Spring Dreams

It is hard to imagine.  Under the weight of heavy thick snow, grass mulch, and three inches of amended soil lies the seed of the rocambole garlic.  They tried to sprout in the delayed winter weather of November but now they rest, stretching out their roots deep into the nutrients, gaining energy. 

Next to them lies nine rows of strawberries.  They too are buried under seven inches of snow and three to four inches of grass mulch.  Only the rounded mounds and row markers give any hint that there is something there.  Waiting.  Anticipating.  Yet growing, reaching, and increasing in vigor.

In the distance the pole bean fence stands abandoned.  Frost and snow envelope it.  Mounds of last minute horse manure lie scattered throughout the field.  Even the stalks of the long gone sunflowers stand as if on guard.

It is this time of year when the brrrr-cold of winter buries all remnants of growth and I have finally caught up on rest.... the sun rises reluctantly, the skies remain gray, and the setting sun dips with long streaks of pink and orange.  It has been awhile since I heard the hoot of the owl, the cry of the coyote, or the buzz of the bee.

Yet I know spring arrives in just a few short months. 

So I plan for the next season, pick and chose seeds and plants, dream about where I might plant and harvest.  Set up spread sheets and goals.  Order from my favorite seed companies.  I will be starting the tomatoes, peppers, and basil in mid February.  Early?  Perhaps not.

We may be getting a high tunnel hoop house courtesy of the USDA.  If granted, I can start these plants under the warmth of the tunnel two months earlier.  Wouldn't that be amazing?  Stay tuned.

Until then.... I'll gaze back over the field thankful for its gifts.  Both of plenty and of rest.

The End of the 2010 Market

Heavy sigh.  It is done.  The steady collecting of beans, tomatoes, lettuce, and blackberries.  The digging of French fingerling, Carola gold and Dark red potatoes.  The picking and shelling of delicious yellow popcorn.  The extracting of fall honey.  The peeling, slicing, drying and grinding of stiff neck garlic powder.  It is all completed now. 

Early summer found me weeding and planting.  But mostly picking scrumptious blueberries.  Our first blueberry picking summer ended in about 500 pounds of blueberries.  And believe it or not, not a one is found in my freezer.  (That will change next year!)

I moved markets this year.  I drove across the river (Mississippi) to the big farmers market.  There are over 200 vendors there compared to about 15-20 (on a good day) at my previous market.  It was a good decision.  I met some wonderful folks.  Clarence and Barb next to me on the right.  Sarah who sold cut flowers in glass vases, Mike and Jayne across the aisle who sold creative jams and jellies, hosta plants and biscotti.  The wine folks - Steve and Cindy.  And a fellow beekeeper who also sells pickles - Phil. Great folks and now some great friends.

It's almost time to rest.  Mowing, spreading of horse and chicken manure, and fence taking-downing. (I don't believe that is a word but it works.)  One more final look at the bees and a last feed of old honey.  The garlic has been planted (1000 cloves!) and tucked in under 6 inches of dried seedless, marsh grass.  The strawberries need a couple more hard freezes and they too shall be tucked under some grass.

It's been a great summer.  Soon I will share my lessons learned and hopes for next year.

Popcorn Ramblings

This year the popcorn grows tall.  The sugar pie pumpkins stretch to extend their boundaries.  Burning orange as the days shorten.  Unkempt apple trees laden with disfigured fruit but hungry for chicken appetizers hang low.  The August tomatoes, usually slow growing and moisture barren, are this year bursting their skins.

And the UPS man comes delivering packages.  School books.  New red embroidered uniform tops and jackets.  Sneakers, an extra size big, requested after shoe shopping this past week. Reading material for enjoyment... "chicken coops," "easy concrete," "easy to build birdhouses: a natural approach".  Our UPS man has been busy.  Hundreds of pounds of beehives and equipment.  Honey bottles and buckets.  "Local Honey Sold Here" sign.

And still it rains.

We could use a week or so of sunshine and dry weather.  The potatoes need unearthing.  The beans need harvesting.  The plump and ripening blackberries need picking.  And the bees need flowers. 

But the popcorn grows tall.  It's at least 7 feet with two long thin cobs at the 36 inch level.  No sign of raccoon or deer dinners either.  "That's the tallest popcorn I've ever seen," said a gentleman this past weekend.  Perhaps the corn loved the former orchard nutrients.  Or perhaps yellow popcorn just happens to be taller.  I don't know. But the popcorn saga has been much more pleasant this summer.  Two months 'til harvest.

"That's going to be a big harvest," the gentleman added.  I tried to encourage him and others to volunteer for the great popcorn picking.... they could each take one row.  Except that there are at least thirty rows and there were only six of them.  "But it would make short work of it." I added.  "Ha!" he laughed, "Indeed it would."  But no offers were forthcoming.  Perhaps if I made popcorn....

Today's Journey Joy - popcorn and our UPS man

Focusing

"Do you think I'm being realistic?"

My Farmer Husband sits patiently gliding back-and-forth, back-and-forth, in his rocking chair.  The soft whirl of the ceiling fan the only sound in the silence that follows my question. I've been talking quickly and fervently for the past five minutes.  With barely a moment for a breath.  I've outlined my thoughts about our new focus. I'm excited and hopeful.

He quietly shakes his head from the whirl of my litany, trying to focus himself.  Lost in the presented information. "Uh, ... sure.  That sounds great," he responds trying to sound supportive.

