W is for winter

Happy first day of winter!!

from field to fork

I finally had enough down time this past weekend to watch a movie I've been wanting to see for quite some time - Food, Inc. As an Ag Business major in college who has worked for some of the countries largest agricultural companies, who was married to a production farmer for 15 years, and who has since turned agrarian homesteader I was impressed with the information given in the movie.

It was also sad to see how far we (farmers) have fallen. Saddened because this is an industry that I fell in love with almost 30 years ago, grew up with really, and have since separated from because I can no longer identify with or condone many of its practices.

It was just past my 9th birthday when I spent the summer at a cousins farm in a small town in the middle of Missouri. Joe had a few hundred acres and raised cattle and hogs, corn, wheat and alfalfa. Each morning I would go with him to "take care" of the animals. My job was to sit in the back of a flatbed truck and throw flakes of hay over the sides for the cattle. This was no feedlot operation, but cows on pasture with hay as a supplement. When we finished we would pick up a load of feed and fill big hoppers in the pig pens. Even though the pigs were not on pasture or rummaging around wooded areas they were out in the sun with plenty of mud holes to wallow in.

When the time was right we cut and baled alfalfa. Because I was not big enough to stack hay on the trailers I got to sit on the tractors wheel covering and watch the whole thing like a bird high up in its nest. The view was great. I loved being outside, the smell of fresh cut hay, picking corn off the stalks to take home for dinner. Even when the occasional animal died, a fact of reality on a farm, I was not put off by the experience. Not even a little.

Every few days we would stop by the farm next door, a dairy, full of black and white cows munching on cool green pastures. We'd stop just after the afternoon milking was finished, I'd take our stainless steel milk pail to the cooling room and out of the biggest tank I'd ever seen I would pour us a gallon of milk. Fresh and ice cold, milked from the cows just moments before, I had never tasted anything like it. I couldn't drink the milk right then, we had to wait for the cream to separate so it could be skimmed off and made into butter. This was the full on, unadulterated, unpasteurized real stuff - smooth and creamy.

Once a month Joe and I would go to the sale yard to sell hogs or cattle that were ready for market. When we weren't at the yards we were taking grain to the mills or visiting other local farmers either on their farms or at their local gathering places, small cafes or coffee shops where locals would meet to talk shop, farm subsides, politics and the like. It was here, between the summer chores and the small town talk, that I fell for this world of farming. I loved the people, the places, the smells, the work. You name it I was hooked.

At night, Joe and I, would listen to farm radio programs for weather updates, market prices, harvesting info and news. Even at nine I was beginning to understand that there was more to getting food to my table in California than just stopping by the store, there were people I'd would never see, places I'd never visit, trucks and trains involved in the whole process that I didn't know anything about. But, on that farm in the hot humid mid-west summer I knew I wanted to know, wanted to learn, wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be a farmer!

Over the next years I honed my skills raising livestock in 4-H, managing the sheep unit at the junior college I attended and eventually majoring in Ag Business. I had dreams of living on a farm, speaking out for the culture that I so admired and most of all teaching people how important it was that we all understand how food gets from the fields to our dinner tables.

But, after I met and married my farmer I realized that the quaint picturesque farming world I had in my head, that I had experienced as a child was far from accurate. I was stunned how stewardship of the land was set aside in favor of increased profits; how simple organic solutions to fertilizer and weed control was met with contempt and ridicule and how farm workers were treated with disrespect. All the while people in the ag community of which I now belonged praised themselves for being modern productive producers, able to push their land to higher and higher levels of production and returns.

It was during these years that I realized what I admired about the industry didn't exist. It was a figment of my imagination. I also realized that what I did admire, what was impressive to me were the growers who had abandoned conventional ag practices for a holistic approach. One that respected the land from which our food came, protected the water sources that fed crops and livestock and those who thought highly of the people working to feed our country. I realized that the kind of agriculture I admired was organic.

From what I've experienced I felt the movie was dead on, educating rather than scaring. And even though I enjoyed it I felt that it was preaching to the choir, and the people who really needed to see it probably never would. If you haven't yet seen it I encourage all of you to find a copy and watch it, for no other reason than to add validity to what we are trying to accomplish as small suburban homesteaders. I think you'll enjoy it. It's well worth you time.

