Civil Disobedience and Fearlessness

I wonder what Thoreau would say about today's political/environmental/social situation?  Probably just what he wrote about the Mexican war and slavery in his own time.

"A minority is powerless while it conforms to the majority; it is not even a minority then; but it is irresistible when it clogs by its whole weight." - Thoreau 

Thoreau's writing of Civil Disobedience is what has led to countless non-violent revolutions around the world - Gandhi, King, , Apartheid in South Africa, anti-war demonstrations in the U.S. in the 70s...and it is what keeps the people camped out in tents at College Green in Iowa City in the Occupy movement.

This came up the other night because I was trying to explain to one of my children why we do what we do....it's a form of civil disobedience.  We don't necessarily break laws, but we don't really follow them either, at least with reference to the farm and what is considered "normal".

I waffle almost daily as to where I fit in to the socio/political scheme of things.  It used to be pretty simple....Democrat.  Now.....not so much.  The government has become too polarized and I don't think that enough of my ideas of what is right and good necessarily fit completely into only one category....nor should they.  For entirely too long we have tried to keep the two party thing working for us, but clearly it has ceased to work in any sense of the word.  For all intents and purposes, I am a free thinker.  I don't even like the word "independent" as it implies too much of a party and either the Democrats or Republicans work to coax the Independents into their camp to help achieve the majority.  I want the Independents to be the majority.  A majority of people that think for themselves and find someone electable without the input of corporate money and lobbyists.  Is that even possible anymore?

I saw a research study recently that was very interesting.  It examined the brains of members of the different parties and analyzed what part of the brain was used with relation to their political affiliation.  Liberal thinkers tend to have a larger anterior cingulate cortex, a region of the brain linked with monitoring uncertainty, which could help them cope with conflicting information. Conservatives, on the other hand, have a larger amygdala, an area linked with greater sensitivity to fear and disgust.

There seems to be a lot of "fear and disgust" being thrown around out there lately.  Turn on any T.V. talk show or listen for a few minutes to Fox news and you are made to feel the doom and gloom of the current administration.  I refuse to be this paralysed by fear.....but I am disgusted.  Disgusted that we are a people that are so quickly influenced by people who know how to use our fears to their best advantage. 

So, I stew about what to do.  Move away? - become an ex-patriot somewhere less stupid....less fearful? Or, do you dig in and try to make some kind of difference, however small.  So far, we have gone with the latter of those two options. 

My daughter was expounding the other day about what she wants to do when she grows up.  She wants to "do something"  not just sit around on a farm all day.  I tried to picture what she visualizes me "doing all day" from her 12 -year-old point of view, and granted....it didn't seem like much.  I go to work, I fix animals, I come home, weed things, write, read books, clean things....in short, a pretty quiet existence to a thrill-seeking tween. 

But, in the bigger picture, my husband and I are very busy....busy raising kids. Kids with the knowledge and understanding to be able to see what is going on around them in the world and possibly do something about it to make it a better place.  It is a very slow process to be sure, and often fret with more trials and tribulations than I like to recount, but we try to model for them what we hope will help them to "do something" later on in life- work ethic, patience, perseverance, deductive reasoning, equality, boldness....it is a tough job indeed. 

Of the things that we try to teach the kids, one of the hardest that I have found to teach is fearlessness.  "Don't be afraid."  How many times on dark, stormy nights have I said that to my kids and then found myself laying awake at night with the fear of what the world will eventually become for them.  But fear begets fear and it only paralyses, and it makes us unable to look at a situation rationally and act appropriately.

I remember being a kid and being afraid.  I was afraid of the bogey man that my brother swore lived behind the garage.  I was afraid that the house would catch fire at night and we would all be burned to a crisp in our beds.  I was afraid of being kidnapped because of my mother's constant warnings against "stranger danger".  I was afraid the world was going up in a blast of nuclear energy.   As a kid, you learn fear early and well.  The hard part is un-learning it.  And the even harder part is trying to help your kids unlearn it as well.  What I have come to understand through all the un-learning, is that the opposite of fear is not bravery - that is facing something despite the fact that you are still afraid.  The opposite of fear.....is knowledge. 



So, maybe we are hard wired to be what and who we are, or maybe it is learned from years of our parents teaching us not to talk to stranger danger.  The research study itself wasn't so sure which came first - the fear and then the conservatism or the conservatism and then the fear, but I don't think that we can stand to be stuck in this muddy government anymore, which brings me to another thought...

"...let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." 

-Franklin D. Roosevelt

Personally, I wish he could address that speech again to this nation of prime time, news program zombies that believe every horror story that they hear and then take that fear to the bank and proceed to tear the country asunder with their hatred of all things new and different.

I think the main thing that has conservative people upset about the whole occupy and civil disobedience thing is that it is out of the norm, it pushes the change forward, and for many people that movement of change is a frightening thing.  But it doesn't need to be if the fear can be un-learned. Civil disobedience requires fearlessness, it requires trust and it requires critical thinking.  I am hoping that maybe, by practicing as Thoreau suggested we can help our kids achieve a sense of fearlessness in this crazy world.   A little less of using the amygdala and a little more of using the anterior cingulate cortex would be good for us all.

The Space Between

The space between Halloween and Thanksgiving is quite possibly my least favorite time of the year.  There are many reasons for this:

1.   Halloween is over and the next time there will be this much chocolate in the house is probably Valentine's day, which seems like forever.

