plenty

The beautiful thing about farming or homesteading or gardening or whatever you want to call it, is your life is set up to provide you with food. In one form or another. I have a chefs farm, I raise and attempt to raise all of my favorite foods; Lamb, pastured chickens, eggs, vegetables, milk and cheese.... its like crazy! its thrilling, exhilarating, humbling and exhausting. In all honesty I don't really know how long I can manage to keep this up, But...it is kind of addicting.

Yesterday was chicken processing day. Myself and my two interns, Josey and Kathleen created our supper, we've raised these chickens, we've pastured them we've loved and cared for them and now its full circle to their final destination our bodies. and to our CSA members, we'll be processing 40 all together. Josey and Kathleen have already participated in this experience at Heifer ranch where they both worked previously so it was pretty sweet having these confident and able women take on this task with me.

And tonight I make fried chicken. What a treat! I'm even mashing some Yukon golds and boilin'up some corn. Its a farm raised feast! and one I couldn't be more humbled by. Its been a long road traveled for this meal. I'm going to savor every bite.

Pile of feathers

Nights in the yurt are truly spectacular, the cool night breeze, the sound of the frogs, cicada’s, crickets, hoot owl, whip- poor- wills combined make the most beautiful orchestra. However there are the other sounds that don’t quite chime in right and that is the sound of a chicken in distress followed by all four guard dogs frenzied barks and the whoop and song of a coyote that sounds no more than 50 feet from where I am laying… up until that point trying to get some sleep. I bolt out of bed and do what any girl in a yurt would and grab the gun.

So it’s me and my shot gun now trolling the night. Its 2:30 in the morning. I can hardly see a thing, my “powerful” flashlight is a piece of shit and I know better than just to shoot out into the darkness, So I make the rounds with what I can only describe as candle light, through all the animal pens. The goats all stood by the fence like statues all 20 heads pointed toward the barn. I investigate see nothing. I make my way to the hen-a- bego (hen house) nothing, all is calm. The dogs have quieted down. Ginger see’s the gun and goes into hiding. (She hates the sound of the blast) I see no need to shoot it other than just that I’m up, its now 3:30 and I’m pissed. But I don’t. I wander back to the yurt and hope for a quiet morning of rest.

I sleep and dream of cucumbers that are too ripe, and peppers too small and tomato plants with no fruit. 5:15 the alarm goes off. That’s when I get real sleep I sleep peacefully for another hour and a half and finally pull myself to put the kettle on for coffee. It’s going to be strong. After a stout brew and some words written in my journal, I splash water on my face throw my old farm clothes on and head out for the day. I pass a pile of feathers. Right in front of the harvest shed, lots of feathers. Too close. Too close.

I’m almost certain it was a coyote but what would possess it to come so darn close to the main area of the farm? there is so much traffic that goes in and out of this area. I just don’t understand it. So tonight, the dogs get put up and I hide and wait. Coyotes at least around here are like clockwork same time same place. So I wait.

Yurt days of summer

It all started with a septic tank back up. Four weeks ago today our septic backed up only 8 weeks after we had it pumped, we were told it looked like there may problems with our lateral lines and they may need to be replaced or repaired. Because I rent I notified my landlord, he responded by telling me he may raise the rent to cover the cost. I was a little dismayed, but what choice do I have? When you rent your at the mercy of your landlord and his/her timelines. I really love this place and it fits with my farm business model like beans and corn bread. So I have to admit because I love this place so much I tend feel certain indebtedness and it causes me not to make demands or hold my land lord accountable for fear of losing this great space. So there is fair amount I put up with in exchange.

I’m in no position to move onto my own land at this point but things like this motivate me into action that’s for sure. It’s the septic now, last winter it was no heat for three weeks during the coldest time of the winter, I finally called and got the heater fixed and paid for it out of my own pocket just because I didn’t want to be a bother, and now raw sewage is backing up out of the pipe coming out of the ground right outside our back door. Well not really… ‘cause you know I wouldn’t let that happen.

