Tilling our Earth and Finding our Groove

A few months ago I mentioned to some friends that I was "freaking" out about all of the changes we were going through; I had no idea. One of my friends spoke up that struggle is closely tied with living, and so many people just wander through, but at least we were living it. Well, if that is true we are now fully present, completely conscious, and living in the moment. I have given up listening to public radio, which is big for me, because I feel like every half hour they are highlighting our obvious struggles. We have yet to sell our home in Seattle, Toby works in the hemorrhaging financial sector, we are trying to plan out a way to live on the farm, and we are attempting to launch the farm into business that can both support and nurture us. Our struggles are not unique, but how often do you pick up the paper, listen to the radio, or, God forbid, turn to network news and feel like they are actually talking about you?

It is ironic that I don't want to be popular now, as opposed to my many late nights scheming with my teen-aged friends about how we could break through to the popular cliche. Back then I thought being on the pom-pom squad, or having the lead in the school play would change how everyone perceived me, and how I even felt about myself. Of course none of that made any difference, although I do admit it was kind of fun to wear the cheerleader outfits and sing my lungs out.

Our new cliche is the farm community here on the island. At first, I was a bit worried that farming would isolate me from the community, and I would not meet all the people on the island that are worth sharing time with. But now I see we just got elected Homecoming Queen. We are the new kids on the block, and lately it seems that just about everyone is watching our fledgling footsteps. What techniques are we employing to maintain our "crops"? Where will we sell our products; farmer's market, wholesale distributor, farm stand? Are we going to price our products according to what the market can bear, or do we just want to feed the world? And of course, every time we answer one question, a branch of the family tree of popularity is sprouted. Do we go up into the lore of the farmers everyone wants to hang with? Or do we droop down into the mucky wallows of the wanna be "hobby" farmers? And is it just okay to fall on our faces a couple of times while we sort it out?

I have been thinking a lot about the Buddhist fairy tale of the farmer and his horse. A farmer wakes up one day to find his horse has run away. His neighbors come by to say they are sorry for his bad luck. The farmer responds that maybe it is bad luck and maybe it is not. The next day the horse returns with two other wild horses, and the neighbors all congratulate him on his good luck. The farmer responds again that maybe it is good luck and maybe not. The story continues on like that until the average thinker starts to get the message that there is no luck, but there is balance in life and we need to check how we perceive things.

Gus and Freja started school recently, and they both have blossomed. Freja is just the most amazing, imaginative, and talkative two-year-old you could imagine. Gus loves kindergarten so much he does not want to leave, and is already perfecting signing his name. The farm is tons of work, and we have met a number of wonderful people who buy what we can spare, and cheer us on along the way. I got to spend the morning with a cow named Hazel, a farmer named Will, a produce maven named Norine, and a caterer named Mardi. Toby enjoys every day that he commutes by ferry, and comes home every evening with tidbits of information gleaned from the friends he has made on the boat. We received an offer on the house in Seattle, and although it is ridiculous, it is an offer.

In Seattle we had a groove that we had worn pretty deep. Here on the island, on our farm we are just scratching the surface, and already are amazed with what we have uncovered.

Take a Breath

Last night as I walked the orchard inspecting the apples, resetting insect traps, and removing the imperfect fruits for cider, the Harvest Moon rose up over me.  It made me think of a high-pressured school-reform trip I took down to San Diego when my principal launched into this story about when he tried his hand at farming.  There were about six of us around the table while he regaled how he harvested his wheat with a hand scythe under the harvest moon, naked.  About half of the teachers around the table had to pick up their jaws from the floor, and the rest of us whispered under our breath..."Cool".  Well, I didn't strip down last night, but I did pause and give thanks to the warm light that bathed the farm while I did my final clean up for the night.  And I felt a pretty strong pull from that moon; my tide is in, and it is here.

http://www.ebridant.com/images/Harvest-Moon_xxx.jpg

Ready, Set, Launch!

Yesterday we officially launched Holmestead Farms into the public arena by participating in the Vashon Farmer's Market.  The day started early with Amy carefully packing the pickup and slowly driving up to the market (she did not want to bruise one plum), while Toby played parent extraordinaire to G & F back home.  By 10 that morning the whole family was gathered at our market table underneath the chiseled driftwood sign Papa Ed made some thirty years ago that read "The Holmestead".  Gus and Freja ran around the market area selling everlasting bouquets that Shirley put together for them, while Amy and Toby helped the early, serious shoppers buy big quantities of plums, apples and raspberries.

It was a beautiful day, very social, and the day was punctuated by many a surprise visitor.  We ended up supplying the snack for the Seattle Sounders professional soccer team, reconnected with too many friends to mention, met our neighbors around the farm, and even got to see Mary.  Mary, and her husband Phil were the previous owners of the farm, and she just happened to be on the island that day.  She made a stop at the market, because it is the social place on Saturdays, and you could see the surprise in her face to see us selling the delicious apples, plums and raspberries that she and Phil worked so hard to grow and pass on to us.  She beamed with pride to see us use so many of the things they left for us, like the antique crates and boxes we used to show off the fruit.  And we were proud too, to show her that we take the land seriously, and don't just see it as "someplace" new.