2.   There are often elections and I am constantly, unrealistically hopeful that somehow, this time, people will be smart enough to elect individuals that will miraculously save the planet from the horrible tipping point it is about to go over.....and I am completely depressed every time.

3.   All the un-realized expectations for the year come home to roost - the green house that didn't quite happen, the fourth planting of lettuce that didn't happen, moving flowers that desperately need to be thinned and moved. And although, technically it isn't too late.....it's too late.

4.   The weather suddenly turns rainy and cold - not cold enough to snow, just cold enough to be dreary and miserable.

5.   The darkness starts to sink in earlier and earlier as the earth slowly rounds the corner on her mission around the sun and we speed the process with the "fall back" in our attempts at maximizing our sunlight hours.

 6.   I check off another year on my life's calendar.

The final reason is probably the most likely for why I enter into this late fall funk.  I don't remember when birthdays stopped being fun and started to be something that you more or less dread, but it happened a while ago for me. 

I would like to say that I have a great way of working myself out of this funk.....but I don't.  I wallow in it for a while.  Depressed by the dying flowers that hang on the vines, saddened by the small green tomatoes that never did get to the stage of ripening.  Resenting having to start fires to keep the house warm at night, and finding all the kids' coats, hats, boots and mittens that I know will, from now until May, lay all over the entry and drive me crazy.   I, quite honestly, am completely pathetic at this time of year.  I am a car out of gear and I can't seem to shift into anything productive.

Until it snows or Thanksgiving arrives....whichever comes first. 

If they both come together....well, so much the better.  The snow covers over all the brown and wilted and makes it look crisp and clean.  Thanksgiving officially kicks off the holiday season, although to enter into any shopping store around Halloween is to to be inundated with Christmas stuff - it's really kind of depressing.  I was in one craft store over a week ago and it looked as though Christmas had vomited all over one section of it.  I stayed well away from this section.....but, I digress...  By "holiday" I don't mean "shopping"  - I absolutely hate to shop, but I love the feeling of the holidays.  Family and friends near, card games late into the night, blustery snowstorms during which you can camp out in bed with a good book, spiced wine, the smell of pine trees.....  The first part of winter, before the cabin fever sets in and drives everyone crazy -that is the holiday season in my mind. 

Once this season rolls around, it feels as though I am finally in gear again to get something done in the house.  This winter's mission is to finally get a bedroom.  Yes, sad, but true.  We have been living in this house now for almost 9 years and my husband and I have been camping out in what I call "the wreck room"  Our bed is there, along with the computer and until recently a television and a ton of toys.  It was generally where the entire family would congregate at various times to try to watch a movie, play computer games or just generally come to harass me in my vain attempts at sleeping in.   Nightly, I typically crash into a computer chair or two and step on a Lego or Barbie shoe on my way to bed. 

No more.   I have visions in my mind of a quiet place of solitude to which I can retreat as needed and not be disturbed by my pack of children.  Maybe this is a bit of a delusional idea, but it is what I envision to try to help me get back in gear. 

Of course, what is required to make this happen is for me to move everything out of this room so that I (and my husband) can redo the floors, wall and ceiling.  This is a bit daunting to say the least.  Especially now.... at this time of year when I am busy being old and pathetic.....maybe after a few more pieces of Halloween candy, checking the weather report in the hopes of at least one more 70 degree day and sending off a few more letters to my delinquent Congressmen, or maybe.... I will just hold out for the snow.

Killing Frost

Death comes in on little cold feet, and strikes down the last of all that is green and growing.  Halloween was previously known as, more aptly, The Day of the Dead, and for us in the Midwest it is true to form.  The potatoes have been stored, the tomatoes have been canned, the beans are picked, the garlic is buried deep in the garden to prepare for its resurrection in the spring.  The garden is done for the year and now it is Death's turn to rule for a while.

People generally fear death.  It is a common enough thing really, but no one is ever completely prepared for it when it does come. We try our best to avoid it, we mourn when it happens and we share our grief with others in the form of funerals and wakes.  And always it remains a mystery - what happens when we "shuffle off the mortal coil?"  It does give us pause.

Being a member of the medical field as a veterinarian, I have had entirely too much association with Death.  We are the only medical professionals that are routinely allowed to take a life, and not only allowed, but sometimes required to.  It can be a very heavy load to carry at times.  Death starts to take on a new guise - almost as that of another person you find yourself talking to at odd moments.  There are times when I feel that I gamble for a patient's life with Death as the other player....sometimes Death wins....sometimes I do.  There are even times that I invite Death in as a last and final means of ending suffering and it dawns on me that we are kinder to our pets than we sometimes are to each other in this respect.  I have seen too many people slowly withering away, and am only left with the hope that I either die very quickly, or that by the time of am of an age to be sick and old, that we will have advanced enough to allow directives for a means to end a life with dignity.

As such, I have developed a very weird and twisted view of Death.  It really isn't so bad, nor is it  necessarily to be feared.  Death is quiet and contemplative.  It leaves those around it touched with sadness, love, loss, memories, but mostly it strikes a cord down deep inside that reminds us all that, at some point, it comes for us too, and in the meantime all we can do is live as fully as possible. 