"Are you sure?" asking for more reassurance.  For I was unsure. I was eliminating so many tasty vegetables from our farm market. But we had to focus.  My ambitious vision surpassed my abilities to maintain.  The weeds, particularly the grasses, destroyed 3/4 of the sweet corn, 100% of the dried beans, 100% of the melons and cucumbers, 3/4 of the onions and half of the leeks.  The tomatoes almost succumbed but they have only been delayed.  The big pumpkins are not vining like they should as well.  Although much of their difficulty is the squash beetles this year.  We have had strawberries, blueberries, a few black raspberries, potatoes, some sweet corn, some snap beans and a few onions and leeks.  Without the potatoes doing so well I don't believe there would be much of a reason to go to the market these past few weeks.  But if our melons, onions, cucumbers and the rest of the sweet corn had made it, well, then it would have simply been much better.  The prolific growth of weeds this wet and hot summer has been great for the grass.  But not so great for the vegetables.

And so I read the list to him again.  He didn't ask for it.  I'm not sure he actually heard me in the rapidity of my first report. But he is, and always has been, supportive of any farming decisions I have made.  And really, I just needed to hear it for myself again.

"We will expand the fruiting plants.  Eighty hundred more blueberries.  Fifteen hundred summer red raspberries (three varieties that ripen over different periods of the summer).  More strawberries to fill about 1/8 acre.  Black raspberries.  Blackberries. Fruit trees (sweet and sour cherries, pears, plums, peaches, nectarines and apples).  Table grapes planted on the west fence."

He's listening again.  Not so blurry-eyed this time.  Taking it in and thinking.  "Yes..."

"But it's the vegetables we will really change."  I pause to state it again.  Because taking out a bunch of different vegetables is difficult.

"Our major vegetable in the summer will be....." I pause looking at his face trying to determine his response.  "Heirloom tomatoes."

"Amish paste, marglobe, marmande, JDT (the Campbell's soup tomato), Green Giant, Brandywine and German reds and yellow.  We will start them in the hoop house in March so that we will have some ready to go by mid May. We will plant around 350 plants throughout the summer because many of the plants are determinate tomatoes that only produce for a couple of weeks and will need to be replanted.  We would still plant potatoes (but fewer), peppers, garlic, onions, Mirai sweet corn, beans and pumpkins. But the rest.... someone else will have to plant."

"What do you think?"  "Am I being realistic?"  "Can we do this?"

"Sounds great.  And if we are able to do these well we can always add more later or remove the more labor intensive things like potatoes if we run out of time or energy," he says encouragingly.

I sigh with relief.  Always hopeful.  Always looking for that perfect growing year.  And always learning.  But I think we can do this.  Farmer Husband's Mulch-o-matic collecting system will help tremendously.  We can place the grass mulch between the plants and till the rows.  We may use some selective pre-emergents on some of the plants... especially the sweet corn.  But for the most part the fruits and vegetables will be grown as naturally as possible.  I'm encouraged about the future.  I hope that this new focus will eliminate the tortuous work of finding vegetables through the grass.  And that our efforts will be rewarded with beautiful, abundant, superb tasting produce. 

"Ah, honey?" I ask.  "One more thing..... we will have to grow more flowers.  Zinnias, cone flowers, rubeckia, and marigolds.  We need more color around here...."

He smiles.

Today's Journey Joy - Focusing

Visitors

We had visitors yesterday.  Farmer Husband Gary met the wife at the farmers market on Saturday.  She was interested in farm fresh eggs.  Since the market he goes to does not allow us to bring our eggs there we suggest to interested persons that they come visit the farm and purchase direct.  They get to save 50 cents a dozen as well.  Farmer Husband gave her one of my "Farmer Chris" business cards as she left.

She called me late morning.  "Do you have some eggs?"  "Yes," I replied, thinking she wanted maybe a couple of dozen.  "Do you have...say, ten dozen?"  "Ah.... I don't think so, but I'll let you know by the end of the day and you can have what the girls give us."

With the help of a very good friend who also free ranges her chickens, I was able to get a total of eight dozen.  Apparently this new family goes through a dozen eggs a day.  They have four young children (six years and under) who like pancakes and eggs for breakfast every morning. "Great!" I thought.  Now I should have no trouble getting my eggs sold come this fall when I am not at the markets anymore.  But ten dozen a week?!  That's 120 eggs.  And I only have about 25 girls laying right now.  And they are sporadic due to the excessive temperatures lately.  And "Tom," my other regular, usually wants about six dozen every ten days.  Good thing that the new ones should be laying in about a month and the 25 baby partridge rocks should easily be laying well by spring.  We may have a slight difficulty meeting demand in the meantime though.

But I wander.

The visitors came as a family.  They all wanted to see the farm and the chickens.  I guess I was unprepared for such scrutiny.  Usually my egg buyers (or any buyers for that matter), simply drive up, get their stuff, chat a bit and leave.  They don't want a tour.

But these guys did.

I discovered that they were a young family who recently moved back to the area.  They try to eat only organically grown fruit and vegetables and free range chicken eggs.  They sweeten everything with honey.  In fact, they purchase their honey by the 30 pounds. (That's a lot of honey!).

As we were showing them the fields and our progress I found myself getting anxious.  Weeds everywhere.  Disarray.  Branches down in various piles.  Equipment here and there.  Hoses stretched in coils on the sidewalk.  Kittens jumping.  Chickens (and their droppings) cruising about. Crops lost in grasses waist high.  Flowers barely able to bloom between the horse weed.  Not my idea of a beautiful farm.

