tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42262054931740873212024-03-05T02:49:47.744-08:00Holmestead Farms on Vashon IslandBiodynamic Harmony in a Chaotic LifeHolmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-29901897387447916822013-04-24T15:49:00.001-07:002013-04-24T15:49:52.648-07:00Welcome to the BIG city Ho Chi Minh City, Saigon, was like nothing we could ever imagine. Tree lined boulevards encase the surviving old neighborhoods, and are totally absent and replaced with skyscrapers in the new ones. Everything is steamy, unlike anything or any place. My diving watch steamed up, so we could only know the time if we could stand in air con. We ducked into any place with shade. We carried and drained bottle after bottle of water. We wilted.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ak7008WJ1GQ/UXhhhJnSyoI/AAAAAAAAAY0/OObdDZh-1Sg/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A24%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ak7008WJ1GQ/UXhhhJnSyoI/AAAAAAAAAY0/OObdDZh-1Sg/s500/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A24%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366843790561.3708" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
The amazing thing about being so hot, is that you are forced to slow down. Take in the details. Appreciate things that you would ordinarily breeze past.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIanfpS1j3pCjhQyfs-74CxkXeKmJzrVaju9nDf-CIRZVz-0bqvY7hip54WpvvzGJyvQ5o9cFphz0OyCnS60sjcsHL-4HAVblXscaldTWMVbAUYHHJQwsfd8Owyloc8KQjHjfEgiG4K7aD/s640/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A23%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIanfpS1j3pCjhQyfs-74CxkXeKmJzrVaju9nDf-CIRZVz-0bqvY7hip54WpvvzGJyvQ5o9cFphz0OyCnS60sjcsHL-4HAVblXscaldTWMVbAUYHHJQwsfd8Owyloc8KQjHjfEgiG4K7aD/s500/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A23%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366843790628.0825" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="300"></a></div>
We loved the light throughout the day. Balanced in the early morning, and again in the early evening. It was light at six and then dark at six. The evenings were cooler, and our most leisurely time. We learned how to ride in cabs armed with pleases, thank you's, and google maps on the iPhone.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6hqtmNohLls/UXhhit8IEfI/AAAAAAAAAZE/RfU-n-9dKiw/s640/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A22%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6hqtmNohLls/UXhhit8IEfI/AAAAAAAAAZE/RfU-n-9dKiw/s500/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A22%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366843790600.0063" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="300"></a></div>
We stumbled through the Cholon district, chinatown, almost forgetting we were still in Vietnam. Apothecaries, dragon and lion costumes, and Chinese noodles reminded us of home.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBuY9c7738JcBmkgd3WxZZSsZXyLa_a8EiPFwNRtSH4idv-n-8KZ97dczHadxPC7jEOmmpZ3XyOIPBbQU1jO3uNXOsP2T5TI8ztULNNK7Q_IaBduuyJh8uOQTekSwHfPJI48rHoNLMXO8e/s640/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A21%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBuY9c7738JcBmkgd3WxZZSsZXyLa_a8EiPFwNRtSH4idv-n-8KZ97dczHadxPC7jEOmmpZ3XyOIPBbQU1jO3uNXOsP2T5TI8ztULNNK7Q_IaBduuyJh8uOQTekSwHfPJI48rHoNLMXO8e/s500/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A21%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366843790602.199" class="alignleft" width="300" height="300" alt=""></a></div>
<br/><br/> "Sometimes, less is more", does not fly in Saigon. The food has layer after layer of flavor. Colored lights bathe everything from hotels to sacred Buddhas. Flowers are dyed, sprayed, and then dipped in glitter. The whole city sparkles through the emanating heat.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-10243196754749172322013-04-17T00:14:00.001-07:002013-04-17T00:14:06.958-07:00Finding Moments Sometimes in the heat of the day, and it is hot here, we seek refuge in a pagoda or temple. We all keep our eyes peeled for red and yellow, ornate doors and arches. <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoE_bpY-6TNnuHWxHZXRpMxsnQNY0t4Z7n0fdrG70URyAvgpnheLk1Gk5YJyt35SO_f6L34vInVzotywTWK7nf0EEJy-CRPG_3fy4LswDebTQJStkdokonypMyKOmXPUV8FborS6zJ09fg/s640/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A54%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoE_bpY-6TNnuHWxHZXRpMxsnQNY0t4Z7n0fdrG70URyAvgpnheLk1Gk5YJyt35SO_f6L34vInVzotywTWK7nf0EEJy-CRPG_3fy4LswDebTQJStkdokonypMyKOmXPUV8FborS6zJ09fg/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A54%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366182842758.576" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="300"></a></div>
<br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> There is always a hush in the air, a sweet smell of incense, and usually a friendly caretaker, eager to show us around.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUPc-YH6uWau5F3wvqJnu4cYLZkQeZ8xiboQcAnGN-L_tp3eIcDSP8GU5Krjio1agYho-PLe6QwDI0JwOmWvNXTxk6_66fTW6sTjosFzIiXFMpapbYXKdylgbvqqVRwpL5CbP9wXPzCeke/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A55%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUPc-YH6uWau5F3wvqJnu4cYLZkQeZ8xiboQcAnGN-L_tp3eIcDSP8GU5Krjio1agYho-PLe6QwDI0JwOmWvNXTxk6_66fTW6sTjosFzIiXFMpapbYXKdylgbvqqVRwpL5CbP9wXPzCeke/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A55%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366182842813.6792" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
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Everything slows as we taken in the different alters.<br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2BME3GTNrOC8_iXqHdhy7oNbDnsLF2_j8Y2wg94OMsMHITRTrqRuPjVEwsKxjH04cTcjDSU0ww40Em_cCOaXiZOPHV7qsmRCyRDwy2RkIfZN18fXp4Wwb4L1KrCqX5sE0qwD6Oj-Ti3m4/s640/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A22%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2BME3GTNrOC8_iXqHdhy7oNbDnsLF2_j8Y2wg94OMsMHITRTrqRuPjVEwsKxjH04cTcjDSU0ww40Em_cCOaXiZOPHV7qsmRCyRDwy2RkIfZN18fXp4Wwb4L1KrCqX5sE0qwD6Oj-Ti3m4/s500/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A22%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366182842801.555" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="300"></a></div>
We marvel at the rituals.<br/><br/>And our eyes fill with smoke and tears.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkZcthL2ekBF1vPa3J4peH5cv_JnI6wPfiie_VfxmC9g1NlIsenmQyNxO3smRLMVFfQDORJgQ8qinbN-vRRSh8oq4mUB5OaVYH-Y6-KVjDBhTovlT8AKSSdsnE5t5OPAnksgSKU-Kzn_MN/s640/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkZcthL2ekBF1vPa3J4peH5cv_JnI6wPfiie_VfxmC9g1NlIsenmQyNxO3smRLMVFfQDORJgQ8qinbN-vRRSh8oq4mUB5OaVYH-Y6-KVjDBhTovlT8AKSSdsnE5t5OPAnksgSKU-Kzn_MN/s500/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366182842806.4438" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="300"></a></div>
