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.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Eating Bacon, Making Wood
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.
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, 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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)