I was embarrassed to show the farm.  We've been working so hard at farming organically / naturally.  But on this scale, with only a couple of hands, that beatific vision I have of the farm is unrealistic.  And looking at the place through "new visitor eyes" made me aware of the chaos surrounding me both inside the home and outside on the farm.  Change is due.

We have made plans to focus.  For which I will have to wait until tomorrow or so to describe.  But I am excited about the possibilities.

Today's Journey Joy - visitors

Life's sunsets

"Mommy?" my little girl who happens to have Down syndrome inquires.  "Mommy?.... Mommy?"  I'm distracted and dizzily busy.  I don't hear her.  But she implores emphatically.  "Mommy!?"

The frequency and fervor of her voice finally catches my attention.  I stop what I am doing.  Turn.  Look at her.  Her face has furled eyebrows and a serious expression.  Unusual for my typically content and happy girl.  She is concerned about something.  She stammers in her special way, trying to say just the right words, but not knowing how to express her query.

"Mommy?"  she inquires again.

"Yes, my dear."  I can see she is relieved that she has my attention.  That perhaps her puzzlement will be answered.

Her face curls and her emotional voice stutters just a little.  "Mommy, when you are a thousand years old who will make supper?" 

"Oh." 

I grin just a little.  Mostly inside.  She is serious.  And it is upsetting her.  How do I explain to her that I will not be one thousand years old?  That by the time she is my age I will most likely not be living in this body?  That one day I will be gone and she will still be.  And furthermore, that one day, she too, will die.  How does one describe this to a child?  Any child.  Her understanding is literal and concrete.  Try explaining redemption, death, and heaven without using abstracts.  I don't completely understand it all.  How to explain it to her?

"Don't you fret my dear.  Before I reach one thousand I will teach you to make your own supper."  Her eyes brighten and then her follow-up question is asked.

"Can we make macaroni and cheese?"

"Sure we can," I say with reassurance. Happy that the idea that I won't be here to take care of my vulnerable daughter is becoming less acute.  Push the thought down.... down deep.  If I don't think about it perhaps it won't happen.  

"But we don't have any in the cupboard Mommy," she interrupts my thoughts.

"Oh, I will teach you to go to the store and buy things as well.  You will have your supper."

She sighs and smiles that smile of innocent glee and seems comforted.  "Great!" she exclaims and returns to her thoughts and game. 

But my thoughts linger.  In life there are sunrises.  Full of hope and promise.  The sun lingers and nourishes as the circle unwinds.  But then it always ends with a sunset.  Some more beautiful than others.  Some very uneventful.  And I ponder awhile.  "I hope my sunset is beautiful.... I hope and pray that her memory is filled with bright lights and warm love.  I hope the colors at the end of my journey are deep and long." And I remember that sunsets are often due to dust or fragments of particles in the air which are reflected as the beams of setting light strike them at an angle. 

The dust is a result of the happenings of the day. 

What kind of dust am I raising today?  Will it reflect the Light?  I am uncertain.  The busyness that I approach and attack the day with is often filled not with beautiful sunset makers but monotonous day breakers.  Ending in exhaustion not knowing where I've been.  Spinning in routines and deadlines.  Responding to the daily tyranny of the urgent.

But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you." (Matthew 6:33).

Sunset makers are a result of doing and being the person one was created to be.  Today, I hope to keep on the forefront of my heart and mind that in order to end beautifully one must live beautifully.  Sunsets are the result of the day's doings.

"Mommy?" she implores again.  Another question has crossed her mind.

"Will there be "pa-sketti" in heaven?"  And as I smile ever so slightly and pause in my response she adds, "Who will make supper in heaven?"  "Where will my room be?"  What will our house look like?"

I grin outright.  "Oh my dear one, you will live in a house that is beautiful....  And yes, there will probably be "pa-sketti" there too.  I bet it will be the best you've ever tasted."

She giggles and grins.  And returns to her game.  Oh, the thoughts of a child.

Today's Journey Joy - life lived fully

Ouch!

A few days back Farmer Husband and I took the honey supers off the beehives.  We got 70 frames of beautiful, sweet, delicious golden honey from the hives. (About 240 pounds of honey!)  I'm still draining the wax cappings for our honey enjoyment but everything else in the extracting process has been completed.

Well.... almost.  An unexpected healing process has become necessary.

Yesterday afternoon, after I returned from some errands and responsibilities (and a fun lunch with a good friend!), I placed the now empty, but sticky and wet with honey supers on the Gator to return them to the bees for clean up.  The bees usually quickly fix the hexagonal wax compartments that were damaged in the extracting process, move the honey that was still on the frames, and then begin to collect more nectar for refilling.  Typically, the bees are mostly friendly and gentle (like the picture above).  Usually, putting the supers back on a hive is a relatively uneventful process.  One doesn't even need smoke.  You simply crack the top open, remove the telescoping cover and place the wet super on top.  Replace the cover making sure that the top entrance block is still in place and move on to the next.  Simple.

But yesterday it was quite warm (86 degrees).  But worse than the heat was the very sticky, oppressive humidity.  Perspiration was dripping down my back, my tummy, my nose... I s'pose I didn't smell too nice.  And perhaps the bees remembered that I (with the help of Farmer Husband) had just stolen all their early summer's work.  I'm not certain.  But what I am certain of was that one particular hive was most unwelcoming.

It was our biggest hive in the spring.  We split it three times.  But it was still big.  It produced almost a third of the honey that we extracted.  And we only had one super to put on top when we took their honey.  So imagine sixty thousand relatives in a big house.  All of a sudden the house becomes smaller.  The cupboards are bare.  The temperatures go up.  The humidity makes collecting food stores unpleasant.  And it's time for the house bees to make orientation flights around the hive.  Introduce a wet, smelly intruder who looks an awfully lot like the robber from two days ago.  What would you do? 