Each town, a different interpretation. Each candle lit for luck and loved ones.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-0HqzR9e_1Js/UW5LhtslFnI/AAAAAAAAAYc/CrNQpK21DLo/s640/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-0HqzR9e_1Js/UW5LhtslFnI/AAAAAAAAAYc/CrNQpK21DLo/s500/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366182842796.1306" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="500"></a></div>
And then we walk into the room of a thousand Buddhas. Every nook in the wall houses a Buddha. Every petal of the lotus flower upon which the large Buddha sits contains another small Buddha. The focus of everything is inward, reflective.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MiMASFuofdI/UW5Lt5LcmqI/AAAAAAAAAYk/U2E-QVF-i1M/s640/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MiMASFuofdI/UW5Lt5LcmqI/AAAAAAAAAYk/U2E-QVF-i1M/s500/Photo%252520Apr%25252010%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1366182842806.4097" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="500" alt=""></a></div>
Off to the side a monk chants and rings a giant singing bowl. The sounds of the outside city completely disappear.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-73809780445966761642013-04-14T19:41:00.001-07:002013-04-14T19:41:48.680-07:00MotherlandWe are passed from hand to hand. So many sisters, mothers, grandmothers, all wanting to touch a cheek or a lock of hair for luck. The men are somewhere else, building a new road, driving a taxi, sleeping in a hammock somewhere. The women are the face of this country. They rise early, we never seem to beat them, no matter how early we wake. They sweep, cook, wash, sell all morning until the afternoon heat forces everyone to return home and refuel. <br>
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Sandalwood to burn for good luck, keeping away sickness, and sweetening the air.<br/><br/> Fresh veggies, herbs, mushrooms, even baby ducklings, sell quickly on Sundays.<br/><br/> <br/><br/>A whole street where all that is sold are noodles of all different shapes, sizes, flavors, and textures.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-IbSMtVrTZUE/UWtouzJWN2I/AAAAAAAAAXM/drSC0-zF-UA/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525207%25253A54%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-IbSMtVrTZUE/UWtouzJWN2I/AAAAAAAAAXM/drSC0-zF-UA/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525207%25253A54%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365993706997.8352" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
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No one is in too much of a hurry. There is always time for a cold glass of che!<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QRMNNN_I8a3TcNdKY9bHw0hU0l6N1WII5w_PicfuBCzcORHKhh1jv4U1z4v2GNUc8dKuB5Xvn7cZ7BlDRxqC_INHq_xxQIuLNHRMEoQ4Lstqelg32gife-jdMkrhkHrJegQ-qI3rschK/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525207%25253A56%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QRMNNN_I8a3TcNdKY9bHw0hU0l6N1WII5w_PicfuBCzcORHKhh1jv4U1z4v2GNUc8dKuB5Xvn7cZ7BlDRxqC_INHq_xxQIuLNHRMEoQ4Lstqelg32gife-jdMkrhkHrJegQ-qI3rschK/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525207%25253A56%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365993706912.7793" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
<br/><br/> Grandmothers make sweet black sesame cakes filled with mung beans, wrapped in banana leaf, and steamed until sticky and gooey. Almost better than a chocolate chip cookie.<br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVChlueo8wviKhnpySFHxiYoar_iIIE6L0M6xIdoUwpQlqz2wfdVPN-zDtbbSk8Ij6MM4l5PM9QDlJ-CWrpLx1AWxr-uAwfTGKqxPIiGIo81P3zX3ZCB3NHzhrKZkqobFgAKPYiTkUkmW/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525206%25252C%2525202013%2525207%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVChlueo8wviKhnpySFHxiYoar_iIIE6L0M6xIdoUwpQlqz2wfdVPN-zDtbbSk8Ij6MM4l5PM9QDlJ-CWrpLx1AWxr-uAwfTGKqxPIiGIo81P3zX3ZCB3NHzhrKZkqobFgAKPYiTkUkmW/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525206%25252C%2525202013%2525207%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365993706940.5374" class="alignright" width="300" height="225" alt=""></a></div>
We are well looked after here. We are well fed here. We feel welcome here.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-7309439264272170762013-04-14T08:10:00.001-07:002013-04-14T08:10:18.494-07:00We are Awake!The heat of south Vietnam does funny things. It makes us look funny, because we are sweating so much. It makes us fall asleep early and wake up early. And it hides our hunger. Sometimes we don't realize just how hungry we are until we wander out onto the street and smell something wonderful.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-y3IyXBhKrBk/UWrGu5T2sRI/AAAAAAAAAWE/4rZpq5YSQwA/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525207%25253A48%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-y3IyXBhKrBk/UWrGu5T2sRI/AAAAAAAAAWE/4rZpq5YSQwA/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525207%25253A48%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365952218156.2205" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
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Dry roasted rice paper sandwiching a fresh rice paper is made perfectly delicious when dipped into a fresh made salty, fish, spicy sauce. And our new favorite, is che, a barely sweet soup of corn, or beans, topped with sweetened condensed milk and fresh grated coconut. Hot or cold, we love it!<br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Pm_ZSCf30PY/UWrGxwQrBhI/AAAAAAAAAWU/MhSBChwZHQM/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525206%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Pm_ZSCf30PY/UWrGxwQrBhI/AAAAAAAAAWU/MhSBChwZHQM/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525206%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365952218207.9287" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
And there is the wonderful mid morning snacks of fresh sweet tofu, still warm,or bananas dipped in batter and fried like donuts.<br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> Lunch can be found by following our noses, grills are set up all over the sidewalks, and the coals are fanned to keep them just right and waft the sweet smell to hungry passers by.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hN9Z1G5AxJ0/UWrGzMrExpI/AAAAAAAAAWc/Eut8hZPvllA/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A01%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hN9Z1G5AxJ0/UWrGzMrExpI/AAAAAAAAAWc/Eut8hZPvllA/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A01%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365952218203.8015" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
