I can't believe I didn't blog once during the month of September. A lot has changed since my last post.
The pigs are gone. Well, I guess not really "gone," more like frozen. We butchered them at the very beginning of September, and we got the meat back on September 19th. The day they left, I wasn't sad at all really. They had a great life and it was time for them to go. Those three little pigs sure gave us a hard time loading them into the livestock trailer though. They didn't want to get in that trailer for anything! The pig loading crew consisted of Luke, Austin, a volunteer, and me! The pigs didn't want to go gently, and they needed a little persuasion to get in the trailer. It wasn't helpful that we had two women present who thought you could "call" them into the trailer with little sayings like "here, pig, here girl," and then making little clicking noises. Luke's method wasn't working either, simply because our pathway to the trailer was too big so the pigs kept turning around. Ultimately, with a little help from an experienced pig farmer, we got them loaded, but it took a little over two hours.
Now that the meat is back - well, they are delicious! Mmm, I love digging into the bacon! I believe we've tried the deli ham, pork chops, and bacon now. All delicious! And how awesome, knowing exactly where your food is coming from. With the addition of the pork and the chicken, we can easily make a meal entirely raised by us. Actually, we have to much meat from killing the pigs and butchering our second batch of chickens that we had to buy another chest freezer! Chives Restaurant also bought one pig, and we were honored to hear that their menu is now featuring a "Twin Elm Gardens Pork Chop." I believe it is paired with our own potatoes and greens as well. It really is a wonderful feeling to know you are contributing to a local food movement! :)
I also don't think I blogged about the rabid dog incident....but that should really be its own post....so maybe I'll try to do to that tomorrow.
Luke and I are officially homeowners, which is very exciting. We bought the farmhouse from Luke's parents, so it is now officially our homestead. Of course, the second we because homeowners, we instantly started renovations, but that is okay - and fun! We are putting in a wood burner, and tearing out the carpet in the living room. Because wood will now be our main source of heat, Luke has been spending a lot of time chopping wood to get ready for the winter.
Making firewood has a strong foothold in my memories. Growing up, firewood was the main source of heat in my own home as well. I can remember splitting wood with my dad - he would hold the big stumps in place, and I had the very difficult job of pushing the hydraulic lever - forward and back, over and over. But what a great memory to have with my dad. That was always my job - my dad usually babied me, so not too often did I have to haul the wood - just work the wood splitter, which I loved. We also would have to get the wood in our basement, and that was a whole family experience.
My parents would load up the trailer of wood and then pull in front of the storm windows. My brother, sister, and I would all head outside and help toss wood into the basement. I have many, many memories of doing this. I don't know why I got away from it so much since I grew older.
But as of late, all the word working experiences of my past have come back to me! I was home alone about a week ago, and I saw Luke's grandparents unloading a massive trailer of kindling, piece by piece, into their basement. I couldn't very well let them do that by themselves, so I bundled up, hopped on the trailer, and pushed all the wood down the storm window. It got a little dicey when Butch tried to use a pitch fork to push the wood. I alternated between pushing wood and jumping out of the way of the pitchfork spikes...but we made it without any serious injury.
Then today, it was so beautiful outside, that after the Packer game, I decided to play with Tobshu a little. I don't know what came over me, but when I saw Luke splitting wood, I just got the urge to help. So I put on my flannel, boots, and deer-skin gloves, and headed outside. Luke had a shocked smile on his face when he saw me. He would split the wood (with a splitting mall), and I would pick it up and stack it in! We quickly got through the pile, and Luke decided that since he had my help, we would do another load. With that, we hopped on the four-wheeler and headed out to the wood pile in the woods.
What was most adorable was Tobshu, running right in front of the 4-wheeler, just trotting along with a toy in his mouth. Luke said it is always their routine - I couldn't believe it - Tobshu led us all the way to the wood pile! We worked for about an hour, and it was fun and refreshing. I somehow forgot how enjoyable some time in the woods, working among the leaves and with your family, can be.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Homecoming!
Well, this post is out of order with my last one, but my nerves and energy has settled enough to be able to blog this happy post: Banjo has returned! It was 8 days after his official departure, and I had all but given up hope! In the week he was missing, I had walked the yard calling him, set out extra food, and had the boys look around, and he never showed up. I was very, very sad and felt horrible for Murtle, who was quite lonely.
On Friday night, I was sitting at my kitchen table cutting up tomatoes for salsa, and when I looked out the window, I noticed a cat. At first I looked away, thinking it was Murtle, but then I realized it was a black cat, and I quickly rushed outside to confirm my thoughts. Banjo was home! I was so excited! I took pictures of his homecoming.
He and Murtle greeted each other happily:
Banjo came right up to me, and he was purring and happy to be home. I checked him over - he didn't have any injuries, but you could tell he was hungry. He ate over 1 cup of food and drank over a container of water.
But, considering he was gone for over a week, I couldn't believe nothing else was wrong with him. I quickly called Luke to share the news. I know people so you aren't supposed to get attached to outdoor cats, but Luke and I sure love those two little kitties! Here is a few more cute pictures I have to share:
:
And my personal favorite:
Anyway, I just had to share the good news. Several people asked about him - at Farmer's Market, at CSA pick-up, on Facebook! It was wonderful to know so many people cared! Tobshu was even happy to see Banjo - they played a little together. And of course, just because I love him, a picture of Tobshu as well.
It was absolutely wonderful this evening to watch Murtle and Banjo wrestling around and playing as usual, I couldn't be happier about his sudden homecoming. I hope he learned his lesson and doesn't disappear again.
On Friday night, I was sitting at my kitchen table cutting up tomatoes for salsa, and when I looked out the window, I noticed a cat. At first I looked away, thinking it was Murtle, but then I realized it was a black cat, and I quickly rushed outside to confirm my thoughts. Banjo was home! I was so excited! I took pictures of his homecoming.
He and Murtle greeted each other happily:
Banjo came right up to me, and he was purring and happy to be home. I checked him over - he didn't have any injuries, but you could tell he was hungry. He ate over 1 cup of food and drank over a container of water.
: And my personal favorite:
Anyway, I just had to share the good news. Several people asked about him - at Farmer's Market, at CSA pick-up, on Facebook! It was wonderful to know so many people cared! Tobshu was even happy to see Banjo - they played a little together. And of course, just because I love him, a picture of Tobshu as well.
Mud Run - Pig Style
Recently, mud runs are getting a lot of press - from the "Warrior Dash" to the "Hot Mess Mud Run" to the "Warrior Princess Mud Dash" (which I'm actually doing in October), it seems like everyone wants to sign up for a race to get messy in. I thought I did too - as I said, I signed up for such a race in October. Unfortunately, I got to experience my very own mud run today, and it has left me with two large, broken blisters, a achy back, and a bruised mentality.
You see, Luke and I decided to have a little get-away this weekend, and go up north. This isn't easy to arrange. Luke went up Friday, and I stayed until Saturday morning to do the initial chores. Then I headed up yesterday for some R&R. I came back before Luke did, and I had great intentions for the day: balance my checkbook, laundry, a good meal, dust. I pulled into the driveway, got out of my car, and as I walked to the front door, I casually turned my head to the left. Right at that exact moment, two pigs were busting out of their fence.
My heart dropped. Getting pigs back in the pen with two people around is difficult, but it was just me, with no one around to help. I quickly through on my mud boots, grabbed a broom, and ran to get to work. It was horrible - chasing pigs isn't easy. One was frightened of me and took off toward Luke's fields. I corralled the other one into the gate, opened it, and in she ran. The other escapee seemed interested in me and my tactics after about 5 minutes, and also ran back up. Some shooing and pushing with a broom, and within 10 minutes I was able to get her back in the pen. Problem solved. I was full of mud on my pants (the pigs were muddy and running into me), and I was a little out of breath, more from anxiety than anything, but the problem was resolved.
I went up to the house, grabbed my phone, and told Luke to thank me, as "the pigs got out, and I got them all back in." I was just starting to tell him he owed me a trip to Gap, when the pigs escaped again. You see, I may have got them back in the pen, but I didn't fix the fence. The walked right back out, and my heart sunk. After herding them in once, the pigs decided they didn't like me all to much, and they took off. I would follow one pig, focus on one pig and the other would wander. I would get one pig back in, go to look for the other, and a different one would escape. It was horrible. I needed bodies. Luke kept calling me, asking for updates, anxious and telling me I couldn't lose the pigs (he wasn't really helping) and I cried and yelled and begged for help. But he was 2 hours away. I informed him of the situation at hand - 2 pigs in the pen, and a fixed fence (I thought), and one pig no where to be seen. The last I saw her, she was headed into the corn field.
I knew I needed to find her. I was muddy, sweaty, my face was tear-stricken, my feet were forming large blisters because I had on mud boots with no socks, and my morale was down. I knew I would have to find the pig but how? I had visions of her on the road, so I decided to hop into my car. Worst idea ever...even if I found the pig - what the hell would I do, put her in the car?! As I was backing up I realized I hadn't fixed the fence as well as I though and another pig got out, again. So the total was 2 out, 1 in, and a still-broken fence.
These aren't easy animals to corral. It was three 220 pound pigs versus me. Each big weighed nearly 100 pounds more than me, and what I lack in weight, I don't make up for in strength. Fortunately, the one pig seemed used to our "escape/capture" routine we had established, and was worked back into the pen in 5 minutes. I laid down some cement blocks to 'fix the fence,' and then continued looking. Then I knew what I had to do - follow the final pig's tracks through the mud in the corn field. I'm really freaked out by corn fields - they are so endless, so consuming, so hard to maneuver. But, I grabbed my broom and headed in. I was trying to sprint, following her tracks, getting bombarded over and over with wet leaves in my face, my arms. I was a mess - crying, stumbling, running with all my might. My feet ached, I felt my blisters tore open. My cats, Banjo and Murtle, were running along next to me, giving me assurance. (Yes! Banjo is back - I plan to blog about that too!) I made it to the end of the row, and followed the tracks, turning to the right, toward the road. It was so hopelessly silly and absurd, the pig was too far gone. I headed back to the house, hoping she would as well. By the time I got back to the pen, the worst was confirmed. In my chase for the third, the other two escaped. It turns out cement blocks aren't that hard for pigs to roll and that is what they did.
I returned to the empty pen, and I just cried. I called Luke balling, not knowing what to do. I couldn't be in two places at once - I couldn't get the pigs while also preventing the others from escaping. Luke told me help was on my way - he called some wonderful neighbors to assist me, and they would be there in 10 minutes. He told me to be calm, to stop chasing the pigs, and to just relax. Luke reminded me that animals sense emotion. While I pushed along the largest pig (the one who was on her first escape), the other two came bopping out of the corn field. I ran, grabbed some feed, and walked into the coop, and they followed me. Two down, one to go. Fortunately, James, Nancy and their son arrived, and corralled the final pig into the pen. I can't imagine what they thought of me - muddy, panting, crying. By their own goodness they didn't comment on my appearance.
And then I had what I needed - bodies! Two of them guarded the broken fence (and those pigs were just shoving, trying to get our), while their son and I went to get cement blocks. We loaded about 5 of them on, grabbed a long board, and went to fixing the fence. James thought we would need even more blocks, so I went back to our pile. The son was just about to grab a block when I noticed the wasp hive poking out of it. I stopped him just in time - and even though we were very close, the hornets didn't move. I'm pretty sure God knew we had enough to handle at that point in time. We barricaded the fence, and then they left - I couldn't thank them enough. I used a handsaw to cut the pigs some branches to play with, and then I just froze. My tears were openly flowing - the anxiety of the experience all coming out. I had arrived home at 11:15, the pigs were finally all contained and fence fixed by 1:00. 1 hour and 45 minutes of immense stress, frustration, and anxiety. It was horrible.
I had to take care of the rest of the chickens and do chores, and my blisters were just throbbing. I put on a pair of Luke's socks to help. When I was done, I finally called Luke, who was on his way home. I cried and cried. I don't think I can convey in words how stressful that was. I also informed him that I planned on charging $1 per minute of stress during that time - which means he owes me either a $105 shopping spree to the Gap, or a fancy dinner!