Yes... and they did.

As soon as I cracked open the hive the buzzing frequency changed.  That should have warned me.  And actually it did but I thought, "I'll just quickly put the super on and move to the next one.  They'll settle down as soon as they get more room and honey."

That's not quite what happened.  Recall that I didn't bring the smoker.  Usually the smoker masks the alarm pheromone that a bee would make.  That way, if a bee shouts "Intruder!" no one really knows or cares.  One alarmed bee is nothing.  Hundreds of alarmed bees is another thing...

They pelted my suit. Bounced off my bee net.  Curled up in a tight balls trying to get their stinger into some flesh.  Four of them penetrated my suit at the left knee.  The burning sensation of a bee sting is most unpleasant.  And it keeps going until you get the stinger(s) out.  So I needed to retreat.  Time to go get the smoker.

After walking three hundred yards away from this most unpleasant hive I discovered that I had at least forty stingers in my gloves, arms, legs and chest suit.  They were serious.  This intruder was not going to get access to the hive.  Thankfully, only the four had penetrated the suit. 

I got the stingers out without difficulty.  Redonned the bee suit and lit the smoker with some coals from the outdoor wood burning furnace.  I didn't want to go back to the hive. I was a bit scared.  I'm not used to bees purposefully defending their hive against me.  They are usually gentle. But I had to go back.  The lid was opened.  The empty super was on the ground next to them. And I needed to button the hive up.  So off I went.

I smoked all the stingers in my suit and gloves trying to mask the alarm pheromone.  I smoked the hive until it almost looked like a fire.  They were still upset but not as bad.  And I was able to relatively quickly get the hive placed back together.  I had only one hive to go.  They too were a little unfriendly but the smoker helped and I was quick to return to the house.  I peeled off the wet sweaty bee suit, drank about a half gallon of water and placed some 2.5% hydrocortisone that my Farmer Husband uses for poison ivy on my left knee.  Today, the knee is still a little red and puffy but will be just fine.  And the bees?  We're leaving them alone for awhile. 

Lesson learned?  When dealing with bees in hot humid temperatures who have just lost their dinner and part of their home.... use smoke.

Today's Journey Joy - protective bee suits!

Wildflowers

In the busy-ness of summer it is refreshing to ponder.  To peer into the delicate lacework of so-called weeds.  The tiny white blooms of the wild carrot.  They decorate our unmowed fields in a carpet.  Without planting, without tending, without fertilizing, these beauties aspire to greatness.  And they achieve it.  Buzzing with various insects.  Highlighting other more colorful blooms.  A backdrop to the reds, blues, oranges, violet, and summer yellows.

Growing where much does not flourish. Chicory opens when the beams of golden sunshine warm their petals.  Rain and dark skies keep these jewels hidden. Yet, they too, speckle our farm with beauty.  Another so-called weed bringing color and beauty to the fields.

Wildflowers.  Blooming where they are.  Content and flourishing in their environment. 

Do they say, "I wish I had that great soil over here"?  "When I have more room (perhaps referring to time) I will bloom in plenty"? 

But I often do.  Hesitating to bloom.  Struggling against the other weeds instead of thriving where I am.  Forgetting that contentment is not having what you want, but wanting what you have.

In my wildness of a day, filled with competing priorities and tasks, may I continue to bloom in whatever color and size my Creator designed me to be.

Today's Journey Joy - Wild blooms 

Sweeter than honeycomb

It's late July. The bees have multiplied, increased, and become very productive.  They were split many times this spring to prevent them from swarming.  Swarming takes about half the bees from the hive as they try to find and establish a new home.  It's natural.  To leave the hive.  Go out into the big world.  It's how bees multiply hives.  Start afresh.  Unfortunately, swarms tend to be high in a tree.  And their timing is usually inconvenient.  Hot, humid, high in a tree.....The idea of half of a hive flying away is just so..... sad.   My wonderful husband usually has to don the beekeeping suit, get raised in the loader bucket, and recapture them. (I do the tractor loader raising.)

But this year we only had to do swarm retrieval once, very early in the season, as opposed to last year which felt like at least twenty times.  We made several smaller hives through the splits and apparently squelched the swarming instinct in our hives.  So much nicer. 

The hives were given lots of room to grow.  I also did not use queen excluders this year.  I was afraid that we would get lots of baby bees (brood) in the honey supers.  And in fact we did get a few.  But the excluder in the past seemed to keep the bees away or out of the honey supers (where they store their honey).  But by eliminating the excluders, giving the bees both a top and bottom entrance to enter their hives, and having lots of room... well, we didn't get any summer swarms.  And we got lots of honey.  In fact, this is our second harvest of the season.  And we should get a third in September.  That's definitely worth rejoicing.

Yesterday, around three in the afternoon, my wonderful farmer's husband and I harvested the honey supers from our hives.  Some of the hives were still too small to make extra honey. Thankfully, they have time to grow strong before winter.  But the big hives had plenty of full honey supers.  I used some Fisher's Bee Quick ( an almond smelling liquid that apparently the bees do not like) on a fume board to push the bees into the hive and out of the honey supers.  Then, if there were any stragglers in the super, Farmer Husband would gently blow them out of the super with a leaf blower.

