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!!!)
Monday, September 26, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
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 :)
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 :)
Sunday, September 4, 2011
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?
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?
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