What makes a farmer?

I was talking with one of my friends about a fantasy land where we would run away with our boyfriends and live in a cottage somewhere. In the course of the conversation she started talking about farming and how she wouldn't know what to do with herself, so Captain America and I would have to be in charge of it. I tried to tell her that it was easy, but something must have gotten lost in the translation.

How do you sum up the love, the angst, the freedom, and the responsibility in a few sentences? How do you explain the pure exultant joy that you can feel from successfully doing something that felt insurmountable: mowing and baling a field of hay on your own, helping birth a calf, falling in instant love with a baby chick, making food from dirt? Or the heart wrenching despair and loss that you feel when Murphey's law hits and everything that can possibly go wrong does: all the equipment breaks - repeatedly, it rains on your hay, animals die, gardens wither? 

Surely this is what she must feel like when she tells me about music, or other friends try to explain what moves them. It is so frustrating to have something that you love so much, and be unable to verbalize that love to share it with your loved ones. To explain how easy and wonderful your passion is to someone who doesn't share it is exceedingly difficult.

Being a farmer isn't about mechanical skill, ability to build fence, knowledge of livestock medicine, or any of the hundred other chores that pop in my head - though those things do help. But being a farmer is so much less, and so much more than that. It is heart. It is love. It is fortitude.

Being a farmer is cow paths that wind through the woods as a child's Yellow Brick Road. It is climbing atop a pile of round bales and serenading a herd of cows like you're a pop star. It is watching a thousand loved ones slowly age and die, or be swiftly executed in their prime. It is holding newborn kittens and helping bird's to their nests. It is standing in a hayfield during a surprise thunderstorm surrounded by 200 freshly made square bales that are going to have to be shaken out and dried again so they can be rebaled without molding, and finding the ability to cry, curse and laugh your way through it again and again. It is being aware and entangled with both the highs and the lows of life; and having so much love for that life, plant or animal, that you get up and keep going even when it feels pointless, overwhelming, and you question your sanity.

I don't know. Maybe it is genetic. Somewhere in our DNA is code for red or green tractors next to the one that determines our eye color. Maybe it is environmental. How could I ever leave my adoring herd of fans? After all they are the only ones who like my singing, and most of my songs were about them and the horses anyway. 

Maybe it is a combination of both that gives anyone the determination to pursue their passion. Heart and fortitude, baby. That's what makes me a farmer.

Stop being a weatherman.

 

I saw this photo on Facebook last Friday, and all I can do is heartily agree. I feel like my life has been a non-stop whirlwind lately.  I have always enjoyed being busy. It is one of the reasons I love living on a farm. I don’t know what to do with myself when there isn’t some chore or project to work on. I’m not big on relaxing with television or movies (to the point that I am pretty sure it drove my college roommate crazy because I couldn’t sit through a show without leaving to do dishes or something else productive). Tis the season for that to shine I suppose. Spring is always a time of growth and rapid change. There is always a flurry of activity that leads into the growing season. This year’s has just been even crazier than usual.

My grandpa passed away in February leaving me with a bunch of outbuildings to clean and rehab, in addition to a LOT more grass to mow, and a ton of exciting (but overwhelming) opportunities. In addition to that, I bought a house. Because, hey, why not compound that overwhelming amount of yard, with another two acre yard. Go big or go home, right?

Right. Check. Got that. Did that. Own the t-shirt. Damn near started a business printing the t-shirt because I just can’t say no to adding more things to my plate. AHHH! Stress is exhilarating!!! Until it isn’t.

Halfway through getting my garden in last week I about had a meltdown. I had already smushed my hand between the rather large lawn mower and a tree – leading me to believe that prayer must work because the accident really should have removed fingers or at least broken something. My guardian angel has got some overtime coming her way! Anyway, in addition to pain priming myself for a crying spree; I had let myself become obsessed with my to do list. Anyone who lives on a farm, no matter how big or small, should realize one thing about farms and to do lists. Farms make NEVER ENDING to do lists.

