growing curious

secret garden saturday

Today was weird and broody and also so wonderful.

I stopped into the Pearl District to have a perfect cappuccino at Barista before heading off to take a friend to the airport.  These cappuccinos from Barista reawaken taste memories from Berkeley cafes in 1983 and 1984. 

After I returned from taking my friend to the airport, I raced back so that E and I could use the no-rain to harvest our wreath materials.  We did that, and the hens followed us down to the creek, and it was wonderful to see them hop up to participate with us. When I snipped off a branch, one of the Buff Orpingtons was hopping up to taste the cedar or the hawthorn.

E and I gathered a lot of stuff, and it's drying in the garage.  (I also gathered two stray zucchini from plants I haven't pulled yet.  They were perfect, and I used them in the soup.)  She and I are excited to make a wreath for the front door from stuff around our house.  It will look spastic, and that's a feature.

Then D took a nap by the fire,and E and I cuddled up and watched The Secret Garden. It captivated both of us.  I got some knitting done because I was interested enough in the film that I didn't fall asleep.

A very good day here.

the garden keeps giving...

 
Mother Earth, I am blessed.  Here it is almost November and our vines have delivered another 18 pounds of perfect pickling cucumbers.  This batch of pickles may be the last for the year, and then I will decide if I want to import from California to make batches of pickles during the next couple of months.

Here is a photo of our vines, taken today during a break in the storm:

You can see that the vines still look pretty lively for this late in the season.  This is one of our new beds that gets southern exposure and heat radiated from the house on the north side.  It's such a sweet, productive spot, and we'll be planting winter crops in these beds soon, too.

And that's probably why the hens have gathered nearby here this afternoon to soak up the sheltered sun.  There's been no sign of molting yet, and they're still laying well. (especially since we discovered that they were laying eggs in the tomato bed and so have changed their ranging schedule to encourage use of the nest boxes.  ahem.) 

I am just beginning to recover from my illness.  Today I have done more than any day since 10/8.   I had to force myself out to pick the cucumbers, and I'm taking a break now before I put them into crocks because I'm tired.

But it was great to be out in the garden.  I'm just stunned by all that's still growing out there.  I haven't planted the garlic yet (hopefully will do that this week when E is in school), but there are carrots, beans, pretty summer squashes, chili peppers, eggplants, parsley, winter squashes, onions, leeks, chard and broccoli.  All of this is from plantings we did in the spring and early summer.  We haven't had "farm hours" here at Curious Farm in a month or so, but I'll send email to a couple of customers to let them know about crops I know they enjoy.

Now I just need to get my energy back so that I can plant the garlic and winter crops.  We have never had such bounty here, and I can't wait to see what we're able to grow next year.

 

on a sunny fall day...

 

She looks like a big girl there, doesn't she?  E loves school and keeps growing like a weed.  Today she surprised me by drawing some very representational pictures of a house/birthday scene and a building/halloween scene.  When she goes outside with the chickens, she sings to them and gives them herbs.

I'm still sick so today we snuggled and watched old episodes of Fraggle Rock.  I still think Margory the Trash Heap is the godhead.  Marjory loves trouble and woe.  She says, "I am orange peels.  I am coffee grounds.  I am wisdom."  Since I spend so much time with our own compost pile, I know she's right.

taking stock

Fiona over at the Cottage Smallholder posted a lovely reflection on her last year of healing.  She's had to reorganize her life entirely, do more with less, and figure out new ways to support herself.  I hope you'll visit her blog and get to know her.

I draw great strength from Fiona's journey because -- even though our circumstances are different and we live half a world apart -- our priorities and solutions are similar.  I especially appreciate that she can see that she's living a deeper, more satisfying life now that everything has been pared down to essentials.

That is true for me, also.  I really love getting to know my husband now that he's free of the evil empire.  I'll gladly face storms of financial, geographic, and professional uncertainty to watch him settle into himself.  I appreciate having a clearer idea of who our real friends are.  I'm grateful that we're getting so grounded that we're literally dirty from our work on the Farm.

The Farm...

