washington state

Good Enough is Perfect

Famous sustainable farmer and author, Joel Salatin of Polyface Farms, has a quote that goes something like “when it comes to farming, good enough is perfect.” This is a piece of advice I am desperately trying to take to heart, although it is hard for me. Historically I have had an overachiever, straight “A”, quasi-perfectionist mentality, and when I see weeds growing amongst my vegetables I have an urge to pull out every single one. Which is completely ridiculous, because by the time I finished weeding the whole farm, I’d have to start all over again. And that would be fine, if the only job I had to do was weed all day. Thankfully, there are a million other things to be done, so I am learning how to best prioritize my tasks.

Every day we get to the farm in the morning and start with animal chores. Usually this involves moving the chicken “tractors” to fresh pasture, a process we now have down pretty well (although occasionally a chicken or two sneak out and we have to do some wrangling). We feed all the chickens, give them fresh water, and feed and water the pigs. We check on the goats to make sure they are all accounted for, something we never worried about much until one of our wethers (young, castrated male) went mysteriously missing, which just about broke my heart. Then we set about starting our other farm tasks, which usually means weeding in my case, and working on the tiny house in Andrew’s case.

Other than the daily animal feeding, our schedule is pretty varied and loose. Usually what happens is we discover something that needs fixing right away, and all of the things on our “to-do” list get bumped. For example we might discover that the goats’ hooves need trimming, and so we’ll spend a couple hours catching them and trimming hooves. Recently we decided that the pigs had outgrown their pen, so Andrew spent two days building them a “pig palace” and a new enclosure, putting our own abode on hold. There’s a kind of feeling on the farm that we’re always putting out fires, or staying one step ahead of imminent disaster. At first I worried that this was due to our novice status, but I’m starting to see that this is the nature of farming. You are at the mercy of the elements, trying to harness nature and encourage the “good” parts while avoiding the “bad.” Sometimes there’s not much to be done but panic, scramble around fixing things for a few hours, and then stand in front of a patch of overgrown weeds, wheezing while silently cursing your aching back.

Our farm operates as “CSA” based, which stands for Community Supported Agriculture. What this means is that people pay up front for a weekly box of produce, and that box is expected to be varied and plentiful. It’s wonderful because it allows community members to become a real part of the farm; in our case all boxes are picked up at the farm so people can come meet us and see where their food comes from. The pressure is on to make sure we are providing high-quality produce with a good variety in order to keep our members satisfied. I was beginning to have some anxiety about the approaching deadline when our farmer neighbors stopped by to have a chat and see how we were doing. They were impressed by how far along many of our vegetables are, and reassured me that we were going to have very happy customers. I feel relieved about that now, although we will have to work hard to make sure the weeds don’t strangle out some of our younger crops before they have a chance to get established. Part of the challenge of farming is timing; you need to ensure that you have harvestable crops every week throughout the season, and that you always have a good variety in rotation.

Our other impending deadline is our first chicken slaughter, which is only one week away. We have been talking to lots of experienced people, watching videos, reading books and blogs, and learning as much as we can about the process. Unfortunately the only real way to know what it’s going to be like is to actually do it, so we mostly just have to wait until the day comes and then dive right in. For the most part I am excited about this. I believe that it is important to understand that a chicken breast is actually a piece of meat that came from a living creature, and to be able to slaughter the chickens we raised from the day after they hatched is something I will take pride in.  Although I do think that pulling intestines out of a still-warm carcass with my bare hands may take some getting used to!

In the meantime, we will keep chasing our goats, laughing at the pigs, enjoying the delicious young zucchinis and beets, and marveling at the scenery. Oh, and when the rain lets up long enough for the ground to dry out, we will get back to hacking at those weeds!

A beautiful sunset + orange tractor + green grass = awesome!
The menagerie…
Pigs love cake!
Three expectant cows and one newly born calf!
Hey you. Start laying eggs already!
Farm dog
My favorite leafy green so far…Grand Rapids Red. So pretty!
Carrots!
Remember those onions I promised to nourish if they leave me alone? They are HUGE!
Andrew surveys the crops among the weeds
As my cousin so cleverly captioned this photo: “two hearts beet as one”

The Only Guarantee in Life

Compared to my last post, which was a celebration of all things wonderful in regards to finding the love of my life, this post may seem a little macabre. Working on a farm means that we are responsible for creating life. We plant seeds and provide water and nutrients so that they may grow big and strong and plentiful. We feed, pamper, and nourish our livestock so that they will also grow big and strong (and tasty!). We are now well into spring, and life brims at every turn. Flowers are blooming, bees are buzzing, and our plants and animals are growing in leaps and bounds. This is amazing to witness and I am so thrilled to be a part of something so fundamental. There is, of course, a flip side to all of the energetic, tangible, vibrant life that abounds on the farm.

