thousands will tune into this little blog of mine :)
I guess I must start by saying that farming comes with stress, a lot of it. It is hard on my husband, and it is hard on me. Because of this, many of my life lessons have arrived through arguments and mishaps. So I will preface everything by saying that although I may have learned many lessons through my husband and my arguments, and thus you will learn about those arguments, I need to tell you that my husband is the most amazing man I know, and I fall more in love with him every day. So even though we get into silly little quarrels, don't go thinking we are a crazy couple that drives each other nuts- the rough times are all surrounded by love and blessings.
So, the farm. My husband started Twin Elm Gardens 3 years ago, and it is a growing, prospering business. It started small, with a farmer's market and 8 CSA (community supported agriculture) customers. In just 3 years, we have grown to serve 48 CSA customers, have a full-time employee, sell to many of the top restaurants in Green Bay, and have a loyal following at the farmer's market. We are growing fast, and it is amazing. But with size comes responsibility. We have customers that want our food, and we need to get it to them. Thus, the stress. But it is a beautiful life, where coincidences happen all the time, I meet and interact with so many people, and I feel at home.
I am not naive enough to believe I have wisdom beyond others, or that any thing of what I say is mind blowing. But I have learned that as people grow, they spread, over a country, around the world. Though I may only live 15 minutes from where I grew up, I will still be a person who grows and spreads. And to do that, I am going to share my knowledge. Plus, I do plan on writing a book in the near future, and this is good practice for my writing skills. Please share your thoughts, and look forward to the upcoming posts:
"Farming isn't a job, it's a lifestyle" and:
"The Day is determined by the weather"