I've been in a funk about the farm.  I work so hard out there but can't see appreciate our progress so this weekend, much like Fiona, I've been trying to acknowledge the deeper progress we've made in these last six months:

• We came up with the plan for the farm in January.
• We built the farm's website in January.
• We re-organized our entire garden into mounded, raised beds.
• We ordered seeds and planned crops differently than we ever have before.
• David designed and built the coop.
• We got the chickens and learned to care for them.
• Our garden grew.
• We dealt with the record-breaking cold and wet spring.
• I've kept up with the weeding.
• We sold a few vegetables. (thank you!)
• Pickling classes are coming up later this summer.  (There's room for you, too!  Contact me.) 
• First eggs are due any day now, and we have customers waiting for them already. 
• We're meeting a lot of wonderful neighbors.
• I'm figuring out how to license the kitchen so that I can make and sell preserves and pickles legally.
• I am making unusual pickles and preserves and learning a lot in that realm.
• We are feeding ourselves from the garden. (At the grocery store, I skip the produce section 90% of the time -- mostly just buy mushrooms or a few lemons sometimes.)

That is an awful lot in six months. 

I know from my experience with this garden over this last few years that we'll see rewards two- or three-fold next year.  We won't have to truck in compost anymore.  The beds are organized well enough now that rotation will be easier and weeding reduced.  I've learned so much about succession planting and yields this year that next year I'll have a better idea of how to market crops in advance.

I need to be patient.  A year from now, we'll face different challenges, but it will feel easier (hopefully) to sell what we grow.

Not small potatoes for six months of hard work.  Even I can see that.

making lemonade outta of the endless rain

Let's see how to frame this in a positive way...

Here is a picture of my cleaned-up, worked-on, painted garage:

You don't need to see the "before" picture.  Just imagine chaos, dirt, no visible floor, ancient stuff stacked up to be dealt with someday. 

So, during the endless rain, I dealt with it all -- except for a line of things behind that chalkboard (above) which David assures me he will move.  His cooperation is his "rent payment" because the tractor is also behind the chalkboard, and I'm cool with that being in the garage until we figure out something else (plan #3b).

These shelves used to be covered in icky, sticky stuff and an endless assortment of things that needed to go elsewhere.  Now they're full of seeds, supplies, and reference books I use when I'm muddy and need to plant something.  Since the garage has been "done" (not hardly, but you know what I mean), I find it very usable.  It's wonderful to come in with my muddy boots and consult a reference book.  It's also nice to keep a cup of hot coffee here out of the rain.  To have this space -- however humble -- in which to work and think is very freeing to me.

We're going to be putting a refrigerator in the space to the left of the picture above so that I can keep greens and eggs fresh for folks.

Whenever I make a big change to the house (especially something for me), I try to make a space for E.  This time, I made her an office in the back of the garage.  She has two desks to swivel between, and she can look over the half-wall you can see in the first picture to supervise me while I work -- which is what she told me she will be doing from her office when she's not twirling.

Why am I showing you this?

Because I feel icky and sticky and yucky and immobile because of the endless rain, and I'm trying to remind myself that we actually have accomplished a few things since our lives changed in December.

The rain here in Oregon, zone 8, has made the soil *too* wet to weed properly.  Can you imagine?  I used to love to weed in the rain.  But now the soil is a slurry, and when I pull up a weed, the roots stay in the ground while I pull up soggy tops.  It's almost June!

However, the garden still grows (slowly), and the chickens are fine...

And there's a sign up at the front of our garden that says "Curious Farm: coming soon! "  Today I planted flowers out there that I hope will bloom soon.

I keep trying to be optimistic, you see.  It's been challenging.  Sometimes I think we all will float away in the sludge and rain.

I think we're doing a good job.  I think we're making progress.  But the garden itself is stalled in this rain, and -- after six months of soul-searching and incredibly challenging work -- I could use a little sunshine and affirmation.
 

  

paying attention in new ways...

 

 Ready for an all-over-the-map post?

I have been cleaning and painting part of the garage so that it can be a good, clean place to prep vegetables and have transactions with customers someday. 

You say, "Why are you doing this now when there are so many important things you haven't done?"

The thing I know from the garden before it became a "farm" is that sometimes a vegetable bounty can come upon us suddenly, and we need to be ready.  I want to be ready to sell extra peas, herbs, and greens soon so I'm getting my systems in order.