Death on the farm is not a rare occurrence. In the few months we have worked here we have become quite accustomed to several forms of death. Rodents die almost every day on the farm, some by our own hands. Even more succumb to Zephyr, whose favorite hobby is digging up their nests and toying with the young. Rats, mice, and rabbits have all met this fate (although the weasels are proving too smart for him!). We have also had more than a handful of chicken deaths. Some die as chicks for various reasons, whether they are sick, or too weak to fight for food, or they get crushed by the others when it’s cold. We have also had larger chickens die expectantly. But still…when it’s a chicken, it’s not so hard to get over.

A few weeks ago, we had to put down one of our pigs. She had only been in our custody for a few days, and was sickly from the beginning. We were fortunate in that we had not really formed any kind of bond with her yet, but still. A pig is an intelligent creature, and pulling the trigger is no easy feat. And yet, all five living pigs are destined for slaughter. (I will have to come to terms with this, especially since I plan on eating some of the delicious pork I had a hand in raising!) And today a lovable little calf named Lucy died. She was bottle fed and hand-raised by Eric’s twelve-year-old son, and it was incredibly difficult to see him struggle and mourn this loss. Unfortunately this is a big part of creating life. Every living creature must die, and sometimes they die when we do not want them to.

All of the death on the farm makes me think about my own mortality, and how we as humans cope with this. Scratch that. We as Americans (or other Westerners). We have, in my opinion, a seriously messed up perspective on death in this country. We push it away and ignore it all our lives, until BAM there it is, in the form of a lost loved one. We avoid thinking about death. We avoid participation in any death rites (let the funeral home and undertakers deal with that!). Most of us avoid preparing for death unless we are given a prognosis and we know our time is limited. With all of this avoidance, it’s no wonder death is such a tragedy to us. We are slammed with the emotions all at once, and at the same time are stuck dealing with the logistics of planning, and paying exorbitantly, for a funeral. There is no real closure in this process either, other than maybe throwing a handful of dirt into a grave and walking away.

When I was just out of high school one of my equally young friends passed away. His family wanted some kind of closure, so they requested to watch his coffin be buried completely. This, unfortunately, was performed by a backhoe. You can imagine how traumatic it was for us all to watch noisy, heavy machinery bury our friend in the earth. In other cultures family is directly involved in the funeral rites. In India, Hindu family members bathe, clothe, and arrange the body of their loved ones before they perform the cremation themselves, in a specific way according to custom. This seems much more logical to me. It allows the family to grieve over the body, and be personally connected to the process of letting go.

Recently I was listening to a podcast in which a cool, young mortician was interviewed. She has established something called the Order of the Good Death, which was created in response to the screwy Western cultural fears about death. Here is a link to their mission: http://www.orderofthegooddeath.com/category/mission

I cannot say that I am “mightier than thou” when it comes to matters of death. I have not delved deeply enough into this topic to have completely resolved my fears and anxieties…after all cultural knowledge is hard to unlearn. I am excited to know that there are potential options out there that do include more direct involvement with the death of loved ones, and I am hoping to expand my knowledge on the subject over time.

In the meantime I do know that I would like a “green burial,” where my body can be placed into the ground, uninhibited by concrete or polished wood. Matter is matter is matter…my energy is neither created nor destroyed but merely transferred. Let those worms use me to create new life! Who knows, maybe someday my energy will wind up feeding the spinach that finds its way onto your plate. What could be more significant than participating directly in the great Circle of Life?

I’m curious to know about your thoughts: please share in the comments!

RIP little Lucy. You were such a doll and helped me learn that cows can be lovable!
Some of our growing Freedom Ranger meat birds. Andrew and I are mentally prepping…we will slaughter roughly 100 of them next month!
As far as I could tell, this was the lone tulip on the farm this spring. Gorgeous!
Pigs pigs pigs! PIGS!
Despite looking like cotton candy, insulation is nasty stuff! We are still chugging away on the tiny house…
Sometimes a farmer has to wrangle chickens. We have yet to find a way of accomplishing this without looking foolish!
Some blooming onions or chives that were overwintered. I know nothing about onions and I can’t eat them. But these are pretty!
Wahooo!! Strawberries in bloom! Every blossom turns into a berry. I can’t wait!
This is an asparagus octopus. We planted 100 crowns…next year we can start to harvest them.
These are mostly weeds (wild mustard and horsetail) but they sure look pretty here! Blue skies too!!