After staring at the pigs, hoping they wouldn't escape, and after calling my sister to calm me down, I decided to take a nice, hot shower. I was filthy, sweaty, and exhausted. Unfortunately, the shower wasn't that soothing because my blisters that had ripped open were not fond of the hot water. I suffered through it though, and eventually the pain went away. Once Luke was home, we made some permanent fixes to the fence. Those pigs leave in a week, they will be butchered. Quite frankly, I won't mind to see them go. They each probably burned off 10 pounds today with all the running they did. Pigs are fast! As for me, I've had enough with mud runs for a very, very long while.
You see, Luke and I decided to have a little get-away this weekend, and go up north. This isn't easy to arrange. Luke went up Friday, and I stayed until Saturday morning to do the initial chores. Then I headed up yesterday for some R&R. I came back before Luke did, and I had great intentions for the day: balance my checkbook, laundry, a good meal, dust. I pulled into the driveway, got out of my car, and as I walked to the front door, I casually turned my head to the left. Right at that exact moment, two pigs were busting out of their fence.
My heart dropped. Getting pigs back in the pen with two people around is difficult, but it was just me, with no one around to help. I quickly through on my mud boots, grabbed a broom, and ran to get to work. It was horrible - chasing pigs isn't easy. One was frightened of me and took off toward Luke's fields. I corralled the other one into the gate, opened it, and in she ran. The other escapee seemed interested in me and my tactics after about 5 minutes, and also ran back up. Some shooing and pushing with a broom, and within 10 minutes I was able to get her back in the pen. Problem solved. I was full of mud on my pants (the pigs were muddy and running into me), and I was a little out of breath, more from anxiety than anything, but the problem was resolved.
I went up to the house, grabbed my phone, and told Luke to thank me, as "the pigs got out, and I got them all back in." I was just starting to tell him he owed me a trip to Gap, when the pigs escaped again. You see, I may have got them back in the pen, but I didn't fix the fence. The walked right back out, and my heart sunk. After herding them in once, the pigs decided they didn't like me all to much, and they took off. I would follow one pig, focus on one pig and the other would wander. I would get one pig back in, go to look for the other, and a different one would escape. It was horrible. I needed bodies. Luke kept calling me, asking for updates, anxious and telling me I couldn't lose the pigs (he wasn't really helping) and I cried and yelled and begged for help. But he was 2 hours away. I informed him of the situation at hand - 2 pigs in the pen, and a fixed fence (I thought), and one pig no where to be seen. The last I saw her, she was headed into the corn field.
I knew I needed to find her. I was muddy, sweaty, my face was tear-stricken, my feet were forming large blisters because I had on mud boots with no socks, and my morale was down. I knew I would have to find the pig but how? I had visions of her on the road, so I decided to hop into my car. Worst idea ever...even if I found the pig - what the hell would I do, put her in the car?! As I was backing up I realized I hadn't fixed the fence as well as I though and another pig got out, again. So the total was 2 out, 1 in, and a still-broken fence.
These aren't easy animals to corral. It was three 220 pound pigs versus me. Each big weighed nearly 100 pounds more than me, and what I lack in weight, I don't make up for in strength. Fortunately, the one pig seemed used to our "escape/capture" routine we had established, and was worked back into the pen in 5 minutes. I laid down some cement blocks to 'fix the fence,' and then continued looking. Then I knew what I had to do - follow the final pig's tracks through the mud in the corn field. I'm really freaked out by corn fields - they are so endless, so consuming, so hard to maneuver. But, I grabbed my broom and headed in. I was trying to sprint, following her tracks, getting bombarded over and over with wet leaves in my face, my arms. I was a mess - crying, stumbling, running with all my might. My feet ached, I felt my blisters tore open. My cats, Banjo and Murtle, were running along next to me, giving me assurance. (Yes! Banjo is back - I plan to blog about that too!) I made it to the end of the row, and followed the tracks, turning to the right, toward the road. It was so hopelessly silly and absurd, the pig was too far gone. I headed back to the house, hoping she would as well. By the time I got back to the pen, the worst was confirmed. In my chase for the third, the other two escaped. It turns out cement blocks aren't that hard for pigs to roll and that is what they did.
I returned to the empty pen, and I just cried. I called Luke balling, not knowing what to do. I couldn't be in two places at once - I couldn't get the pigs while also preventing the others from escaping. Luke told me help was on my way - he called some wonderful neighbors to assist me, and they would be there in 10 minutes. He told me to be calm, to stop chasing the pigs, and to just relax. Luke reminded me that animals sense emotion. While I pushed along the largest pig (the one who was on her first escape), the other two came bopping out of the corn field. I ran, grabbed some feed, and walked into the coop, and they followed me. Two down, one to go. Fortunately, James, Nancy and their son arrived, and corralled the final pig into the pen. I can't imagine what they thought of me - muddy, panting, crying. By their own goodness they didn't comment on my appearance.
And then I had what I needed - bodies! Two of them guarded the broken fence (and those pigs were just shoving, trying to get our), while their son and I went to get cement blocks. We loaded about 5 of them on, grabbed a long board, and went to fixing the fence. James thought we would need even more blocks, so I went back to our pile. The son was just about to grab a block when I noticed the wasp hive poking out of it. I stopped him just in time - and even though we were very close, the hornets didn't move. I'm pretty sure God knew we had enough to handle at that point in time. We barricaded the fence, and then they left - I couldn't thank them enough. I used a handsaw to cut the pigs some branches to play with, and then I just froze. My tears were openly flowing - the anxiety of the experience all coming out. I had arrived home at 11:15, the pigs were finally all contained and fence fixed by 1:00. 1 hour and 45 minutes of immense stress, frustration, and anxiety. It was horrible.
I had to take care of the rest of the chickens and do chores, and my blisters were just throbbing. I put on a pair of Luke's socks to help. When I was done, I finally called Luke, who was on his way home. I cried and cried. I don't think I can convey in words how stressful that was. I also informed him that I planned on charging $1 per minute of stress during that time - which means he owes me either a $105 shopping spree to the Gap, or a fancy dinner!
After staring at the pigs, hoping they wouldn't escape, and after calling my sister to calm me down, I decided to take a nice, hot shower. I was filthy, sweaty, and exhausted. Unfortunately, the shower wasn't that soothing because my blisters that had ripped open were not fond of the hot water. I suffered through it though, and eventually the pain went away. Once Luke was home, we made some permanent fixes to the fence. Those pigs leave in a week, they will be butchered. Quite frankly, I won't mind to see them go. They each probably burned off 10 pounds today with all the running they did. Pigs are fast! As for me, I've had enough with mud runs for a very, very long while.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
"Get Home!"
In the past two days, the phrase "Get Home" has been shouted to me, desperately requested to me, and even thought by me. Each time a different scenario, and right now, 2 for 3 on positive out comes.
As I was driving, I could literally see the rain coming down ahead. I know it was close to our farm - how close, that I wasn't sure. I was driving a decent amount above the legal speed limit, but I needed to get home quickly. As I was working my way down County Rd B, the sprinkles started to hit my windshield, and I could literally see the downpour coming. I pulled a pretty highly technical turn onto our road, and probably kicked up a decent amount of rocks on our gravel driveway. I grabbed the tarps and threw them over the garlic, and then the downpour hit. It was literally perfect timing. I didn't do it all as skillfully as it sounds - I did trip over a cement block and cut up my leg - but that is pretty standard for me. I had to put weights on the tarp as I was getting poured on, but the garlic was dry, and that is what mattered. I then rushed around in the rain, closing the garage, putting the four-wheeler away, putting the lawn mower away. Of course, once I was finally done, the very brief rain shower had stopped and the sun was back out.
The first incident was on Sunday. We were helping our in-laws move, and their new house happens to only be 7 minutes from ours! We were unloading a bunch of stuff, I was working on the small, light items, and Luke was helping with the brute work - the chest freezer, the washing machine, the dryer. All of a sudden, Luke came outside and said "Mel, the sky looks really dark and the radar shows rain. One of us has to get home, now, to cover garlic." You see, we harvested 5 pallets worth of garlic, and we are in the drying process right now, which takes about 4 weeks. But, if the garlic gets rained on at all, it halts the drying process and can even cause rot. Therefore, we have been working very had to assure this doesn't happen. I ran to my car, jumped in, and headed home.
As I was driving, I could literally see the rain coming down ahead. I know it was close to our farm - how close, that I wasn't sure. I was driving a decent amount above the legal speed limit, but I needed to get home quickly. As I was working my way down County Rd B, the sprinkles started to hit my windshield, and I could literally see the downpour coming. I pulled a pretty highly technical turn onto our road, and probably kicked up a decent amount of rocks on our gravel driveway. I grabbed the tarps and threw them over the garlic, and then the downpour hit. It was literally perfect timing. I didn't do it all as skillfully as it sounds - I did trip over a cement block and cut up my leg - but that is pretty standard for me. I had to put weights on the tarp as I was getting poured on, but the garlic was dry, and that is what mattered. I then rushed around in the rain, closing the garage, putting the four-wheeler away, putting the lawn mower away. Of course, once I was finally done, the very brief rain shower had stopped and the sun was back out.
The second time I heard "Get Home" was last night. I was at school, working with an AP Biology teacher from a different district, doing some lesson planning together. Ironically, he was Luke's former biology teacher from high school, but it was a smooth transition from former teacher to colleague. All of a sudden my school phone rang, and when I answered I could hear the desperation in Luke's voice. "Mel, I'm so sorry to do this, I know it will screw up your planning, but a pig is out and I need help. Can you please get home and help me?" He sounded so urgent and panicked. When the pigs get lose, it is very important they don't get into the corn field, or we may not get them back. I looked at my colleague, apologized, said I would be back as soon as possible, and then literally sprinted out of the building and drive quickly home once again. Thank goodness it's a small town and I work close to where I live.
I pulled into the driveway, leaped out of the car for the second day in a row, and found Luke, corralling the pig back towards the pig pen. The pig didn't want to go back in, so I helped by opening the pig pen door, then providing a block so that the only place for her to go was back in. Of course once she was in there, she was content and fine. I threw some pig food at them, and then went back to school. Crisis averted.
The last "Get home," came from me. Banjo, our little black cat, is missing. The picture is him as a little kitten. Banjo and Murtle always spend their days perusing the farm, looking for mice and enjoying their day. They return every night for some food, wrestle each other, and sleep on the lawn furniture. They always join us for a campfire. They typically munch again in the morning, and then head out for another day. But, the last I saw Banjo was Thursday night, and now I'm starting to panic. He never is away from home for this long.
The last I saw Banjo, was Thursday night. I was cleaning out the mudroom, and he was being pesky as usual. Trying to sneak in every time I opened the door, and climbing the screen all the way to the top when the door wasn't open. Every trip I made to the garbage he followed me, rubbing up against my legs and cuddling. I would lightly scratch between his ears every time, but I never stopped to really pick him up and pet him, because I was busy and figured I could the next day. And I haven't seen him since. I didn't give it much thought until Sunday, and then by yesterday I was feeling pretty helpless and sad. The worst part is seeing Murtle last night and this morning, just sitting there, "meowing," calling to her friend that she normally wrestles with every night. She looks so sad and lonely, and it breaks my heart. I shed quite a tear over Banjo yesterday. I know he could still show up, cats do wander, but my hope is starting to disappear. Neither Luke nor Austin saw Banjo in the fields yesterday, which is very, very unusual. That is his hunting grounds. All I can do now is hope he is okay, and pray for him to "get home."
Monday, August 20, 2012
A Fresh Coat
I know what you all thinking - apparently the Farmer's Wife fell off the tractor and is now incapable of typing. I know - it's been a long time since I've blogged. Not having a laptop really infringed on that - I don't find myself with a computer on my lap every night, which is rather nice, actually. But there is happenings on the farm that I suppose I should be updating you all on.
Summer has been going well. We are in the heat of the season right now - which means we have vegetables coming out of our ears. Luke is incredibly busy, but he is doing a great job, and I am proud of him, as always. Sometimes I look around in wonder at all the food and everything he does and just ponder how he does it...he really knows his stuff. Definitely something to be proud of.