Also, I'm painting the garage because moon/biodynamic calendars tell me that these last few days have not been optimal planting days.  I'm not ready to go full-on biodynamic yet, but I'm easing into it, I guess.  Mostly, I'm tired of things not germinating well so I want to optimize conditions on every level possible.  Right now that means that I need to pay attention to the moon as much as I can.

What else?

I haven't painted in a few years, and it's hard to tell I have white paint in my hair because the paint blends in with my gray hair.

Painting uses different muscles than digging does, and I am sore.  However, I have retained my focus and have accomplished a lot (while parenting a 5-year-old and cooking and doing laundry) during the last two days. 

I looked at the front berm today and thought, "My god!  I just weeded that mound!  How dare it..."  Then I looked at the weeds that are going berserk and discovered that they're mostly wild lettuce.  Do you know about wild lettuce?  It helps cranky people.  Do you know any cranky people?  And why might this plant be growing all over that cranky person's property?

That's what the goddess/god does, friends.  She puts the problems and the solutions right in front of our faces, and it's up to us to connect the dots.  I am grateful that I know enough about the universe now that I don't automatically kill or remove weeds and other things that seem hard or undesireable.  I look at it all pretty closely these days for deeper information on moving forward with more heart.

I think my wild lettuce/motherwort infusion is ready.  Hopefully it will put me to sleep.  The day has been challenging, and I'm tired.

wonder...

I wonder what she's thinking?

chickens and flaky stuff

The PDXBackyardChix mailing list came to my rescue this week.

It's rare for me to lurk on a mailing list, but I did.  By the time I had something to squawk about, we were in the desperate place, and I just wanted some experienced chicken keeper to come over and give us some advice (or shoot us).

24-hours after my first posting, this is exactly what happened.  I got a ton of great advice, but even more:  I got to meet the neighbor down the street who has all the nice chickens I've been watching with interest for more than a year.

After watching our chickens interact for an hour, she came up with a suggestion that hadn't occurred to me:  move the 4 older Australorps and the bossy Buckeyes to the coop and let the others (slower, wounded, smaller) stay in the brooder until they heal or are big enough to defend themselves.

And that is what we did, and we have had a trouble-free 24 hours.  All of the chicks got extra treats.  The brooder group has been resting like they're over-wrung toddlers who finally have realized that energy runs out sometimes.  Shocked to be in a new space, the coop group huddled together most of the night.  Today, they've been all over the coop and seem happy.

I have to say that being around chickens is kinda weird for me.  I wonder if anyone else with chicken experience might respond to me about this...

When I have felt tension over my dogs in the past, that tension has settled in my middle (solar plexus).  The emotions about the difficulty have been more "human" and understandable to me.  

With the chickens, I feel tension in my heart and shoulders.  I feel discombobulated, wiry in the mind.

When things were going right with the dog, I felt comforted.

When things are going right with the chickens, I feel lifted.

The burdens and worries are different.  The rewards and connections are different.  I'm still new to this and am just noticing new feelings.

And now you know why I didn't put this update on the curiousfarm blog.  Okay?  Yes. 

chicken angst

Not that we thought everything would go smoothly with the chicks, but man...  it's been intense over here.

One of the chicks became sick -- with coccidiosis, we think -- which meant that we had to begin treating all of the chicks because they'd all been exposed.  This particular chick is the smallest of the group, one of the Black Barred Rocks.  The other chicks were very aware that this one wasn't feeling well, and they huddled with it and began to get pretty stressed out themselves (or were feeling sick but were stronger and so were displaying the illness differently).  A couple of the chickens started pecking at two of the other Black Barred Rocks (all of whom are the smallest in the flock).

We were just trying to respond to the sick chick and figure out what to do, and then we had two more chicks that were wounded...  all while we're new at this chicken stuff...

In a way, it was a blessing that there were three chicks that needed tender care.  We separated these three into their own brooder, and they huddled together.  The two with wounds responded well to antibiotic cream and seemed very happy to be in a calmer space.  The other chicks calmed down in the main brooder.

Then we kept working with the sick chick to help her drink the new medicated water.  She had stopped drinking and eating and was just breathing very heavily -- very weak.  It's been heartbreaking.

I don't think we're out of the woods yet, but this one chick is eating more on her own, and she's more cooperative when I force her to drink.  I still haven't seen her drink on her own, but she may be doing that.  Her feathers seem to be more fluffy again, and it's clear that she has an appetite when I fill up the food dish in the "hospital brooder."