Garden-minded

Gardening has been on my mind a lot lately. Late December is the time gardener’s start getting contemplative (antsy actually). We all know January is just around the corner: and that means it's almost time to order new seeds and dust off our hoes and shovels. We become garden-minded, letting our thoughts turn to peas and lettuce and carrots and corn, and turning the back half into a new pumpkin patch. Garden center numbers adorn the fridge. Our seed catalogs cover the coffee table. Our flats and seed beds come down from the shelves. We're gardeners and we want to get things going, now.

Yes, veggies are on my mind... But with winter still in full force - I don't know what to do with these thoughts. I want to start preparing the soil now, but I have no idea what’s in store for us on the weather front, nor have I finalized my plans for the new garden arrangement, and that means a little extra planning if I want to do it right and have a successful garden.

I’ve talked to friends and shared my predicament. They are sympathetic, but yearning as well. We are like-minded folks, spending days in our respective offices, but going home to our chickens and gardens and berries and trees. Our families are as involved and excited with our backyard homesteads as we are. We always have something to talk about when we catch each other on the phone.

I’ll think about ordering new seeds, little gems that will grow to grace my table. If the weather holds and winter lingers longer than normal I could just put up a few hoop houses and start some beds of cool weather loving seeds or build a couple of cold frames or plant later in the season.

I don’t think my friends had any idea how happy those few ideas made me. I did a little happy dance at the thought. When you live without a safety net you take little gifts as they come. I hope I never forget how good gratitude feels at 5:36 PM on a Wednesday.

living in the 23rd zone

I was a happy camper today! The storms have passed, the sky was blue, the sun was out and the temps hovered around 65 most of the day. These are the days that make me glad to live in such a temperate climate. Forget about the smog, the traffic, the road rage and all those people. These are the days we live for – warm and sunny in the middle of December. Sometimes I lament about not having seasons and the holidays not feeling very merry. Let’s face it it’s hard to hear songs like White Christmas or Let it Snow with no white stuff on the ground. But not today! Today was made for gardening and I was out in it.

After working for a few hours and running errands in town, I spent the afternoon taking care of some much needed garden keeping. The storms hadn’t caused any damage which was a good thing. I let the chickens out to scratch around in the soft wet dirt, digging up worms and any other treats they could find. They seemed happy being out in the wide open spaces of the garden, running and squawking, flapping their wings. They were funny chasing each other then suddenly stopping to investigate something in the dirt.

I’ve decided to change the garden a bit, so I can maximize the space and increase my production. Pea and bean fencing that was used last year was taken down and stored on the side of the house. I have arbors running down the garden like a central alley, by attaching fence panels to the arbors I can plant longer double rows of peas and beans, then switch to other climbing veggies like cucks, squash and mini pumpkins, using the beds they use to be in for better rotation. I got a few up, but need to get more. When the other panels are up I’ll plant a variety of peas – snap sugar, shelling and oriental. Around the base there should be room for greens, and other salad makings. Broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower and brussel sprouts can be stared indoors and raised as transplants till planting time. And of course, weeding still goes on here in winter, never any relief from that.

I’ve lived in So Cal most of my life, seen much change in our area, from a farm and ranch area to suburban sprawl I’ve lived to watch it all closing in. With my farm girl sensibilities and a desire for more land I often think about moving to more wide open places with fewer people or maybe it’s more people, just with similar minds. Talking homesteading or simple living brings strange looks from people who are accustomed to Starbucks three times a day or daily meals out. They just don’t get it.

Like the song says, “…the sun’ll come out tomorrow…” I hope so, ‘cause I’m having fun here in the 23rd zone!

let sleeping dogs lie

Dakota sacked out for the afternoon. Lucky guy!

mother nature is fickle…

…she taunts us and toys with us, raises our hopes then grinds us into the dirt. And she’s at it again. I woke this morning to blue skies, the kind of sky that greets me in the spring and summer months. It was clear and fresh, washed clean by four days of steady rain. The temps were higher today, nearly 60. The kind of day that makes you want to go out and plant a new bed of salad greens or start that building project you’ve been putting off, but suddenly you remember its December, been raining, cold and the outside world can be a fickle bitch right now. As much as I’d like to be down on my knees digging in the dirt I hold myself back, telling myself that it’s a death wish to plant much of anything this time of year.