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Pork or chicken, always with lots of lemongrass, and a cup of nuoc mam for dipping. Lots of herbs and noodles. Everyone is happy<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TKL1nf64QkxcLmpWsHgRcUTtsJo3oTgb9fTOOYyctagWuIHKMsntRWLN9jxBmdKTDT8xQ2z36b7WujX2h8TD9Mc2-dUm441nQ5HUQjiapT12MxhA6F8AjefrT3qCEC6aigCSx2-mHHq2/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525205%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TKL1nf64QkxcLmpWsHgRcUTtsJo3oTgb9fTOOYyctagWuIHKMsntRWLN9jxBmdKTDT8xQ2z36b7WujX2h8TD9Mc2-dUm441nQ5HUQjiapT12MxhA6F8AjefrT3qCEC6aigCSx2-mHHq2/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525205%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365952218159.0955" class="alignleft" width="300" height="400" alt=""></a></div>
<br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-14470701149165446612013-04-12T19:07:00.001-07:002013-04-12T19:07:36.189-07:00Automobiles, Trains, and Planes Coming down and out of the mountains was a long day of travel. We bid farewell to out mountain paradise, and had Mario Andretti's distant cousin zip us to the nearest city, Sapa. There we had a few hours to walk off our vertigo, grab a coffee, and climb back into the van for the second half of our ride. Within five minutes of departure, one of our party, who shall remain nameless, realized they needed to pee. Unfortunately, there was absolutely nowhere to pull off on the snakey, skinny roads for a painfully long hour down to the crossroad town of Lao Cai.<br/><br/>Again, we had a short time to grab a bite, at the worst restaurant (when you order pho, and get no broth, but instead a pile of greasy noodles and French fries, you know you are in trouble). Then it was back on the night train to Hanoi.<br/><br/>We arrived before the city woke, caught a cab back to our familiar hotel, and crashed for a nap and shower before we headed to the airport! Luckily, domestic air travel is easy and efficient in Vietnam, no one quart ziplocks with your toiletries, or taking off your shoes. However, brass mouth harps bought from hill tribe people will get you stopped and questioned for drugs and weapons!<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Smgf2mPTeChFdBtfzCuvFuw82xjDc-_u8KECC0TV-0paECFyzxwtAGsbqIlZQdY4Xin0EV-drGTRepHYnblZUngEVjzK48LUBkms9jWxE2ukAfPK6dQ3RF5Iq9KeqPJUgzUoXzRyIV-d/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525206%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A54%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Smgf2mPTeChFdBtfzCuvFuw82xjDc-_u8KECC0TV-0paECFyzxwtAGsbqIlZQdY4Xin0EV-drGTRepHYnblZUngEVjzK48LUBkms9jWxE2ukAfPK6dQ3RF5Iq9KeqPJUgzUoXzRyIV-d/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525206%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A54%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365818851433.7234" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
<br/><br/>Landing in Da Nang, we were greeted with 38 degree (C) heat, and a driver with an air conditioned car and cold, bottled water. Such a change from the mountains. Everything was brighter, spicier, delicious.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OlnsC-9eKqA/UWi9r_L0ZtI/AAAAAAAAAVk/2ghuJzx1BzE/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A41%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OlnsC-9eKqA/UWi9r_L0ZtI/AAAAAAAAAVk/2ghuJzx1BzE/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A41%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365818851414.677" class="" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
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<br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-50262457095317895662013-04-09T23:41:00.001-07:002013-04-09T23:41:48.822-07:00Mountains of All SortsAlong endless, winding, bumpy, mountain roads our van leaned and veered. Ahead of us was the lodge and beyond that China, off to the right, rice paddies, corn fields, and mountains, and behind us you could almost make out Laos. Everything was green, and brown, simple and purposeful.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MYnpEqpMfZ8/UWUJfNAAvoI/AAAAAAAAAUU/BFsTBk7hvmI/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A51%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MYnpEqpMfZ8/UWUJfNAAvoI/AAAAAAAAAUU/BFsTBk7hvmI/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A51%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365576106088.335" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
Just when our stomachs were about to give up the fight to stay in our bodies we arrived at the most magical place.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKN4ZHP4nC1Y9c7Q-zwmnHjfoyMEptqf_W60Q3m7QzvikrZ4nsMRBxdmcmHyvzhLEPMGLWUUD9Tudk6yyjG7tDEOtuzClxNT2Mbq6s-7b-1AuAwu1O1JfcTBVZa1xc-RiML5HC2qLjUFM/s960/Photo%252520Apr%2525203%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A57%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKN4ZHP4nC1Y9c7Q-zwmnHjfoyMEptqf_W60Q3m7QzvikrZ4nsMRBxdmcmHyvzhLEPMGLWUUD9Tudk6yyjG7tDEOtuzClxNT2Mbq6s-7b-1AuAwu1O1JfcTBVZa1xc-RiML5HC2qLjUFM/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525203%25252C%2525202013%2525208%25253A57%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365576106019.0164" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a> </div>
We unfurled and breathed. Oh, and of course met some wonderful guest from Seattle with ties to Vashon!<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAUlNgjWu2C1gnr1jw3v1G2BBclGHxOvM2TfhSpXiCMSEphVSKrftRuDcUyNpbXz97Esr8hqtSrkoRf_mqtUR0iRC_MPIwoGwxJuKy_lfZJk3ryvilXO9CVNRf2YRWtTC0tf4kqiazxYvP/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAUlNgjWu2C1gnr1jw3v1G2BBclGHxOvM2TfhSpXiCMSEphVSKrftRuDcUyNpbXz97Esr8hqtSrkoRf_mqtUR0iRC_MPIwoGwxJuKy_lfZJk3ryvilXO9CVNRf2YRWtTC0tf4kqiazxYvP/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365576106004.2097" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
Gus and Freja learned how to play pétanque with the lodge cat Henry.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDqYw5SDfRPmjwJdgao848gyWIL0L8QRbWGBbM72Vg2CAnNwi8cFRjXwAeNH-6yM320USN1GHqwib_6o6Bl6aE9iarEHNXZBHpTDOKuSfzjWKsY6nJf9meWwRhyvMoMYV9Gr8ymgQmE4So/s640/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A51%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDqYw5SDfRPmjwJdgao848gyWIL0L8QRbWGBbM72Vg2CAnNwi8cFRjXwAeNH-6yM320USN1GHqwib_6o6Bl6aE9iarEHNXZBHpTDOKuSfzjWKsY6nJf9meWwRhyvMoMYV9Gr8ymgQmE4So/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A51%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365576106018.533" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="500"></a></div>