My mom and I painted our mudroom on Friday, and it looks awesome! We put a deep gray on the walls, and then painted the doors bright lime green! It sounds out there, but it is beautiful, and I love it! Even though it is a room that is often dirty and cluttered, it feels good to have a fresh coat in there. Maybe with some new paint, we will work to keep it a little cleaner!
But that's not the only reason I named this post "A Fresh Coat." As you all know from my old posts, summer gets busy, and with stress comes arguments and frustrations. Last week I found myself with something I rarely have - time off. Sure, I'm a teacher so I have summers off, but I am not a person who likes to have idle time. If I have a lot of free time, I get lazy, more than anything. So, I teach summer school, attend conferences and summer academies, and with all that, I found that my first true week off of school arrived last week. I was actually looking forward to the time off - and had 4 "To Do" lists to occupy my time. But I needed to make it clear to Luke that just because I was around for two weeks, it didn't mean he could bombard me with more work. I explained that it was my "January." Luke has two weeks in January that still require him to do a little work, but he gets to sleep in, relax, catch up on things he wants to, go ice fishing. I was in desperate need of my "January," so I politely requested that I didn't want extra work beyond my typical farm duties.
Well, within the first day he already gave me 60 extra pounds of tomatoes to can. Then there was a few extra deliveries. And then some other favors. And by the end of Tuesday, I was wondering what happened to my "January." I hadn't crossed a thing off my to do list, I felt lost in the farm, burdened by stress, and yearning for some downtime with my husband. I went to my father-in-law for some very solid advice, and he definitely helped me see a brighter side, and look for some alternatives for Luke and I. But on my drive home, I did some further reflecting. I realized that I was looking at the negatives a little too much, focusing on what was wrong rather than focusing on what was right - and it caused both Luke and I to be burdened by stress.
So I went home, and I read the poem that my brother read for Luke and my wedding. It says to "Focus on what is right between you, rather than that which seems wrong. In this way, you can ride our the storms when clouds hide the sun in your lives, remembering that even if you lose sight of it for a moment, the sun is still there...." It goes on - and it is a beautiful poem. After talking with my father-in-law, and letting the words of the poem come back to me, I decided to let my self roll with optimism instead of realism. I looked at all the great things happening, and I went into each day with a smile. And the next two days, Luke was incredibly positive too - without me even saying anything to him. He was goofy, less stressed, happier. So I kept it up, tried to avoid discussing the stress and the amount of work. Rather than talk about it, I just worked at it. And what I've found in the past week is that if I keep my positive attitude, it really rubs off on Luke. We are eating lunches together and laughing, goofing around and watching movies, throwing rotten tomatoes at the other when they aren't looking, and it feels simply wonderful. It feels more care-free and fun than we have had all summer, and I'm loving it. It's interesting how much things change when you just try to give them a "fresh coat."
Summer has been going well. We are in the heat of the season right now - which means we have vegetables coming out of our ears. Luke is incredibly busy, but he is doing a great job, and I am proud of him, as always. Sometimes I look around in wonder at all the food and everything he does and just ponder how he does it...he really knows his stuff. Definitely something to be proud of.
My mom and I painted our mudroom on Friday, and it looks awesome! We put a deep gray on the walls, and then painted the doors bright lime green! It sounds out there, but it is beautiful, and I love it! Even though it is a room that is often dirty and cluttered, it feels good to have a fresh coat in there. Maybe with some new paint, we will work to keep it a little cleaner!
But that's not the only reason I named this post "A Fresh Coat." As you all know from my old posts, summer gets busy, and with stress comes arguments and frustrations. Last week I found myself with something I rarely have - time off. Sure, I'm a teacher so I have summers off, but I am not a person who likes to have idle time. If I have a lot of free time, I get lazy, more than anything. So, I teach summer school, attend conferences and summer academies, and with all that, I found that my first true week off of school arrived last week. I was actually looking forward to the time off - and had 4 "To Do" lists to occupy my time. But I needed to make it clear to Luke that just because I was around for two weeks, it didn't mean he could bombard me with more work. I explained that it was my "January." Luke has two weeks in January that still require him to do a little work, but he gets to sleep in, relax, catch up on things he wants to, go ice fishing. I was in desperate need of my "January," so I politely requested that I didn't want extra work beyond my typical farm duties.
Well, within the first day he already gave me 60 extra pounds of tomatoes to can. Then there was a few extra deliveries. And then some other favors. And by the end of Tuesday, I was wondering what happened to my "January." I hadn't crossed a thing off my to do list, I felt lost in the farm, burdened by stress, and yearning for some downtime with my husband. I went to my father-in-law for some very solid advice, and he definitely helped me see a brighter side, and look for some alternatives for Luke and I. But on my drive home, I did some further reflecting. I realized that I was looking at the negatives a little too much, focusing on what was wrong rather than focusing on what was right - and it caused both Luke and I to be burdened by stress.
So I went home, and I read the poem that my brother read for Luke and my wedding. It says to "Focus on what is right between you, rather than that which seems wrong. In this way, you can ride our the storms when clouds hide the sun in your lives, remembering that even if you lose sight of it for a moment, the sun is still there...." It goes on - and it is a beautiful poem. After talking with my father-in-law, and letting the words of the poem come back to me, I decided to let my self roll with optimism instead of realism. I looked at all the great things happening, and I went into each day with a smile. And the next two days, Luke was incredibly positive too - without me even saying anything to him. He was goofy, less stressed, happier. So I kept it up, tried to avoid discussing the stress and the amount of work. Rather than talk about it, I just worked at it. And what I've found in the past week is that if I keep my positive attitude, it really rubs off on Luke. We are eating lunches together and laughing, goofing around and watching movies, throwing rotten tomatoes at the other when they aren't looking, and it feels simply wonderful. It feels more care-free and fun than we have had all summer, and I'm loving it. It's interesting how much things change when you just try to give them a "fresh coat."
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Gender Roles and Learned Helplessness
I have wanted to write this post for an incredibly long time. I even told my mother-in-law about it two weeks ago, but somehow never made it to the computer. It doesn't help that our laptop bit the dust, or the water, I guess I should say! One late market night we were listening to music as we unpacked, playing our computer outside. Pandora sometimes stops playing, asking that age old questions "Are you still listening?" Well, we must have not noticed the music stopped, so we went inside and forgot about the computer.
The next morning we woke up to the sweet sound of rain. The way this summer is going, hearing rain is always exciting and peaceful - a break from the heat. I jumped in the shower, prepared to have a great day, and all of a sudden Luke yells "Shit Mel, we left the computer outside last night." Let the chaos ensue! Thankfully I have some great tech guys at school who talked me through how to save our jumpdrive, which contains the important files. The computer didn't make it though, so now we are doing our work on an old-fashioned desktop! It works though, and maybe this winter we will get ourselves a new little computer!
Anyway, that aside, lately I find myself thinking about gender roles and learned helplessness. Luke already dreaded this post, he said it was going to make him sound like a moron, but I don't think he knows where I'm headed with it. See, both Luke and I have fallen into our gender habits, and are relishing in this notion of learned helplessness.
It all started with a simple comment, one little line that Luke muttered when he wasn't even thinking. You see, one Thursday, after CSA pick-up at Kavarna, I decided to stop by my friend Stef's house to go jogging. It felt great and I felt great. But I didn't get home until 8:00. Luke was just walking in from the field, and it was obvious from the get-go that he was in one of his hunger-induced temper tantrums. He was as crabby as can be, and he went tearing into the fridge. I immediately became frustrated, having given him plenty of notice that I would not be home to make dinner. He said "It's 8:00, I'm starving and there's nothing to eat." I replied with something along the lines of "Your a big boy, you could have made dinner," and he pulled out this next comment that nearly made me vomit in my mouth: "I have a wife, so I don't need to make dinner." Every muscle inside of me clenched, this historic principle from the 1950's could not be making a revival in my house.
The night went on, things were fine after we ate, but the comment stayed with me. And then Friday happened. I wanted to get a bunch done in my house, and three times Luke walked into the house asking me the dreaded question "Can you do me a favor?" It is usually some sort of chore - a delivery, a bank deposit, feeding the pigs. But I hate that question, because it pulls me away from my intended activity of cleaning, or reading, or making dinner. Well, by the third "favor" on Friday, I was stressed and frustrated. I was delivering a last-minute order to Chives, and I was literally yelling in the car, thinking to myself how Luke never does me favors. I will admit I was pretty negative about Luke at that moment in time.
And then I got home. And I went back to cooking dinner, and I noticed something I hadn't seen in over a year and a half! A dead mouse, in the mouse trap. If you are someone who gets mice in your house, you know it is very unusual to get them in the summer. I immediately called Luke in, asked him to do me a favor, and bring the dead mouse out. And he did, immediately. And then I stopped, and I smiled, and I knew that it was God's little way of saying, "Slow down Melissa, lose the anger, Luke does a lot for you too." It felt good.
But anyway, those two scenarios really have me thinking about gender roles and learned helplessness. Luke and I have fallen into these roles that we aren't breaking out of - I cook all the time and clean the house, and he does the 'man' stuff, taking out the dead mice, bringing in the veggies from the fields, cutting the lawn. And it confuses me, because Luke used to make gourmet meals when we weren't married and he lived on his own. And it used to be that a dead mouse wouldn't bother me at all - heck I would grab a mouse at the Wildlife Sanctuary, put it in a container, and then feed it to a snake. So how did I suddenly find them so "icky?" The fact of the matter is I started depending on Luke to do those man jobs, and he started depending on me to do the women's.
But, now that it's been called to our attention, we are deciding to shake things up a little bit. We caught another dead mouse, and I'm pretty sure this was just God's little test to make sure I still knew I could handle it. And I did. I put on a glove, carried it out, and that was that. No cringing, no begging Luke to do it. And ironically, right now the house smells of fish and grilled veggies - and that's all Luke. He's cooking for me tonight, while I walked to the field to get some extra dill for dinner. I guess all it took was for us to identify the rut we fell into, and then all we needed was a little effort to start digging our way out of it. Now, I'm not saying he is going to cook every night, or that I'll carry the 50 pounds boxes of tomatoes in, but at least it's a start. See ya later, 1950's gender roles!
The next morning we woke up to the sweet sound of rain. The way this summer is going, hearing rain is always exciting and peaceful - a break from the heat. I jumped in the shower, prepared to have a great day, and all of a sudden Luke yells "Shit Mel, we left the computer outside last night." Let the chaos ensue! Thankfully I have some great tech guys at school who talked me through how to save our jumpdrive, which contains the important files. The computer didn't make it though, so now we are doing our work on an old-fashioned desktop! It works though, and maybe this winter we will get ourselves a new little computer!
Anyway, that aside, lately I find myself thinking about gender roles and learned helplessness. Luke already dreaded this post, he said it was going to make him sound like a moron, but I don't think he knows where I'm headed with it. See, both Luke and I have fallen into our gender habits, and are relishing in this notion of learned helplessness.
It all started with a simple comment, one little line that Luke muttered when he wasn't even thinking. You see, one Thursday, after CSA pick-up at Kavarna, I decided to stop by my friend Stef's house to go jogging. It felt great and I felt great. But I didn't get home until 8:00. Luke was just walking in from the field, and it was obvious from the get-go that he was in one of his hunger-induced temper tantrums. He was as crabby as can be, and he went tearing into the fridge. I immediately became frustrated, having given him plenty of notice that I would not be home to make dinner. He said "It's 8:00, I'm starving and there's nothing to eat." I replied with something along the lines of "Your a big boy, you could have made dinner," and he pulled out this next comment that nearly made me vomit in my mouth: "I have a wife, so I don't need to make dinner." Every muscle inside of me clenched, this historic principle from the 1950's could not be making a revival in my house.
The night went on, things were fine after we ate, but the comment stayed with me. And then Friday happened. I wanted to get a bunch done in my house, and three times Luke walked into the house asking me the dreaded question "Can you do me a favor?" It is usually some sort of chore - a delivery, a bank deposit, feeding the pigs. But I hate that question, because it pulls me away from my intended activity of cleaning, or reading, or making dinner. Well, by the third "favor" on Friday, I was stressed and frustrated. I was delivering a last-minute order to Chives, and I was literally yelling in the car, thinking to myself how Luke never does me favors. I will admit I was pretty negative about Luke at that moment in time.