Seriously, something is always coming up. There is always a garden to weed, or a fence to fix, a barn to repair, livestock to check, plants to water, grass to cut, invasive plants to kill… I think you get the idea. You will never accomplish everything on the list. Plain and simple. You have to do what you can, when you can, and try to not drive yourself insane by impulse buying ten bags of organic potatoes that were on sale for $1.99/ five pounds and trying to process them during planting season. It does not end well.

 

Though I have found that I can process ten pounds of potatoes over my hour long lunch break, and that Captain America has some awesome potato chopping skills. Yay date night! (Despite this, I still have 10 pounds to go. WHOO!)

Anyway, to summarize: I was trying to mow well over fifteen acres of yard, plant my entire garden, process 50 pounds of potatoes, figure out how to remodel a bathroom, stress about moving things around up at grandpa’s so that the massive fixing spree can happen, and stay on top of my regular chores in the three hours of daylight that I had after work. In three days. Because it was going to start raining Thursday and not stop until this week. Plus, I have plans virtually every weekend. On a side note volunteering at the food pantry in St. Louis Saturday was incredibly rewarding, though a bit disturbing. Who on earth donates opened products (Mm, half used quinoa! Not sketchy at all!) and cans that expired in 1999? Really guys?

I like to call last week my extreme exhaustion challenge. It makes it seem much happier that way. In the midst of it, my mom gave me some very good advice: “Stop spending your life trying to be a weatherman and predicting when the storm will hit. You’re obsessing with when the rain is going to come rather than enjoying the sunshine!” I would like to say that I immediately stopping stressing/crying/working myself sick and really got that statement, but it took me a few days. I was very good about enjoying the little things with grandpa when he was alive. I stopped and admired the clouds and the sunshine with him, but since he has gone I have been (maybe distracting myself from grief?) overwhelming myself with responsibilities, trying desperately to maintain and do things the way he would have wanted. It is the same with the neighbor’s house I purchased, I want to care for it the way Evelyn and Ralph always did.

I want to honor their memory with my actions, but at some point I have to admit that I am just one person and I can’t take care of things the way that three people were able to. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter that the grass isn’t immaculate, because it is just going to grow again. And the land is mine to care for now, not theirs. I need to be a good steward, but by God if I want to rearrange the buildings that are falling down on themselves and have to be rebuilt anyway to suit my goals I should. I shouldn’t make myself crazy over it.

What is the point in having everything to take care of if I can’t stop and enjoy it? If I don’t get in the habit now, I will make a habit of not enjoying it that will be very hard to break. I will always have too much to finish; and this making everything a priority bit that I have been doing lately is only serving to make me insane, and make nothing a priority.

So, here is to better prioritizing, and not making myself sick with guilt when I want a damned pedicure. Ha!

 

Canning Swag

I really wanted to name this post: I <3 blue Balls. You know, the jars! But I didn't. Because I love you.

So, in other news, there is such a thing as canning swag. Who knew?

Let me introduce you to my new love, Ball’s 100 year commemorative blue pint jars. We met last night, and it was love at first sight. Captain America asked me to come in the house and presented me with a giant box and a pocket knife. What did I find inside, but 18 of these beauties all packaged up and waiting to be my partners in crime! Hats off to Captain America and his ability to pick up and act on my weird wants. All it took was me mentioning seeing them in my favorite blog, Chickens in the Road and they magically appeared!

Remind me to pickle him something next week. That boy is going to drown in jam and chutney. I mean affection, affection! *sigh* Food is "intense like", right?

Clear glass jars seem so plain next to them. I mean I can can tomatoes and they’ll look purple! Green beans are going to be SO green this year! My pantry is going to be a freaking work of art! I can hardly wait to try them. It’s a good thing that tomatoes are ripening, cucumbers are out in full force, and the beans are blooming; because next week, next week, these babies are being put to the test!

Can you see heaven parting, and light shining down?
Is that only in my head?
Ahhh-ahhh-ahhh <-angelic chorus

Baby pictures

Houston, we have squashes!

Aren't they adorable?