Funerals kind of freak me out though - almost too much pomp and circumstance.  Funerals, in my opinion, are more about doing "what is expected" than about celebrating a person's life.  To that end, I have directed my kids to never have a funeral for me - only a wake sometime after I am gone, and they are to have it at a bar and serve the best whiskey they can afford and play the music loudly and dance.  Clearly, my social graces are lacking, but I come from a long line of people who felt that we are only a mere blip on the radar of the universe and death is only a small moment of that time and then the circle of life rolls around and keeps moving on. 

It is sometimes interesting to talk with people about their pets and their views of death.  They are often more open than they would be if it were a person because the rules of society are very lax when it comes to a pet's death and burial, and yet we often feel as strongly (or, in many cases, more strongly) about the loss of a pet than the loss of a beloved person.  I had one client explain to me that he really hates the idea of caskets and doesn't want to be buried in one.  He wants to be buried standing straight up somewhere near a tree "like a fertilizer stick" he said.  Oh, if only society could be so open as to allow that to happen.

I really don't quite understand the whole casket and embalming thing myself.  When did this become the standard?  We want to be preserved for what? Our wake?  Does our vanity really extend past death?  The arguments that really get me are when people say it isn't sanitary to bury people in the ground without a casket....are you kidding me?  It is worse to put people in the ground with all those chemicals on board and inside of a hermetically sealed casket made from whatever non-biodegradable material we have most recently manufactured so that, at some future date, someone that doesn't know us has to deal with our hideous remains when they decide the cemetery should now be a shopping mall.

Happy Day of the Dead

Garlic Greatness

About four years ago I realized that garlic was something that I could actually grow in Iowa.  For some reason, I had been under the impression that garlic was a tropical crop, but upon making my discovery, I launched into production.

I ordered four bulbs from Seed Savers and then was rather surprised when it showed up on my door in October.  What?! 

Turns out you start garlic in the fall and it over winters rather nicely.  Broke those four bulbs of garlic up into roughly 20 cloves and planted them 4 inches down in well tilled soil.  Then covered them with another 3 or 4 inches of straw.

And then I worried

Seriously? They can stand temperatures that reach well below zero for weeks at a time?  I was a little skeptical. 

When March finally rolled around I started patrolling the garlic patch.....and patrolling.....and patrolling.......and just about the time that I was convinced that all was lost, the garlic poked its head out of the straw and started reaching for the sky with its long green stems. 

Since that first year, I have gained more confidence in my garlic - and I have gained more garlic.  The first year we ate all but the 4 bulbs I saved back for seed in a matter of weeks, so I started saving back more bulbs each year.  Now, I am up to saving approximately 7-8  bulbs which, when split into cloves, equals approximately 40-50 bulbs of garlic.  Not to mention that I have started some from seed - these, of course, take about 2 years to get up to edible size, but they help to supplement the constant garlic cravings. 

Garlic is one of those herb/vegetable/seasoning plants that can go in just about everything.  I use it when I pickle cucumbers, I even just pickled some of the garlic by itself this year to be used later in things like salad dressings.  Every pizza gets topped with it, every jar of salsa contains it, and when in doubt it gets added to just about everything. 

The health benefits of garlic are touted to be many, and personally, I really don't doubt any of them.  My one main medicinal use of garlic however involves its use in ear aches.  Don't ask me why this works, but it has now - twice.  Slivers of garlic warmed in a tablespoon of olive oil on the stove - I take a sliver of the garlic and wrap it in a cotton ball and then place that in the ear with a little of the warm (not hot) oil that it was sauteed in. Leave it in overnight and replace in the morning if needed.....so far haven't needed to because the ear ache has been gone.   When I did this to my 9 year old, I had looked in her ears first with my otoscope and been somewhat horrified at how red they were and how much fluid was present behind the ear drum - "doctor visit for sure" I thought, but tried the garlic and the next morning she woke up happy and ear ache free.......weird, but wonderful.  

I am also convinced of garlic's ability to repel mosquitoes and other biting insects.  I haven't actually put on bug spray for a few years now because they just don't bite anymore.  Other people will be over and are constantly slapping at them so I know they still exist and are around, but I haven't had more than  two or three bites all summer.  Then again, it could be that I really smell like garlic all the time (to more than just the bugs) and have become so immune to the smell, that I no longer notice.

So, now, as the leaves all fall to the ground and the days start getting colder and shorter, I prep the soil for next year's crop of garlic, tuck it in and cover it with a warm blanket of straw.  Knowing that it is out there, huddled under the snow and straw and soil just waiting for Spring's resurrection, helps to make the quickly approaching winter a little more bearable.

Hair of the Dog

Of the many things that I have discovered during this whole "grow your own food" thing, saged brandy or "brandy elixir" has to be one of the best.  I picked up a preserves book at the local public library about a year ago that was written by some guru in England.  In it were many notable recipes that have since been tried in one form or another, but the one that caught my eye and won my heart was her Brandy Elixir. 

I had never been much of a fan of Brandy.  Actually didn't register the difference between it and Whiskey for quite some time, but after making my first small batch of this.....well....suffice it to say.there are no more small batches, only large ones. 

This is entirely too simple:

• Large quantity of inexpensive brandy
• Sage leaves
• Jar
• Sunlit window for about 1 month
• Sugar
• Water

I mix the entire jar of Brandy and approximately 2 oz ( or as much as I feel I can reasonably pick off my sage plant) into a quart canning jar, tighten the lid and place it on a sunny windowsill for a month.

I shake it any time I walk by it and remember that it is there.