And then I got home. And I went back to cooking dinner, and I noticed something I hadn't seen in over a year and a half! A dead mouse, in the mouse trap. If you are someone who gets mice in your house, you know it is very unusual to get them in the summer. I immediately called Luke in, asked him to do me a favor, and bring the dead mouse out. And he did, immediately. And then I stopped, and I smiled, and I knew that it was God's little way of saying, "Slow down Melissa, lose the anger, Luke does a lot for you too." It felt good.
But anyway, those two scenarios really have me thinking about gender roles and learned helplessness. Luke and I have fallen into these roles that we aren't breaking out of - I cook all the time and clean the house, and he does the 'man' stuff, taking out the dead mice, bringing in the veggies from the fields, cutting the lawn. And it confuses me, because Luke used to make gourmet meals when we weren't married and he lived on his own. And it used to be that a dead mouse wouldn't bother me at all - heck I would grab a mouse at the Wildlife Sanctuary, put it in a container, and then feed it to a snake. So how did I suddenly find them so "icky?" The fact of the matter is I started depending on Luke to do those man jobs, and he started depending on me to do the women's.
But, now that it's been called to our attention, we are deciding to shake things up a little bit. We caught another dead mouse, and I'm pretty sure this was just God's little test to make sure I still knew I could handle it. And I did. I put on a glove, carried it out, and that was that. No cringing, no begging Luke to do it. And ironically, right now the house smells of fish and grilled veggies - and that's all Luke. He's cooking for me tonight, while I walked to the field to get some extra dill for dinner. I guess all it took was for us to identify the rut we fell into, and then all we needed was a little effort to start digging our way out of it. Now, I'm not saying he is going to cook every night, or that I'll carry the 50 pounds boxes of tomatoes in, but at least it's a start. See ya later, 1950's gender roles!
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
I'm not a slob???
Happy 4th of July from Twin Elm Gardens! Did we spend the holiday relaxing and enjoying our day? No - not exactly. We plan on doing that later this week - we are heading up to Crandon for a much-needed day on the lake. But today we had a big day of work on our hands! My parents and I are helping us put in a gorgeous brick patio under our pergola, and even though it was upwards of 100 degrees today, we were outside working on it from 7 am until 6 pm! It was quite the exhausting day! Laying brick is not an easy task - I can't imagine my dad's part of the job because he had all the rough work. I just had to haul bricks or pound stakes - he had to do the hardest parts. We were all pretty sweaty, and I hadn't showered from yesterday's workout at the farmer's market. Needless to say it was obvious I was the most smelly because the flies would only land on me, not my parents. Except when Luke came around - then they migrated to him. We had a good laugh about that.
So this week has afforded me a little more down time that most weeks. Summer school has not yet started, so beyond CSA and market, I had a little time to pluck away at my to-do list. Yesterday morning Luke gave me the morning entirely to myself. It was his "thank you" because last night I did the farmer's market by myself, from start to finish. Anyway, the morning to myself was very refreshing. I took the time to do an extreme cleaning session on our kitchen. I washed all the dishes, scrubbed the counters, cleaned out the fridge, and even scrubbed the floors by hand. If you wanted to stop over right now, I would gladly show you my kitchen. The rest of my house doesn't look nearly as nice.
Anyway, the entire time I was cleaning, I thought about our lifestyle a little bit. Our house isn't all that cleanly - I have blogged about that before. I have always justified it - we are too busy to clean and whatnot. By the end of the day, I'm too tired for dishes and laundry. I would tell myself I'm not a slob, and we just are too busy to keep a super clean house. And it is true, we are busy. But that is just an excuse. A little time management and organization and we would be all set. The thing is Luke and I don't take the time for those tasks - we always find something else to work on.
The truth is Luke and I still have boxes from when we first moved in...over two years ago! My mom would tell me that if we haven't unpacked them yet, then they are probably just junk, but I will most likely find something of sentimental value in there. Since school has not yet started, now truly is the time for us to get organized! We have made a lot of progress in the past two days, and hopefully we continue to do so. Don't get me wrong - it is not a disaster or anything - you can see all the floors and have plenty of spots to sit - but it isn't as orderly as I or Luke would like. So we are going to change that - otherwise I just might have to stop adamantly telling myself that I'm not a slob. On that note, I'm going to fold a little laundry while we watch our movie.
So this week has afforded me a little more down time that most weeks. Summer school has not yet started, so beyond CSA and market, I had a little time to pluck away at my to-do list. Yesterday morning Luke gave me the morning entirely to myself. It was his "thank you" because last night I did the farmer's market by myself, from start to finish. Anyway, the morning to myself was very refreshing. I took the time to do an extreme cleaning session on our kitchen. I washed all the dishes, scrubbed the counters, cleaned out the fridge, and even scrubbed the floors by hand. If you wanted to stop over right now, I would gladly show you my kitchen. The rest of my house doesn't look nearly as nice.
Anyway, the entire time I was cleaning, I thought about our lifestyle a little bit. Our house isn't all that cleanly - I have blogged about that before. I have always justified it - we are too busy to clean and whatnot. By the end of the day, I'm too tired for dishes and laundry. I would tell myself I'm not a slob, and we just are too busy to keep a super clean house. And it is true, we are busy. But that is just an excuse. A little time management and organization and we would be all set. The thing is Luke and I don't take the time for those tasks - we always find something else to work on.
The truth is Luke and I still have boxes from when we first moved in...over two years ago! My mom would tell me that if we haven't unpacked them yet, then they are probably just junk, but I will most likely find something of sentimental value in there. Since school has not yet started, now truly is the time for us to get organized! We have made a lot of progress in the past two days, and hopefully we continue to do so. Don't get me wrong - it is not a disaster or anything - you can see all the floors and have plenty of spots to sit - but it isn't as orderly as I or Luke would like. So we are going to change that - otherwise I just might have to stop adamantly telling myself that I'm not a slob. On that note, I'm going to fold a little laundry while we watch our movie.
Monday, July 2, 2012
I would like a half-share, please.
Well, this summer is very different than last summer. Last summer we looked at the cloudy sky and hoped it wouldn't rain because the fields were too wet. This summer, we are avidly looking to the sky, hoping for a cloud formation that will bring us some much needed rain. It was the same way a few weeks back, and when it did finally rain, Luke and I literally danced in it - jumping around and cheering. And yet the drought is upon us again!
The situation is much worse in the southern part of the state. Luke and I were down there on Sunday, and Luke taught me how to tell how dry things are. He pointed out the corn to me. The corn was short - only knee height. And looking at the corn, it looked more like a pineapple farm than a corn field. Luke explained that when corn is stressed and lacking water, the leaves curl up on themselves and point straight out - a more cacti-like arrangement. It was very interesting to stare out the window, watching the terrain, and see the difference between corn that was irrigated and corn that wasn't.
Beyond that side note, I want to talk about healthy eating. People probably think Luke and I eat awesome all the time! That we gorge on veggies and are always enjoying our farm produce. The truth is, we don't utilize the great resources that we have here as much as we should. When I am going through the fridge and cupboards, planning my meal for the evening, I make note of what we have and then I use those items. The issue is that I don't think of the gigantic fridge outside that contains all of our delicious vegetables. Because of that, those items frequently go unused.
But, I'm trying to change that. I am putting in a big initiative to start depending more heavily on Luke's delicious vegetables. I make a smoothie most mornings, and my goal is to always include some sort of greens, even if it means walking across the dewy grass to get some greens from the raised beds. I want to incorporate more veggies into my diet, and be more sustainable by eating seasonally. If any person has the chance of being a seasonal eater, it is me! We do a pretty good job of that (we really never buy vegetables in the winter, but depend more on frozen foods), but we could make a bigger push. Eating sustainable also means more preserving in the summer, but Luke and I figure if we slowly pluck away at it, then it won't be so daunting. (With that in mind, we do have a batch of salsa simmering away right now!)
So with that is my push to become a seasonal eater. I started yesterday where we had spring rolls with cabbage, carrots, red pepper, and a cilantro peanut butter sauce. Today, I made guacamole and a fresh salsa to enjoy with a raw walnut "taco" meat. It is important to practice what you preach, and here I am every week, writing these recipe sheets that utilize all of our farm vegetables, but then I don't use them myself. It seems pretty silly honestly, so I guess what I really mean is "Can I get a half-share, please?" Luke makes about 50 CSA half-shares every week. I'm asking Luke to bring in a box of goodies every week that contains all the produce we have available on the farm, sort of like we are our own customers. With that, hopefully my seasonal eating push will be more successful.
The situation is much worse in the southern part of the state. Luke and I were down there on Sunday, and Luke taught me how to tell how dry things are. He pointed out the corn to me. The corn was short - only knee height. And looking at the corn, it looked more like a pineapple farm than a corn field. Luke explained that when corn is stressed and lacking water, the leaves curl up on themselves and point straight out - a more cacti-like arrangement. It was very interesting to stare out the window, watching the terrain, and see the difference between corn that was irrigated and corn that wasn't.
Beyond that side note, I want to talk about healthy eating. People probably think Luke and I eat awesome all the time! That we gorge on veggies and are always enjoying our farm produce. The truth is, we don't utilize the great resources that we have here as much as we should. When I am going through the fridge and cupboards, planning my meal for the evening, I make note of what we have and then I use those items. The issue is that I don't think of the gigantic fridge outside that contains all of our delicious vegetables. Because of that, those items frequently go unused.
But, I'm trying to change that. I am putting in a big initiative to start depending more heavily on Luke's delicious vegetables. I make a smoothie most mornings, and my goal is to always include some sort of greens, even if it means walking across the dewy grass to get some greens from the raised beds. I want to incorporate more veggies into my diet, and be more sustainable by eating seasonally. If any person has the chance of being a seasonal eater, it is me! We do a pretty good job of that (we really never buy vegetables in the winter, but depend more on frozen foods), but we could make a bigger push. Eating sustainable also means more preserving in the summer, but Luke and I figure if we slowly pluck away at it, then it won't be so daunting. (With that in mind, we do have a batch of salsa simmering away right now!)
So with that is my push to become a seasonal eater. I started yesterday where we had spring rolls with cabbage, carrots, red pepper, and a cilantro peanut butter sauce. Today, I made guacamole and a fresh salsa to enjoy with a raw walnut "taco" meat. It is important to practice what you preach, and here I am every week, writing these recipe sheets that utilize all of our farm vegetables, but then I don't use them myself. It seems pretty silly honestly, so I guess what I really mean is "Can I get a half-share, please?" Luke makes about 50 CSA half-shares every week. I'm asking Luke to bring in a box of goodies every week that contains all the produce we have available on the farm, sort of like we are our own customers. With that, hopefully my seasonal eating push will be more successful.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Chicken Butchering and a Food Tangent
Well we butchered chickens on Saturday, 43 to be exact! Luke and I were up early, prepping the area and getting everything ready. We had our two employees, Austin and Ryan, come to help us, and Austin also brought his friend Tom to assist. I ran over to Super Ron's to grab doughnuts for the crew. I know what you are thinking - farmers who try to be as sustainable and natural as possible eating doughnuts?! Okay, yea, sounds like an oxymoron, but it was 6:00 am and we had 43 chickens to butcher before the day got too hot - so yea, doughnuts for breakfast. Plus, I knew I was on the right track because there was a local construction company owner also buying doughnuts for his crew. And added bonus was that I got to chat with Arlene at the check-out line - she is one of my favorites there :) Read my previous post about living in a small town if you don't understand this. Arlene was wondering why I was up so early when I didn't have school (she always opens - so she sees me whenever I need to buy something last minute for school). I told her we were butchering chickens on the farm, and she was shocked to hear that someone my age knew how to do that. It is interesting how many adults I talk to: my mom, my aunts, my grandparents, random strangers, and it seems they all helped butcher chickens at some point in their life. But yet talk to anyone our age, and they wouldn't know how to start.