Grow, grow into a delicious dinner baby squash!

Seriously, they are so precious I don't know how I am going to eat them. Oh wait, with butter. Mmm mm. Garden fresh goodness!

Death to Buttercups!

I have been away for awhile dealing a family emergency. I am really not good at being creative when I am stressed. Actually, I am not good for much except laying around in various positions of pathetic on the couch when I am depressed stressed; which is what I have been.

That is one reason I love being on a farm so much. It gives me a reason to get up. I can’t wallow all day in my pajamas. Well, okay I can, but pajama pants and hay don’t merge well together; and it is really hard to wallow when the calves are bouncing and the joy of the world in spring is beating your senses down. Stupid beautiful spring days mocking me with their serenity and joy when all I want to do is wallow. Ah well, inevitably the pretty days and responsibility win out and I am back to being normal. Albeit somewhat resentfully so when I came up from the depths again just as we had hay down! I kinda wish I would have wallowed just one more day!

Things in the garden are growing well. Sorta. We had both a record low (frost, YAY!) and a record high (why is it 93 in May? WHY?!?) Lettuce is up and ready to be thinned and the radishes are almost ready to be eaten! I actually snuck three last night and they were GREAT! Strawberries are starting to ripen, and blueberries are formed and ready to go. The winter garlic and shallots are almost ready to dig, and my potatoes are huge already. The corn is not coming up like I would like, and neither are the beans, but I am thinking of heading out to buy a packet of seeds or two and start again with them. The weird weather in southern IL might be the cause. Or birds. Or rabbits. Who knows! But I am blaming the super cold ground temperature for killing my precious babies. Oh well, that’s how it goes. Good thing I can still go to the grocery store if I need to!

In other news I started a low carbohydrate lifestyle change last Monday, and so far so great! I have had a few strawberry and apple cravings, but I have not missed bread at all. I think it is going to dove tail well with my desire to eat more in season fruits and vegetables out of my garden and from the farmer’s market. I didn’t realize it before but all of the lettuce, radishes, squash, zucchini, pumpkins, asparagus, peppers, and pumpkins are acceptable for a low carb menu. That works great for me, because I prefer cheesey baked summer squash to Kraft blue box any day of the week. I got both of my parents involved too, so I get the social aspect of eating with them without the Chinese take-out calories. Win win!

In other news, we spent all weekend updating the garden, trying to see what was going to pull through, and what was a goner. It was unseasonably warm, and I was a little too dramatic about being hot. Dad borrowed my grandpa’s tractor and used the manure spreader all day to remove Mt. Horseapple and the Cowpoopia Mounds from our landscape. Finally. Unfortunately, dad left the gate open when he got done. That inevitably led to the cows getting loose. Reports say that dad rushed inside because he needed back up and long story short mom had to herd cows in a bath towel. I am glad her super powers are still working (and that I was in a theater with my phone off, darn!).

We also identified the yellow flower of doom (IE Creeping Buttercup) which has taken over our pastures. It looks as if my Memorial weekend is going to be full of plant killer. That stuff is highly invasive, toxic to animals, kills grass, and it is very caustic when mown. It has to go. Good thing it should only take SEVEN years of spraying for us to eradicate it. Ugh. There goes the fence fixing or barn cleaning that I had planned!

Death to Buttercups!

Gardens, Cows, and Wine. What a weekend!

Are you ready for gratuitous cow pictures? I sure as heck hope you are because I have them ready to go.





I had a ball out with some friends on Friday and had to drag myself up to work in the garden on what has to be one of the most beautiful days to date this year. It was pretty enough that the not sleeping was definitely worth it! I let the cows loose in the yard over the weekend while I was out tilling my garden and could keep an eye on them, and boy were they happy. Until it all went wrong and I had to put them back out on their pasture. They are a little pissed now that they are contained in their pasture again, but someone ate some of mom’s butterfly bush. And her lovage. And a couple bites of day lily. And they destroyed a few herb garden markers. I think you get the point. They are heathens. Bad, bad cows.