After 1 month or so, I make a sugar solution by mixing 1 cup of sugar with 3/4 cup of water and I boil that for one minute and then let it come to room temperature.  I strain out the sage leaves and combine the Brandy with the sugar solution and mix well.  This, then, gets poured into sterilized jars (usually the original Brandy jar works well along with a smaller jar (say, the flask that gets carried around to rather cold sporting events in the winter)

This sage brandy works well as a cough suppressant, a sleep aid, or (as suggested in the original English Preserves book) as a "restorative"....whatever that might mean.  My husband and I have since taken liberties with that suggestion and are rather good at "restoring" ourselves with a cap full in the coffee in the morning. 

This one favorite has now led to experimenting with "cordials" of raspberry and pear.  They are all still aging in the canning cupboard, but with any luck they will be ready for sharing by the solstice.

Occupy Iowa

There is a movement afoot.  People of all walks of life are occupying everywhere - Wall Street, Boston,  San Fransisco, Dallas......you name it and there are people starting to line the streets that are angry, unsettled, out of work, out of faith...just out.   The main theme, although somewhat unestablished, seems to be a general loss of trust in the system.  Wall Street has bought out our government and We The People are tired of it.....and it is about time. 

This may be very un-American to say, but I have been disenfranchised with the system now for quite some time, and by system I mean the system of big business and big lobbyists controlling what bills get passed and which ones conveniently disappear from committee.   I re-read the Declaration of Independence not too long ago and I had a strong desire to reissue it to our present government, put my name up there with John Hancock and Benjamin Franklin and send it via post to the White House.

I have an intense desire to join the mob flowing into the streets, pitch a tent and live there for a while if only to fully state my level of distrust in the system. And then it dawned on me.....I have.  Eight years ago we pulled up stakes from our home in Wisconsin where we were living the life of the average middle class family - 2.5 kids, two jobs, new car, nice house, credit card debit, the whole enchilada.  Cashed it all in and moved to a small, hundred-year-old farmstead in Iowa and set up shop.  

This is our 5 acre protest lot.  Here we raise enough food to feed the seven of us through the winter, raise pigs and chickens to help feed us with pork and eggs and do it all organically and sustainably while all around us are commercial farms that are intensely farmed using all that is wrong in the world of agriculture.  Monsanto, Novartis, and Cargill are the main players as they have roped in the farmers with their "Round-up Ready" genetically modified seeds and their belief that all the soil really needs is another application of ammonia to keep it healthy.

Thankfully, we are on pretty good terms with our neighbors. We try not to rock the boat too hard, but we do try to make ourselves heard, if possible. Initially, it was difficult to come by organic grain for our animals. We would often have to drive down to Kalona, where ironically, the state of farming among the Amish is more sustainably advanced than it is around us. But, with time and persistent asking, our local feed dealer has started ordering and carrying the organic food that we need. And then he was thinking about starting a few fields of his own in organic food....and maybe seeing if others are interested in that also. Small steps, it takes small steps. 

In the last four years I have seen an incredible change in how people obtain their food.  The farmer's markets in cities and towns across the country are starting to take off because people no longer have trust in the food system. No trust in the companies that control the way our food is grown, processed and sold to us.  These big businesses have sold us everything from genetically modified seeds, $.59/lb chicken laced with Salmonella, and T.V. dinners with enough preservatives to never -ever decompose, but what they have sold us the most of is disease.

The level of metabolic disease in people is staggering to witness.  I did my own small survey one day while making the run to the local co-op to get some food.  The people that tend to shop at the co-op, where the food is typically organic, sustainable, locally grown and quite expensive - these people are all in pretty good shape.  Most are healthy and happy individuals.  They don't overfill their shopping baskets because something is a good deal, they pay the going wage for a local farmer to bring in  produce because they appreciate how much work goes into making healthy food.  They are a community of people who are aware of the local infrastructure that keeps the town afloat and they support it as best they can.

Then, frighteningly enough,for reasons I no longer remember, I found myself at a grocery store. Grocery stores depress me. The people are often suffering from metabolic disease (if you don't know what it is, I encourage you to look it up as it effects 1 out of 4 people in the U.S. ), they are often in a hurry and they have their carts stuffed with so much processed food that I have to bite my tongue to keep from pointing out to them that even though it says "low fat" it can still be very bad for you. So, I come home and dig up a few carrots, potatoes and onions and stage a mini food protest in my kitchen. And I blog about it, because that is the type of protest I can do right now while trying to maintain a family of five kids, run a small, struggling business in a horrible economy, and farm my Iowa farm.

Perhaps this has all come about because I am looking for a way to make myself feel better for not taking the time out of freezing and canning produce to go camp out on College Green with the other ticked off Iowans, but a saying came to me the other day, "You must be the change you want to see in the world." (thank you M. Gandhi) and it made me feel good to realize that I am changing, and I am changing my family and the way that my kids view the world, and even the feed mill guy (slowly). Change takes a long time and it is hard work, but it is often worth it in the end.  There will be ebbs and flows to the understanding and progress, but change will come.

So, I salute all the people out on the public parks and Wall Street - occupy!  Occupy every corner that you can, and make a stand for all that needs changing - from the banking system to the way that our food is supplied and our children taught in schools.  I celebrate a country where, with small steps, 99% of the people are waking up to what big business and government has been cramming down our throats (figuratively and literally) for far too long.  And I?  I will maintain my 5 acres of protest, and there is always an extra place at my table for anyone willing to make a change.