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<br/><br/>And we hiked, and ate, and met the most wonderful people, who are such good salespeople we worried we would leave with all of their wares.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_ulzRCVdBD1mre-ca4CLAWU7-XUvMXAm3qE6TZv5gJa0QscxMFmFTAo9Zd_I4FAtCbqaf9oxtEvIYcKBwM1Ll9DFm0IRLbCfXABb5H3SairIE8i1D8x5jUeiDtTWnEuLQcVaUfgKkG6o/s960/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A50%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_ulzRCVdBD1mre-ca4CLAWU7-XUvMXAm3qE6TZv5gJa0QscxMFmFTAo9Zd_I4FAtCbqaf9oxtEvIYcKBwM1Ll9DFm0IRLbCfXABb5H3SairIE8i1D8x5jUeiDtTWnEuLQcVaUfgKkG6o/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A50%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365576106058.2258" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
After being spoiled for a few days it was back to the lowlands, and the night train back to Hanoi. Then a few hours rest before flying into Da Nang and then catching a ride into Hoi An.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Ajl4H1hL-ko/UWUJoaE3XFI/AAAAAAAAAVE/LuBKi4oc2yI/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Ajl4H1hL-ko/UWUJoaE3XFI/AAAAAAAAAVE/LuBKi4oc2yI/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365576106081.6262" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
We realized, several days later, that sometimes the most physically taxing journeys sear into our memories so much clearer and sharper, than easier ventures. This one just about took all the cakes in all the bakeries.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZILYOkH28NySrVd-MUemFYGz2uBU9F6qgQ8kx9B8NJifXTOz0wQqA903Us1cvWbKkOp3jCn0_EX2iZFFvPXigP8Ps-Cm-o4NwKj_BHpCm5huJdDKeIsLz9o5lK5krdMl_mO3NRzRR3pH/s960/Photo%252520Apr%2525202%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A07%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZILYOkH28NySrVd-MUemFYGz2uBU9F6qgQ8kx9B8NJifXTOz0wQqA903Us1cvWbKkOp3jCn0_EX2iZFFvPXigP8Ps-Cm-o4NwKj_BHpCm5huJdDKeIsLz9o5lK5krdMl_mO3NRzRR3pH/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525202%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A07%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365576106054.746" class="alignleft" width="300" height="225" alt=""></a></div>
<br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-22342522329821862052013-04-08T21:46:00.001-07:002013-04-08T21:46:15.366-07:00Getting out of DodgeAfter several days in the bustling city, we took for the highlands, and caught the night train to Lao Cai. <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwTQu3h31xMc_TvWcFq_i_xUWUX6SuLE9oVLM2u-mAbs59LrYe3qp7xMGePqlK_7efD8J1IDFTbLIBCvNs5cfqPELKsD6qqKoIFTbN9T9bX3ngIPdYUQB85yULMmfSjJEcTQl-WMHz-B6/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A48%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwTQu3h31xMc_TvWcFq_i_xUWUX6SuLE9oVLM2u-mAbs59LrYe3qp7xMGePqlK_7efD8J1IDFTbLIBCvNs5cfqPELKsD6qqKoIFTbN9T9bX3ngIPdYUQB85yULMmfSjJEcTQl-WMHz-B6/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A48%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365482772729.6816" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a></div>
The kids were so excited they fell asleep before the train even started moving.(maybe in part because it departed at 9 pm)<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-DMgXqJXKqeg/UWOdBasoaaI/AAAAAAAAATs/MV04HNt2jqs/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A48%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-DMgXqJXKqeg/UWOdBasoaaI/AAAAAAAAATs/MV04HNt2jqs/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A48%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365482772766.6572" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a></div>
The ride up into the mountains was a total throwback to another era. We had our own sleeper cabin with very comfy beds, flowers on the table, and toothbrushes on everyone's pillows; hygiene is very strongly encouraged here! <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Q6SFwf1fnlE/UWOdCmjrRVI/AAAAAAAAAT0/EnjVJeD09Bg/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Q6SFwf1fnlE/UWOdCmjrRVI/AAAAAAAAAT0/EnjVJeD09Bg/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365482772707.4714" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a></div>
When we arrived at the last stop, Lao Cai, it was 5:30 in the morning and we still had a long way to go. We were greeted by our guide and taken to a small restaurant to wake up, eat a little breakfast and slurp down very strong green tea.(it will put hair on your chest if you are not careful) Once it was finally a civilized time, 7:00, we headed off with our tour guide to a remote, regional market.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaYgFgxhov0kSbuKGk3doMd4kIy-IypRIXI147j-9uEqeLTub4Czgg-BiQ4U7ICty447gFqfe4kKOC3nlkB9yQaZiXNkQLqSM2JIStMDf1D4m-FDHUzX8SV29LGv0AdBUV5NTgsXry9uUz/s640/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaYgFgxhov0kSbuKGk3doMd4kIy-IypRIXI147j-9uEqeLTub4Czgg-BiQ4U7ICty447gFqfe4kKOC3nlkB9yQaZiXNkQLqSM2JIStMDf1D4m-FDHUzX8SV29LGv0AdBUV5NTgsXry9uUz/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365482772747.8086" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="500"></a></div>
This was unlike anything we had ever seen, raw, efficient, and essential for all the people living within several miles in all directions. Most people ride scooters here, and it is amazing what they can haul home on their tiny seats. Some families get very dressed up in heavy, dark, hand-embroidered clothes, and walk for many hours just to see and be seen.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXJrbYtsUYPHyFsm4fkubtNYoygmWN_UfmRq36SeNNNT7NN3V-qlOpSBnT4UY2iwIccGDQJ9ru6Vopv6P9CPAVJV5IBB-UviKXhW7jLg5mYwHqnh6Ia3a9b-OH_flPTEFPmDbW0xc0PcT/s640/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXJrbYtsUYPHyFsm4fkubtNYoygmWN_UfmRq36SeNNNT7NN3V-qlOpSBnT4UY2iwIccGDQJ9ru6Vopv6P9CPAVJV5IBB-UviKXhW7jLg5mYwHqnh6Ia3a9b-OH_flPTEFPmDbW0xc0PcT/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525207%25252C%2525202013%2525205%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365482772758.1917" class="alignnone" width="500" height="500" alt=""></a></div>