We brought the honey filled supers to the house via the Gator and placed them in the basement where our honey extracting is set up.  It was dinner time when we finished bringing the honey downstairs.  So we started the dehumidifier, put a lid on the stacked supers, and ate tacos.  Today, I hope to extract the honey.  Until then, our house smells like golden sweet honey. Very pleasant.

It's hard to imagine anything sweeter than honey in the honeycomb....

"Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body." (Proverbs 16:24).

Honey is nutritious, sweet, and healthful.  Are my words?  Unfortunately, my words can be more like the bee than the honey.  Buzzing, busy, and biting (well, stinging....).   Ouch.

O, may my language, my choice of words and my tone be like honey today.  Sweet, sticky, warm and helpful. Not only will this be good for those I speak with today.... but sweet to my soul as well.

Honey.  Life sustaining.  Sweet and appealing.  Good for my soul.

Today's Journey Joy - Fresh warm honey and gracious words

Metamorphosis

Anticipation and longing fills my heart today.  To be changed.  From every fiber and bone in my body.  To be made fresh.  To fly.  To flit.  To display the beauty meant to be.

I am but a caterpillar.  A soft, sometimes colorful worm-like creature.  Content on eating and being.  Enjoying the environment.  Going through life with fellow caterpillars.  Creeping and crawling from one adventure to another. The freedom of flight is a hazy idea.  A longing.  But seemingly impossible.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" (2 Corinthians 5:17).

As a believer in Christ the chains to being forever a caterpillar are broken.  A metamorphosis has occurred. And the hope and promise of forever flight is available.  In reality, I am a beautiful, thankful, life-embracing swallowtail.  A golden butterfly changed from the worm-like creature I once was.

And still I forget sometimes.  I see myself through old eyes.  The inner-mirror reflects the green, white and yellow stripes of my crawling self.  I return to the life of familiar crawling because it is known and comfortable. Creeping through the summer days from leaf to leaf.  Forgetful of my wings of freedom. 

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free...." (Galatians 5:1a). 

Remember your delicate, wonderful wings my fellow believers.  See the beauty in the carpet of wild flowers.  Embrace the wind.  Wrap your longing arms around those who flit around with you.  Give grace and love to the caterpillars who yet need to morph.

And fly today.

Today's Journey Joy - New life

Brrruck-a-cluck-er

We started our chicken raising three summers ago.  Fifty straight run Buff Orpingtons under heat lamps in the basement.  They lived in the basement for...oh too long.  When they started hopping up the stairs into the kitchen they were unceremoniously extricated to the almost finished chicken house.  The twenty five or so roosters were taken to the poultry processors in the fall leaving only one rooster.  But he was a mean-ol-rooster and so he was replaced with a new rooster.  Last year we received about twenty various colors of baby chicks.  And this year we received some more.  They were hatched in the third grade classroom.  But since only about half were hens we decided to increase our flock with more baby chicks.  We ordered twenty five Partridge Rocks.  They are currently in the garage (thankfully not the basement) getting bigger.  In a few weeks they will join the others in the "big house".  Our original hens will go to the processor this fall.  They will be a little tough being that they are almost three years old, but they will be good for stew and soups. 

I will admit that I am a little torn about taking them.  Probably too sentimental.  But they were our first hens.  And they have done a great job at producing beautiful brown eggs.  I've been selling them at the farmer's market and to neighbors.  There's nothing like a free-range chicken laying lovely brown eggs.  The yolks are almost orange and the flavor is exceptional.

Today I'm thankful for our hens... all of them.... in their various colors, shapes, ages, sounds and sizes. We now have spotted eggs, dark and light brown eggs and about three green eggs every day.  A rainbow of colors. So beautiful.  Hopefully, our new chickens will add even more color to our egg basket.

Today's Journey Joy - Hens

July's Garden Adventures

Sugar Baby Pumpkins for pumpkin pie making.

It's garlic powder makin' time.

Rocambole "Music" Garlic.

Pumpkin Blooms

The sweet corn ripening in the field drifts an aroma of delight and anticipation.  It fills my olfactory sense with delight and reminds me of summer's past.  Childhood festivals.  Family reunions.  Bubbling water on the stove.  Butter oozing through the stack of hot corn.  Stripping husks and peeling silk.  Salt... just enough.  Faces full of corn pieces and buttery fingers and cheeks. Finger licking and full tummies.

The cherry and grape tomatoes remain hard and green.  But promise of yellow, golden and red delights are in the future.  Picking jewels of sweetness from the vines.  Almost as good as berries.

Blackberries ripening. Juicy, sweet and yummy.

And yellow string beans.  Lost in the weeds and yet bearing beautifully. Exceptionally colorful.

Today's Journey Joy - July's harvest

A Day of Reflection

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:29-30).

The day is full before I even begin.  Laundry washing and pegging on the line.  Chicken feeding.  Japanese beetle trap emptying.  Animal watering.  Baby partridge rocks.  Broccoli snipping.  Bean picking.  Onion pulling.  Summer squash amongst the weeds.  Washing dishes.  Washing produce.  Loading the vehicle for the market.  Ice making.  A shower please.  Ninety degree temps with high humidity. Library run.  Five hour farmers market.  Return home.  Unpack vehicle.  Prepare for tomorrow's interview and presentation.  Supper.  Shower again please...

But those are only activities.  Stuff to do.  Not a person to be.  Today I chose to focus not on the many things filling the day but the wonder and joy of remembering the past and experiencing the present.