All in all, we turned a small profit, even after accounting for the start up costs of business cards, a market scale, produce bags, gas, labor, and paying out a percentage of our sales to the market association.  We certainly gained more respect for the other local farmers that do this every day, and were reminded why local, organic produce costs "so much".  We hope that maybe just a few people outside of farm owners really start understanding that soon, and really start supporting us and other small, local farms with more vigor.  This week on our local public radio station they are highlighting farming in our region, and we encourage everyone to have a listen and maybe even take the time to check out the following website: 

Thanks and happy eating, plums, apples, plums, tomatoes, plums, raspberries, and plums!

The Guru and Humble Pie

I met with the premier expert in apple cultivation and propagation this past week.  His name is Robert (Bob) Norton and he happened to retire right here to Vashon.  Now, if you never heard of Dr. Norton, then you don't know your apples!  Even before we agreed on a final price for the farm the Glebs (previous owners) made us promise to track this man down, and join his "fruit club".  We smiled and agreed not understanding the half of what we were getting into!

So the fruit club is quite a thing in itself, and I think by Toby and I joining it we reduced the average age to 65; oh yes, we are the newbies.  But the age thing did not discourage us one bit!  We happily attended the annual Vashon Island Fruit Club (VIFC) potluck with homemade jams to share at the tasting table and a berry salad straight from the garden.  We did not blink when only one other parent showed up with kids (and she wasn't even a member of the club, she just came for the food), and Toby even signed up to be the clubs new treasurer.

With our foot in the door of such an austere and somewhat aloof organization we thought it was about time that we invited Dr. Norton to the orchard for a "walk".  Bob showed up right on time and proceeded to lead me down to my own orchard. (he apparently had been there many times before)  He drilled me on many of the varieties and struggled to keep up reading my "orchard map".  He deemed our orchard "starving" and lacking any significant growth.  I shied to tell him about our triumphant pruning fearing he would point to it as the culprit.  He said we had two improperly labeled trees and took samples home to try and correctly identify for us as well as a couple unknown trees.  And he showed me how many of the beautiful nearly ripe apples were actually "ruined" by cottling moth damage.  He gave a few other pointers, that I wrote down, but after about the fifth criticism I had a hard time listening.  When our hour was up I wrote him a check and he lead me out of the orchard back to his car and on his way to his next "appointment".

As he drove out of site I frantically wrote down everything I could remember from our meeting and then took a deep breath.  Not since research science in college had I been dealt so much "constructive" criticism in so little time.  It is hard to hear that something you are working so hard on is imperfect, and still needs work.  And I guess I feel better about paying him for giving me advice instead of a pat on the back for a job well done and glowing compliments.  But it is very hard to see your farm as something not totally under your control.  I certainly could not monitor each apple and shoo off any moth that came near it, or know exactly how far back on a branch to make a pruning cut.

Farming is a giant lesson in letting go, I know this, and I also know that I am a control freak.  It must be comical for some people to watch me try and do this.  However, my spirits were lifted today when I sold some berries at the Saturday market.  People were happy to see me, kids in tow, and asked about what we will be bringing to market next week.  They don't see my "office", and they don't care.  They just care about what I bring to the table to share, and I think that is really all that matters.

Still Waiting for Summer Vacation

Today I did the weekly "shopping".  As much as I would like to say we are self-sufficient, we are still a long way away; and that is okay.  I started my outing by visiting my favorite farmstand for our weekly allotment of raw milk.  My jar of milk today was so fresh they had a note included telling me that it was so freshly milked that it had not yet been totally chilled and I needed to put it to cool pronto.  I then proceeded to the "real" market, after pulling over twice to re-attach my front bumper. (long story made short: early foggy morning heading out to sell the berries and high-sided the beemer....oops)

As I walk into the only market on the island that people regularly shop at (it is somewhat of a secret that there are actually two grocery stores on the island, people seem to only shop at one of them and I have never been in the other which it practically across the street) I start saying hello to people I recognize.  I then glance at my list and get ready to b-line it to what is essential: wine, flour, and cheese.   You may pause at my list, but I can do a lot with just those things!  I rounded the bend at the first aisle and was enticed by roasted turkey at a screaming deal in the deli.  I then went looking for some aseptically sealed milk for the next power outage and was psyched to see it was on sale too.  We needed some more raisins and low and behold they were on sale too.  

And then it hit me: Tomorrow is the first day of school.  In that moment I realized that the entire store was set up like a pirate map leading us all to a successful start of the school year: yogurt cups, juice boxes, cheese slices, glue, thermoses, granola bars, and snack chips.  A few of the items I was glad to see on sale: string cheese, yogurt, and a pair of left-handed scissors for Freja, but for the most part I was saddened by the nudging of what I "needed" to start my children off right for school.  I opted for some raw-milk cheese, a few bottles of Syrah and Malbec wines, and really good goat's milk blue cheese and three bunches of fat, organic carrots.  We will eat well this first week of school, and always.