My friends at Two Amigos in Sonoma, CA heard of my gardening adventure and asked me to take a couple shots for their Facebook page as well. If you are ever in Sonoma check them out! Their wine is phenomenal, and they are great people!

I started out my adventure in photography strong. Picturesque, right?

Then Brisket was like, "Whatcha doin'? Can I eat that?"

And, I was like, "Oh hey, Brisket! How's it goin'?"

And then I was like, "I have such pretty cows."

And then I realized that I had a purpose.
"Dammit! The wine, Lauren! Focus! Don't let yourself be distracted!"

Also, prepare yourselves because we have two newborn calves. I’m sure I won’t be able to keep myself from more cow photos. They are so darn cute!

I think my plants are teenagers.

Don't they look like they should be getting out of the house to you too?

Let the hardening off stage begin!

So, I made a tiller.

And on Tuesday I looked down at my planned garden and said, “Damn. I don’t want to hoe that.” So, I made a tiller.

I said, I need something to break up the dirt, destroy all the weeds, push past the rocks and the buried walnut shells, take a beating and work it all again and again until the ground is perfect. So, I made a tiller.

I need a tool that will help me out as I try to garden. Reliable enough that I know it is going to work when I need it to, but low maintenance enough that I am not going to have to fiddle with it when I want to use it. Something strong enough to bust through roots and rocks and run for hours on end in crappy conditions until the job is through. So, I made a tiller.

I said, “I need a partner that can have my back and work the clay, loam, and sand with equal ferocity. That can push through compost and spread it through the soil for all those roots to find. To be there for me in evenings and on weekends after I finish my forty hour work week and actually start my work.” So, I made a tiller.

If you don’t get the reference, check out this commercial.

And yes, yesterday I did assemble my tiller. I am not remotely mechanically inclined so I am ridiculously proud of myself. I even assembled it all with the tools that live in the back of the four wheeler, because I’m awesome at farm stuff. Or it was just that easy to assemble. Whatever. It is held together with wing nuts, but I loaded it with gearbox lube all by myself and everything! I feel so bad ass!

Or, at least I felt bad ass until I noticed that the damn cord wrap was in the wrong spot.

So, I made a tiller!

Companion Planting

I am by no means an expert on companion planting. In fact this is my first attempt. I have been doing a lot of research into the subject and thought that I would share a little of the insight I have found. So, I made you a table.

Well, actually I made me a table because I'm a little tweaked like that, but I'm sharing it with you because I have found so much conflicting information!

Please keep in mind that these are just suggestions that I have found online and in books. I have no experience with them yet, but I will certainly keep you posted!

They're alive!

The newspaper pots are working wonderfully!

Now I just have to remember what is what.

Why choose a rural life?

Why garden? Why farm? Why create a life for yourself that is full of work?

It isn’t for everyone. God, I know that one. Heck, there are many times that I recall having to cancel my plans to get hay up and off the field or get up early after a night on the town that I wondered my about sanity and if this lifestyle was for me! I am a pretty intelligent girl. I have the kind of resume that could get me a job in the city with all the posh accoutrements I could desire. So why limit myself? Why restrain myself to one geographic area when the world is at my fingertips? Why choose a life of non-stop work over a life of relatively easy reward?

Love. I love the farm. I love the land. I love the animals. The joy I get from watching a bud pop up out of the ground, a kitten’s first faltering footsteps as he begins venturing out under their mama’s watchful eye, or a newborn calf romp and play in the sun is unparalleled by anything else I have witnessed. A walk in the woods after a spring rain puts all of the art in the Louvre to shame. There is something special about that brilliant sunlight scintillating off of deep green moss that pops off the water stained wood. Everything is in stark golden contrast and the colors are so vivid that they sing to your soul. Oil paint can’t capture it, and digital cameras don’t even come close. It grounds me in ways that are more than just the mud covering my boots. It connects me to my world in a way that I have not been able to experience in any concrete haven. Every day is a reminder that there is joy to be found in life; and life is meant to be enjoyed, experienced, lived.