I satisfied my lust for gardening by paging through the seed catalogs I’d already received, circling and marking varieties of beets, beans, lettuce, corn and squash I want to plant in the spring. I poured over descriptions of new vegetable varieties to see if anything peaked my interest.

The more I travel down this path of homesteading the more I find myself paying closer attention to weather reports than any other kind of news. From first thing in the morning till late in the evening I haunt the radio for news on what’s in store for us on the weather front. As farmers we live by it (the weather), plant by it, harvest by it, care for our animals by it. It’s what helps make us a success as a homesteader or a complete failure. After a while we learn to “read” the weather, a coming rain storm might make us tingle or our body feels the pressure before the onset of a heat wave. It’s strange to know (feel) the weather before it hits, but it also helps us prepare for it.

As the morning drew on, clouds rolled in over the mountains to the north. Dark and gray, they had an ominous look to them. The next wave of storms I suspect. At mid-morning I put together a pot of split pea soup and made a loaf of pumpkin bread, (lunch for the coming week), and settled into a quiet day at home, just me, the dogs and a good movie. By night fall sprinkles returned and it looks like my trip north will be postponed once again.

I like this weather though, as much as I’d like to be out in the dirt, the rain suits me just fine.

a rainy 4-H potluck

What a great evening we had at the potluck! We just got home and are still warm from all the laughing. It’s been raining off and on all day, but the storm let up as we arrived. The cars and trucks parked out front of our host family’s home let us know we would be in good company tonight. I parked and Brianne grabbed our salad from the back seat while I gathered up the bag of toppings and dressing.

Inside the home was full of children running around, a decorated tree, covered dishes laid out in buffet style on a pine kitchen table. There was hot chocolate and apple cider (which I gravitated to like a moth to the flame) and friendly faces I haven’t seen since our county fair in August. Sandy, my co-club leader was there decked out for the season, and Angela was manning the homemade pizza station. For a moment this afternoon I thought about not going. The rain has been horrid all day and the thought of driving was unappealing (even if it was only 10 miles), but how could we have miss this? I walked our salad over to the table and joined the ladies in conversation.

When we joined the club Brianne was 5 years old. The only projects she was allowed to take were gardening and poultry, but that was enough to get her started on what will be a life long trip into farm living.

When I wasn't talking I'd stop and look around the walls of our host’s home. Photos of the kids working with their chickens and turkeys, ribbons of prizes won at past county fairs, drawings of new building projects for expanding their rabbitry lined the walls of the family room. And I was here in a rain storm, after a long busy week and ending it with a hot meal prepared by friends in a celebration of community. There's feeling lucky, there's feeling blessed, and then there's being part of a community. What could be better?

After dinner, all the kids crowded into the living room for the gift exchange. The young kids wiggled with excitement and the older kids smiled probably remembering how they felt when they were that age. They each drew a number out of a basket to find out who got to choose a gift first. I was a spectator setting on a window seat, as each member agonized over which colorfully wrapped gift was the best.

Those of us with older children made the night social. I talked with my friends, Sandy and Angela. Sandy has been in the club as long as I have, our girls started at the same time. I also got to become better acquainted with other parents who I don’t know well because our kids are not in the same projects, like Gwen and Kathy. Gwen is from Sweden who teaches our entomology project, talked about traditions in the old country and how they try to keep them alive here, but when I mentioned the gigantic (completely gross) bug that keeps popping up in my garden each spring her ears perked up. After a bit of research, complements of Angela’s extensive library, turns out my prehistoric looking alien is a harmless member of the cricket family.

