Growing in Antarctica

At this very moment in Wisconsin, it would be easier to grow in Antarctica than it would here in Wisconsin. A continent covered in ice 100% of the time - and our greenhouses would be doing better if we moved them down there.

Okay - sure, we can ignore the obvious fact that it is summer there, and winter here. But still, it is crazy to think about. They have warmer conditions and 23 hours of daylight - our greenhouses would do awesome.

Allow me to demonstrate via picture:

This first image is a screenshot of current conditions at Camp Esperanza, Antarctica:

And here we have a screenshot of current conditions in Green Bay, WI:

So, if we look at the windchill, we can compare -32 in Green Bay to 13 in Antarctica. Anyone up for a vacation? Because 13 sounds balmy :)

But seriously, I will admit I have been questioning the value of keeping our greenhouses alive. Luke currently has a fire going in each greenhouse wood furnace, and the propane furnaces haven't turned off either. Combine that with the propane shortage that puts propane at $4.50/gallon, and we are basically throwing money up into those 30 mile per hour windgusts!

I am certain any customer eating our kale, spinach, or salad mix will appreciate the healthy, delicious, local product this time of year, but I can't wait for 20 degrees. Positive 20, that is.

It's Simple: DIY

Have you ever tried a DIY project? "Do-it-yourself." What a simple sentence. As I was writing this blog, I realized we have a DIY lifestyle. You know,  when you are a young couple living on a farm, you get all sorts of opinions about your lifestyle. Some people think we are hippies (so not correct), others think that we are work-obsessed and trapped by our lifestyle (a little correct), but the number one thought I hear is something like "It is so neat what you do; I wish I could do something like that." Even if they don't say they wish they could be farmers, they tell us how "neat" it is what we are doing. And today I realized I want to figure out why that is the comment that I got twice at farmer's market today.

So, I started to ponder - why would everyone say what we do is so neat, so intriguing? What a simple thing to say, but the reality is (and I'm not bigheaded) that this lifestyle is not for 99% of people. I don't know that I am even one of the 99% of people that this lifestyle is for, but I give it my best effort! The fact of the matter is, it is so easy for people to say, but not do. I remember back to when Luke told me he wanted to be a farmer, and I too thought it was simple.

If I flashback to that moment, I remember it quite clearly. We were walking to Picnic Point in Madison, Luke a college sophomore and me a college junior. We were in a very long distance relationship - six hours apart and seeing each other once a month. Luke told me that he didn't think he was happy with his major, that he was thinking of making a change. And then he said it,

"Mel, I want to be a farmer." A simple sentence - and yet how could I ever know the complexity, the adventure, the journey it would bring me. We talked about his plans, his dreams, and the passion in his voice shined through in that moment. That may be the thing I love most about Luke - his passion; he can intoxicate people with his passion for what he does. The rest of that day, our talk of the future, was clouded by learning that Luke would need to transfer closer to me in school.

And that summer, the farm began. The roots of our DIY life. Luke interned on another organic farm, but he also started his own. Twin Elm Gardens was born in 2008. I can't believe where the time has gone - from a small vegetable garden to where we are now. Meager beginnings: our first farmer's market we had zucchini and some greens - I think we made $75 total. And now we have a farmhouse that we can call our own, a family, a dog, two greenhouses, pigs, chickens, ducks, a barn, tractor - all a simply beautiful farming life. And we provide local food for people all over the Green Bay region, from our restaurants, to our CSA program, to farmer's markets.

I think in this complex, money-ridden, fast-paced society, what people are truly enthralled by is the simple concept of providing for ourselves. Slowly but surely, the shift in perception is to support local, to "do-it-yourself." I used to spend hours on pinterest, looking up DIY craft projects. I never stopped to realize that right there in front of me, our farm is the best DIY project we ever took on!

Love Hate Relationships

My mind has been a chaotic place lately. I decided to start writing again in hopes of gaining some clarity. I know the general topic I want to cover, but I am not sure my true feelings on the subject. That's something I hope evolves as I write. I suppose, before I get going, I should note that as I type this, I have our two month old son Henry sleeping in my arms. That is one big change that happened on our farm, and while parenthood is an entirely new adventure, we are very happy to be growing our family.

So, love/hate relationships. You know what I mean....You've probably seen those couples that have a love/hate relationship.  They are screaming at each other one day, unable to be near each other without arguing, and the next time you see them, they are madly in love, inseparable, happy as can be. Am I talking about my and Luke's relationship you may be wondering. No, I'm talking about my relationship with our farm. I have a very intense, very powerful love/hate relationship with our farm.