Green grass, leaves, plants.  Plenty of rain.  Good earth.  Fruiting raspberries.  Purple beans.  Dark red norland new potatoes.  Sterling white onions.  Free range chickens. Mr. Two-Toes and Mr. Bard Rock (MBR for short).  Ten fluffy kittens.  Half a million happy nectar-collecting bees.  A home with air conditioning.  A family of love.  A creative and enterprising son.  A fun-loving, present-living daughter. A wise, hard working, supportive and loving husband.  Friends who know when to tell me to take a break.  A teaching job at a local university.  Opportunities for tenure.  Pursuit of doctorate education.  Learning. Growing.  Hawks soaring just for the fun of it.  Horse weed nine feet tall.  Lawn mowers and tractors.  Clothes flapping on the line. Rest.  New friends at the market.  Freedom. New life.  New joy.

"There is a joy in  the journey.  There is a light we can love on the way.  There is a wonder and wildness to life.  And freedom for all who obey." (Michael Card).

Today's Journey Joy - wonder and wildness of the yoke of Christ

To Break The Cycle

I'm still impressed.  Twigs planted in the dampness of spring. Rains and sun nourishing throughout the summer.  Leaves bursting forth verdant green.  Transforming to brilliant fire engine red in autumn.  And finally returning to twig form in the crispness of winter.  To start the amazing cycle again.  This time heavy with fruit.

But now the young blueberries are beneath grass and perennial weeds.  Japanese beetles attack.  And I have only so much time and energy.  I cannot keep up.  What will happen to our wonderful blueberry field?  It can not be good for them.  To be so choked and suppressed.  They have completed their fruit bearing but they need to keep growing for next year.

That's why we have decided to take back the field... with synthetics. (That's a nice way of saying "chemicals").  I feel as though I failed.  My dreams are larger than my time and energy.  Certainly not larger than my effort, for I put hours and hours in the humid hot heat of our Midwest summer sun.  Bent over with hoe in hand and weeds ripping from soil left in a heap to be mowed into mulch.  But the grass is close to seeding.... to repeat their annual seeding.  And the field is large. Those weeds which are too tall or old to succumb to the chemical will be yanked and destroyed manually. 

We will return to natural practices as soon as the cycle is broken.

Journey Joys - It's hard to express the "journey joy" today.  I am thankful that there are chemicals that can help.  And yet I am torn between my strong desire to grow naturally without chemicals and my strong desire to have a healthy productive field.  My husband and I have always said that we would follow organic farming as long as we could.  But if the crop was in danger of failing we would use chemicals.  We are at that point.  And yet I still feel.... discouraged. 

The Nemesis of Gardening

I love tilling the earth, mowing the grass, picking flowers and collecting fresh fruits and vegetables.  I enjoy sharing the fruits of our labors with those at the Farmers Market.  I like to think that they appreciate the hard work and time and energy that goes into each product that they purchase.

But gardening is a constant struggle.  My two worst insect pests are Japanese beetles and squash beetles.  Followed by cucumber beetles and cabbage moths.

We try to collect the beetles. We collect hundreds and maybe thousands of these nasty destructive beetles.  I dip them in cold water for a few minutes and then give them to the chickens to gobble.  But they continue to reproduce and damage the crops.  They seem to particularly like blueberry and raspberry plants and my cherry trees.  So the "big guns" need to come out.  That is, Neem oil.  It is an organic and OMRI approved insecticide and fungicide that doesn't really kill the little buggers but makes it so the leaves are not very tasty.  That helps protect the blueberries.

But spraying 1200 blueberry plants takes an amazingly long time.  And a lot of Neem oil.  It took 16 gallons of the stuff to spray the whole field.  And it was hot and heavy work.  The backpack sprayer holds four gallons.  But between the backpack and the water / Neem oil it felt like the whole contraption weighed fifty pounds.  My shoulders were not prepared for such heavy work.

The Neem oil also works relatively well on the squash.  Not as good on the broccoli because of the oil.  The leaves of broccoli do not seem to respond to the insecticide like the squash and blueberry plants do.  So I use Bt on them.  It too is an organically approved insecticide.  But it kills larvae not adults.

But pesty insects are not the only thing a gardener has to deal with.  As you could see from the pictures above.... weeds.  I seem to spend most of my time and energy on pulling or preventing weeds.  But this should be reduced now.

My wonderful and creative husband made a contraption that collects the grass while one is mowing. He mows the grass and it is sucked up through the vacuum and blown into this really neat collecting area that he built specifically for this.  The top and 1/4 of the sides are made out of hardware cloth so air can flow.

On its first voyage my husband filled the trailer to capacity.  (Forgive the sun spots on the photo please).  It's neat seeing the different layers and types of grass he's collected.  After he dumps it out (it's a dump trailer as well) I fork it up and spread it no thicker than 2 inches on the just weeded plants.  I can't put more on at this point because the grass is green and will mold.  But even at two inches the sun is blocked and the weeds cannot grow.  After a few days I'll go ahead and put another 2 inches on.  That will definitely keep the weeds down.  But I have a lot of weeding to do to catch up. 

Next year we should be able to keep on top of the weeds now that we have this suck-u-phrazt attached to the mower.  I'm very excited about the possibilities.  Perhaps I'll have some time to actually work on my flower garden.

Today's Journey Joy - A Very Creative Husband

Learning to Love Bees

I have to admit that when we decided to have bee hives on our farm I was quite apprehensive.  The idea of purposefully keeping stinging insects... well that just seemed a little crazy.  I don't like getting stung.  The area swells great big and my tummy feels nauseous. 

But I have come to appreciate these hard workers.  They gather pollen and nectar for their family (even if it is a very large one).  They clean house.  They babysit.  They guard.  They keep the hive warm in the winter and cool in the summer.  They are usually not aggressive towards others.  You mind your own business and they will mind theirs.