We talked chickens and turkeys, pigs, sheep, gardening, and moving farther into a more self-reliant life. And may have even convinced Kathy to raise a few meat birds, just to see how they like it. Angela let it be known that she had a source for fresh milk and promised to put me in touch with them. I’m excited about that. We also made plans to contact a sustainable farm for a club field trip, hopefully when the kids are out for winter break.

One of the parents handed everyone a goodie bag and we said our good-byes with hugs and good wishes and headed home. There was barely a drizzle, the air was clean and sweet, but damn, we were glad to get back to the farm. Gatherings like this make me feel lucky to be part of a group that has been around for over 100 years…that has taught thousands of young people how to raise livestock, cook, sew, work wood, live self-reliantly and much, much more. The world seems a little shaky right now - but God willing we will be able to take what we’ve learned to make it through.

One thing I do know is that this organization taught me the skills that still keep me moving toward a life of self-reliant living and it’s now teaching my daughter those same lessons. No matter how long it takes it is a dream worth having. This is where I learned to raise sheep taking me into a 30 year love affair with a woolly, not so bright, completely amazing animal. It’s where I have met some of my best friends and ardent supporters. Oh, there have been trials and tribulations along the away as any youth club can have, but it has made me the person I am today and it will have a strong hand in molding my daughter into the woman she is to become.

(the photo is of the 50th anniversay commemorative stamp from the national 4-H organization)

club potluck tonight!

It's gonna be a big day today, so much to do. It will include a trip to the feed store, baking gingerbread, making a potluck dish and six chickens. More on the chickens later. I just wanted to drop a note sharing how excited I am about our 4-H Clubs Christmas Potluck tonight. These are all great families with interests in all things homesteading. Who would have thought so many suburbanites with dreams of a more self-sufficient farm life would land in the same place.


It's raining right now and the farm is drinking it up fast. Tonight is going to be amazing, I can feel it in my bones.

a warm fire, carols, cards and decking the halls

The holiday spirit is in full swing here at the farm. A wreath adorns the front door, welcoming all who visit; a fire roars, warming the room and adding to the ambiance of the evening; carols turned up loud on XM radio keep everyone in a festive mood and the tree is coming along. Each ornament pulled from its protective box reminds us of places we’ve been and vacations we’ve enjoyed. There’s moose and bears from trips to the mountains, additions to our sheep collection bought during a trip to VT and countless treasures given to us by friends and family. We reminise as we hang each one on the tree, laughing and telling stories of our adventures. Greeting cards thanking friends for their support of what we do on the homestead are ready for the post.

The storm still rages outside, but we are warm, happy, singing, and thankful for this simple life we have chosen to pursue.

Life is good.

lightening crashes, thunder rolls...

...and the wicked storm blows in, hollowing winds (at least 40 MPH with gusts to 50), inches of rain by the minute, treacherous roads, and a couple of tired dogs at my feet, warm and toasty at home.

More to come...I have no doubt.

how cool is this...

I ran by Border's Books to pick up my dad's Christmas gift, Ken Burns' documentary of the Lewis & Clark expeditions. Of course being the book fiend that I am I can't leave without taking a run through the store and naturally I end up at the farming and gardening sections. I found this book perched on the top shelf like it was waiting for me to discover it. It's not a new book, been out a few years, but I've never seen it before. So I found myself a chair, sat down to flip through it. It's fabulous and fun, portrait style photos of champion sires and dams from a variety of breeds (mostly English and French). The photographer is from the fashion world, the author a vet at a vet medicine school. The photos are beautiful and some of the breeds I'd never seen before.

It was fun to sit there and think back to the days when I had a barn full of sheep, and December wasn't just about holiday parties and presents. It was the beginning of our lambing season . New life came to our farm between the Christmas morning breakfast, the gift giving and the evening eggnog. Fun times folks!


What a great gift for any sheep loving friend.

save & sow seeds

After I returned the Beautiful Sheep book to its shelf I turned around to see if anything caught my eye in the gardening section. How silly is that? A homesteader finding a gardening book they'd like to have.

Instead of a book I found this garden in a box. They're packets of favorite seeds in a recipe box set-up with directions on planting and saving and storing your own seeds for future use. Another great gift idea.

