All cooped up

"Let me out! Let me out!" (translation of "bruckkkkakkkaakka").  "We've been cooped up in this toasty warm chicken house for four days.  Let me out!" they insist repeatedly.  I try to rationalize with them.  "Girls, we've had 18 inches of snow.  Where do you think you'll go?"

"Bruckkkakkaaka!"

So I shovelled a path from their coop to the driveway so that they could stretch their legs, strut their stuff, and flap their wings.  "Cockadoodledooooo!"  PrettyBoy announces.  I think that's "thank you" in rooster language.

Today's Journey Joy: Adventurous chickens

Tipping

Beauty found in broken-ness.

Our picnic bench, which I wanted so badly three summers ago, lies alone.  Decaying with neglect. Used only a handful of times.  Two picnics.  One marshmallow and hot dog roast.  Watermelon spitting. The occasional snack.  But mostly a horizontal space for young flowers, cat naps, and chicken roosts.  Slowly fading in color and strength.

"Crunch."  John Deere metal is stronger than the brittle dry wood.  And quickly the leg falls.  No longer horizontal it serves only as the occasional safe chicken resting spot.

But the autumn rush did not allow repair or removal.  And so the snow builds.  Climbing.  Piling.  Sloping.  But beautiful.

Snow reminds me of growth. "Growth?" you say.  "How can anything grow in snow?"  But it is true. The deep white heavy snow brings renewal.  Yes, there is rest.  And I'm happy for it.  But growth occurs in wintertime.

Without rest roots do not push deeper.  Without rest the fine feathers of bramble, blueberry and strawberry roots do not penetrate and absorb essential nutrients.  Without rest many fruiting trees and flowers would not bloom.  We all need rest.  Rest to grow.

Snow.  Purest white in nature.  Cleansing. Renewing.  Restful.  

In my life I too must rest.  Yet, "underneath" I am preparing, deepening, stretching, yearning... Spring will come when the embodiment of all that winter growth is released.  So today I ponder. I dream. I drink up possibilities, nibble on potentials, and feast on Truth.  It's a nourishing time.  A restful time.  A growing time.

Today's Journey Joy - growing in snow

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