Another chicken analogy..

Good morning.  The weather seems to be aligning with farming today, I have half the gardens planted although the peppers and tomatoes are none too happy as the night time temperatures went back into the lower 40's, quite steadily...  We started all of our transplants this year from seed, so I'm especially protective of these plants.  (I have had need to replace Kale with seedlings from local organic farm as something found all my starts delectable.  I think slugs...they got almost all of my broccoli and cabbage too.  I sprinkled wood ash all around the perimeter of these rows and now, no more problems.)

We found out the hard way- chickens don't like their coop all lit up.  When we moved the "snow birds"  back to their winter home from their Florida-like Hoop/Coop, egg production dropped a bit and then we kept finding half eaten eggs in the nests.  I've never had this problem before and couldn't figure out exactly who the culprit(s) were and why- (given that they are extremely well fed with yummy greens to boot), they would eat their eggs!  When they entered their summer home, I thought it best to do some spring cleaning and open up all the doors and windows to the fresh sunshine and breeze!  I took down window and door coverings, turned their laying boxes to face the doors and loaded the cubby holes with extra sweet smelling hay- nice, dry and sunshine!  The stress from the move, their dark hay-bale shelter from the hoop coop was no more, and they proceeded to be like cannibals and eat their own eggs.  (I have noticed as well that it is the chickens who are not laying, the ones with the bright yellow legs, as opposed to the hens with the bleached-out ones, who are the culprits a/k/a soon-to be-Sunday-dinner...)
So, quite by accident the Big Fish was inside the coop, turned the boxes to the wall so he could set a trap and catch the egg eaters one at a time with the only available laying box to the other gals.
Low and behold...a funny thing happened.  When I went to check for eggs, which became a very frequent endeavor as I didn't want to leave free lunches laying around...I heard a fuss coming from the boxes.  My head said don't stick your hand in there, weasel or snake or worse?????!  Like a fool who smells the milk carton even though it expired a month ago- I wiggled my hand down in there anyway.  Two hens were sitting on top of each other with six or so eggs underneath them!
There was only enough room to barely slip a fat hen through between the wall and the box, but by golly- my Houdini hens did it and we have had no more problems.

Egg production is up and consistent, egg eaters are blind in the dark and I have learned a most important lesson-

It is not always in sunshine that we do our best production.  Sometimes it is the dark places we find ourselves in that bring about the restorative balance most needed for a fresh new start.

Another chicken analogy brought to you by a true wonder...and a happy ecstatic egg collector! Take care-

the other side

Does your chest ache? Are you hopeful? Will you still be farming? What, of you, remains at the farm no matter how far you travel from it?

My my, I am honored by the deepness of those questions, from questioners who know a bit of something of life I reckon.

Every inch of me aches...physically and otherwise. I'm no spring chicken ya know! And I've got this gene affliction, passed on by my pop who is by far thee most stubborn, infuriating soul I know- that causes me to be determined beyond the outer limits of the more timid (sane) souls. In my formidable years (all of 'em), I fell in love with the poetry of Walt Whitman. It was though a light went on and every word he wrote, every great and wonderful verse that flowed filled an emptiness in me.

"...Long enough have you timidly waded, holding a plank by the shore,Now I will you to be a bold swimmer..."
-from "Song of Myself" by Walt Whitman

Impressionable as I've always known myself to be- I obeyed. That will Mr. Whitman spoke of was bonafide and iron clad in me. I am a strong swimmer, always will I be. And hope has been my life preserver, keeping me afloat when the current seemed against me.

"And that is where you found me-

At the water's edge.

I could see across the river then...

and I showed you the other side.

But you, in your boat of reason-

Sailed smoothly across,

leaving me to swim..."