Man, I may have to have a Christmas wish list after all.

the coming storm!

Winter has come in with a vengeance, at least for this area that is. We’ve had freezing temps every night this week. So far my winter crops have come through unscathed. Another big storm is headed our way, slated to hit sometime tonight. The hills in the distance are still capped white from our last one, making a beautiful frame for a little valley.

I’ll spend the day making sure everything is ready, this storm is predicted to last 4 or 5 days. I’ll make sure the coop is bedded down with enough straw to keep the girls up off the cold ground, that we have enough feed to get us through. I don’t want to make any spur of the moment trips to town. I’ll check that the grapes, berries and fruit trees are still securely tied so the wind doesn’t up-root them. With the amount of rain we’re suppose to get coupled with the fierce winds that usually arrive on the backside of our winter storms, up-rooted trees is a big worry. And, I’ll lay more mulch around the winter veggies.

My trip to pick up our freezer lamb will be postponed till next week, I’m not risking getting stuck on the other side of the mountain pass, unable to get home if they close the road (which happens often).

Most people around here are bemoaning the coming storm, you hear them everywhere, at the market, the gas station, even the feed store, but not me, I’m excited. I’ll be home with a warm fire blazing, a pot of hot soup bubbling on the stove and enough time on my hands to finally finish some of my undone projects.

Nope – this is all good stuff, folks. Rain, fire, soup and a few quiet days, what could be better?

after the storm

Our first real rain of the season was a doosey yeaterday (and boy did we need it), the sky mottled with clouds of blues and greys, whites and silver dripped steadily all day. I like a slow and stready rain, it has time to soak deep into the dirt instead of running off. We get so little of it here no sense in having it wasted. Local streams and lakes show signs of months gone too long without the wet stuff. Watching it soak up every drop was like watching a parched man in the desert finally get a drink.

The cloud cover broke in the late afternoon leaving the sky a brillent crystal blue. The hens ventured out from their warm coop. I watched them from the kitchen window scratching in the dirt looking for tastey tidbits brought to the surface by the rain. Birds returned from their protective hideouts splashing and twittering in puddles made in the low spots of an empty garden.

The landscape takes on a new look after a storm, it's refreshed and quenched. But, it won't last long; we've been in a drought for a while now and it will take many more storms like this to bring us back to normal. That's ok with me though. I like these days of cloud filled skies and growing puddles.

Makes me want to sing "Here Comes the Rain".

baskets and blessings

Last night I went to the most amazing event. My good friend and quilting buddy, Bridget, invited me. Baskets to Blessings is a major fundraising event for her church that helps support a local food pantry, a child shelter and a teen transition center. When we arrived, the parking lot was overflowing with cars and the line was out the door. We had already purchased tickets and were let right in. The lobby was festively decorated and the atmosphere was so upbeat. Any tension I felt from my busy day quickly abated as we waded our way through the crowd to the basket display area.

The ladies had spent months gathering donated items to fill the most amazing decorated baskets I have ever seen. We had little over an hour to wander through and place our raffle tickets in baskets we hoped to win in the drawing later that night. I had to chuckle watching the whole scene, grown women acting like kids in a candy store, trying to decide which baskets would be the recipients of their prized ticket. But that was nothing to hysterical tone when we gathered for the ticket drawing and holiday skit. We laughed and clapped and cheered as each winning ticket was drawn. The MC and her cohort were like a comedy act bantering back and forth as they drew each ticket. When the especially prized "Hen Pecked" basket came up the MC went off on a tangent about her own chicken raising days, i just smiled and a warm connected feeling came over me for a few minutes. I must admit I was disappointed not to win that basket, but I took comfort in the fact that I had lent a hand (and a few dollars) to making the evening a huge success.