The Not-So-Secret, Secret Family Sauce

Tomatoes......they are everywhere this time of year.  This year, for whatever reason, it seems to be taking them an inordinately long amount of time to ripen on the vine....but then perhaps they are all about building tension and suspense.  They are walking a fine line between ripening and being killed each night by frost and I refuse to play their game and cover them....at least for now while the temperatures still linger in the forties at night.  But we rely too heavily on them to not get the full harvest from these beauties.  Two years ago, I planted 10 Amish Paste tomato plants, then last year I planted 13, now this year I have planted 18 and they are killing me with this ripening suspense.  The usual routine is to go out with a bushel basket every 3 days and pick somewhere between 30 and 40 pounds of them at a time to process into the most wonderful marinara imaginable.  This year....my twice weekly trips to harvest have only been yielding about 20 pounds, but they are still given center stage for the day as they are processed and slowly cooked down and canned.

The recipe, although spectacular, is not one I developed.  I fell in love with it while reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle  by Barbara Kingsolver.  I had often wondered how to prepare and can tomatoes - they are one of those somewhat frightening vegetables, in my book, that can potentially lead to botulism and sending the entire family to the hospital if not canned properly, but when given a straight forward recipe and easy to follow guidelines, it has quickly become a staple at our house. 

Initially, I bought all the spices it required and then realized very quickly that most of them I can grow myself.  With a little planning and drying, now everything that goes into this sauce is grown on my farm except for the black pepper, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and lemon peel. 

Tomatoes that are grown and ripen on the vine are spectacular.  I am not a huge fan of eating raw tomatoes....it is a texture thing, but heirloom tomatoes, home grown and still warm from the sun....they do taste good.  When you go to the grocery store for tomatoes, you can certainly find beautiful, round red things that look similar, but have zero of the actual taste of a tomato.  It is unfortunate, because they are so pretty.  They are actually working on the science needed to infuse store tomatoes with the "tomato taste".  That seems so wrong on so many levels when nature does that all by itself if given a little time.  A lot of what is missing from the store tomatoes is what they develop in the last weeks of ripening.  Store tomatoes are picked early and then artificially ripened later so they will last while being shipped all over the world....I know, sad but very true.

The tomatoes that I adore the most are the really big, really ripe ones.  But when you grow them yourself, they are not always "pretty" tomatoes.  The ones that I adore tend to look a little like a prize fighter - big, beefy and with scars.  I will actually pick the seeds from these the most because it is clear to me that they know how to grow and they know how to survive in a rather hostile garden world.  Most people would probably throw out the tomatoes that I use the most.  With a sharp knife, even the most pathetic tomato can offer some amount of flesh to the pot and if they are entirely too far past their prime, there is a wonderful disposal system in place a my house that answers readily to the name, "Pig, Pig"  She comes running for any and all left over garden scraps, but I have to admit that rotten tomatoes appear to be a particular favorite of hers. 

In a typical batch, 30 pounds of tomatoes can typically yield about 10 quarts of puree.  That combined with 4 onions, 1 cup of dried basil, 1/2 cup of honey,  and various amounts of oregano, thyme, salt, lemon peel, parsley, cinnamon, pepper, nutmeg, and garlic powder all help to yield a concoction that fills the entire house with a wonderful smell and has one wondering what sort of pasta might be in the cupboard that can be cooked up before the sauce ever makes it into the jar.  

I know that for some, this would seem like a terribly monotonous thing to do - being a slave to the tomato plants for weeks on end, but honestly, the process is what makes it such a wonderful tradition.  Drying herbs that will be used takes time, patience and planning, onions are planted early to ensure that there will be enough big ones to add to the pot, tomato plants are planted, staked, weeded, and rescued from Tomato Horn Worms that look very much like the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.  All these things come together in the kitchen on September and October days to create a sauce that will feed my family at least once a week.  There really is no better reminder of the warm late summer days than homemade marinara when you are deep in the grip of winter.

Seeds of Change

This is, quite possibly, my favorite time of year.  Now that most things are finished growing (including the weeds), most of the harvest has taken place except for my tomato plants (which seem to have some delusion of immortality this year and persist in staying green on the vine for weeks), and life settles down into the dull roar of trying to get the farm ready for winter.  But there is one job left to be done....picking out and saving next year's garden.

As a kid,  I always thought that seeds needed to be purchased every year.  It was just what we did each spring - looked at the seed catalog and either ordered them or picked them up at the local do-it-yourself store, and while this always seemed to work, it never dawned on me that nature does a pretty good job of doing this for herself.

Almost everything in the garden produces a seed of one type or another that contains within it all the genetic information to pass on to the next generation of seeds.  Amazingly packaged into a tiny capsule that will often survive through a harsh winter and burst forth in the spring with no more than a little coaxing from sun and rain.  What astounds me even more is how, over the course of the last eight years, I have watched many of the species of plants that I like to grow, adapt themselves to this environment and take hold.  Nature's ability to adapt and survive amazes me.  Take the Impatient for example:  Most of these brightly colored, shade loving flowers are hybrids that originated in Africa - and it is a lot warmer in Africa than it is here so they are not expected to survive even a light frost - and yet, I have found that a few of my Impatient plants that I planted two years ago formed seeds that were able to reproduce viable plants and, what's more, they can now overwinter in an Iowa winter. 