This year we started with eight hives that survived the winter.  We had the usual ten to twenty percent hive loss.  One simply died because it ran out of honey stores.  Another hive was just empty.  So as the spring temperatures warmed we split the bigger hives.  Some of them two or three times.  So now we have 15 hives (along with a swarm I collected and brought to a friend's farm). And as a result we have not been swinging in the trees chasing swarms.  We added many supers above the deeps and gave them a top and bottom entrance.  I am hoping that we did good work suppressing swarm activity and that it wasn't just a good year for "non-swarming".  But regardless, it has been a good year in the apiary.

I've been stung twice this year.  At the same time. It was my own fault.  The bees innocently climbed up my pant leg and when they couldn't get out they resorted to stinging.  Ouch!  But now I tuck my pant legs in my socks preventing that curious bee from investigating.  Last year I didn't get a single sting.  Well, not quite.  While I was weeding the green beans a teeny little native black bee was probably getting the salt off my back and when I stood up got trapped and stung me right on my gluteus!  Another ouch.  A pretty funny episode I'm sure.  Here's this lady weeding in a T-shirt and pants hitting her bottom and jumping all around.  Needless to say I now tuck my T-shirt in as well.

So I'm learning to love bees.... at least honey bees and big rumbly bumbles.  I'm still not too fond of wasps and hornets. But the others provide such great pollination and honey that I've developed a working and loving (?) relationship with them.  Perhaps it is a little nuts.  But it sure is amazing.  Now, when I see a honey bee flitting from flower to flower I stop and talk to her.  "Are you finding some good nectar my little one?" 

Perhaps I've spent too much time in the sun.... ☺

Today's Journey Joy - learning to love stinging insects

Weeds and the "One Thing"

Even weeds are beautiful.  They grow and bloom and reproduce.  They add nitrogen to the soil and keep the hard clay loose.  They prevent erosion.  They provide pollen and nectar.  Food for the bees.  Food for the birds.

But I don't look at weeds as beautiful most days.  In the process of growing strong they also choke the tiny plants I have so lovingly pressed into the soil.  The small seedlings sprout first but become quickly overwhelmed by the weedy biosphere in which they have been sown.  To pull the weeds often ends up pulling the small vegetables.  So I let them grow together... for awhile.  When the plants are strong enough to survive a disruption to their fragile roots, I pull and tug those weeds.  Yank them out with a ripping sound as the soil vibrates with their removal.  The path between the rows becomes covered in weed roots and tops.  But the vegetables survive.  Able to breathe and feed without competition.

I've been growing slowly amongst weeds these past days.  Overwhelmed with competing desires and needs.  A dirty home, piles of laundry, a chicken coop that needs cleaning and painting, weeding, mowing, building, feeding, sleeping, selling.  Imagining.  Picturing a world of completeness and beauty.  But working... working...working...

"And a woman named Martha welcomed him (Jesus) into her house.  And she had a sister called Mary who sat at the Lord's feet and listening to his teaching.  But Martha was distracted with much serving.  And she went up to him and said, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone?  Tell her then to help me." But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary...." (Luke 10:38-42).

When will I learn this?  To listen, absorb, embrace the Lord.  Only that one thing is necessary.  To be molded, transformed, filled with the character of Christ.  That is the one thing.  If I have accomplished numerous tasks throughout the day but have not listened, learned, and loved at the feet of Him who brings purpose and meaning to life, I am only distracted among the weeds.

Martin Luther once said, "Tomorrow I plan to work, work, from early until late. In fact I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer."

The one thing.  May you and I do the one thing, the necessary, today.

Today's Journey Joy - priorities among the weeds

Spring Blossom Honey

To extract honey several sticky steps are needed. One first must get the honey frames off the hives.  Sometimes the bees don't seem to mind.  At other times they are very determined to keep the beekeeper (honey-taker?) out of the hive.  Spring time is usually an easy time.  The bees are happily flying from blooming flower to blooming flower and returning pollen and nectar to the hive.  Most of the 30-60,000 bees in a hive are out working.  Usually only a few guard bees are present plus a hivefull of new baby bees.

After the honey frames are taken into the house it is time for extracting.  This spring, as soon as the frames were off the hives, we started uncapping the honey frames.  When bees have completed the amazing process of turning nectar into honey they seal the hexagonal storage unit with wax.  (A process that my mom copied when canning jelly and jams with paraffin wax.) So before we can put the frames into the extractor the seal must be removed.  We use an uncapping knife.  It's basically a stainless steel knife that is electrically heated to smoothly and easily melt through the wax, cutting off the seal and revealing the sticky, warm and amazingly wonderful smelling honey.

The honey oozes out of the cells.  This year's spring honey was a light to medium color with a slightly fruity, light and delicious flavor.

The wax is discarded into the uncapping tank to drip and collect the honey that was in the wax. But the now glossy honey frame is ready for the spinning of the extractor. Yum.

The honey supers are then returned to the hives. Usually the bees are quite happy to get their wet sticky honey frames back.  They quickly clean them, repair the wax that was damaged, and begin to refill the frames. 

This weekend we hope to get our second harvest from the hives.  The clover has been blooming well.  The wonderful smell of honey is drifting from the hives as we drive by.  It will be good to get a midsummer harvest of honey. 

Today's Journey Joy - warm honey

Fish in the sky?

This spring and early summer have been filled with gray skies, rainy days,thunder, lightening and wind.  Our gardens are filled with grass and weeds.  The tiller cannot get into the field.  My ankles sink deep.