I didn't win a basket last night, they didn't call my name. But, I had a great evening of fun and laughter and friendship. I met new people, saw old friends and helped support a few local charities to boot. What a way to start off the Holiday season! I look forward to going next year, and, you never know I might even come home a winner.

garden clubs and flower shows

This weekend was the local garden club flower show and table setting competition. They hold one every December at the local library. I arrived at the show a little after 4:00. The crowd in the lobby of the library let me know I was not alone in my temporary detour of holiday shopping. The day was cool and overcast. Last night’s news announced an incoming storm, but it hasn’t arrived yet. I removed my coat and took a long look around. The community room was full of tables displaying each exhibitor’s entry. There were classes for horticulture (cut specimens), decorated items like wreaths and swags. But, the stars of the show were the table settings, place settings and floral arrangements, big elaborate displays for holiday gatherings, intimate dinners and trays by the fire. The judging had already taken place by the time I arrived, so each entry was adorned with their respective ribbon.

Out in the lobby there was a plant sale, a fundraiser for the club. I gravitated to it like a bee to flowers. I always enjoy the clubs’ plant sales, they have been a great and inexpensive help in filling my flowerbeds. The ladies have such an interesting variety it’s hard to walk away empty handed. There were plenty of familiar faces. Some of the ladies I have known since childhood.

I was six years old when I entered my first flower show, just a year after we moved to this area. My mom had joined the local garden club as a way to meet new people. Little did she know that it would turn into a family affair, lasting more than 30-years. I can still remember that first entry. It was a dish garden, a foot-long rectangular dish arranged with flowers and shrubs. It had a pond with ducks and fence; a little barn in the corner. Even back then I was a farmer at heart.

As I strolled through the room looking over the exhibits I stopped and visited with the club ladies who worked on the show. Some of them still remembered me entering flower shows well into my teen years; I remembered those who taught me the correct way to display my cut specimens and those who taught me my flower arranging skills. It was like spending the afternoon with distant family members you only see a few times a year. Here I was on a cloudy winters’ day, with long time friends and a cup of hot tea celebrating the art of beautiful floral arrangements and a love of gardening. Part of me felt lucky, part of me felt blessed and then there was a part of me that felt part of a community, a community of women who enjoyed gardening as much as I did.

I didn’t enter this show and those of us who were just spectators listened intently as prize winners spoke of their exhibits like I speak of my daughter – proudly, lovingly. It was hard not to crack a smile when the conversation turned intense over the attributes of one table setting over another and whose roses were in the proper state of bloom to win the class. I tried to appear as impartial as possible but it’s hard when you’re put on the spot and asked for your opinion. Whenever the talk got heated I would comment on how wonderful that the show committee had included a flutist and violinist for background music. The ladies are cute, but I felt like a referee. Flower shows are serious business you know.

When I walked over to the window to check on the weather Pat, the lady in charge of the plant sale, handed me several iris bulbs to take home. I gladly accepted them (I’m a sucker for irises). I said my goodbyes and headed home. I had nothing special planned for this evening, just a warm fire and a good book, but I was excited to get back to the farm. Events like this make me feel glad to have found a group of people I can relate to. I look forward to these quiet easy winter months, it gives me time to plan my garden and to dream of green things growing. I want to participate at next years show, attend club meetings and be part of the group again because there just aren’t enough of them around here.

And, if I’m lucky, I may walk away with a ribbon or two.

they can't all stay

I always try to be optimistic when it comes to raising animals. But, sometimes I'm a little bit too unrealistic. We hatched 8 chicks this past summer and it looked like, or at least I was hoping, they would all be hens. That's where I got overly optimistic. How could the entire hatch be hens?

Well, in a word, they're not. When I woke up this morning I laid in bed watching the sun break over the tree tops and listening to the roos sounding their morning ritual. Low and quiet, beneath the full grown rooster's crow I heard the distinct sounds of young males trying out their lungs. There were at least two. They're still too young for me to tell if they're rosters. Or, maybe it's just that I'm not real good at sexing chickens.

After I ran some errands in town I came home, cleaned the nesting boxes and bedded down the coop for a bit of cold weather that's coming our way. While I was working I could see at least three of the summer hatch with distinct rooster features. My hopes of replacing our aging hens is dwindling fast. I'll continue watching the others; and in the mean time figure out how to rid myself of so many roosters. I hate to admit it, but I can't keep them all.

Looking on the brighter side, though, I'll have to hatch more eggs. Darn:)!