Chicken butchering is quite a process, and it always starts out slow. If you have ever watched Food, Inc. then that is what chicken butchering looks similar to on our farm. (As a side note, if you haven't seen that movie, watch it!) I won't gross you out with the gory details - some people just don't want to know how chicken butchering works, and I understand that. Let's just say we used an assembly line system that went pretty slick, and we were able to butcher, clean, and freeze 43 chickens in 4 hours, a pretty impressive feat. Being a little competitive, Austin even timed the entire process for the very last chicken, from death to the second it enters the cooling tub, and we were able to go through the whole process in just less than 10 minutes! Austin went record-breaking style and had the entire chicken cleaned in about 4 minutes, which is pretty impressive!
Now some people may be reading this post and thinking how inhumane it is. But again, industrial chicken butchering is not a pretty process, and many of the birds have to suffer and be in pain through it. We avoid that as much as possible. There death is very humane, and is grounded in scientific research. (Trust me, just to make sure Luke was reading his "Raising Poultry" book at 5:00 that morning). But yet people question us, question our methods. So with that, I'm going to go off on a little tangent.
People are so far removed from the food process system these days. I was too, until I started living on the farm. People roll their eyes at our food prices, would never pick free-range organic chicken over the much cheaper regular chicken, and they look at Luke and I and wonder why in the world we would want to farm in such a way that makes it difficult for us to leave the farm at the same time! I have been buying organic food since I was a sophomore in college. One of the only one of my friends who shopped at "Whole Foods," many questioned why I would fork out a lot more money just for organic food. Not that I'm a genius on the agricultural/industrial food system, but I know enough to stand confident when I decide I'm not going to put the more conventional food in my body. Agriculture has become a industrial process based off technology and mass production rather than an industry that grows good quality food for people.
Except the small scale farmer. And I'm not saying they even have to be certified organic or having organic practices, just the down-to-earth, small scale farmer. While they may use chemical fertilizers and pesticides, they likely use less because they are also going to be eating what they grow.
Other people scoff at me when I say I'm excited to butcher our pigs and enjoy the bacon, or to slow cook a chicken that we just butchered and then make some delicious fajitas. They feel sorry for the animals, and think I'm an inhumane person for being able to stand tall and say "Yes, I'm excited to eat that bacon, even if it means the pig I helped raise 4 four months has to die." Yes, they scoff and me, but then THEY eat meat. I'm not saying everyone has to be a vegetarian, I've been there, done that. But if someone is going to judge us for butchering chickens, then they should not be a person who partakes IN chicken. The same can be said for any other meat. And I will stand firm, knowing that those chickens pecked at the soil, found worms on rainy days, chased each other, established a Peking order, grazed among the tall grasses, walked around, stretched their wings, and died a humane death. And when I cook them, well they are extra delicious because I know all of that. I appreciate chicken more now that I have been a part of the butchering process. Every year that Luke shoots a deer during hunting season, he makes me come out and look at it. I cry, every time, probably related to my childhood obsession with Bambi. But Luke says, and I agree, that if I can't look my food in the eye and appreciate what it is giving me, meat for a year, then I don't deserve to eat it. And so I stay proud, knowing that I can answer Arlene's question, that yes, at my age, I do know how to butcher a chicken. If you want to be answer the question the same way, well, we do have 57 more chickens to butcher...
Chicken butchering is quite a process, and it always starts out slow. If you have ever watched Food, Inc. then that is what chicken butchering looks similar to on our farm. (As a side note, if you haven't seen that movie, watch it!) I won't gross you out with the gory details - some people just don't want to know how chicken butchering works, and I understand that. Let's just say we used an assembly line system that went pretty slick, and we were able to butcher, clean, and freeze 43 chickens in 4 hours, a pretty impressive feat. Being a little competitive, Austin even timed the entire process for the very last chicken, from death to the second it enters the cooling tub, and we were able to go through the whole process in just less than 10 minutes! Austin went record-breaking style and had the entire chicken cleaned in about 4 minutes, which is pretty impressive!
Now some people may be reading this post and thinking how inhumane it is. But again, industrial chicken butchering is not a pretty process, and many of the birds have to suffer and be in pain through it. We avoid that as much as possible. There death is very humane, and is grounded in scientific research. (Trust me, just to make sure Luke was reading his "Raising Poultry" book at 5:00 that morning). But yet people question us, question our methods. So with that, I'm going to go off on a little tangent.
People are so far removed from the food process system these days. I was too, until I started living on the farm. People roll their eyes at our food prices, would never pick free-range organic chicken over the much cheaper regular chicken, and they look at Luke and I and wonder why in the world we would want to farm in such a way that makes it difficult for us to leave the farm at the same time! I have been buying organic food since I was a sophomore in college. One of the only one of my friends who shopped at "Whole Foods," many questioned why I would fork out a lot more money just for organic food. Not that I'm a genius on the agricultural/industrial food system, but I know enough to stand confident when I decide I'm not going to put the more conventional food in my body. Agriculture has become a industrial process based off technology and mass production rather than an industry that grows good quality food for people.
Except the small scale farmer. And I'm not saying they even have to be certified organic or having organic practices, just the down-to-earth, small scale farmer. While they may use chemical fertilizers and pesticides, they likely use less because they are also going to be eating what they grow.
Other people scoff at me when I say I'm excited to butcher our pigs and enjoy the bacon, or to slow cook a chicken that we just butchered and then make some delicious fajitas. They feel sorry for the animals, and think I'm an inhumane person for being able to stand tall and say "Yes, I'm excited to eat that bacon, even if it means the pig I helped raise 4 four months has to die." Yes, they scoff and me, but then THEY eat meat. I'm not saying everyone has to be a vegetarian, I've been there, done that. But if someone is going to judge us for butchering chickens, then they should not be a person who partakes IN chicken. The same can be said for any other meat. And I will stand firm, knowing that those chickens pecked at the soil, found worms on rainy days, chased each other, established a Peking order, grazed among the tall grasses, walked around, stretched their wings, and died a humane death. And when I cook them, well they are extra delicious because I know all of that. I appreciate chicken more now that I have been a part of the butchering process. Every year that Luke shoots a deer during hunting season, he makes me come out and look at it. I cry, every time, probably related to my childhood obsession with Bambi. But Luke says, and I agree, that if I can't look my food in the eye and appreciate what it is giving me, meat for a year, then I don't deserve to eat it. And so I stay proud, knowing that I can answer Arlene's question, that yes, at my age, I do know how to butcher a chicken. If you want to be answer the question the same way, well, we do have 57 more chickens to butcher...
Friday, June 15, 2012
A "Simple" Task
Lately, I have had a lot of seemingly simple tasks become not-so-simple. It all started on Memorial Day weekend when I was doing a big spring cleaning (not that you could tell anymore). I was tired of the egg cartons and dozens of eggs on my counter, so I thought I would move them to a counter in the mudroom. That counter had 2 boxes on it: potatoes and garlic. The potatoes were storage potatoes that I was supposed to use over the winter but forgot about. I grabbed the box from the bottom - taking them outside was such a simple task - until I start to feel the ooze, all over my fingers. The ooze that meant the simple task was going to go very, very wrong. I quickly realized the potatoes had rotted and while I bolted for the door as fast as possible, I still had potato goo dropping all over me. I made it just outside the door when the bottom of the box broke open and all the potatoes fell out. Oh, the smell!!!! Disgusting. I was gagging the entire time. Luke was cutting the lawn, and he saw me shaking my hands and screaming in anger. He pulled over and asked what was wrong, and after I told him, he sort of chuckled and said, "sorry about that." I went and put on latex gloves, and slowly cleaned up the mess. I had to hose down the porch, scrub the mudroom rugs with carpet cleaner, and Swiffer the mudroom floor. That "simple" task was anything but! At least now I don't have the eggs in the kitchen anymore! And, the mudroom was very clean.
Then today, another simple task. Luke called me at around 5:00 and asked me to plug in the fridge/freezer in the garage in preparation for chicken butchering tomorrow. I plugged it in, and then opened the freezer. The freezer was all clean, but there was a weird smell from the area. Then, I opened the fridge door. This was NOT a simple task. It seemed that Luke and/or his employee Austin left their lunch and a few sodas in there last fall before unplugging the fridge for the winter. They obviously didn't check that the fridge was empty when it was unplugged, and disaster occurred. The winter caused the soda cans to freeze and explode, and then the spring heat caused the soda and lunch bag to mold. YUCK! What an utter disaster. I again grabbed some latex gloves (thank goodness we have those lying around), grabbed the lysol, a roll of paper towel, and a garbage bag. 20 minutes later and the fridge was clean, but yuck! Thankfully we don't use the fridge portion at all, just the freezer, but still, what a chore. All off the simple question "Can you plug in the fridge?"
Well, then of course my hypochondriac self needed to have a minor freak-out session. You see, my stress level is directly correlated with how much I worry, and I am VERY stressed out right now so I was bound to have a hypochondriac moment. It has been such a busy week - this was my first week off, so I took over restaurant deliveries, CSA deliveries, market set-up, am now assisting more with farm duties, plus just the regular business of cleaning the house, teaching summer school, etc - yea, my stress level is up there! And because of that, I did spend a serious 30 minutes after cleaning the fridge worrying about the mold I had cleaned up - what if I inhaled a spore?!?! Luke and my mom quickly talked me out of it, thank goodness.
Well, Luke got home, and we ate dinner around 8:45 at night. In preparation for chicken butchering, we needed to separate the 40 chickens we were going to butcher. So...a SIMPLE question - "Mel, will you spend 20 minutes and help me move chickens?" I'm definitely my father's daughter - I can't say no to helping, so of course I agreed. I put on my rubber boots, my deerskin gloves, and I was ready to go. It was going pretty swiftly - Luke would hand me a chicken, and he would grab another, and we would walk over to the other cage and set the birds in there. Besides my initial panic of how to hold them and keep them calm, Luke and I were enjoying ourselves. Then - it happened. He happened - a nasty little rooster. He freaked out in my arms and was flapping all over - and his claws were digging into my left arm pretty incessantly. I couldn't get him to calm and my arm hurt! He settled after about five seconds, and I walked over to drop him in the cage. Heading back to see my arm in the light of the four-wheeler, I could tell he had done some damage. Three solid scrapes, one deep enough to draw blood.
Luke could tell that I was very much nearing the edge that I don't reach to often, and the stress breakdown was definitely in sight. Luke said (and this is a very dark humor), "Don't worry Mel, no one messes with my wife, I'll kill him tomorrow. Literally, I'll kill him." I laughed so hard - it was perfect. Exactly what I needed to hear and my mood was instantly better. Even in all the stress and all the hardships lately, Luke knows exactly what to say to make me laugh! That is one of the reasons I love him!
The rest of chicken drop off went well, right until the very end. One more rooster got my left arm pretty good, he also drew blood. To add insult to injury, he pooped on my shirt. At that point I didn't care anymore. Luke and I were having a great time together, which was exactly what I needed. But as I put that last rooster in the cage I told him "Little shit - you may have won this battle, but tomorrow I win the war." Okay - again, a little dark, but those chickens have had a good life, better than most chickens that people eat. And they will be food for a family, a couple, a person, who can rest assured that these are healthy delicious birds that lived the right way.
Now, that I think of it - I better go - I better put hydrogen peroxide on my arm - chickens have a lot of bacteria....oh boy - don't want to go there. I need a good night sleep for the big day tomorrow. Now, just don't go around asking me to do a "simple" task, because I won't believe you.
Then today, another simple task. Luke called me at around 5:00 and asked me to plug in the fridge/freezer in the garage in preparation for chicken butchering tomorrow. I plugged it in, and then opened the freezer. The freezer was all clean, but there was a weird smell from the area. Then, I opened the fridge door. This was NOT a simple task. It seemed that Luke and/or his employee Austin left their lunch and a few sodas in there last fall before unplugging the fridge for the winter. They obviously didn't check that the fridge was empty when it was unplugged, and disaster occurred. The winter caused the soda cans to freeze and explode, and then the spring heat caused the soda and lunch bag to mold. YUCK! What an utter disaster. I again grabbed some latex gloves (thank goodness we have those lying around), grabbed the lysol, a roll of paper towel, and a garbage bag. 20 minutes later and the fridge was clean, but yuck! Thankfully we don't use the fridge portion at all, just the freezer, but still, what a chore. All off the simple question "Can you plug in the fridge?"