Animals are traded and sold. Typically water buffaloes, but there were also some song birds being sold for up to $3,000!<br/><br/>We watched people bargain for seed corn and fertilizer, choose custom cuts of "fast meat", and Freja played dress up and bargained for a new skirt. By 10:00 we were exhausted and climbed back into the van for several more hours up to our swanky digs in an Ecolodge outside of Sapa.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-36214046039028418922013-04-03T21:27:00.001-07:002013-04-03T21:27:34.492-07:00Wandering Pilgrims We do not practice or follow one particular religion. We celebrate Jewish holidays, and enjoy the myths that accompany them. We try to live a spiritual life and encourage each other to think of how our actions affect others and fit into the grander scheme of the universe. So it was not too surprising after booking planes, trains and automobiles that we realized we would be arriving in Vietnam two days before Easter. Not a big deal right? Right, except Gus and Freja were worried that the Easter Bunny would not visit a mainly Buddhist country. Fear not! We awoke to bags of candy in our shoes, and fizzy bath bombs shaped like eggs in our bags. Thank you Easter Bunny, bawck bawck!<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZPB7BtqWjVQ/UV0BFeTLBdI/AAAAAAAAASk/kIAZGUT1pKg/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZPB7BtqWjVQ/UV0BFeTLBdI/AAAAAAAAASk/kIAZGUT1pKg/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365049652765.469" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
We decided to see if anyone in or around Hanoi celebrated Easter and found an eclectic gathering at St. Joseph's Cathedral. So many people that the marching band had to sit outside on stools.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIaIFUIrdR6RWKGD8oYXb2jyfVLn-vb6aVmH-IPbViB5j_P9lX3AT6ib0AunJtsPY5C4HXqwyeS3ggN-tm_xpqK-Y7l5dpR0FuVI4jUv1gLR-V04QApT2a6otESzOzvWt1WB3Joe-Iicw/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A07%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIaIFUIrdR6RWKGD8oYXb2jyfVLn-vb6aVmH-IPbViB5j_P9lX3AT6ib0AunJtsPY5C4HXqwyeS3ggN-tm_xpqK-Y7l5dpR0FuVI4jUv1gLR-V04QApT2a6otESzOzvWt1WB3Joe-Iicw/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A07%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365049652821.7417" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div>
We learned that although the cathedral was sanctified in 1886, Catholicism was outlawed and worshipping in the cathedral was only allowed starting in 1990. There is now an entire city block that is dedicated to the cathedral, a convent, a monastery, and a school; all very neatly maintained. <br/><br/>After "church" we visited two Buddhist temples. The first was a very famous and ancient one called the One Pillar Pagoda. It was originally built in 1054, destroyed by the French in the mid 1950's and rebuilt soon there after. The second was the temple of Hoa Kiem, on an island in the lake right near our hotel. The temple is dedicated to a giant turtle that lived there, and is now preserved there and displayed for the public. A legend about the symbolism of the turtle as a good omen and a keeper of power for the people was the basis for building the temple. Outside the temple many elderly men, some in their pajamas, played a raucous game that looked like a cross between go and chess. We were glad we did not know any curse words in Vietnamese! <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWBezAn_5gfFDi5yYWFEMQGSzp_k_KMblFCTCJXUnc32SeZTUl4RPrhVHT8y2FFHsH0lPCyrAXbde_LH1GOtfyjY5Oh_rxWX1s7-JmXodJT6m2Tszhm3avwww-Hr6VijVLexyWufdC2bv/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A07%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWBezAn_5gfFDi5yYWFEMQGSzp_k_KMblFCTCJXUnc32SeZTUl4RPrhVHT8y2FFHsH0lPCyrAXbde_LH1GOtfyjY5Oh_rxWX1s7-JmXodJT6m2Tszhm3avwww-Hr6VijVLexyWufdC2bv/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A07%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365049652800.5874" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
We capped off the day with a fantastic sit down meal... <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJpfIThPgtuWkOir6FQ4WFgqr3pzzsxecV4fIXqt0xdH-vdWUwZCRL5C4fuikzm0M_fwAjbxtkq9NS2B2pnZyefPfc-xD-h7ovRbzAU6v_GtORGcPXo1bMy0mQ6-e5CdWfiWDwnfY2A3DU/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJpfIThPgtuWkOir6FQ4WFgqr3pzzsxecV4fIXqt0xdH-vdWUwZCRL5C4fuikzm0M_fwAjbxtkq9NS2B2pnZyefPfc-xD-h7ovRbzAU6v_GtORGcPXo1bMy0mQ6-e5CdWfiWDwnfY2A3DU/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365049652851.9348" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
Fancy. <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhHBawSzxwojwFA4rpFrT2x5GhIdxL1epmRYcW43mB9kNPiggGwJ6O3_F3c9JVXQrVaW_HqEs0B-8Wc77ShUvb440oaJMempQvgTHaX5StTToq7B-bEZDMsGB9kuPrz6W0XZEAK_N4Fia/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhHBawSzxwojwFA4rpFrT2x5GhIdxL1epmRYcW43mB9kNPiggGwJ6O3_F3c9JVXQrVaW_HqEs0B-8Wc77ShUvb440oaJMempQvgTHaX5StTToq7B-bEZDMsGB9kuPrz6W0XZEAK_N4Fia/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365049652777.964" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
Delicious.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZJKmLBOqjrI/UV0BLlornWI/AAAAAAAAATM/0os-D5oJB0A/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZJKmLBOqjrI/UV0BLlornWI/AAAAAAAAATM/0os-D5oJB0A/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365049652835.6162" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0Xzd9Tpu4Uw/UV0BM7KeYmI/AAAAAAAAATU/k57qZtEwsC8/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0Xzd9Tpu4Uw/UV0BM7KeYmI/AAAAAAAAATU/k57qZtEwsC8/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365049652844.295" class="alignright" width="300" height="400" alt=""></a></div>
A total treat, a totally wonderful, wandering day. <br/><br/> <br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-82188357919163892892013-04-02T18:01:00.001-07:002013-04-02T18:01:46.378-07:00Eating in Hanoi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After a long night of sleep, and forcing ourselves to stay in bed until morning local time, we were ready to hit the streets in search of adventure and of course, food!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wEM0MDL0OZR9yzwBDhR9Hhpui3jIkDX4ZNlW2YJC4hlPqWebgOS_b-ZZ4xUsCmzt8OZ2s-PVp0NzWfmcz_ccday5zM38vJkTftzb1MSK2NnMFPDSBcIpm_JE9wYBmZC8jxhqvRZH4VhC/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A05%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wEM0MDL0OZR9yzwBDhR9Hhpui3jIkDX4ZNlW2YJC4hlPqWebgOS_b-ZZ4xUsCmzt8OZ2s-PVp0NzWfmcz_ccday5zM38vJkTftzb1MSK2NnMFPDSBcIpm_JE9wYBmZC8jxhqvRZH4VhC/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A05%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364950905145.453" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="text-align: left;clear: both; ">Our first discovery of the was the local coffee shop. Adults slurped up tooth-achingly sweet coffee on ice. Kids discovered "iced cocoa"! This little place was just around the corner from our hotel. It was the local hangout and we were a fun spectacle for sure. There were about ten, tiny, two foot high tables inside the shop. On our second visit there all the tables were filled so the young server/host simply grabbed a stack of plastic stools and whisked us out to the sidewalk and under a nearby awning (it was raining off and on) where he quickly set up a gaggle of stools to both sit on and use as tables. He brought us exactly what we ordered the day before, even though we tried to order something different, and we did not care. There was something not surreal, but extra real when we were out there holding fort on our flimsy plastic stools, smiling and pantomiming with people walking past us, or sitting on neighboring stools. It was not the caffeine or the sugar that woke us up, it was the energy of the street.