growing curious

certifying the kitchen #3

As I appended to my last post, the kitchen inspector wasn't able to visit earlier in August.  She is scheduled to come here on Tuesday, the morning after I teach a fermentation class.

I made lasting progress for the inspector's last scheduled visit.  There is some extra cleaning that needs to be done, that *always* needs to be done when someone comes over, but I'm not worried. 

However, since the last big go-around of household/pantry/closet re-organization, I realize that I don't have a perfect solution to separate business and household stuff through their entire life-cycles, and I think that this will be what the inspector will try to teach me about next week.

I have separated out ingredients and equipment, but I have four places where I store business equipment.  Maybe this isn't okay.

Also, since I'm not in production mode right now, I don't know where I'll store bigger amounts of finished product.  Even if I'm not ready to produce large quantities, I think the inspector might want to know where I think I'll be storing product before it goes elsewhere.

So this morning -- in between looking for a lost chicken -- I re-arranged the long-term pantry so that there's more enclosed, separate space to hold finished preserves.

It's really weird to think about how your family stores things, from an outsider's perspective.  I keep realizing that there are huge fields of things I haven't even considered yet.  I am being as anal as I can possibly be, and then there's another entirely obvious thing that I hadn't considered before...  ho hum...

certifying the kitchen #2

Why am I showing you the cabinet under my kitchen sink?  Because the kitchen inspector is coming tomorrow, and she's going to look here, too.

Another rule for domestic kitchen licensing is that cleaning supplies need to be removed.  Right now, the cabinet holds just the garbage and a fire extinguisher.  I'll let you know if this turns out to be kosher.

I am very tired. 

Even though it has been hard work to re-organize the kitchen and other storage areas in the house, it hasn't been difficult.  I actually enjoyed separating my professional supplies (including spices and other ingredients) from household supplies.  Sometimes it has seemed as though I've been working toward this kitchen certification all along.  Everything has its own place now, and it all fits just fine.

Tomorrow the inspector is just coming to give me a consultation.  Wanting to use her time in the best way and to challenge myself, I've tried to follow the regulations as fully as I understand them.  We'll have a more productive conversation this way.

I'm not nervous.  I feel tired and a bit wound up, but not nervous.  As I told D and my old friend P, there's an aspect of this process that soothes my anxiety.  It has given me a way to use my native hypervigilance in a more concrete and productive way.  I'm glad for this opportunity to move forward professionally.  I relish (fun pun!) the chance to make and sell my preserves soon.

If you ever have wanted to eat off a kitchen floor, come to my house tomorrow at 9am.

---

sadly, the inspection has been posponed because of an emergency in the inspector's family.  in a couple of weeks we'll try this again...

---

beet relish

I've done kraut, kvass, kimchi, but I've never done a fermented beet relish until now.  Wow!  It turned out. 

Besides the beets and carrots (both from the garden!), I decided to take a break from my usual spicy-hot additions and used caraway, dill, black pepper, and a little ginger this time.   It tastes rooty, pleasantly sour, and very alive.  I want to put it on a cheese sandwich on rye bread. Instead, I ate some of it plain for breakfast.

deer friend

E and I watched this deer for a long time this morning.  She often visits our yard.  Today she was eating bolted lettuce and the sow thistles I keep meaning to remove.  Maybe I'm glad I'm behind in my weeding!  She left all the onions and squash plants I have growing in the same area. 

brave john callahan

I just learned that John Callahan died today. I wish him peace.  Deep peace and freedom.

Some years ago, after I returned from NYC, I was hired to help John develop an email newsletter (The Startled Pig Humor Club).  His brilliance pivoted on his visual humor and the scraggy quality of his line.  It was my job to help him develop a voice to use in his newsletter.  He didn't use email then, but I had to make it all seem as true as possible.