Well, then of course my hypochondriac self needed to have a minor freak-out session. You see, my stress level is directly correlated with how much I worry, and I am VERY stressed out right now so I was bound to have a hypochondriac moment. It has been such a busy week - this was my first week off, so I took over restaurant deliveries, CSA deliveries, market set-up, am now assisting more with farm duties, plus just the regular business of cleaning the house, teaching summer school, etc - yea, my stress level is up there! And because of that, I did spend a serious 30 minutes after cleaning the fridge worrying about the mold I had cleaned up - what if I inhaled a spore?!?! Luke and my mom quickly talked me out of it, thank goodness.
Well, Luke got home, and we ate dinner around 8:45 at night. In preparation for chicken butchering, we needed to separate the 40 chickens we were going to butcher. So...a SIMPLE question - "Mel, will you spend 20 minutes and help me move chickens?" I'm definitely my father's daughter - I can't say no to helping, so of course I agreed. I put on my rubber boots, my deerskin gloves, and I was ready to go. It was going pretty swiftly - Luke would hand me a chicken, and he would grab another, and we would walk over to the other cage and set the birds in there. Besides my initial panic of how to hold them and keep them calm, Luke and I were enjoying ourselves. Then - it happened. He happened - a nasty little rooster. He freaked out in my arms and was flapping all over - and his claws were digging into my left arm pretty incessantly. I couldn't get him to calm and my arm hurt! He settled after about five seconds, and I walked over to drop him in the cage. Heading back to see my arm in the light of the four-wheeler, I could tell he had done some damage. Three solid scrapes, one deep enough to draw blood.
Luke could tell that I was very much nearing the edge that I don't reach to often, and the stress breakdown was definitely in sight. Luke said (and this is a very dark humor), "Don't worry Mel, no one messes with my wife, I'll kill him tomorrow. Literally, I'll kill him." I laughed so hard - it was perfect. Exactly what I needed to hear and my mood was instantly better. Even in all the stress and all the hardships lately, Luke knows exactly what to say to make me laugh! That is one of the reasons I love him!
The rest of chicken drop off went well, right until the very end. One more rooster got my left arm pretty good, he also drew blood. To add insult to injury, he pooped on my shirt. At that point I didn't care anymore. Luke and I were having a great time together, which was exactly what I needed. But as I put that last rooster in the cage I told him "Little shit - you may have won this battle, but tomorrow I win the war." Okay - again, a little dark, but those chickens have had a good life, better than most chickens that people eat. And they will be food for a family, a couple, a person, who can rest assured that these are healthy delicious birds that lived the right way.
Now, that I think of it - I better go - I better put hydrogen peroxide on my arm - chickens have a lot of bacteria....oh boy - don't want to go there. I need a good night sleep for the big day tomorrow. Now, just don't go around asking me to do a "simple" task, because I won't believe you.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Small Town U.S.A.
It's been awhile since I posted. I really want to get back into the habit - hopefully with school winding down I will find more time for it. To be honest most days I become a zombie by 8:00, and blogging just doesn't make the list. There are always things I want to write about - like taking care of the farm so that Luke had a chance to go fishing, updating on the pigs, and discussing my new vendetta against the chicken coop (I may share that story at the end - it is sure to get some chuckles).
But first I'm going to start with this - I have been planning it for awhile. You see, I live 15 minutes away from where I grew up. I was never the adventurous child who moved across the country and started up a new, I mean honestly, what is so great about Seattle anyway? (Kidding, Becca and Greg.) The reality is that part of living on a farm means living in a rural region, which means I now live in a cozy little farm town. There isn't a stoplight in town - there used to be, but they took it down. Ironically, the stoplight use to double my commute to work if I caught the red light - now with the roundabout I can quickly buzz in within 4 minutes.
Living in a small town is a very unique thing, and while I used to feel a little claustrophobic, I now love it. And I mean love it. At a school district meeting, our superintendent was discussing a possible referendum and updating the school's pool. He made a joke, saying "Do you want to know what Pulaski is without a pool?....Bonduel." I laughed out loud, literally, and trust me, you have to be a part of the small town to find that one hysterical.
You can't escape the gossip around here - nor can you escape the old ladies talking gossip. From my dear neighbor and grandma-in-law, to the elderly stylists at the only hair shop in town, to my co-workers and students, you learn about everybody. I know some intimate details about people I don't even know, but hey - in this town I'm sure I will meet them eventually.
I also live one minute from the grocery store - so close that sometimes I think to myself, "Well, I don't have to put my seat belt on - its practically in my driveway." But then I remember the statistic that whatever percent of accidents happen within one mile of home, and my hypochondriac self makes me put it on anyway. The local grocery store is called Super Ron's. It has a nice little selection - though my students (several of which work there) tell me if you dig deep enough in the shelves then you will find canned goods from 2001. I go to Super Ron's frequently - there is always something I am missing for a meal - today it was mushrooms. I have gone 3 times this week already, and every time I run into 2-3 students, maybe a parent of a student, or someone I work with.
One morning I was up really early on Saturday, hair a mess and pajamas on. I was in the mood for some baked item for breakfast - probably cinnamon rolls, and needed flour. Without thinking twice, I ran to Super Ron's. But Super Ron's in Pulaski is like the paparazzi for celebrities - you can't go there without seeing someone that might judge your appearance. A former student gave me the weirdest look of my life, and one of my current students just chuckled and said "morning Mrs. W." I took that one to heart, and now always make sure to at least straighten my pony tail before bopping in there.
And the old ladies of Super Ron's - I love them! Luke always chuckles when he goes with me - because I act like they are my dear friends. Donna, who almost always opens the store, sometimes recognizes my car in the parking lot at 5:55 am and opens up for me early because she knows I need school supplies. Sandy - my favorite- she always perks up when she sees me. One time I complemented her on her haircut and then it was like we were best friends. She tells me I look nice, asks how I am doing, last time she politely told me that even though I look really young she knows me so well she doesn't have to card me anymore. Haha - too cute.
And then of course, I have to deal with other small town grocery store elements as well. Luke and I had a bonfire last week, so I bought two thirty packs of beer. Well, as I was paying and gave the cashier my ID, she said "Wojcik? Are you possibly my sister's teacher?" Well then first thing 5th hour on Monday, that student didn't hesitate to ask me how my weekend was and chuckle. All part of being a small town girl I suppose. It is all worth it - there is comfort in the familiarity of it all.
So with that reminiscing over, I will end with a humorous story. On Monday, Luke was very busy getting ready for our CSA membership meeting, and he was feeling pretty stressed. Being the supportive wife, I offered to feed and water the pigs and chicks. The pigs were easy - I knew enough to wear my rubber boots so that when they nip at my feet they couldn't get me. Those little piggies are entertaining.
But then it was time to feed and water the chickens. Luke designed a light-weight, user-friendly portable coop - for MALES. It is a little to tall for me, I have to stand on my tip toes on one half of a tiny little 2x4, straddle the fence, and try to hop over while on my tiptoes to avoid any..."damage." This isn't easy - it is a very technical, Olympic-worthy maneuver. While balancing on my tip toes of one foot and looking for a spot to set my other foot, I'm also shoeing away the chicks so I don't step on any. And that is how disaster struck.
There I was, on my tip toe, one leg over the wire fence, shooing away chickens and getting ready to plant my other foot, when it happened. A chicken ran under my foot and I had to change my trajectory last minute. And then...I lost my tippy-toe balance, and wound up both feet in the air, straddling a wire fence with no feet touching the ground. I may not be a man, but ouch!!!! Seriously, I'm semi-scared that there might be permanent damage. It was a painful few seconds, trying to shimmy back and forth on that wire fence, just trying to get a footing. It was...uncomfortable, to say the least. Needless to say, my temper slipped as well and the cuss-words were flying at the chickens. Good thing that swearwords don't affect the quality of the meat, or those birds would be pretty nutrition-less by now! Once I freed myself, I filled the water, filled the feed, and then quickly went to inform Luke that we may never be able to have children because of the emotional scarring and possibly long-term physical damage. Okay - I'm over-reacting, but it hurt!!! Guess I will work on my balancing skills for the future.
But first I'm going to start with this - I have been planning it for awhile. You see, I live 15 minutes away from where I grew up. I was never the adventurous child who moved across the country and started up a new, I mean honestly, what is so great about Seattle anyway? (Kidding, Becca and Greg.) The reality is that part of living on a farm means living in a rural region, which means I now live in a cozy little farm town. There isn't a stoplight in town - there used to be, but they took it down. Ironically, the stoplight use to double my commute to work if I caught the red light - now with the roundabout I can quickly buzz in within 4 minutes.
Living in a small town is a very unique thing, and while I used to feel a little claustrophobic, I now love it. And I mean love it. At a school district meeting, our superintendent was discussing a possible referendum and updating the school's pool. He made a joke, saying "Do you want to know what Pulaski is without a pool?....Bonduel." I laughed out loud, literally, and trust me, you have to be a part of the small town to find that one hysterical.
You can't escape the gossip around here - nor can you escape the old ladies talking gossip. From my dear neighbor and grandma-in-law, to the elderly stylists at the only hair shop in town, to my co-workers and students, you learn about everybody. I know some intimate details about people I don't even know, but hey - in this town I'm sure I will meet them eventually.
I also live one minute from the grocery store - so close that sometimes I think to myself, "Well, I don't have to put my seat belt on - its practically in my driveway." But then I remember the statistic that whatever percent of accidents happen within one mile of home, and my hypochondriac self makes me put it on anyway. The local grocery store is called Super Ron's. It has a nice little selection - though my students (several of which work there) tell me if you dig deep enough in the shelves then you will find canned goods from 2001. I go to Super Ron's frequently - there is always something I am missing for a meal - today it was mushrooms. I have gone 3 times this week already, and every time I run into 2-3 students, maybe a parent of a student, or someone I work with.
One morning I was up really early on Saturday, hair a mess and pajamas on. I was in the mood for some baked item for breakfast - probably cinnamon rolls, and needed flour. Without thinking twice, I ran to Super Ron's. But Super Ron's in Pulaski is like the paparazzi for celebrities - you can't go there without seeing someone that might judge your appearance. A former student gave me the weirdest look of my life, and one of my current students just chuckled and said "morning Mrs. W." I took that one to heart, and now always make sure to at least straighten my pony tail before bopping in there.
And the old ladies of Super Ron's - I love them! Luke always chuckles when he goes with me - because I act like they are my dear friends. Donna, who almost always opens the store, sometimes recognizes my car in the parking lot at 5:55 am and opens up for me early because she knows I need school supplies. Sandy - my favorite- she always perks up when she sees me. One time I complemented her on her haircut and then it was like we were best friends. She tells me I look nice, asks how I am doing, last time she politely told me that even though I look really young she knows me so well she doesn't have to card me anymore. Haha - too cute.
And then of course, I have to deal with other small town grocery store elements as well. Luke and I had a bonfire last week, so I bought two thirty packs of beer. Well, as I was paying and gave the cashier my ID, she said "Wojcik? Are you possibly my sister's teacher?" Well then first thing 5th hour on Monday, that student didn't hesitate to ask me how my weekend was and chuckle. All part of being a small town girl I suppose. It is all worth it - there is comfort in the familiarity of it all.
So with that reminiscing over, I will end with a humorous story. On Monday, Luke was very busy getting ready for our CSA membership meeting, and he was feeling pretty stressed. Being the supportive wife, I offered to feed and water the pigs and chicks. The pigs were easy - I knew enough to wear my rubber boots so that when they nip at my feet they couldn't get me. Those little piggies are entertaining.
But then it was time to feed and water the chickens. Luke designed a light-weight, user-friendly portable coop - for MALES. It is a little to tall for me, I have to stand on my tip toes on one half of a tiny little 2x4, straddle the fence, and try to hop over while on my tiptoes to avoid any..."damage." This isn't easy - it is a very technical, Olympic-worthy maneuver. While balancing on my tip toes of one foot and looking for a spot to set my other foot, I'm also shoeing away the chicks so I don't step on any. And that is how disaster struck.