Waves-T.L. Starks copyright 2003

I began farming to take a stand against the tide of disconnections in the ever growing ocean of corporate human hands-off bullshit. I for one need connections, need to know where it came from, how lovingly it was prepared. Food is the flavor of life, we all need it, share it, come together in rituals through the ages to partake in the bounty of it. Food is grace. The care of the earth and it's inhabitants have played a central part in my vocation, there is a sense of an ever present common good amongst the rows and I wanted to be a farmer because of that vision. Yes, I will farm- will grow good food and common good as long as I am able. Four season farming will be my goal, in green houses and in spring and summer- greener surroundings. "Growing in a big way" is my motto, my creed- fitting my soul like a liquid shell.

And finally- I had to step outside this morning, in the dark- to see what might remain of me here on this farm. I gazed upwards to see the crop of stars and realized-I'll gladly leave behind for all to wish upon or curse (if need be), a place to plant the seed of dreams. A blanket of stars, there in that night sky- covers each and everyone I know or will never know- with an assurance that even in the darkest dark- the light of the one who created it all penetrates eternally. Some look up at the sky and feel so small while some gaze upon the diamond studded floor of the heavens and sense an enormity beyond their loneliness, their littleness, their solitary souls. (And you know, somewhere deep inside you, that there is no such thing as a solitary soul or you would not have stumbled in here and stayed so long- though please know, I'm so glad you did.) No being ever could sell or trade what is freely given there above you, no one can take it from you- there is no more a fertile place in the universe that I know of, than a starry night sky for wonder upon wonders.

Be well, take care-

the romantic farmer

Here is some exciting news, well...it's exciting to me! And you there, hooked on this here blog like the folks who watch Lost or The Office- you just can't help yourself! So let me fill you in.

First off, I am so sore and tired even my elbows hurt. When your body sends those kind of messages, it is best to take heed. Seriously, I woke up this morning and said, "UH-OH!" I had to take an Advil. Reminds me of my youthful aches after a couple of hours of the first softball practice...after a long winter of practicing tossing Mountain Dew and Hostess Cherry pies back, as if my svelte little bean pole figure would never be affected. I'd wake up the next morning and feel like I had arthritis, moaning "My calves hurt, I can't bend my knees or go to school in this condition." Grandma would just look at me and sneer. She never had sympathy for youthful aches, she was a guide at the Old State Capitol- she walked a flight of stairs a hundred times a day, with teenagers hanging on her every word. (Because she scared them, they feared she'd toss them over the banister if they dare cross her...) Oh, where was I going with that? Oh yes, I ache. Because I have been doing my twelve hour days...trying to get all the planting done during these days of dryness, before work and then after too. And work? The Wild Hare is not a wonderful secret anymore- people come in droves, and in big groups. I run a marathon it feels like sometimes, a five hour marathon with plates balanced on my arms, and weight lifting with jugs of tea and bus trays full of dirty dishes. Oh the life!
Last year at this time, I was the romantic farmer-my first year of dreams. When you're passionate and naive...oh the wonderful world! But this year finds me still passionate- though not so naive. We have had such wet and cold weather, it's hard to get the planting in, to get the hair cut, the house clean, the writing of the blog...everything depends on the weather- and the off the farm work schedule. I haven't had a Saturday off since March! But by golly, I have the next two Saturdays off! And my Big Fish is visiting come Friday- so the place needs to look extra spiffy, and then there's the French kid coming in June- didn't I mention that? I'm getting an intern, a European one to boot. And my first farm tour the end of June...cooking required. All so exciting, exasperating and my darned old elbows hurt. What more could a girl want?! Robert Redford...beyond it all I still want Bob. OK- need to get it in gear, the Advil has taken affect- enough so that I can at least hang my laundry on the line. Good to be back, and hello Eric- love you son. Take care-