Diogenes was a Greek philosopher that chose to live in a barrel in the equivalent of a city park. In essence he believed that the gods had given man a simple life, but man complicated it by itching for luxuries. I certainly don’t want to give up my home, but I believe that Diogenes had it a little bit right. People are notorious for distracting themselves with the pursuit of luxuries, rather than enjoying the bounty that they have been given. I saw a sign once that said, “Don’t be so busy making a living that you forget to make a life.” I take that to heart.

Farming, gardening, living. They are synonymous in my personal dictionary. By choosing a rural lifestyle I am choosing to live a life of appreciation rather than a life of yearning, a life of action rather than distraction, a life of hard work and peaceful reward.

And for me, that makes the work worth it.

(Please remind me of that the next time it is freezing rain and I am sick, and still have to get up and feed the cows! ;) )

I don't think you're ready for this jelly...

Would jelly by any other name still taste as sweet?

Yes. Yes it would. So jelly, conserve, or jam are all freaking delicious and they are insanely easy to make. Seriously, boil some fruit with sugar and pectin and you have jam. So freaking easy! I was intimidated for far too long by this simple art.

I have made this recipe a few times, and I like it to be more of a jam consistancy. I have included instructions if you prefer either conserve or jelly. This recipe has a delightfully sweet strawberry flavor with just a hint of mint in the finish. It is great on fresh bread, like what I made here, topping pancakes, or spooned over french vanilla ice cream. It is also a terrific way to use up mint if you happen to have an overabundance of it in your garden like I do. I normally buy strawberries when I see them on sale and clean and freeze them to make this when I have the chance!

Let's get started!



From these humble beginnings, awesome ensues.


To actually can your jam you are going to need: one boiling water canner (big pot with some sort of raised bottom, I use canning rings held together with twisty ties), soup pot, spoon, jars, lids, and canning rings. You could feasibly skip the canning step and use this like freezer jam, but I am not sure how long it will keep.

Sterilize your jars and lids. Wait for the jam.

For the Jam:
1 1/2 lb Strawberries, hulled and cut if large
2 1/2 C Sugar
2 handfuls of fresh mint give a rough chop (about 3/4 C dried)
1 1/2 TBS lemon juice
1 packet liquid pectin (use 0 if you prefer conserve, or 2 if you prefer jelly)

Mix the berries and sugar in your soup pot and let it set several hours or overnight at room temperature.
Set that baby on the stove and add your mint and lemon juice. Bring it up to a rolling boil for about ten minutes.

Boil, boil, boil the stuff. Until you want to scream. Merrily, merrily, merrily. Until it is done you deem.

At this point add your pectin if you're using it and return the pot to heat for one to two minutes. It will set up very quickly, so be sure to watch it for a distinct change to a very glossy, non juicy, gel-like finish.

(There are several ways to test for set, like keeping a plate in the freezer and seeing if the jam runs down it or gels, but noting the change between juice to gloss has worked very well for me.)

I use a measuring cup to pour the molten hot jam into the sterilized jars, but you can use a ladle and funnel if you prefer. Leave a one inch gap at the top of the jar. Cover with sterilized lids.

You can use tongs, but for about ten dollars they sell canning sets with nifty tools like these!

Then finger tighten the canning rings. Careful! It will be hot! Process the jars for ten minutes under boiling water.

Remove and cool. Make sure that your lids are depressed. If they aren't return the jars to the boiling water and process again, or store them in the fridge and use quickly. This jam will keep for about nine months unopened in a dark place. Like all jam, make sure to shove it in the fridge after you've opened it.

Well, that is if you don't eat the entire jar with a spoon. Which I may or may not have done. No witnesses!

DIY Newspaper Pots (otherwise known as Cat Bait)

Damn, I’m cheap, and I want to start some seedlings for my garden. What to do, what to do?

I should get one of those newspaper pot roller things. They’re great. I’m reusing old newspaper and I don’t have to transplant them. Plus all those damn plastic trays I bought last year didn’t hold up to the cat and dog laying on top of them, so I’m gonna have to do something for that anyway.