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUH7P-IOQRJGYwl6iYa0QdZ8QdxY8ac9E4HagtNQLUu8JVwSHtEKXihheYXPTTjC37OVNwhnPgeEmCF49V428k9bCh-glVqysHWXMl6HXKSMcU_kHdqBxJKcA0iLEG8_9KvPG0Lk8I_kXX/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A05%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUH7P-IOQRJGYwl6iYa0QdZ8QdxY8ac9E4HagtNQLUu8JVwSHtEKXihheYXPTTjC37OVNwhnPgeEmCF49V428k9bCh-glVqysHWXMl6HXKSMcU_kHdqBxJKcA0iLEG8_9KvPG0Lk8I_kXX/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A05%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364950905162.7256" class="" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="text-align: left;clear: both; ">For lunch we sought out the city's best Bun Cha. This is probably the most ubiquitous dish in Hanoi, and we had a recommendation to eat at a very particular restaurant that only served this, and the often accompanying spring rolls. It was a crazy trek down windy back roads, but we found it, and we ate well. One great thing about this little local cafes and street side restaurants, is that the service is pretty instant. If all you serve is coffe, or noodles, or kebab, then that whole dance of welcoming guests with menus and waiting for them to decide what to eat is gone from the equation. Instead, just the act of walking into a place tells everyone that you choose to eat or drink what is served here, so hurry up and put it before us, or we will choose to go somewhere else!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivKEj5947o9tb6Pa0khlww5B9wdVsRNMyJ8IafYQ-xflaOgP847GCZJsJ8TWpWY2G5j9LXUar7J-cdf5Sw8iOAf-PVPuEwkQ885oem_NDF8jc5GJ8BYmzYoTBykghT7tUyqeCLxzFbnYtK/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivKEj5947o9tb6Pa0khlww5B9wdVsRNMyJ8IafYQ-xflaOgP847GCZJsJ8TWpWY2G5j9LXUar7J-cdf5Sw8iOAf-PVPuEwkQ885oem_NDF8jc5GJ8BYmzYoTBykghT7tUyqeCLxzFbnYtK/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364950905194.1704" class="alignleft" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a></div>
<br/><br/> Dessert ended up being a joke. There are hundreds of woman walking the streets carrying beautiful baskets filled with donuts. Anytime they spotted us the pitch was always the same:"Hello Madame, you like? For children very good!". Our standard reply was "kong, cam on" (no thank you), at which their script must read : Follow tourist family with basket of sweet for at least 20 feet while holding basket right in front of children. We resisted many times, but gave in once. They tasted just greasy and sweet, not much fun and ended up costing more than our perfectly wonderful lunch! You have to let yourself be a sucker every once in a while.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMZZUtz81KiXQou_uI1Q2oZ7jfMFgIsJfSE0fxnjlWeLyBbTRC7kR5Yp4ahkUcOKfO0dFw-31mRvFVyU037FcAIE9Gs79ut_jsybfrvuOZv5Oc0lEcJyKWLJocsd7k7pRMOx6ker4Bsd7/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMZZUtz81KiXQou_uI1Q2oZ7jfMFgIsJfSE0fxnjlWeLyBbTRC7kR5Yp4ahkUcOKfO0dFw-31mRvFVyU037FcAIE9Gs79ut_jsybfrvuOZv5Oc0lEcJyKWLJocsd7k7pRMOx6ker4Bsd7/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364950905234.4434" class="alignright" width="300" height="400" alt=""></a></div>
<br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-68236045060787041312013-04-01T00:42:00.001-07:002013-04-01T00:42:11.833-07:00Where is HereHanoi is unlike any place. Huge, busy, smells of unknown origin, and steamy. We took our first walk about while our hotel was prepping our room. We went with the flow in search of a recommended afternoon treat. <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwo9ZhJrFupmvyNAGnUPJO2l_SXzp7MY4pBMwussd7Mw_JFxYTCmOA874tS2BC4fZJagrIBGWNezg46iwFdpGIU8RZNqa_H7AvGkyilyQIAN6-_a4aLkCDMwDa9jVG8CWszURC2W5_2on/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwo9ZhJrFupmvyNAGnUPJO2l_SXzp7MY4pBMwussd7Mw_JFxYTCmOA874tS2BC4fZJagrIBGWNezg46iwFdpGIU8RZNqa_H7AvGkyilyQIAN6-_a4aLkCDMwDa9jVG8CWszURC2W5_2on/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364802130764.9043" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
We nibbled on salty, sweet, sour, spicy mango slices, as we walked south along Hoa Kiem Lake.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-C4qDmY5RvZc/UVk6LrF5v_I/AAAAAAAAARU/Yzr0XnsqSdQ/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-C4qDmY5RvZc/UVk6LrF5v_I/AAAAAAAAARU/Yzr0XnsqSdQ/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364802130777.0635" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
Gus found Valhalla, until he realized that the prices were about the same as home. Spirits dwindled as our jet lag set in but when we found the sweetest little corner store everyone perked up.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4i03eAZlgxbTiBwUoprw6zbT16W_sQKsDSKZFXA1YajnKn2KO_dpD7eZRBoaib52jsXeFCaE-A6CFFRRLOCYHUNdXhyIhYbCRppXBkTnP7XerxHpIgC9TGGmA3wiDnOLgbYTIbxiK_OlX/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4i03eAZlgxbTiBwUoprw6zbT16W_sQKsDSKZFXA1YajnKn2KO_dpD7eZRBoaib52jsXeFCaE-A6CFFRRLOCYHUNdXhyIhYbCRppXBkTnP7XerxHpIgC9TGGmA3wiDnOLgbYTIbxiK_OlX/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364802130800.5088" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8QQ6EBYQG6SGXVI2VsOg4pA29OnGHD79M2WjMlp88eBBtq4wiCUHggKuT8PWkFfUIklQTYhULdV1fSZqU0HhHBRs_oG7k59mEp764Gya46cQLzA6xzYPqUSiZkVlaAxaXh55lr0xHtIt/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8QQ6EBYQG6SGXVI2VsOg4pA29OnGHD79M2WjMlp88eBBtq4wiCUHggKuT8PWkFfUIklQTYhULdV1fSZqU0HhHBRs_oG7k59mEp764Gya46cQLzA6xzYPqUSiZkVlaAxaXh55lr0xHtIt/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364802130814.2332" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div>
Sweet sticky rice with coconut ice cream, and che (a crazy concoction of beans, sweet agar gel, coconut milk, and ice) refueled us for the walk back to our home in Hanoi.<br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/> <br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezd4g02y7oVLGkqArJNKgt8Pt1uFnD5MqZ5yNwH6YMJW2v_aGI4VYTFZ_buThkYOdWyYZsnN2FES1esNOfMCjgzXMpRnPaZWQSiTOsQdYeOgBQUkET0nwCEnzBhuopGoltToBSI33bRjo/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezd4g02y7oVLGkqArJNKgt8Pt1uFnD5MqZ5yNwH6YMJW2v_aGI4VYTFZ_buThkYOdWyYZsnN2FES1esNOfMCjgzXMpRnPaZWQSiTOsQdYeOgBQUkET0nwCEnzBhuopGoltToBSI33bRjo/s500/Photo%252520Apr%2525201%25252C%2525202013%2525202%25253A04%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364802130800.1826" class="alignnone" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div>