There I was, on my tip toe, one leg over the wire fence, shooing away chickens and getting ready to plant my other foot, when it happened. A chicken ran under my foot and I had to change my trajectory last minute. And then...I lost my tippy-toe balance, and wound up both feet in the air, straddling a wire fence with no feet touching the ground. I may not be a man, but ouch!!!! Seriously, I'm semi-scared that there might be permanent damage. It was a painful few seconds, trying to shimmy back and forth on that wire fence, just trying to get a footing. It was...uncomfortable, to say the least. Needless to say, my temper slipped as well and the cuss-words were flying at the chickens. Good thing that swearwords don't affect the quality of the meat, or those birds would be pretty nutrition-less by now! Once I freed myself, I filled the water, filled the feed, and then quickly went to inform Luke that we may never be able to have children because of the emotional scarring and possibly long-term physical damage. Okay - I'm over-reacting, but it hurt!!! Guess I will work on my balancing skills for the future.
Monday, April 23, 2012
We have piggies!
Well, we have another first at Twin Elm Gardens! A week ago it seems we were talking about getting a few goats for the farm, and then within a day, the conversation shifted to pigs!
Now, Luke and I were vegan for a few years - but I'm gonna be honest - we both LOVE bacon. We deprived ourselves for so long, that now when a friend of ours who raises pasture-raised organic pigs barters bacon for veggies, we literally scarf the pound of bacon down in one to two meals. BLT's are like the best thing ever - and I make a mean "cholesterol sandwich." So when we first started talking pigs - all I thought was "That'd be a lot of bacon!"
Luke knows how much I love animals, that I would get attached and probably not want to butcher them. He told me that when the 3 little pigs arrived, we would be naming them breakfast, lunch, and dinner - to give me that constant reminder that however cute the pigs may be, their purpose is for food. I requested the name lunch be switched over to BACON - with how much I love bacon I figured it was an appropriate name!
So, Luke (and Austin) worked hard to build a pig pen and a little hut for them over the weekend, and while I was at school today, the pigs arrived. When Luke called me to tell me they were here, I could hear the excitement and energy in his voice. I arrived home, and I totally understand why:
Even though these are feeder pigs (already 50 pounds), they are ADORABLE! Only a foot tall and 1.5 feet long, they are the cutest little piggies I have ever seen! I was instantly attached - I am hooked! I took ridiculous amounts of pictures - most are on facebook - but how do you not love these little guys:
Our cat, Banjo thought he would check things out a little bit. When he entered the cage, he crouched down low, as if stalking the pigs, ready to attack. When he got close enough, the pigs noticed him, and they were excited. They went running up to him, and sniffed him out a little bit. Banjo, originally all tough, got so scared and took off running. The pigs thought it was a game, so they chased after him! Totally the opposite of what you think it should be - pigs chasing a cat around the pen.
Now, Luke and I were vegan for a few years - but I'm gonna be honest - we both LOVE bacon. We deprived ourselves for so long, that now when a friend of ours who raises pasture-raised organic pigs barters bacon for veggies, we literally scarf the pound of bacon down in one to two meals. BLT's are like the best thing ever - and I make a mean "cholesterol sandwich." So when we first started talking pigs - all I thought was "That'd be a lot of bacon!"
Luke knows how much I love animals, that I would get attached and probably not want to butcher them. He told me that when the 3 little pigs arrived, we would be naming them breakfast, lunch, and dinner - to give me that constant reminder that however cute the pigs may be, their purpose is for food. I requested the name lunch be switched over to BACON - with how much I love bacon I figured it was an appropriate name!
So, Luke (and Austin) worked hard to build a pig pen and a little hut for them over the weekend, and while I was at school today, the pigs arrived. When Luke called me to tell me they were here, I could hear the excitement and energy in his voice. I arrived home, and I totally understand why:
Even though these are feeder pigs (already 50 pounds), they are ADORABLE! Only a foot tall and 1.5 feet long, they are the cutest little piggies I have ever seen! I was instantly attached - I am hooked! I took ridiculous amounts of pictures - most are on facebook - but how do you not love these little guys:
I literally had to start repeating to myself "Breakfast, dinner, bacon." It's hard to think of butchering them - when they are sooooo cute! I got a little sad about it actually, but Luke was really encouraging. He said to think of all the bacon I've ever eaten and how many of those pigs lived - locked in a barn and never seeing the light of day. These 3 little pigs are going to have a fantastic life. They have a HUGE pig pen - literally, the people who dropped off the pigs thought it was a pen for camels it is so big. So, these pigs will have a good life, cruising around their pen, munching on grass and leftovers, and rolling around in the mud.
They are so cute - they are very happy - and the cruise around as a threesome. Literally, they are always within two feet of each other. When one runs away, the other follows.
Our cat, Banjo thought he would check things out a little bit. When he entered the cage, he crouched down low, as if stalking the pigs, ready to attack. When he got close enough, the pigs noticed him, and they were excited. They went running up to him, and sniffed him out a little bit. Banjo, originally all tough, got so scared and took off running. The pigs thought it was a game, so they chased after him! Totally the opposite of what you think it should be - pigs chasing a cat around the pen.
I can already tell those cute little bundles are going to bring bundles of happiness to our summer. I am so happy to welcome "Breakfast, Dinner, and Bacon" into our farm lives.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
What the HELL is that smell?
Today was a long day at work, and I was looking forward to getting home and spending a little time in the warm weather - grilling out steaks to dip in some Indonesian Peanut Sauce and sip on some cider beer. I hoped out of my car and breathed in the fresh farm air, and thought to myself "I can't believe someone is spreading manure on the fields in March!" It was pretty potent. Then I saw Tobshu - hooked to his chain in the front yard, instead of running freely with Luke like usual. I thought this was very curious, so I started to walk towards him and greet him. That's when the smell got stronger! Then I noticed the peculiar shade of green that was coating Tobshu's back...and ears...and legs...and stomach...and neck. The smell was revolting - a combination or manure, vomit, and pure decomposition - yuck!
Luke hadn't told me of any mishaps - so I decided to call him! He answered the phone nonchalantly, and I immediately asked "What the hell happened to Tobshu?!" He said, "Oh yea, I forgot to tell you - Tobshu rolled in my compost pile today when I wasn't looking," as if it was the most casual thing in the world. Needless to say I wasn't happy - he isn't exactly an easy dog to give baths. I mean he is okay, but it typically means I get a bit of a bath as well, which wasn't really what I wanted to do today!
I headed in to grab the shampoo and his leash, and as I was walking back outside, I noticed Grandpa Butch hunched over our black male cat, Banjo. Luke had said Banjo was limping around today, but in the chaos of the day I had forgotten about it. I quickly walked over to the house, and checked out Banjo. His back leg is severely injured, and any time I tried to touch it, he meowed, hissed, or tried to bite me! It was quite apparent he is in intense pain, and I couldn't investigate too much because his fur is so long and thick. I didn't want to hurt him too much, so I am going to let him rest and see how he is doing tomorrow! I just don't need another replay of "Kat," If you are unfamiliar with Kat, please read back to my post "Goodbye, New Friend." I don't really want to relive it!
Anyway - off to bath Tobshu. Luke hosed him down, and I scrubbed...and scrubbed...and scrubbed. And I gagged, a little bit - the smell was AWFUL! It was definitely a two-man job! The stench was literally pouring off of him, as was the food matter, algae, and dirt. He looked like a wet rat - running around trying to shake out his fur. We thought he was good to go, and then we brought him inside. The smell started to reveal itself very quickly - I literally sprayed him head to toe with dog perfume, and the stench still rang through. I really want to cuddle up with him on a pillow, but I can't get anywhere near him without getting nauseous! I'm hoping it mellows out a little by tomorrow.
Luke knew exactly what I needed to feel better however! He started a campfire, grilled some steaks, and put on some music! We ate together by the fire, and then we topped it all off with S'mores! The perfect way to make me feel better (and I just won't tell anyone that yesterday I SWORE I wouldn't eat chocolate for a month - yea....failed that). Better luck next time?
Luke hadn't told me of any mishaps - so I decided to call him! He answered the phone nonchalantly, and I immediately asked "What the hell happened to Tobshu?!" He said, "Oh yea, I forgot to tell you - Tobshu rolled in my compost pile today when I wasn't looking," as if it was the most casual thing in the world. Needless to say I wasn't happy - he isn't exactly an easy dog to give baths. I mean he is okay, but it typically means I get a bit of a bath as well, which wasn't really what I wanted to do today!
I headed in to grab the shampoo and his leash, and as I was walking back outside, I noticed Grandpa Butch hunched over our black male cat, Banjo. Luke had said Banjo was limping around today, but in the chaos of the day I had forgotten about it. I quickly walked over to the house, and checked out Banjo. His back leg is severely injured, and any time I tried to touch it, he meowed, hissed, or tried to bite me! It was quite apparent he is in intense pain, and I couldn't investigate too much because his fur is so long and thick. I didn't want to hurt him too much, so I am going to let him rest and see how he is doing tomorrow! I just don't need another replay of "Kat," If you are unfamiliar with Kat, please read back to my post "Goodbye, New Friend." I don't really want to relive it!
Anyway - off to bath Tobshu. Luke hosed him down, and I scrubbed...and scrubbed...and scrubbed. And I gagged, a little bit - the smell was AWFUL! It was definitely a two-man job! The stench was literally pouring off of him, as was the food matter, algae, and dirt. He looked like a wet rat - running around trying to shake out his fur. We thought he was good to go, and then we brought him inside. The smell started to reveal itself very quickly - I literally sprayed him head to toe with dog perfume, and the stench still rang through. I really want to cuddle up with him on a pillow, but I can't get anywhere near him without getting nauseous! I'm hoping it mellows out a little by tomorrow.
Luke knew exactly what I needed to feel better however! He started a campfire, grilled some steaks, and put on some music! We ate together by the fire, and then we topped it all off with S'mores! The perfect way to make me feel better (and I just won't tell anyone that yesterday I SWORE I wouldn't eat chocolate for a month - yea....failed that). Better luck next time?
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Summer time?!
Okay, so I know it isn't summer, but this 75 degree weather in spring is sure giving me the itch! It felt great to walk down the stairs, and open the windows to let in the fresh spring breeze. I could only open half the windows - the other half are covered in clear plastic, and while it was tempting to tear down the plastic, and welcome spring, I am a realist who knows we could still get a blizzard in April! And, if that happens, well, some of our windows are drafty - to say the least. Literally, the curtains swing in the wind, even when those windows are closed! Part of having an old farm house I suppose!
Everyone is enjoying the unseasonable weather. Luke and I just got back from vacation in Florida - looks like we didn't need to go anywhere with weather like this. Before I go on, I must give a big shoot-out to our employee Austin - he did a fantastic job of taking care of the farm while we were gone - it was easy to relax knowing he was holding down the fort!
Well, the warm weather has the plants in the greenhouse growing like crazy, which is exciting. I can't wait for tomatoes and peppers in early June! Plus, I figured since it was warm it wouldn't be as much work for Luke to take care of the greenhouses! We could leave at night and not have to worry about getting home in time to stoke the fire in the greenhouse. Well, I was wrong, excess heat makes it even more complicated, because the plants dry out and can die from the excess heat - on a 75 degree day, the greenhouses are easily in the high 90's, if not higher. I truly learn so much with every single day out here on the farm! Luke is such a great farmer though - he knows exactly what he needs to do to keep everything healthy!
Tobshu is rocking the summer buzz-cut now. He looks goofy from the 4 inch hairdo he was sporting to have practically none, but he likes it such much better and his body doesn't get covered in mud and water! I was getting tired of trying to brush his dreadlocks, so I'm happy to have him all cleaned up.
Of course he still looks adorable! He is loving the spring weather.