When yuz git lemons make you some lemonade! After the first week of no word from the landlord I decided to take things into my own hands so I build a sawdust toilet and a three compartment compost bin. ( http://humanurehandbook.com/humanure_toilet.html ) I used to use one at my old house and loved it! Dump out the dish water and laundry mat to clean clothes. Shower and sink water drains out onto the front yard as grey water and it’s not really that bad. It made me think about all the things I take for granted. And it made me think about how dependant I have become since I moved here on a un- self-sufficient lifestyle.

So first came the composting toilet then came the yurt. Let me back up….in 2003 when I moved from Seattle to Tulsa Oklahoma I brought with me a yurt ( http://www.pacificyurts.com/ ) I lived in this yurt for one year. Then I moved into a house. I hung onto said yurt and put it up for intern housing here at the farm. It’s such a long story how I came to decide to move into the yurt myself, but I suppose I needed to find a way to feel empowered to feel like I had some sort of control over the way I live. I needed something that was mine. I crave the bliss of self sufficiency. And truly it is bliss, I’ve felt it and lived it for many years I just got separated from it for a little while. And I must say I am so fortunate to have a partner who feels exactly the same.

I love living in the yurt. The space is clean and simple and it has a real calming energy to it. The yurt helps us be more self sufficient. We have water pumped in from a well, we have a nice sink, and grey water pond, we have a compost toilet, an extension cord to run some lights and a fan, a wood stove to cook and heat with in the winter. It’s sort of like really uptown camping. We are trying to be as sustainable and self sufficient as possible. We’re not off grid just half off our grid.
What about the house. The house hasn’t changed a bit I spend my days making cheese in the kitchen and now I have more space to age and the farm feels like it’s a real business with a real future. There is less traffic going in and out and I feel like I’m making steps forward to getting the Kitchen certified for cheese production. Maybe its all just a pipe dream. I have many steps but I’m a walking.

So I’m not sure what will happen with the lateral lines and I’ll just take it all in stride, hope for some grace and continue to eek out a peaceful living off this beautiful land for as long as I can.

Here are some pictures Composting toilet

Summer work

Tonight after my work was finished I sat in the garden studying a squash plant, hoping for some answers. Earlier it was the beans and yesterday it was broken limbs of several tomato plants that took quite a beating several nights ago in a storm that blew through. Summer is here no matter what the calendar says. Summer for me is marked by scorching days in the field battling crab grass and Bermuda on behalf of struggling vegetable crops.

It’s like this every year, the only difference is this year the work I’m doing now is a month early. My spring work of lumbering through soggy fields admiring heads of lettuces and greens standing out against the dark soil, with only little cultivation needed passed quickly, I feel like I missed it all together. I do get little comfort in knowing come fall I’ll get another chance. The carrots, beets, turnips, radishes and all things spring will get their chance to flourish again come the cool days of fall. But right now it’s down to the summer business of daily harvesting, hacking away at the grass that threatens the peppers, tying up tomato plants, and of course watering.

Something is getting my squash plants. It very well could be the vine borer but when I dissect a wilting plant I find no trace. Whatever it is, it strikes at the base of the plant just barely below soil level like a cut worm, although, again I have found no evidence. So there I am sitting, watching, expecting the answer to appear before my very eyes. It’s always something, squash bugs, vine borers. So I just take out the dead and dying, cultivate the soil a bit and re- plant usually no questions asked. No use fighting with squash bugs although I do try and I will go to the effort of careful surgery on the vine borer.

I miss the cool mornings of spring, walking into the field in a sweat shirt, shorts and muck boots wet with dew, coffee in hand and small pad of paper in my pocket. No time for that now, no time for morning walks. Mornings are windows of opportunities to get hard jobs done before the heat becomes unbearable. Walks now are in the evening just before the sun goes down, glass of wine in hand and a small pad of paper in my pocket so I can write down something I see that needs to be done. I can’t trust myself to remember.