<br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-50808982339167437482013-03-31T16:51:00.001-07:002013-03-31T16:51:22.275-07:00Getting There...Getting out the door is sometimes the hardest hurdle of a trip. The anticipation. The checking off of mental lists. The last minute snuggles with the animals. The goodbyes. But we did it. <br/><br/>A few bumps along the way:<br/><br/>The island truck was not up for the trip, but we were able to turn back around, swap it for the family wagon, and still made it in time to drag our bags aboard a ferry on the way to the other side of the world. When we arrived at the airport we were informed that our flight was delayed for the third time and spent a few hours waiting in the airport, in the middle of the night, before our first plane was finally deemed ready. However, after we finally boarded we were spoiled with lots of okay airplane food and movie consoles in each seat:<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1b3rTBDjZNEYH3nes5yDScEPdB0k4YBTd_Mg3wuo0KlC0zITPKun68Cci730bL_gicq4USahszoe61lNVuTN62eUXu8gcOLjbu7iZJCYj8komMVPry2FSIvllrXnszjy6TJKlREbyMpBp/s960/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%2525206%25253A58%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1b3rTBDjZNEYH3nes5yDScEPdB0k4YBTd_Mg3wuo0KlC0zITPKun68Cci730bL_gicq4USahszoe61lNVuTN62eUXu8gcOLjbu7iZJCYj8komMVPry2FSIvllrXnszjy6TJKlREbyMpBp/s500/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%2525206%25253A58%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364773881644.1145" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
Two meals and three movies later, we landed in Taipei where the kids learned just how fast you can run on those moving walkways when your connecting flight is waiting just for you! Our second flight was quick, but still long enough for one more plane meal, and we were so so glad when we landed in Hanoi.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-nXJL9Elbuts/UVjL5Mog4SI/AAAAAAAAAQA/HZMt78T9fy0/s960/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%2525206%25253A26%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-nXJL9Elbuts/UVjL5Mog4SI/AAAAAAAAAQA/HZMt78T9fy0/s500/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%2525206%25253A26%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364773881731.6406" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
And then to cap off a day of travel, we were treated to an amazing, non-newtonian ride to our hotel.<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-m2qtlbEHIE8/UVjL6QFzxNI/AAAAAAAAAQI/Vy9ItD-cB4o/s960/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A29%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-m2qtlbEHIE8/UVjL6QFzxNI/AAAAAAAAAQI/Vy9ItD-cB4o/s500/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A29%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364773881702.0798" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEeVbLk3Q5GUD-APRq4HEP14nGllsgvqw22HHH52_Qdx7hXHSqNT67PcPYOBN2P-w36CvziGlMhMIiAn-n7upbqZcOz5j2TIOdX0QOj7XQl3LInmtk5mT6V38Ql-HiraSuQgq2pAeY7ms/s960/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEeVbLk3Q5GUD-APRq4HEP14nGllsgvqw22HHH52_Qdx7hXHSqNT67PcPYOBN2P-w36CvziGlMhMIiAn-n7upbqZcOz5j2TIOdX0QOj7XQl3LInmtk5mT6V38Ql-HiraSuQgq2pAeY7ms/s500/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A23%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364773881695.5684" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="225"></a></div>
<br/><br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-moaRRgEHEWI/UVjL8lR-7bI/AAAAAAAAAQY/sFY-MCCmuj0/s960/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A38%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-moaRRgEHEWI/UVjL8lR-7bI/AAAAAAAAAQY/sFY-MCCmuj0/s500/Photo%252520Mar%25252029%25252C%2525202013%25252012%25253A38%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1364773881691.8677" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div>
We made it. Good night from the backside.<br/><br/> <br/><br/><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-89140982094689458282010-04-01T18:31:00.001-07:002010-04-01T19:14:37.985-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7D2q8_LbYYVdD5w5Ax_mQoNOv_UqJPU-uVUKjL7EWYReiu8Iodehy-9Z9itFZUIi5PYcsEz-zel8AYmNPtyOUBiKCu8IateAayJYHjN_1MBxF8iIYEIgGQexkOLmi-eCkrMo51xw9NdzE/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7D2q8_LbYYVdD5w5Ax_mQoNOv_UqJPU-uVUKjL7EWYReiu8Iodehy-9Z9itFZUIi5PYcsEz-zel8AYmNPtyOUBiKCu8IateAayJYHjN_1MBxF8iIYEIgGQexkOLmi-eCkrMo51xw9NdzE/s320/photo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455357596344867906" /></a><br />Spring is fickle here in the Pacific Northwest. We get lured out of our cozy caves in late February with balmy, sunny days. We put seeds in the ground knowing that they will get knocked down by a cold snap that is just around the corner. We cross our fingers and hope for the best when the wild spring winds blow through the orchard and it is too cold for the bees to pollinate the crops. But some things are sure signs of spring, harbingers that the days are really growing longer, that things are turning from brown to green, and that we all renew. <br /><br />One of my favorite TRUE signs of spring are nettles. They creep up when we are not looking, and then WHAM, there are so many that you have to bushwhack to walk the path back to your neighbors. They scare me a little, because a sting from them will stay with me for days (I am a wimp), and as my friend Bella put it "I always feel a little witchy" when picking and eating them. I have consumed them in many different ways: tea, pasta, lasagna, basically any recipe that calls for spinach. But to use nettles you have to go through a lot of work, unless you are my little buddy Orion who just eats them raw. I most like to make a soup out of nettles, because the prep work of washing, blanching, shocking and chopping dovetail nicely into hovering over a soup pot. I also love that after foraging you can sit down to a wonderful bowl of spring "tonic" in about an hour. So, if you have wondered if it is really spring yet, if you need a sure sign of things to come, please enjoy this:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"></span>Nettle Soup<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span><br />(Adapted from Deborah Madison, goddess of all things veg)<br />10 to 12 ounces of nettle leaves (I usually gather about a pound or so of nettles and then use all the good leaves I can snip off)<br />3 Tbsp butter (if you happen to have some compound herb butter kicking around now is a good time to use it)<br />1/2 onion sliced or