The other two birds seem fine, are eating and drinking well, and the redness on their backs has disappeared.  New feathers are growing back already.

I don't want to "count our chickens before they're hatched," but I'm hopeful that all of the chickens will be healthy and well soon.  We'll be moving them out into the coop today or tomorrow, and they'll have a lot more room and more outside time.

farmer tan...

...would you believe I'm already getting a farmer tan?  Okay...  it's subtle, but it's there.

I worry that I wasted today because I didn't dig.  But I dug yesterday, and I will dig again tomorrow.

Today I made breakfast, cleaned up, had friends over, made lunch, cleaned up, mowed for an hour, spent 30 minutes trying to get the chickens into a tub to bring them out into the yard, brought them out into the yard for 90 minutes (all of them this time), began prepping wood to make farm sign, spent 45 minutes trying to get the chicks back in the tub to go back to the brooder, went back outside to clean up, had to clean myself up then so that I could make dinner, picked first asparagus to cook for D and E (I had the first kale raab so I ain't complainin'), made dinner, cleaned up from dinner, went back outside to clean up more stuff (construction stuff, toys and stuff, the radio I left out from earlier), emptied compost, talked to D about chicken run design and compost pile locations, came inside and put the chickens to bed, ran a couple loads of laundry and sat my bottom down and felt cranky.  D said, "So are you going to be alone in your office tonight?"  And I just thought, "Wow...  yes...  I want to be alone for awhile...  I don't know if it will be all night, but I need to find my own skin again."

I should have taken photos of the chickens outside on the freshly mowed grass.  They looked pretty.  I cleaned a couple of chick bottoms and find it interesting that somehow I have become the designated chicken butt wiper since I take care of all the bottoms around here.

Our friends P and S came to visit today, and there was discussion all around about wanting fish but of figuring out how to take care of such pets and clean up after them.  I wondered if P and S could figure out if S was ready for fish if she could keep something else clean for awhile?

8-year-old S said,"I'll keep our dog cared for, but I won't clean up his poop."

P said, "But fish poop, too.  Do you know where they poop?  In the water...  so you have to keep the water clean."

Then E piped up, "Or you could get a cleaning snail like my friend K has!"

So, dear S, your fish tanks may have felt their ears burning today.  :)

I am tired.  My muscles hurt.  I have two loads of laundry to fold up before I can sleep. 

I find the birds overwhelming.  I am used to dogs, and I know how to care for dogs.  Birds are different.  "Duh," you might say, but really... it's just huge to shift from a dog to 16 birds.  (And we still really miss A and hope he is well.)

But everyone seems healthy, and I feel like we're doing the right things for them.  We're holding them.  They're eating and drinking well. When I finally catch a bird to move it somewhere (outside or inside), I feel her relax against me, and I like that feeling of a fragile, winged-creature at my breast.  There is some freedom and release in this chicken adventure.  I don't understand it all yet, but I know I'm in line for a few important lessons of the spirit.

chickens here, wow!

D and E brought our first chicks home last night.  There are 16:  4 buckeyes, 4 buff orpingtons, 4 black barred rocks, 4 australorps (these last are 3 weeks old instead of 1 week old).  D got them at Naomi's and was very happy with the interaction there (even though they were busy again).

I can tell the breeds apart, but I can't tell the chicks apart yet.  I hope that will come.

I had never held a bird before last night. 

Tomorrow, if it's warm enough, we might let the older australorps spend some time on the grass.  Take a look at this picture of E sprawled out on the grass  (I think she looks like an Easter egg):

 

I wonder if I'll let her do that once the chickens start ranging?

We are broker than broke, but I feel so blessed by the life, love, and potential right here at home.  Spring has sprung, man.  I have sap running all through my veins.  I want to plant every single happy, hopeful feeling I have so that I can grow more.

From now on, I'll probably post more about the chickens at Curious Farm.  They belong to the farm, not to me.  But I wanted you all to know that they're here, peeping away in the brooder just a few steps from my computer.

why i love my husband...

This morning, D took E rollerskating at Oaks Park.  Can you imagine having your dad take you rollerskating?  I can't.  I love and miss my dad, but he never did things like that.