That thought process led me to getting an awesome little tool and losing about three hours of my life to making paper pots.

If you have read the rest of this blog you're going to know that I am not that big on measuring things, so it should come as no surprise when I tell you that I had no ruler and no idea of how long 3.5" actually was. So the first thing I did was cut my newspapers into fourths.

Okay, I lied. The first thing I did was wrestle the newspaper away from my cat and manage to miraculously not cut his feet off while I was trying to cut my newspaper. Such. A. Bad. Kitty. Seriously, if cats could take Adderall he would be on it.

Anyway, my lovely method of measuring yielded newspaper that was way too wide. Go figure. So rather than cutting it again I took the lazy way out and folded it. Wanna see how the cool little pot maker thing works? Yes? Awesome. Because I made you a montage. I hope you like it.

Quick! Go play Eye of the Tiger while you look at it!

Pretty sweet, yeah? I thought so too until I had to fill this. This being a big clear plastic tub that I had to buy and drill air holes in to protect all of my newly made pots, because someone, not going to mention any names *cough*MyGodDamnCats*cough, cough* decided to destroy all of them last time. Lets see them crush and shred them now! Yeah!

You might need to put it on loop for effect. That is three hours of Survivor right there.

SPRING!

Some people would say that this is oregano poking through straw. I prefer to call it SPRING! And it is about damned time!

Although, now instead of a to do list made up of cooking, eating, and catching up on my reading I have made a monster. My to do list looks like this:

Why am I excited it is spring again?

Oh yeah, BONFIRE!!!!!!

Farming Foible or Agrarian Adventure?

I am what you might call an accidental gardener. I was bred, born, and raised on a farm, but I have an intense aversion to getting dirty. Mess with cows and horses? Any day! But gardening was something that my grandparents did. Canning? Pah. Why, when I could go to the store and buy a .25 can of corn? Baking and cooking were things that I have always enjoyed, and I’m going to blame them for my recent garden obsession.

It started with a windowsill box of herbs for cooking. I was sick and tired of paying five dollars or more for a tiny bunch of basil. Watching the tiny green sprouts of basil and garlic chives changed something in me. The next year I had a full out herb garden. The year after? Well, let’s just say that I didn’t do my research and jumped into vegetable gardening with abandon. There may or may not have been an overabundance of zucchini at my house. (Who knew five plants would produce that much, other than every other gardener in the history of the world? In fact I may or may not have had zucchini in some way shape or form two meals a day for about three months.) Faced with the bumper crop of herbs, fruits, and vegetables I had to figure out what to do with it all. A few frantic phone calls to my grandpa later and I was officially canning jams and jellies, making flavored oil, and learning how to best freeze pesto and dry squash. Just like that I fell into it. And now I can’t imagine my life without digging around in my garden despite the mess. I have learned a few tricks along the way, and I’m sure there are going to be many more to learn as I go.

This year is going to be different. This year I have a plan. I know that dish soap under my nails will keep dirt from getting in them. I know that I am going to be inundated with squash and zucchini and delicious tomatoes. I have researched and plotted. I have studied companion planting books and seed catalogs. I have literally spaced out my garden on graph paper according to how it should grow best.

And I am positive that I will continue to muck it up, and I will be overwhelmed and it will be under watered, and that my garden will grow regardless. That’s one of the best things about gardening. It puts it all in perspective. It is humbling and empowering at the same time.

So I invite you to join me farmer, gardener, or none of the above as I set out to grow some produce, learn to use it, and hopefully grow and learn as a person in the process. I hope my tales are entertaining, enlightening, and well, enlivening.

But enough of the tree hugging, earth loving bit. Let’s go grow something! (Like seed catalog debt. Since, you know, it is February and I can’t plant anything inside because my cats keep eating all my seedlings.) Or take cow pictures! Because who doesn’t love cow pictures?

See, isn’t that precious?

Or we could bake something:

Because well, bread is AWESOME.

So many things to do, so many posts to write! Until next time!