My marigolds have literally taken over the gardens and though I curse them in the spring when they appear everywhere, I am happy to have them around at this time of year because they are hardy and can stand up to these chilly nights.  I used to collect these seeds, but now I just let them seed themselves and then I move them in the spring to the places that I want them.

Finding the seeds of any plant is typically not to difficult.  Peas and beans are easy, but I always chuckle in the spring when we are planting them and one of my kids stops and peers at the seed in their hands and says, "Hey mom, these look just like the peas we eat."  The most difficult thing I have found with peas and beans is the importance of not eating all of them - some have to be saved back for seed and usually it is best to pick the nicest looking of the plants to save.

Lettuce can be a bit more difficult to determine what is the seed, but that is only because we don't allow the lettuce plant to typically live out its entire life cycle - we eat it in its young and tender teenage stage.  After it gets too bitter to eat and starts to bolt, it will then form a weird looking flower and then those start to go to seed - save those and you will have lettuce seeds for next year.

Sometimes figuring out where the seed is on a flower takes a little time and observation.  So many gardeners will tell you to "dead head" things that are no longer blooming, which is fine but then you often miss out on the seeds.  Personally, I think this is a bit of marketing on the part of the nurseries that grow flowers - they would rather people didn't get their own seeds because then it cuts in on their business so they tell us to do things like remove spent flowers.  Yes, it makes your flowers look prettier, but then they don't reproduce, and there are several plants that have fairly interesting looking seed pods that you would otherwise miss if you cut them off as instructed.

 There are many horticulturists that will tell you that many of the flowers we buy, or seeds we buy are hybrids and will not produce "true" seeds, and this is entirely true.....the first few years.  But, what I have discovered, often through benign neglect, is that flowers and plants, if given half a chance, will revert back to a more natural variety that does produce seeds true to form.  I am often reminded of the line in Jurassic Park when Malcolm says to the scientists, "Life finds a way" and he is entirely correct.

So, I meander around the garden and pick a handful or two of seeds off of the flowers, or I cut open the nicest looking tomato and, before throwing it in the pot, I scoop out a few hundred seeds for next year.  Some of the plants I simply watch ripen and dry and then shake the seeds out where I want them next year and others I simply let fall and plan on moving them to a new location after they sprout. 



A seed is both a plant's last and final hurrah before being annihilated by winter, and it's boundless hope for the future.  It will have absolutely no knowledge of whether or not what it produced will ever come to fruition, but it produces them just the same.  And I collect them.  I am the bridge to the future for many plants - keeping them warm and dry through the cold winter months and them scattering them in the spring to start over.  And they, in their turn, take care of me and provide me with a bridge to my future in the form of food. 

There have been times, when stuck indoors studying for genetics tests, when I have wondered how Gregor Mendel, the Austrian Monk that established the basics for genetics, could have spent countless days and seasons watching pea plants.....now I understand.

The Better Half

Change is hard. Anytime something changes, even for the good, it causes stress in our lives and stress leads to any number of health problems. There have been several changes lately, albeit small ones, but changes none-the-less and my health is taking a hit.

School started for all the kids, including our youngest, which means that the house is now unusually empty whereas it used to hum with the activities of a small girl. My business is growing - slowly - but the changes that have come about from that will take a while to settle out into a more normal routine. My husband has started taking on more "side jobs" as though the full time maintenance of the farm wasn't quite enough to do....there have been a lot of small and, technically, good changes. But I am still tapped out. Kids brought home "the crud" from school - that first wave of viruses that they all seem to pass around and introduce to one another almost as fast as they introduce themselves to their peers. And, to top it all off, at some point in the last four days I have internalized all my stress and placed it in a nice sore knot in my neck which no longer allows me to turn to look at anything on my left. I try to keep telling myself that, maybe with a twenty minute nap, all things will be improved and I will have the energy to go out and actually accomplish something....anything.

So far, it hasn't worked.

But, thankfully, there is another person that lives with me and seems to have a supply never ending energy - my better half.  We balance each other out most of the time - I'm full of energy when he is at a low point and vice verse, but lately he has definitely been carrying the "home front" load that seems to totally put me over the edge.  With all that still needs to be done on the farm before the snow flies, we have had to select which projects to tackle and then try to take them on together.  "Many hands make light work"....unfortunately due to school projects and activities, the "many hands" are simply his and mine.  The focus of this last weekend was the grapes. 

Five years ago I ordered and planted what were supposed to be "seedless" grapes - not sure where it got screwed up, but every grape that grows on the arbor has seeds in it. What we didn't expect, however, is that they are some of the most flavorful grapes I have ever tasted.  After spending the early summer picking Japanese beetles off them and attempting to cover them when they spray the fields with Round Up, we finally get to harvest.  I trudged along with Keith, carrying the bushel basket and we set to work picking.  Before we were 1/4 the way through the row we realized that we were in for a lot of grape.

One bushel basket, two five gallon buckets and four large bowls later we had finally picked all the grapes.  Roughly 50 pounds came off our four smallish grape vines.  Then the real work began.  I try not to, but I end up counting how many times I have to touch each fruit of vegetable on the way to processing it - once to pick it, once to pull it off the stem, another time to clean it, and then crushing.  For each of those 50 pounds of grapes, each grape was touched approximately 4 times, and that doesn't even take into consideration that then you cook them, strain them, strain them again, mix it with sugar and boil it, put it in sterilized glass jars and then boil it again.  Then we take the second straining left overs, which is the pulp of the grape minus the skin and seed, and mix that with sugar and cook it on a cookie sheet to make fruit leathers.  This is a project that takes all weekend with two people working full time.  17 pints of jelly, 11 cups of jelly, 4 quarts of juice, 7 pints of jam, and 5 cookie-sheet sized fruit leathers later we were finally finished.