He was ornery.  He hated computers then.  He loved some women but didn't have much patience for "women" back then.  He also hated how trendy women in NW Portland took walks with their dogs and picked up baggies of their dogs' poop.  He just couldn't believe that all these beautiful women were walking around NW Portland with bags of shit. 

I was touched by all of the art in his home about Humpty Dumpty.

Working with him, though, was a dream.  I had spent my whole life helping people who were creative-but-wordless find their own words, then worked with children's book illustrators in NYC to help them express their creative processes, and then I met John Callahan.  Every part of our professional relationship was difficult.  He knew why I was there but hated me being there.  He hated that I was an older, round, feminist  woman.  He hated that I challenged him on his declarations and insensitivities.  He hated that I wasn't beautiful, wasn't afraid of him, but still liked him anyway.

I admired him for being a true citizen.  He watched cable news and talk shows.  He developed a personal perspective about the big and small issues in the world.  Even when I didn't agree with him, I admired the chain of his reasoning.  He always made reference to anecdotes and relationships in his own life.  He never shot off opinions that weren't considered somehow in his own body.  In this way, he was vulnerable and powerful.  Honest, always.

I really understood how to make the line quality and angry humor of his cartoons come alive in straight text.  I loved surrendering my own politics to do good work for him.  I loved being in his company because he was honest about himself and what he thought he saw.    He allowed himself to be present in his art.  And many times he could see through the bullshit better than the rest of us.

Carry on, John.

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.

certifying the kitchen #1

When I am not picking snow peas (it's the middle of July!), pickling them (good results!), watering, weeding, helping bean vines find their twine supports (have you ever found the patience to coax a vine toward a support?  it's my meditation practice), or feeling overwhelmed and hopeless, I am cleaning my kitchen, garage, closets, and cabinets.

I am doing this because I want to get our home kitchen certified so that I can produce jams and pickles here and sell them legally.

I have been trying to wrap my mind around this for a couple of years, but the requirements are daunting.

The worst requirement for us is that no animal is ever allowed in the same building where the kitchen is.  We are dog people, and that has been a deal-breaker for me as I've tried to approach this goal in the past.  Sadly, though, we had to find another home for our dog earlier this year for unrelated reasons.  For months, I refused to consider the possibility of moving forward with the domestic kitchen licensing because this requirement kills the joy for me completely.  But now that my professional plans have gotten much bigger, it's absolutely clear that this domestic kitchen situation is a temporary one.  I can deal with a pet-free home for a couple of years.  The chickens have their own nice digs outside, and they are lovely companions, too. 

There are other requirements about storing ingredients and supplies separately from family supplies.  For my purposes, this requires a second refrigerator.  We already have that second fridge for the farm, and I'm waiting to hear from the inspector if that new one will suffice for the farm and the preserving.  We'll see.

Also, no medicines can be stored in the certified kitchen.  This makes absolute sense, but it requires considerable juggling around of our closet space here.  You know how when you re-organize one closet, you have to re-organize a few more for things to make sense again?  Well, that's where I am right now...

The house is a mess -- with things willy-nilly -- as I try to achieve new organizational sanity here.  I refuse to do the deep cleaning of the bathrooms and elsewhere that has needed to get done for weeks until this stuff is dealt with.  Do we need it?  Should we save it?  Should we donate it?  I won't vacuum until the pile of stuff is gone from the middle of the room.

Also, I'm going through my kitchen tools, wondering which ones I can give over to the business and which ones I need to keep for family use.  Do I need two of every favorite tool?

I also feel afraid to open my home to the scrutiny I imagine is to come.  There will be scheduled and unscheduled inspections.  Truthfully, I'm less afraid of the unscheduled inspections because once I learn the rules I must follow, I will be dogged about that.  I worry more about the first inspections when I'll be trying so hard to do it all right and then feel slammed when I'm told that I'll need to make a costly adjustment.

But I do feel determined.  My preserves -- jams, relishes, chutneys, and fermented pickles -- are made with care and are good enough to be able to be sold legally.  This is my passion:  I like to grow the vegetables and fruits, and I like to preserve their wonderful energy. 