Can fish fly? 

But the past five days have been filled with sunshine, dry air and cooler temperatures.  The soaked soil is drying and actually cracking in some places.  Today the tiller attacks the garden.  But unfortunately the mower will have to go first.  That's how bad it is.

I almost succumbed to chemicals.

How can I keep all these weeds out of the gardens?  They grow prolifically and choke the growth of the vegetables.  They harbor diseases and insects.  They have deep roots.  But there are only so many hours in a day.  And my forty-seven year old muscles can only pull so many weeds with my hoe and bent shoulders.

If this bluegill-looking fish can fly..... perhaps I can get some crops to grow organically.......

Well, I'll just do my best... because fish do not fly, and weeds don't jump out of the field by themselves, and vegetables need space to grow.  As do I.

Today's Journey Joy - reality check

Our first U-Pick customers

By planting 1200 blueberry bushes I became a "blueberry farmer".  Our 600 Reka, 300 Patriots and 300 Northland blueberry bushes did remarkably well their first year (in spite of my lack of weed control).  We were not expecting many blueberries their first year after planting.  But they surprised us.  I've been picking blueberries for three weeks now and taking them to the market.  But I found that I couldn't keep up with the picking.  And so our dream of a Pick-Your-Own berry farm started before we thought it would.

But I am a hovering blueberry mother.  The plants are still quite fragile and young.  One needs to pick carefully and gently.  So..... this young lady and her charming mother (who happens to be a terrific friend) came over the other day for blueberry picking. Her camera-shy mother picked alongside her beautiful ten year old daughter.  They were careful, methodical, and fun to pick alongside with me. We enjoyed several hours of chatting and eating and picking.

I still have much weeding to do and there is about one to two more days of picking left.  But the early blueberries have been a joy.  The plants are showing great signs of new growth promising more blueberries for next year.  We will definitely have more people over for picking.  I have found that eight hours of picking in a day is exhausting... perhaps picking is for eager ten year olds. 

Today's Journey Joy - friends who pick gently

It's nice to share

This spring we had two momma cats have kittens.  Zilchie had six fluffy little ones.  Three are mostly white and three are mostly gray.  And Tabby Girl had five kittens.  This was her first litter of kittens.  When she was just a kitten last summer she would let the bigger kittens nurse on her.  She so wanted to be a mommy cat.  The kittens didn't get any milk but everyone seemed happy.

When Tabby Girl had her kittens in the garage she was so proud.  Two mostly white, one mostly black and one that was black and white (reminds me of a cow!).  She nursed them and cared for them wonderfully.  But she was too trusting.  She wouldn't protect them from the other cats.  And so we basically locked her and the new ones in the garage. (Even displaced the Gator).  But last week we decided that the little ones were old enough to be recognized as kittens and not little mice.  So out they came.  Unfortunately, the mostly black one, who was the most adventurous, somehow got hurt and died.  So Tabby Girl only had four kittens left.  But that was no problem for Tabby Girl.  She simply "adopted" some of Zilchie's six kittens.  She'll nurse all ten of them.... and later Zilchie will be nursing all ten of them.  Well "nursing" might be a stretch.  I don't think that is physically possible.  But they all do try and snuggle and get some milk and love.  It's amazing seeing all those fluffy beautiful little kittens with one momma cat.  I didn't know cats "shared" nursing responsibilities.  We had kittens on our small farm growing up but I do not remember any cat being an "auntie".

Tabby Girl and Zilchie remind me that I can't do "mommying" alone.  Sometimes I need help.  I am so very grateful for friends who encourage me and come along side and help me.  Ecclesiastes 4:12 says, "And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken." 

When I need strength for my parenting responsibilities today or see someone who needs help.... may I be the "auntie" who shares and comes alongside.  It's nice to share.

Today's Journey Joy - Sharing responsibilities

15 out of 23

For fifteen of the past twenty three days it has been raining.  Sometimes torrentially... sometimes constantly... sometimes in a slow drizzle.  Much of the weather has been accompanied by lightening, winds, and thunder.  The ground is saturated.  My boots sink up to my ankles when I step.  Only those areas that have received enough grass mulch are passable.  And that means only the potatoes.  But they do seem to be happy.

I am looking forward to the day when I can uncover the mulch and gently push my potato fork into the soil.  What will I find?  In just a few more weeks I should know. 

The flowers continue to bloom.... even through the rain.  Rows and rows of white and lavender.  The buzz of the bumble bee occasionally heard.  And thankfully, no sign of the nasty potato beetle.

Yes, it is raining again today.  I have decided not to go to the Wednesday market.  The forecast is for thunderstorms yet again and the radar supports that prediction.  So the blueberries, heavy in ripeness, will have to remain one more day.  Thursday and Friday will be filled with frantic picking.  I must get the berries off the plants before they over-ripen. 

Today I ordered 800 new blueberry plants for next spring's planting.  The new planting will be made up of Patriot, Blueray, and Chandler.  This will allow us to length the blueberry season somewhat and have more blueberries for fresh eating.  I have found that Reka is very productive and extremely yummy for processing.  But it has an occasional "twang" factor that I have found unpleasant at times.  Perhaps I need to add something to the soil to make it "sweeter".  I'll do some investigating.  But our Patriot is definitely delicious and Northland is as well....although this variety has smaller berries in general.  Good for baking in muffins.

And speaking of blueberry muffins.... that's sounds like a fun rainy day adventure. 

Today's Journey Joy - blooming through the rain