The Farmers in the Dell

A little over six months ago, Andrew and I were just starting off on our North American road trip. We were excited about the next three months, but had no idea what our “real” future would look like. Every time I tried to imagine where we would find ourselves at the conclusion of our freewheeling adventure, I suffered a bout of anxiety. Will I have to go back to work in an office so we can pay our student loan bills? Will our simplified, reduced-clutter, outdoors-oriented lifestyle be a fond memory once our travel funds run out? Somewhere along our 15,000-mile journey we decided to never return to “the way things were.” Our newfound freedom, untethered from superfluous possessions and a 9 to 5 workday, would forever be the norm.

So far, farming seems to fit the bill just right. We are still in the learning stages, and for me especially, the learning curve is steep. I have learned how to operate some semi-heavy machinery like the tractor, rototiller and weed whacker. I have learned how to sow seeds in a green house, how to fight blackberry brambles (although I still cannot seem to come out of a bout unscathed), and how to set up sprinklers. I have had the joy of welcoming 100 newly hatched chicks that are happily brooding in the garage next to our temporary housing. I have also experienced some remorse: this morning I unknowingly rototilled over a bunny nest, and decapitated a newborn bunny. The other two survivors had to be “taken care of” as rabbits are pests on a farm. That’s the way things go here…it’s time I get used to it. After all, the cute little chicks are going to be someone’s dinner soon enough!

The first few days on the farm were spectacular. The weather was a balmy 55 with blue skies and abundant sunshine. I marveled at the views of the Cascade Mountain range while I weeded around the rows of blueberry bushes, and even found myself stripped down to a t-shirt. I was told not to get used to this weather, and sure enough after those two clear days it has been cloudy, rainy, and cool. Although there is often the threat of imminent rain, mostly it is overcast and cool enough to make the work outdoors quite pleasant. The times when it really rains we can usually find work to do inside the greenhouse, hoop-houses, and other covered spaces. In other words, I am not complaining about the weather! Yet.

Every morning I roll out of bed and toss on old dirty jeans, a wool layer, and my new trusty Carhartt jacket. I throw my hair up into a messy ponytail and slap one of Andrew’s beanies on over my head. I stuff my feet into my rubber boots and away we go! It’s really nice not to have to worry about looking nice on the farm. That feeling I got while in Hawaii (this goes WAAAAAY back to one of my first posts!) also exists on the farm. There is no need for makeup or pretty clothes. And when I do decide to wear those things, “dressing up” becomes that much more special.

We have only done a little bit of exploring in the nearby town of Snohomish, but I’m hoping this weekend maybe we can see what the nightlife scene is like. Last week we found an excellent spot for lunch called Grilla Bites that even served gluten-free bread and vegan cheese, and you can imagine my joy and excitement at finding such a local gem. Another nearby dining spot, Mongos, looks like a mediocre takeout joint, but they specialize in pretty gourmet fair despite appearances. The other day I inhaled a pile of truffle fries that were served up in a cardboard takeout container. There is also a yoga studio in town that I am hoping to check out soon enough. My sore, abused muscles sure could use some TLC!

In the next month or so we will be building our “tiny house” on a flatbed trailer that Eric, our farmer/mentor bought. With his help we will construct a lodging that is approximately 12’ x 20’ with a loft for Andrew, Zephyr, Sake, and I to live in at the farm. This way we can keep an eye on our animals (we’re hoping to soon add pigs, goats, sheep, and turkeys to the mix), and it will be even easier to roll out of bed to get the morning chores done. I am looking forward to another opportunity to downsize, and without television or internet I will find a lot more time to read, paint, create art, snooze, and get to know my love a little bit more every day.

Sake was an excellent travel companion on the trek from Tucson to Washington!
Here are our first starts! Andrew planted the seeds a week before I arrived.
Yes, riding a tractor is as much fun as you’d think!
One of the many happy beef cows that call Chinook Farms home!
A girl, a dog, some subtle brand promotion…
Here Andrew hand tills one of the hoophouses.
And I followed up with the seeder. It’s a great contraption that drops seeds at the proper intervals and then covers them up as I push it along. Genius!
This will be the foundation for our tiny house! I can’t wait to move in!
I made sure each and every chick got a sip of water as I put them in their new home. Overkill, maybe. But I love them so!
My new arch enemy, the blackberry bramble! They are evil. It’s a bittersweet fight though; I know I will enjoy the berries in the fall!
I’m sorry baby bunny, but look at it this way…now you will live for eternity on the internet!