I debated a long time about whether or not to post about this journey toward a certified domestic kitchen.  It's embarrassing to figure out how to turn your private space into a state-certified production kitchen.  But, you know, I would really appreciate reading about someone else's professional journey in this direction.  It would be great to connect with others who are doing something like this, and I never will unless I share about it.  (Thanks, Sarah Gilbert, for that clear insight.) 

So, hi!  My name is cathy, and I'm trying to get my kitchen licensed! 

preserving my sanity

After a long dry period and my first kimchi disaster, I'm back in the pickling and jamming saddle again.

In fact, there is tremendous goings-on in the preserving realm for me, but most of this will need to be shared later this summer.

In the meantime, I recovered from my kimchi disaster and made the best batch of kimchi I've ever made with my own two hands and heart.  I'm so pleased with it.  It's spicier, but the acid profile is more clean-tasting so -- overall -- it's just fantastic kimchi.   I wish you could taste it.  Kimchi isn't scary.  I don't use fish or sugar in mine.  It only takes a week to ferment, and it's good for you.  Wanna take a class?  Write to me, and I'll let you know when I teach another kimchi class.

Now look at this pretty pickle:  snow peas with onions, radishes and dill.  I won't know if this will turn out for another couple of days, but -- so far -- I'm pleased to see the snow peas retain their bright green color. And it was so much fun to put together with the gorgeous snow peas from the farm. 

(By the way, we have a lot of snow peas and pea tips/sprouts right now.  See what's fresh now at Curious Farm, and if you'd like to stop by, send email or give a call so that I can set some aside for you.)

But tonight I am making some strawberry jam. It's really special.  It's different.  It's grown-up and intense.  I divided a flat of strawberries so that I could try the recipe in two different ways.  The first batch is done and came out better than I had hoped.  I'm so pleased with this new way of making jam (with no added pectin, too) that I could spazz out from relief and joy. 

Now I'm working on the second batch, with the different technique, while I listen to Taj Mahal at the Waterfront Blues Festival on KBOO.  I notice that I often am jamming late at night during the Blues Festival!  Next year I should just plan a preserving project during this yearly festival weekend to take advantage of the good music.

I am proud of myself for persevering with my preserving passion.  Thank you for letting me share my joy.

 

it begins...

 

a big, weird blessing?

I haven't been sitting around spinning my belly button lint.    We've been busy while we wait for the sun to show up.

My daughter now reads comic books in bed:

She also talks nonstop from sunrise to sunset.  It's wonderful, creative, and it's making me a little crazy.  I can't believe that she soon will be in school from 8-something-am until prettymuch-3pm every single week day for the next 13 years.

I pray that the universe and the economy work with me so that I can make good progress for our family while she is busy at school.  I continue to explore how to certify our domestic kitchen so that I can make and sell pickles and preserves.  Aside from the catastrophic weather-related problems most farmers are experiencing in our region right now, Curious Farm is making quite a bit of progress all around.  Crops might not be growing properly, but we are working through a massive heap of kinks that aren't related to the weather.  So maybe this spooky weather is a big, weird blessing? 

ham-in-training

E took an acting class (Acting ABCs) from the NW Children's Theater this spring.  It was a very positive experience for her.  D would take her down there to give me precious time to myself so I tried to remove myself from the whole adventure, but she came home so energized.  (Her teacher was a young man named Noah, in case your child ever has an opportunity to take a class there from him.)

Earlier this week the class gave their final play, and David recorded the performance and uploaded it (with fatherly pride) to YouTube.   E played Mr. McGreeley --in the overalls and red straw hat.  (Please don't feel you must watch this because I put this link here mostly for my family.)

We were pleased that E seemed so engaged in the play onstage.  But the weirdest thing happened last night:  she took center stage in the living room and did the entire play -- including narration, all parts, and all physical movement -- solo.  She had memorized the entire thing with emotion and inflection.  It almost seemed like she was relieved finally to get to play all of the parts.