How can that be? There are so, so many things to love about our farm and our life. I often am filled with pride by the farm. It is a beautiful thing to walk out to the chicken coop, grab eggs, still warm from being laid, and cook the most beautiful sunny-side-up breakfast you could ever want. I am proud to crack open an egg and know, just by looking at the yoke color, that our chickens are healthy and active, pecking at the ground as all chickens are meant to. I can open the freezer and eat ham, pork sausage, brats, venison, fish; all food that Luke either raised or hunted, and feel pride in what he provides our family. I love knowing where our food came from, and knowing the animals lived a good life before they became our food. I am proud to say that I can throw my food scraps to the pigs - feeling less wasteful because I know the pigs are eating every last morsel. It truly is an empowering way to live. Food isn't just a meal - it has meaning, a story to it.

So many people admire our lifestyle - they hear what Luke does and they talk about how impressed they are, how they would love to live our lives. It is true there are not a lot of young farmers anymore, and I love how close we are to being self-sustainable when it comes to food. I have become a less picky person because of this life - food that I once would have frowned upon I happily utilize now. I am less wasteful with food, and more conservative with money. We live meagerly, but happily.

I also love the ambiance of our farm. When little Henry is fussy in the evening, I love taking him on a walk around the farm. Listening to the chickens clucking, the snorting of the pigs as they graze in the pasture. I can watch the sun set over fields of tomatoes and zucchini, listen to the crickets and look at the stars. We have a beautiful home, and I find myself so much at peace in it.

But, I also have many days where I despise the farm, want to get away, to be done with this lifestyle and just live a "normal" life. There are so many times what it just totally encompasses our lives, holds us back a little, and I resent it for that. As an example, Luke and I used to love camping, and would often just pick a spot to go for the weekend. Now, a spontaneous decision to go camping or go up north for the weekend never happens. Our tent is dusty, as are our sleeping bags. Leaving for the weekend is just not all that simple - pigs and hens need to be fed and watered in the morning, the eggs need collecting, the broiler chickens need food and water at least three times a day, and sprouts need watering. Their are daily chores, and without finding someone else to take the burden (often our parents), we can't go anywhere. Not to mention the pure stress of leaving, we are typically so fed up with each other by the time we can leave that the first day of our weekend we don't even want to talk to each other. I miss that freedom to just go.

I also hate that there isn't a simple answer anymore. Every question, no matter how simple, is shadowed by the farm. It may be an invitation to go hang out with friends in the spring, but we are unable to because it is a partly cloudy day and the greenhouse temperature varies too much, and thus requires constant attention. The farm always takes precedence. I went into labor at 12:15 in the morning, on a Tuesday - the busiest farming day for us, of course. (The universe got a good laugh at that one). I awoke to my water breaking, and instead of rushing to the hospital and being focused on the extremely exciting moment, Luke's question was, "What are we going to do about the farm and CSA pick-up?" I tried not to snap, but I resented the farm for burdening us at that moment. So there I was, struggling through a contraction, and at the same time, typing an email to all our CSA customers explaining the change in food pick-up for the week. Sure it sounds funny, but it is also maddening. For such a simple life, farming has made our lives anything but simple.

More than anything, I hate the farm for making me feel like a mistress sometimes. The farm controls Luke's life, and I often feel like the "woman on the side," waiting for a visit, for a moment. This is the lifestyle of farming unfortunately. The work doesn't stop, and like Luke always tells me, if he quits early one night, it just means he has to work later the next. I know it is the busy season right now, and winter will be a different story, but it is so easy to get hung up on the frustrations of the present. I will often look out the window at Luke working in the fields, pushing a tiller, planting seeds, or weeding; his back a deep tan from so many hours spent in the sun, his nails blackened by dirt. When I look out at him, my mind fills with thoughts: I worry how the stress of the job is affecting him, how long he can maintain this pace, this workload; I fear he works so often that he doesn't take time to enjoy and relax. I worry he is missing out on precious and fleeting moments with Henry. But I'm also filled with pride and love, to be married to a man so passionate about what he does. Many people don't have that kind of passion, and I feel lucky to be married to someone who does have it, even if it means I lose time with him because of it.

So, where does that leave me? In love, or not? I guess it depends on the day, the season. Farms, as relationships, are constantly evolving. While I sometimes can't stand our farm, I am also so eager to see how it changes and progresses. As much as my frustration mounts, I wouldn't be able to leave it. The farm has pushed me to my limit and back many times over, but I'm a better person because of it. I guess what they say is true, in the end, love always prevails.