Summer is a crucial time of year, it’s when all the winter planning comes to bear fruit, failure and success delicately balanced, anything could happen and usually does. So much rides on summer, recouping all the investment that came from purchasing seed, compost, tools and labor and insuring a smooth financial transition into winter when income is extremely small. Back in February when I first broke the winter sod with the chisel plow, cutting through the earth loosening the ground to make way for an edible landscape I was full of hope of what summer would bring. Sometimes things don’t work out and I have to cut my losses, I’ve come to accept that now and come to understand what is worth saving.

It only takes a few things going wrong to make summer a living hell and it only takes a few things going right to make that living hell half bearable. One must be an optimist to survive an Oklahoma summer. One must always look to cooler days and second chances and lessons learned. That’s part of summer work, mopping your face with your filthy shirt and going on to the next thing on the list.

Being honest

I left a new out going message on my phone today. I had procrastinated long enough. People must know why! why I never return calls, why I never have my phone with me and why I never answer my phone even when its in my pocket.

"Hello, you've reached Lisa at living kitchen farm and dairy, if you are calling about reservations for farm table dinners please e-mail us at Living Kitchen at G mail dot com. Your call is very important to us and please know this is the busiest time of year so we may not get back to you right away...bla bla bla....."

Lets get real:

"Hello you've reached Lisa" (who cant carry her phone with her around the farm because inevitably it falls out of my pocket and gets lost or eaten. or I set it down on the back of the truck, 4 Wheeler or a 2X4 in the barn and it takes me about 4 days to find it) "e-mail us with reservations" (so a responsible person actually gets it) "Your call is very important to us (it is !with out you the goats and I are no one). "Please know this is the busiest time of year. (I am up to my ears in sheep fencing, manure, crab grass, soil and sweat, my patience has been "disappeared" and luckily I am self aware to know not to call you back when I do have time which is when I am peeing and really because I'm so dehydrated its only a couple of seconds and who knows where I am, or when I'm finally done with the day because my speech becomes incredibly impaired ). "So we may not get back to you right away" (until I hand the phone to Linda and she calls you back)

(If I do happen to answer the phone.....e-mail our conversation anyway because 10 seconds after we hang up I have forgotten everything we've talked about. and if you've told me a number or an e-mail, well I've written it on whatever I could which might be a with a stick in the sand or on the back of a feed bag with dirt or blood depending on how the day has gone).

I should not own a phone.

but ya know what ? today I gave a farm tour to a gardening group, I battled crab grass, harvested nearly 200 pounds of new potatoes, bunched red onions, milked the goats, and made 8 gallons worth of chevre. Add you don't even want to know what I did yesterday.

Everything I do results in food in one form or the other. I figure most folks I know prefer it this way.

We choose our battles.

The twins

Boris and Igor on tick patrol

Days like these

I was at the feed store when the sheep made a run for it. Scattered about in the front yard and dirt road. No telling why when they do break out they make a Bee line to the house. Lambs mowing the front yard isn't that bad but its when they start wondering down the road toward the highway when it becomes a problem.

"Should I take them all up to the barn?" Says a voice on the other end of the phone. This is my intern for the summer Josey.

"Yea, that would be good and then we'll just deal with the fence when I get back" I say

I hung up the phone and sat in the truck for a minute thinking; wow, Josey can just bring the sheep back, just like that! When I got back the sheep were back in the barn area waiting for what I don't know. So the day was again struggling with electronet fences trying to get a charge. This is my life!

The garden needed to be hoed and watered, the cheese needed to be strained, the list of farm chores was huge but I spent the day arranging fences, and checking the charge.
Covered in ticks, a cloud of mosquitoes hovered around my filthy sweaty body waiting for me to quit moving so they could feast! Finally I finished. Hopefully this will hold them for a while.

Yesterday was the first day of a string of many that I will make my peace with the Oklahoma heat and in spite of it being nearly unbearable I will endure. I will want to lay under a shade tree and die but instead I will keep working. I will drink gallons of water and have on long sleeve cotton shirts and a big hat. and at the end of the day I will peal off my filthy clothes and stand silent in a cold shower until I shiver. I like days like these, not the whole sheep thing but
the hard work. I like it. It makes me feel some how alive. I feel like I earn what I have including a cold shower. Nothing is free and I pay for it with muscle and sweat. That's what most of my pleasures costs.