She's been listening to lots of long books on tape, and we've been reading chapter books to her at night.  However, I hadn't realized how carefully she's able to track a narrative already.  Obviously, I'll need to keep feeding this fire. 

forty-six

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I said, "Self, what do you want for your birthday?"

"A clean kitchen,"  I answered easily.

So I cleaned the damn kitchen today so that all day long tomorrow I can know the kitchen is clean. 

Is that self-nurturing?  Or is it pathetic?

I cleaned the stove.  I oiled the cabinets.  I dusted everything.  Tomorrow morning when everyone is awake I'll vacuum in there.  And then I won't clean anything else all day long except my own bottom because I can still do that, thankfully.

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.

life on the farm...

Nothing about Curious Farm has been easy, but I do feel delighted in how naturally the farm develops.  I take one step; D takes another... Then the vegetables, fruit, and chickens follow their own rhythms. We shepherd.  We do the next right thing.  We rest.  Then we go outside the next morning and witness changes that are beyond us.

After all of those years playing politics in publishing, media, and high-tech companies, D and I are experiencing something very sweet right now:  the farm responds to our care.  If we're thoughtful about our own work, we are rewarded with more than we put in.

This is grace, I think.

Our goals aren't lofty, and we don't have cotton candy between our ears.  We've had plenty of garden failures in the past.  We kick rocks, learn what we can so that we can try new tricks next time, and move on.  Like our friend (and hero) Charlie Brown, we're really experienced in failure.

We might not make a cent from this adventure for the next couple of years (or ever), but at least we eat well and grow healthy through our efforts.

done!

Psst...  I finished the garden beds.  What's three months of my life, anyway?  The digging is done.  Done.  

I finished them just before it began to pour, and it's supposed to keep raining until the weekend.  I feel giddy.  I feel triumphant!

They're crooked and a little funky around the edges, but hopefully no one will notice that once things start growing.

wonder...

I wonder what she's thinking?

conversation with 5-year-old spirit...

We were driving along, and an old song came on the radio... "Hey, E...  who's this on the radio?"

"I don't know.  Is it the Beatles?"

"Well, it's one of them...  it's Ringo all by himself."

"I forget... Who are the Beatles that are alive, and who are the ones in heaven?"

"John and George are in heaven."

"Jesus is in heaven, too.  And so is Buddha!"

"Yes.  That's true. But you can invite Jesus and Buddha into your heart and have a conversation with them right now."

"Oh, I don't need to do that because they're sitting right next to me.  They're my brothers.  Did Jesus die before Buddha?"

"No, Buddha lived and died before Jesus was born."

"And what about Ganesha...  when was he alive?"

"Well, the thing is that Ganesha is an idea of God.  He didn't really live in real life, but Jesus and Buddha were real people who had real lives."

"But Ganesha got an elephant head when his dad made a mistake!  That was real!"

"Well, no...  that's a story to teach us something.  Ganesha is like an important character in a story so that we can learn about the world and about God.  But Jesus and Buddha had real lives, and there also are stories about their lives."

"And they are God, too, aren't they?"

"Some people believe that.  They both certainly had great ways of teaching us how to be kind and loving."

"But Jesus and Buddha and the Beatles were alive after the dinosaurs, right?"

- - - -

Later this afternoon E brought her notebook outside so that she could record new animal species she "discovered."  She kept coming up with wild, pretend names for different kinds of birds that do unusual things.  When she was looking at the chickens in the run, she said, "And these are the martyr chickens...  they don't die when you hurt them."

D and I looked at each other... "Where did that come from?"  I wonder if some stray bit got lodged in her mind when she went to church with Grandma on Good Friday?

do you want to write a book?

please read this: "how to write (a book). a wee rant." by Patti Digh. 

balm in the rain

If I look hard enough, there is a positive side to not being able to dig because of the rain:  I'm forced to get other stuff done when I get an hour or two without E.