Carrots are the one thing

JB,
First off, before I forget the questions: Carrots are the one thing I cannot
grow, literally-no matter what I do, the little dears evade me. A.P. is
baffled, says they're easy-I will be elated when I figure this one out. I like
Johnny's seed out of Maine. Their germination rate seems the best so far and
they do offer pelleted seeds. Their customer service, should a problem arise-is
unbeatable. If you go to the specialty conference in Spfld. they will have a
rep there, I think he is John Fine? He is knowledgeable and easy to talk too.
I also ran into him at LaCrosse. I am ok, holidays are always a source of
bummerism, but-I'm excited for my kids, as they seem anxious and happy for the
holidays, this feels more right than it has in 4 years, a kind of slow
acceptance that we're still a family missing a piece, but we're more whole
individually. Does that make sense? Anyway-I have heard nothing legal wise,
perhaps they're waiting until after the holidays to inform me one
way or the other-and I just do not want to call to see what's up, yet. Being
neutral right now is the best gift I can give myself. Hoping for an answer I can live with, be at peace with.
Lots of ice and snow, pretty but hard to manuever in, especially with the
animals-but I don't recall anyone ever telling me that farming was easy.
Looking forward to the planning, planting plugs and ordering seeds soon. Taking
a trip with myself early January for a few days-possibly New Hampshire and
Pennsylvania to the Rodale institute, just me and my shadow. I can't wait for
you either to begin fully, you're farming-can't wait for the affirmations to flow
to you from the earth, your land. In time, they will
and you will know the pulse of your land and flow with that rhythm. That is the
amazing part of this all-time will shift, no more clocks other than nature's
own-so much as it's raining, or shining, or too hot or too cold and you will
farm to those kind of time frames, at first perhaps feeling you should do more
of this or that-but I found in working with the day, the hour-accepting that
pace, well-I just seem to flow with it. That present moment stuff was truly
being, just being. Time stops and all the little minute details come into
focus, and this sounds all to zen like-but when that happens, you'll really be
there, fully aware and awakened. It's ectasy. Even when there is more dirt on
you than there is on an acre-it's just a giddy feeling. Can't wait to hear your
perspective, you're so positive energy anyway-your crops will be amazing.
I am writing a blog almost daily and it has made me see what I think, what I
ponder and what other's percieve-it seems to be of great therapy to me, even if
so much of it is nonsense to others, I don't care-it is important, a daily
lesson for me. I think I'm going to post a bit today of what I've said above, I
won't refer to you directly. But that is hindsight up there, again-the thoughts
are worth a mulling over. Hope you enjoy your family and friends this
holiday season with a great sense of peace but also with great anticipation of
your coming year. I am kind of giddy for you. Looking forward to your stories,
have yourself a merry little Christmas...blessings. Take care-

Been meaning to do that....

This morning finds me carefully planning my day so that I might have time to simply do nothing, to be still. I would walk to the woods if the temperature would rise, perhaps spend some time on a straw bale in the corn crib taking in it's ancientness. The corn crib is my cathedral, the light passes through the slats of wood like sunshine through stained glass, I often feel as if I am in a holy place, a thin place. But it's cold. And carharts are great for working outdoors, but to sit and be still like in a tree stand deer hunting, the body soon lets you know that activity is what it needs to stay warm. Oh, I have plenty opportunities for activity-spreading more straw on the garlic, strawberries or anywhere yesterdays wind lay bare the soil. Or I could grab some naval jelly and clean rust off the two row plow, I've been meaning to do that. Huh-"been meaning to do that" how many times in our lives have we uttered those words? How many times, in feeling a twinge of guilt afterwards, did we follow through with "that?" I'm a list gal, if it ends up on my list, darn me! I do it. Often I do many things not on the list, but I think I'll start a "been meaning to do that" list and see what appears on the page. Ponder that- when you attatch meaning to anything, I think it becomes a more thoughtful intention
like "I've been meaning to take those old coats in the attic to the shelter", see! A higher purpose, a good intention-now for the follow through, well-I've been meaning to do that. Just speaking the words lets me off the hook, covers me with a good intention but no follow through. I need to make a list. And stick to it. How about you? Prosperity and peace to you today, take care-