Don't get me wrong, I love it that in the middle of winter I will be able to take a quart of concentrated Concord grape juice off the shelf and mix up home grown grape juice for the kids, or eat a fruit leather while out for a hike in the woods, or spread a thick layer of jelly on a piece of bread, but right at this time of year, with a cold and a wicked pain in the neck, it is hard to be enthusiastic about the whole process.  We finished the dark purple, sticky sweet mess on Monday night at approximately 10:30 pm and then I headed off to work on Tuesday. 

On Wednesday....we went and picked apples....approximately #140 pounds of them, that, thanks only to the un-ending energy of my spouse, will be processed into quart after quart of beautiful, tasty applesauce.  Meanwhile, I take on the challenge of the tomatoes and processing as many of them as possible into marinara, pizza sauce and frozen tomatoes which will provide a winter's worth of spaghetti sauce, pizza sauce and chili, if we are lucky...and if my energy holds out.

Little Garden of Horrors

I'm not entirely sure when it happened, but at some point in the last month I completely lost all control of the garden.  The hot weather and humidity, while not good for the crops, apparently has no effect on the weeds. The spring always starts with the best of intentions to keep it well organized and weeded, but I have now come to realize that the weeds have become so thick that I will have to mow them down just to be able to get to the garden gate, much less through it.  Yesterday, while pulling weeds fiercely determined to find the ground under all the nightshade and crab grass, I unearthed a shovel that the weeds had absconded with - and not a "hand shovel" a full sized shovel!  It has become a bit of a jungle out there, and not in a good way.

 I start to envision being tripped up by the sweet potato vines and quietly covered over and devoured like some garden horror flick.  The tomatoes have out-grown their cages and are now about six feet tall and sprawling all over the ground.  My son and I tackled them yesterday and tied up the trailing vines as best as we could - they tend to get a little unruly at this stage.  I had him help me because, quite frankly, I was almost afraid of taking on that job by myself - I need someone to run for help after they overwhelm me.  Two hours and 18 tomato plants later, we emerged covered in tomato "dust" - the greenish/yellow iridescent pollen that made us both look like green wood nymphs and with hands so green they appeared black.  One project down....two million more to take on. 

Not only are the weeds and plants completely out of control, but the list of "to do" things becomes increasingly longer with more and more things to harvest and store. 

• The potatoes are still to be dug, dried, and then stored. 
• The peppers need to be harvested and then chopped and frozen, or grilled and then frozen. 
• The beans are to be picked, shelled, dried and stored. 
• The herbs - cut, dry, store. 
•  Tomatoes - harvested, processed either by making into marinara, salsa, pizza sauce, or frozen. 
• Strawberry patch - that just needs a good weeding and mulching so it is ready for next spring. 
•  Lettuce - almost time to plant a few more rounds now that it is cooling off a little again. 
• Sunflowers - seeds to be harvested, dried, brined and roasted. 

Just typing that list makes me tired and desperate for a nap.  I always think of Spring as such a busy time, but in all honesty fall is ten times worse in so many ways - why do I always forget that?  Maybe fall harvest is like child birth....there is something inherently built in our psyche that makes us forget how awful it was so that we will somehow be tricked into doing it again, and only as the pains of labor start does the memory come back.

I bought myself a present this year in preparation for the harvesting, freezing, processing, canning, storing nightmare that I am in building up to- a food processor.  If there is anything that takes a ton of time, it is all the chopping.  Most of the time I have done it manually, but when my typically marinara recipe starts by saying, "chop three large onions" and I would stand over a cutting board crying my eyes out for 40 minutes, well suffice it to say, it was never the highlight of the day.  The one that I purchased isn't very big, but it does the job and my kids fight over being the ones to push down the handle and chop the food.  I wonder how long that will last?

I am sure that at some point - probably into my thirtieth quart of marinara, I will stop caring about the weeds and the horrors that live in my garden and I will completely let it go to pot, venturing down there only to nab whatever produce I can before it is engulfed by the other viney vegetation.  Then I will stand on the porch and simply long for the first hard frost to kill it off and when that happens, then.....then I will take a nap.

Farm Kid Fun

I am still in recovery mode from last week.  Last week was the local county fair which is the time in which kids involved with FFA and 4-H get to strut their stuff.  Projects that they have been working on for a while (as well as those that were finished in the eleventh hour) are judged and scored.  Animals that they have been taking care of, teaching to lead, and handling get washed and groomed to look nice for their respective shows.  Lunches and dinners consist entirely of fair food for a week and the temperature in the shade is, without fail, about 110 degrees.

This used to be easier....I come out of the week feeling like something the cat dragged in.  I have driven the road to the fairgrounds so many times that I could do it in my sleep, I have a purse filled with "just in case" items that would make any event planner proud - tape, safety pins, paper clips, pens, markers, rags, lead ropes, lip gloss...you name it and I could probably find it in there. Not to mention the miscellaneous items that the little kids pick up at all the commercial exhibits - the bottles of bubbles, stickers, tattoos, pencils, tooth brushes, catalogs, used paper cups - it gets entirely out of hand.  Sun burned and smelling of whatever animal is to be shown that day, we make our rounds and ride the rides with the promise of Hawaiian shaved ice at the end of the day if there is enough cash left.