Today I went out to weed under the apple trees.  I do this twice a year -- spring and fall -- and spread compost around them in neat circles.  They get unruly again pretty quickly, but I usually get a month or so to enjoy what the backyard looks like when the grass is cut and the trees have nice borders.

A couple of weeks ago, I worried I wouldn't be able to tackle this job since so much is going on this spring, but today I found the time to begin.  Weeding around one tree was so satisfying (easier in the rain) that I did three more.

I have been meaning to plant some lemon balm under the apple trees because it attracts bees, and I've been wondering if it might compete well with the invasive bindweed that grows on the hill.  It wouldn't bother me at all if the lemon balm just took off and spread all down the hillside.  Its roots are shallow, and it serves several purposes -- medicinal and insectary.  I happened to have some lemon balm elsewhere that had escaped its pot so it was nice to be able to transplant that to a place where it can do a lot of good.

While I was replanting the balm, the sun came out.  There I was... sitting on the edge of the hill, listening to the creek, smelling both the dirt and the soapy lemon balm, feeling the sun on my hair, and looking at the pretty blossoms on the crab apple tree (always the earliest to bloom).  Bliss.  A moment so full of hope and simple pleasure.

I walked down the hill a bit and saw a young blueberry plant almost completely taken over by a huge (18 inches in diameter) red dandelion.  I laughed because it reminded me of how the chicks sometimes stand on top of one another.  I thought, "Oh, you'll be a bugger to pull, won't you?"  Then I decided to change my strategy and said outloud, "Dear, you are gorgeous, but you can't be here.  Come inside with me and we'll make some tea of you."  She pulled straight out without a fight.

wendy westerwelle in "Rose"

In today's Oregonian, there's a great review of Wendy Westerwelle's performance in "Rose" (but I can't find the link to the review online yet). 

From triangle productions:

Wendy Westerwelle stars as ROSE

triangle productions! in conjunction with Roscoe Nelson is pleased to present ROSE by Martin Sherman, who also wrote our 1992 hit BENT. Rose is a survivor. Her remarkable life began in a tiny Russian village, took her to the Warsaw ghetto, aboard a ship called The Exodus, and finally to the boardwalks of Atlantic City, the Arizona Canyons and salsa flavored nights in Miami Beach. Rose is a vivid portrait of a feisty Jewish woman and a reminder of events that shaped the 20th century.

The show is at the CoHo theater and runs through April 25th.

Go, Wendy!

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.

equinox

Happy Spring!  I'm tired, but I always try to post on spring equinox. 

We're making painfully slow progress over at Curious Farm.  The chickens are healthy, and we're finding a lot of joy in being around them.  It's way more fun to dig when the older chicks are out there in the garden with me. 

Really, it's been a very challenging year for us.  (It's too painful for me even to outline the challenges tonight!)  But I'm proud of us for moving forward even though we're scared and feel like we don't have enough to accomplish what we want to do.  We've felt pretty lonely this year, and we're bone-tired.  But we're still working on Curious Farm and trying to make it real.  Isn't that cool?  How are we doing that?  I don't know either.  It's just a funny/weird/happy thing. 

I send you happy spring energy.  I hope you're feeling new life and renewed passion.  I hope you'll let yourself be open to new and unexpected adventures.  I hope you will nourish something fragile within your heart.  I hope you'll eat more leafy greens -- you know you need them! 

Let's all burst forth!

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.

duck magic

The ducks are back!  I saw them this morning when I was cleaning up from breakfast!  Yay!  Spring is really here now.  I needed a little sign from the universe that everything would be okay.

digging #328

Are you tired of hearing about me digging garden beds? (here, here, here, etc.)  Yeah, me too.

I finally finished the third bed -- 4' x 12' (on top).  I dug it much deeper.  It's much loftier because I went dug down deeper and ammended it more intensively.  I'll post a picture of it when I'm in a better mood.