Luke and I toasted the warmth with a campfire last night. We got pretty exciting and went so far as to make pudgy pies and eat smores - yum! If you don't know what a pudgy pie is, well, you are missing out. You can put whatever in it - we decided to go with pizza pudgy pies! They were delicious! Luke was working on the chicken fence, so while we enjoyed our campfire last evening, we had chickens, Tobshu, Banjo, and Murtle all stalking around us, checking out the scene. Luke and I were discussing how farm life really takes away that "spook factor." Normally if you see something run 6 feet in front of you, you get scared, wondering if it is a raccoon, opossum, or a skunk. Well, last night it was very dark outside, but when I saw something move around me, I didn't think twice - I knew it was a bird, cat, or dog just strolling on by in the cozy spring evening! It was great to see all of our animals living in harmony - cats, chickens, and dogs all walking among each other! Things are settling down here with animals! I wonder how much we will shake up the scene when we add turkeys, ducks, and pigs to the homestead. I'm sure it will be one crazy animal family :)
Everyone is enjoying the unseasonable weather. Luke and I just got back from vacation in Florida - looks like we didn't need to go anywhere with weather like this. Before I go on, I must give a big shoot-out to our employee Austin - he did a fantastic job of taking care of the farm while we were gone - it was easy to relax knowing he was holding down the fort!
Well, the warm weather has the plants in the greenhouse growing like crazy, which is exciting. I can't wait for tomatoes and peppers in early June! Plus, I figured since it was warm it wouldn't be as much work for Luke to take care of the greenhouses! We could leave at night and not have to worry about getting home in time to stoke the fire in the greenhouse. Well, I was wrong, excess heat makes it even more complicated, because the plants dry out and can die from the excess heat - on a 75 degree day, the greenhouses are easily in the high 90's, if not higher. I truly learn so much with every single day out here on the farm! Luke is such a great farmer though - he knows exactly what he needs to do to keep everything healthy!
Tobshu is rocking the summer buzz-cut now. He looks goofy from the 4 inch hairdo he was sporting to have practically none, but he likes it such much better and his body doesn't get covered in mud and water! I was getting tired of trying to brush his dreadlocks, so I'm happy to have him all cleaned up.
Luke and I toasted the warmth with a campfire last night. We got pretty exciting and went so far as to make pudgy pies and eat smores - yum! If you don't know what a pudgy pie is, well, you are missing out. You can put whatever in it - we decided to go with pizza pudgy pies! They were delicious! Luke was working on the chicken fence, so while we enjoyed our campfire last evening, we had chickens, Tobshu, Banjo, and Murtle all stalking around us, checking out the scene. Luke and I were discussing how farm life really takes away that "spook factor." Normally if you see something run 6 feet in front of you, you get scared, wondering if it is a raccoon, opossum, or a skunk. Well, last night it was very dark outside, but when I saw something move around me, I didn't think twice - I knew it was a bird, cat, or dog just strolling on by in the cozy spring evening! It was great to see all of our animals living in harmony - cats, chickens, and dogs all walking among each other! Things are settling down here with animals! I wonder how much we will shake up the scene when we add turkeys, ducks, and pigs to the homestead. I'm sure it will be one crazy animal family :)
Monday, February 20, 2012
Vacation Time
The countdown is officially on! Against all odds, Luke and I have decided to go on a spring break vacation this year- we are roadtripping down to Key West with four of our close friends, and we are incredibly excited.
A very affordable and fun RV trip to Key West?! Sounds like an easy decision to make - yes, please! However, for Luke and I, deciding to take vacations that we go together is difficult. Vacations on are own are easy to decide - I went to Seattle last year, and am going to a week-long teaching convention this summer! Luke will also be taking this Memorial Day weekend to backpack and canoe in the Boundary Waters. Why is it so easy for us to decide that we want to spend an entire week without each other, one of us away from the farm? Because when only one of us leaves, we know that the other person is there, making sure that everything on the farm is going well and nothing is dying.
But its not the best circumstance though! That means that everything we do to get away, we are doing ourselves. We don't get to take a vacation together. While our honeymoon went pretty well (except for the 3 of the 6 days when Luke had the flu), he was constantly thinking about the farm - did the market go well? Were all the CSA bags delivered? Was there a late frost and the tomatoes didn't get covered? A million questions going through our minds when we are supposed to be enjoying our vacation.
So, how and why did we decide to take a week away in March? It wasn't an easy decision to make - the week we are going is immediately after we will have planted our tomatoes in the greenhouse. However, the decision was easier to make. First - for our own sanity, we need a vacation. Second, we have a wonderful employee who has been with us for almost a year now, and he is able to watch over the farm for us and keep everything going. And, we are blessed with parents who are willing to come to our rescue, water the sprouts and care for the chickens so that we are able to enjoy our time away.
Thus, we were presented with an opportunity that was hard to turn down, and I am so excited to say that we are heading down to the Florida Keys in a little less than three weeks. I'm sure the departure won't be easy and Luke will be a little stressed, but I can rest assured that Austin will take wonderful care of our house and our farm, and our parents will fill in as necessary. So I can't wait to throw our inhibitions to the wind and party hard down in Florida. Okay, well, that's not that likely, I'm still me and Luke is still Luke - but I guess we can get excited to enjoy some Florida sun and spend some quality time with each other and friends.
A very affordable and fun RV trip to Key West?! Sounds like an easy decision to make - yes, please! However, for Luke and I, deciding to take vacations that we go together is difficult. Vacations on are own are easy to decide - I went to Seattle last year, and am going to a week-long teaching convention this summer! Luke will also be taking this Memorial Day weekend to backpack and canoe in the Boundary Waters. Why is it so easy for us to decide that we want to spend an entire week without each other, one of us away from the farm? Because when only one of us leaves, we know that the other person is there, making sure that everything on the farm is going well and nothing is dying.
But its not the best circumstance though! That means that everything we do to get away, we are doing ourselves. We don't get to take a vacation together. While our honeymoon went pretty well (except for the 3 of the 6 days when Luke had the flu), he was constantly thinking about the farm - did the market go well? Were all the CSA bags delivered? Was there a late frost and the tomatoes didn't get covered? A million questions going through our minds when we are supposed to be enjoying our vacation.
So, how and why did we decide to take a week away in March? It wasn't an easy decision to make - the week we are going is immediately after we will have planted our tomatoes in the greenhouse. However, the decision was easier to make. First - for our own sanity, we need a vacation. Second, we have a wonderful employee who has been with us for almost a year now, and he is able to watch over the farm for us and keep everything going. And, we are blessed with parents who are willing to come to our rescue, water the sprouts and care for the chickens so that we are able to enjoy our time away.
Thus, we were presented with an opportunity that was hard to turn down, and I am so excited to say that we are heading down to the Florida Keys in a little less than three weeks. I'm sure the departure won't be easy and Luke will be a little stressed, but I can rest assured that Austin will take wonderful care of our house and our farm, and our parents will fill in as necessary. So I can't wait to throw our inhibitions to the wind and party hard down in Florida. Okay, well, that's not that likely, I'm still me and Luke is still Luke - but I guess we can get excited to enjoy some Florida sun and spend some quality time with each other and friends.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Don't Even Try to Give me that Monopoly Money!
We had the best winter farmer's market that we ever had about 2 weeks ago! It was incredibly busy, and people were buying like crazy! There was a lot of excitement in the air and people were in very good-natured moods! I was enjoying selling our local goods, and I was also enjoying seeing individuals that I had not seen in awhile. A CSA customer from this fall stopped by to see how we were doing, and he gifted some presents to us. He gave us a fresh-baked cheesecake (yum), and gave us a book called "The Dirty Life," which I am super excited to read! He gave us the items as a token of appreciation for all the delicious veggies we have given him. It was really warming to have someone bestow that generosity upon us, and it was nice to be appreciated.
As I said, we were moving through our food like crazy! I sold 3 jars of pickles in 45 minutes - I have never sold canned goods like that - but it made me feel like all the hard work this summer had paid off! Next market I am going to bring even more - maybe I'll have some returning customers.
Well, at this market, it seems that everyone walks around with $20 bills. They don't have singles, fives or tens, they are just carrying the big bucks! Luke and I were quickly running out of change - we didn't have any singles left, and a handful of 5's and 10's. Normally you just have to roll with it and someone will give you the change you need, but there can be some dicey moments. My parents were on their way out, and I asked if they had any singles. They only had 2 - so I gave them 2 gold coins in exchange for the singles. My dad gave me a confused look, and said - "Well these are worth a dollar, why can you give these to people?" I explained that for some odd reason - even though it is still money and has the same value - people really hate getting those coins.
Which leads me to the monopoly money component of this! A while later, a woman bought a pound of carrots, which costs $2.50. She handed me $5, and to my dismay - we only had 1 single left! I gave her 1 single, 1 gold dollar coin, and then 50 cents. When I handed her the money - she looked and me oddly and said "What in the world is this?" I explain that it was a gold dollar and we had run out of singles, and because she was packing up her wallet (so I thought), I moved on to help another customer. Glancing down at this woman, I noticed she was shaking and yelling at her husband. I overheard the words "You need to help me, I am being forced to take something I don't want."
I went over by the lady and said "Is there something wrong mam?" I guess that opened the door for the blow-out - she went off on me about how I am forcing her to take something that she doesn't want, and that she didn't even know what it was. She told me that I needed to figure out a way to make the "proper change" and if I didn't, she was just going to return her carrots and get her $5 back. I tried to politely explain again that it was still worth a dollar and that I didn't have any other singles. Her husband, in a rough voice, spoke "Just give her 4 quarters - at least it is money we understand." I obliged, trading 4 quarters for the gold dollar, and they marched angrily away.
My goodness, I couldn't help but chuckle about the idea that I was passing out fake money - its not like it had the monopoly man on it and was worth $5,000. I guess some people don't know what a gold coin is - what are they going to do when the government switches over to gold coins and no longer prints dollar bills?
Regardless, the market ended fantastically, Luke and I were so busy we could barely keep up! Our greens sold out in no time - I truly believe that in the grayness of winter, the greens and purples of the lettuce greens really excites people. I know it makes me feel better when I look at it! If this market is a glimpse of what 2012 will be, I can say we will have an exciting year ahead of us!
As I said, we were moving through our food like crazy! I sold 3 jars of pickles in 45 minutes - I have never sold canned goods like that - but it made me feel like all the hard work this summer had paid off! Next market I am going to bring even more - maybe I'll have some returning customers.
Well, at this market, it seems that everyone walks around with $20 bills. They don't have singles, fives or tens, they are just carrying the big bucks! Luke and I were quickly running out of change - we didn't have any singles left, and a handful of 5's and 10's. Normally you just have to roll with it and someone will give you the change you need, but there can be some dicey moments. My parents were on their way out, and I asked if they had any singles. They only had 2 - so I gave them 2 gold coins in exchange for the singles. My dad gave me a confused look, and said - "Well these are worth a dollar, why can you give these to people?" I explained that for some odd reason - even though it is still money and has the same value - people really hate getting those coins.
Which leads me to the monopoly money component of this! A while later, a woman bought a pound of carrots, which costs $2.50. She handed me $5, and to my dismay - we only had 1 single left! I gave her 1 single, 1 gold dollar coin, and then 50 cents. When I handed her the money - she looked and me oddly and said "What in the world is this?" I explain that it was a gold dollar and we had run out of singles, and because she was packing up her wallet (so I thought), I moved on to help another customer. Glancing down at this woman, I noticed she was shaking and yelling at her husband. I overheard the words "You need to help me, I am being forced to take something I don't want."
I went over by the lady and said "Is there something wrong mam?" I guess that opened the door for the blow-out - she went off on me about how I am forcing her to take something that she doesn't want, and that she didn't even know what it was. She told me that I needed to figure out a way to make the "proper change" and if I didn't, she was just going to return her carrots and get her $5 back. I tried to politely explain again that it was still worth a dollar and that I didn't have any other singles. Her husband, in a rough voice, spoke "Just give her 4 quarters - at least it is money we understand." I obliged, trading 4 quarters for the gold dollar, and they marched angrily away.
My goodness, I couldn't help but chuckle about the idea that I was passing out fake money - its not like it had the monopoly man on it and was worth $5,000. I guess some people don't know what a gold coin is - what are they going to do when the government switches over to gold coins and no longer prints dollar bills?
Regardless, the market ended fantastically, Luke and I were so busy we could barely keep up! Our greens sold out in no time - I truly believe that in the grayness of winter, the greens and purples of the lettuce greens really excites people. I know it makes me feel better when I look at it! If this market is a glimpse of what 2012 will be, I can say we will have an exciting year ahead of us!
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