Afterwards, D thought they would head over to the farm store to get some baby chicks.  Can you imagine being 5 years old and going with your dad to the farm store to get baby chicks?

I really love D.

This morning, while I've been alone at home (don't feel very well -- tired from the digging and other things), I've been thinking about how well D and I complement one another with our gardening skills.  He's patient with the process of propagating starts.  He's good at testing the soil and mixing amendments so that they work well for us.  He's been building the coop almost single-handedly (thanks again, JL and S).  He brings me tractor-fuls of compost whenever I ask and dumps them right where I want them to be. 

He would hate to be digging, and that's why I'm doing it, and I don't care that I'm doing it because I know he would hate it.  You know?  He would last 10 minutes with that job, and I've been doing it for a month.  I'm really tuned into the plants themselves and am good at direct sowing.  I'm sensitive to what a plant might need while it's growing in order to improve its flavor.  He pays attention to broad trends in the garden and takes the time during my witching hours (late afternoon/eve when I'm making dinner and feeling cranky) to spray horticultural oils out on the fruit trees and stuff.  (I have never sprayed horticultural oil in my life.)

He and I do different kinds of research.  He researched coop structure, basic chicken requirements, and spent an entire season planning out the coop before he started it.  I researched coop design and different breeds of chickens in order to find some that might work for us here. 

Sometimes I'm amazed by how well we work together.  I couldn't do Curious Farm without him.  But, mostly, I can't imaging raising E without him.  He is such a good dad.

busy in the kitchen...

 
Yesterday D poured the concrete for the chicken coop.  Now we have a 10' x 11' slab out there for square dances.  In the spring, we'll build the coop itself and then get our chickens.  This daydream suddenly became more concrete (ahem) with the delivery of the concrete.  I guess we'll be getting chickens then.  Real ones.

While out there, waiting for D to need my help, I picked the rest of the tomatoes so that we can start putting the garden to bed.  I know you can see the tomatoes up above, but look...  there are more green ones...

It's sort of like a bad dream to have all of these green tomatoes again because I haven't properly recovered from last year (chronicled here, here, here, here, and here ).  But I'm a good sport, yes?  And I have done a good job of minimizing the waste of perfectly edible produce from the garden this year so I was game to give it another go.  Green tomatoes are my friends.  No one understands them as deeply as I do...

So I put them all in the Harsch crock, and we'll hope that they turn into the real pickled green tomatoes I remember from New York City.  No vinegar.  No canning.  Real, fermented, crispy green tomatoes.  At least that's the hope.  They look pretty in the crock, don't they?  They're waiting to get splashed with brine.  In a week, they should be ready!

Actually, there are two Harsch crocks that are bubbling away right now.  The left one holds the green tomatoes, and one on the right is making Beet Kvass.  This is my first attempt and the first time I've used whey in my fermenting.  I looked at hundreds of recipes for Beet Kvass, and I was unable to find one that didn't use whey so I figured it must be important.  Beet Kvass is a fermented beet juice made with whey, salt, filtered water.  I put ginger in mine and used much less salt than often suggested.  It is supposed to be very healthy and very satisifying.  I love beets and have a feeling I'll love this.  We'll see in a couple of days.

But there were pretty red tomatoes out in the garden, too...

 
E doesn't eat tomato sauce on noodles so I wondered about making vegetable juice with these.  Then I realized I could make the job quite easy if I used the new strainer from the estate sale.  It worked magic!  How did I live without this tool?  (And, Stephanie, I really wonder if this would have helped make your grape project a lot easier?  Please borrow this anytime!)

The jars of juice look so pretty.  I used the recipe in the Ball Blue Book for Vegetable Juice and used less salt, and I think I could have even used less salt because the celery, onions, and lemon gave the tomatoes a nice twang.

The jar with the white cap is the pulp from the juicing.  It tasted so good that I added some lime juice and hot peppers to it so that I have some salsa to use for the next couple of weeks.  I didn't process this -- just froze some and put the rest in a jar in the fridge.  I'm happy that even this bit of garden bounty didn't get wasted.  It's satsifying to make the effort to turn leftovers into goodness.

So, yesterday:  chicken coop/square dancing platform, picked tomatoes, made beet kvass, maked pickled green tomatoes, made tomato juice and salsa.  Good, eh?