We've been working so hard.  Both D and I were feeling icky today (rare sleepless night with kid didn't help).  Our bodies hurt so much from putting shingles up on the roof (him) and digging (me).  Some days I work so hard out there that I can't even talk.  When E asks me to help her put gloves on for the fourth time in an hour and I can't even get my own gloves off to do that because I'm shaking and sputtering from having dug for hours...  it's yucky.  I can be an impatient mom when I'm that tired.

It was a year ago this week that my dad died.  I've been thinking about Cynthia and her family so much this week because her mom died last week.

How do we get through the stuff we have to get through?

I'm still figuring out how to connect with my mother since my dad's passing.  I am grateful that today she didn't argue with me when I asked if E and I could come up tomorrow.  I am working very hard on things in my own life, but I talk to my mom three times a week on the phone and try to visit with her once or twice a month.  I'd visit more often if she didn't refuse to see me.  You know?  And, although I invite her here frequently, she will only stop by on a blue moon.  It's been a long time since I used any guilt or pressure with my mom.  I'm just open-hearted and don't expect anything.  She seems interested in seeing the chickens someday, though.

Truthfully, I feel incredibly lonely lately.  My mother and D's mother -- from different perspectives -- seem to think we're a little crazy with our garden plans.  Now's about the time when we could use a warm pat on the back and a "Gee, I'm proud of you.  This is smart."  Yesterday, while D was resting, his mother kept trying to process doomsday scenarios with me while I was washing the dishes after dinner.  "So, if D doesn't get a job, you'll have to move from here, right?  You'll have to get an apartment somewhere..." 

There is so much at stake.  So I keep digging and dreaming of a healthy garden.  It's the only thing I know how to do right now.  I might be crazy.  Or I might be smart.

still...

...working like crazy over at Curious Farm.

digging challenges

I won't delete this post.  I've deleted a couple this week.

I'm still digging.  I am still working on the third 4' x 12' bed.  There have been some other events and responsibilities (like putting the roof on the coop) this weekend so I haven't made as much progress on the beds as I hoped I would.

Two challenges I'm facing:

Although it's out-of-character for my former oovy-groovy, hippie-ish persona, the smell of wheatgrass makes me feel ill because of an unfortunate overdose of freshly-juiced wheatgrass that happened in Santa Cruz 25 years go.  But the area where I'm digging is covered in wheatgrass because that's the cover crop I'm turning under with each shovel-ful.  And every single time I break the soil/wheat with the shovel, a fresh burst of wheatgrass smell overwhelms me.  This is the best cover crop we've ever used (germination, habit, coverage), but digging it up is yucking me out.  I wish we had planted red clover last fall!  I would probably still be out there digging at midnight.

I've been at this digging for several days now.  Can you imagine how your skin would feel if you kept giving yourself clay masks for six hours, several days in a row?  I have wrinkles on top of my wrinkles now.  It's been clear and beautiful enough this week that the ground is actually drying out.  Every time I stick my hand in the bed to pull out another rock, I get clay all over me.  It's going up my shorts and chapping my legs.  Between my shirt sleeves and gloves, I have a ring of chapped skin.  It's not just the clay.  I'm ammending the beds with some rock and mineral dusts...  And then I take a couple long, hot showers (before I make lunch and after I come in for the evening) to get the dirt and ammendments off my skin and hair, so those aren't helping either. I never anticipated this problem.

And, in case you've lost count, after I finish this third bed (tomorrow!  tomorrow!  please!), I still have eight more to dig out.

I will do it.  I refuse to give up.  But man...  this is really hard, friends.  I am encountering many, many rocks (between 15 and 30 inches down), and I think these rocks prevented our vegetables from growing well in the past.  I'm spending a *lot* of time on this -- sorting through the soil with my hand, making sure every rock is removed.  Maybe I'm crazy.