Don't get me wrong - I love it!....but it does take its toll on the parents.  When I was a kid, living at the fair was the highlight of the summer and I see the same thing reflected in my kids now, so who am I to deny them that fun? And they have fun while simultaneously learning new things.  During one of my weaker moments during the heat of a day at the fair I questioned whether they actually did learn anything, but my enduring son turned to me and rattled off his list of things he learned:

• How to paint a room correctly and a mural to go with it.
• How to grow garlic.
• How to make a bat house and what white nose syndrome is in bats.
• How to make a rocket out of scraps lying around the farm and get it to fly....and find it again in a soybean field.
• How to build a fire (although I had to call him on this one because he kind of already knew how to make fire...not always safely... okay, so maybe he did learn something. )

Out of all these projects however, the one thing that they do learn how to do well is present themselves and be judged.  There is a lot of hard work that goes into a project - coming up with the idea, research, collecting the parts needed, assembling, experimenting, and completing projects all takes time and perseverance.  Then, to be able to explain to another person what, exactly, you did and why.....that is tough, but ironically what most people have to do on a daily basis while on the job.  Personally, I think the judges are entirely too lenient these days.  I seem to remember more white ribbons given out and more judges not being afraid to tell you just how much better you really could do if you just put in a little more time, but they are still being judged despite the relatively non-existent gradations of accomplishment.  I am probably their hardest judge - if they can get past me shaking my head and giving them the "you could do better" look, they are set for the judge. 

Too few kids are "judged" these days.  We have some crazy misconception that everyone should be a winner regardless of how bad you do and it has very rapidly led to demoralizing those kids that try exceptionally hard and making the lazy kids even more complacent.  We as a society have this crazy fear that if we tell a kid "this really isn't all that great, you could do better" that we will permanently scar and cripple them for all time.  When did kids become such wimps?  I definitely had my fair share of white ribbons and it taught me two things: I either had to work harder or, if I truly didn't like it, move on to something else.  Excel, or redirect.  This is how the best of the best get picked out - for a country so entrenched in Capitalism we sure do a lousy job of preparing our kids.  And, what's worse, we shake our heads and wonder what has happened to the younger generation and can't understand why they don't move out and get a job.   The corporate world is 'dog eat dog' and yet parents have been making sure that every puppy gets plenty to eat and lots of praise - no wonder they don't want to move out on their own and get a job.

Over the course of the week, we had a few rough patches - the sudden cold that my son got that made showing chickens a struggle and my daughter not having any back up music for her talent show competition (but she sang acapella amazingly anyway!)  Overall, I am happy to say that the week went very well. My son came out of the week with two State Fair trips and my daughter came away with a Champion trophy for her calf....yes, Hazel did well! They had put themselves out there and had fun doing it. The thing that I love to hear most of all at the end of the week is, "I can't wait until next year! I am going to take......, "  and the list is usually at least half a mile long.  I nod and smile and try to take fast mental notes that will later be used to direct all that energy and enthusiasm, but for now I am just going to breathe a sigh of relief that the county fair is done and restock the "just in case" items in my purse for going to State Fair.

In A Pickel

Waiting around for my cucumbers to really get going is one of the hardest things about summer.  I hate to say I hover, but I do - much to the detriment of my cucumber vines.  I get all giddy with pickling enthusiasm when the first blossoms appear and then nash my teeth when they either take too long to grow to the right size, or overnight seem to mushroom into an inedible cucumber-zilla, or the vine that they are on dies and takes down the cucumber with them.

Slowly, I finally come up with cucumbers enough to start the pickling process.  I soak them in salt brine overnight and then raid my garlic stores and dill plants to prepare to make sweet and sour pickles.

• Salt brined cucumbers - drained and rinsed
• One head (or maybe two) of dill - I take these at whatever stage they are in but I do usually pick some at the height of flowering and then put them directly in the freezer until the cucumbers catch up
• Garlic - one clove cut into two pieces ( or if they are small, two cloves)  The pickled garlic is actually one of the favorite things to eat in the pickle jars.....my kids fight over it.
• Pickling spice - can be purchased almost anywhere that canning goods are sold in grocery stores.
• Brown sugar - more for sweeter pickels, less for more sour pickels
• Vinegar - I use white, but apple cider works well too
• Water

The reason I so love pickels is that it takes so little time to actually make them - I don't can them in a hot water bath,  so all that is needed it to bring the vinegar and water mixed with a little brown sugar up to a rolling boiling and then pour it over the cucumbers in the jar, and then screw on the lid - they seal as they cool and the vinegar ensures that they are acidic enough not to go bad over the winter. 

There are about as many different pickel recipes as there are people in the world - the trick is to try many and then see which one you like the most.  The hardest part is keeping track of which recipe you used on which jar because you have to let them sit and pickel for at least 3 weeks before you do any taste testing. I have had to hide mine from the kids to keep them from breaking into them early.    One of these years I am going to try fermented pickels - I have been told that this will take the pickels to a whole new level.

Since the cucumbers have (thus far) been disappointing, I have elected to pickel some hot peppers and more of the garlic separately since they are such a hit.  We may have horrible breath all winter, but at least we will keep any vampires at bay and Peter Piper will have nothing on me.