the equivalent amount of overwintered scallions/leeks/onions out of the garden<br />Couple Tbsp of chives or some of the green tops from those over wintered onions<br />One fist sized potato<br />3 cups sliced chard or spinach leaves (I use one bunch of chard from the produce department or forage the last greens from my winter garden)<br />6 cups stock (and here give yourself a break if all you only have cubes, it's okay, use it and maybe save some of the blanching water from the nettles for added veg flavor)<br />2 handfuls of rice (any white rice will do, but do not use brown)<br />1/2 cup of cream<br />Salt and pepper to taste<br /><br />Bring a few quarts of water to a boil while you defrock your nettles from their stems. (I use kitchen scissors and full yellow dish gloves while doing this) Wash the resulting leaves first like you would lettuce, and then instead of spinning them dry just scoop them out and plunge them into the boiling water for two minutes. Drain the nettles (saving a bit of the water for the soup if you like) and rinse the nettles in cold water to stop them cooking. Roughly chop the leaves and set aside. Melt the butter in a wide soup pot and add the onions and chives or onion tops if you have them. Slice the potato and add it to the onion and saute them together until the onion is soft and the potatoes are beginning to soften. Add the chard or spinach leaves, give them a couple good stirs to wilt them and then add the stock and the handfuls of rice. Bring everything to a boil then reduce it to a simmer with the lid off for 10 minutes then add the nettles and cook for another 10 minutes or until the potatoes and rice are totally soft. Puree the soup either with a hand blender on the stove (my fave) or in batches in a blender with the usual precautions. Add the cream to the soup and taste for seasoning, try to not let the soup boil at this point because it is just so hard on the cream.<br /><br />Now there, that wasn't hard was it? And now you have a fabulous bowl of spring green in front of you with plenty left over for tomorrow and or the freezer. Pat yourself on the back and go out tomorrow and pick more nettles.<br /><br />Got any other ideas? Share them!Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-32947331552792282652010-01-24T20:27:00.000-08:002010-01-24T20:51:25.128-08:00Ringing in the new year...Anyone Home?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIC-bZm5kHAcj5V8RUidyLesT6kqTSxbJK8fVkABvtGIGz60LshwI6NlkAdTn0pjguDdThWnPjdgG8MAHC2hZ42jUUiePa1hNs5kNfGOnmx-YID4P84mArkwj4ihbhu-L52IcLU9NdHaxQ/s1600-h/IMG_0379.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIC-bZm5kHAcj5V8RUidyLesT6kqTSxbJK8fVkABvtGIGz60LshwI6NlkAdTn0pjguDdThWnPjdgG8MAHC2hZ42jUUiePa1hNs5kNfGOnmx-YID4P84mArkwj4ihbhu-L52IcLU9NdHaxQ/s320/IMG_0379.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430535286649010706" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MUMGmwEWL-joci8RyiKBZCJaDevAkk3ulfzejxjVPtah8697hpEUFeQ5gPrLAQzXiv28W8Kap_yhRBhpUstKn4zrpXg336glRy-K6YU_HkOTVmzF6bwF_g4w1-rEzdvzGONVZnZN4avz/s1600-h/IMG_0378.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MUMGmwEWL-joci8RyiKBZCJaDevAkk3ulfzejxjVPtah8697hpEUFeQ5gPrLAQzXiv28W8Kap_yhRBhpUstKn4zrpXg336glRy-K6YU_HkOTVmzF6bwF_g4w1-rEzdvzGONVZnZN4avz/s320/IMG_0378.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430535284325252130" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3xDrpQorXUbVxHxBQsuvm8L-B54i_pPvSDjbEvg2quOk2k4TBdRJ5vivGoZ_6mIs5rcRJ4gr3d_kvVvhuM6N3xOzyVxlpVsr6FrNEdRTXg_NRuC4KA5UlZoe7kAZ0gtHPRxueHWNbwzZ/s1600-h/IMG_0320.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3xDrpQorXUbVxHxBQsuvm8L-B54i_pPvSDjbEvg2quOk2k4TBdRJ5vivGoZ_6mIs5rcRJ4gr3d_kvVvhuM6N3xOzyVxlpVsr6FrNEdRTXg_NRuC4KA5UlZoe7kAZ0gtHPRxueHWNbwzZ/s320/IMG_0320.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430535271877757298" /></a><br />What?! It is January, and it is almost over? Oops, sorry!<br /><br />Where have we been you ask? (Because I know you worry about us sometimes, which is good)<br /><br />We are busy! Now go away!<br /><br />Okay, here is a a snippet...<br /><br />We now have sheep. Yep, that's right Mom, we have sheep so we can eat them. They also happen to be as distracting and entertaining as Facebook on a good day. So far there are three of them: Gravenstein, Buckley Giant, and Blenheim Orange, and there are rumored to be more on the way. We hope they are pregnant, that was the main premise behind buying sheep before winter set in and not in the spring like most sane farmers. They truly are magical, and quiet, and sneaky, and they smell like a comfy old sweater. We found many weak points in our fences, are becoming regulars at the local hotspots for livestock advice, and never get tired of how soft their muzzles are when they are eating grain out of our hands.<br /><br />We also are spraying, scratching, planning, seeding and pruning the Terra. The chickens are restless, not all of them made it through the winter, sometimes it seems like not all of us will make it through either! And we found out that our dear Freja is allergic to not only wheat, which is becoming more and more common, but also to eggs. Yes, I typed correctly, we live on a farm with lots of chickens and she cannot eat eggs. So we pouted for a few weeks, and then reinvented ourselves in the kitchen and are now quite the masters of some amazing wheat-free, egg-free bread that we do not just keep to ourselves, but also sell to our friends around town.<br /><br />All in all, life is good, the sun continues to rise, and as Gus said the other day, "It is amazing that there is enough air for us all". Yep, pretty amazing.<br /><br />Thanks.Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-60222122427348732762009-07-26T20:41:00.000-07:002009-07-31T23:10:12.803-07:00Bleeding Berries<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfeHwXbyM-h3bgD_HSRdnYPTJkvP3vm_YbcPIJkIbUt21QU9piyOjWgI1EcyHCOxB7NkMxLyUMAD2J-4nfsMmIo9i4V9sQCTdhGlk4mFSW-bE9bkbZdYIBWD5i2p5rAWCRc7BWwfyP9P3/s1600-h/IMG_0039.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfeHwXbyM-h3bgD_HSRdnYPTJkvP3vm_YbcPIJkIbUt21QU9piyOjWgI1EcyHCOxB7NkMxLyUMAD2J-4nfsMmIo9i4V9sQCTdhGlk4mFSW-bE9bkbZdYIBWD5i2p5rAWCRc7BWwfyP9P3/s320/IMG_0039.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363539207803118290" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNGE3Acno_eAcYuZ9AzDig2we9BZb8Lxt63FnWrqcQ4j9hgKjxLdwgPs6_-3u4_ibf6pD4QPyM1xdRB9WvtW7y6DCZvbXnx4neUnjE-DZgaZAbNeidSHRE_H9lVhtE8kFf9WCEWIWm7jcr/s1600-h/DSCN1685.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNGE3Acno_eAcYuZ9AzDig2we9BZb8Lxt63FnWrqcQ4j9hgKjxLdwgPs6_-3u4_ibf6pD4QPyM1xdRB9WvtW7y6DCZvbXnx4neUnjE-DZgaZAbNeidSHRE_H9lVhtE8kFf9WCEWIWm7jcr/s320/DSCN1685.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363509369005706274" /></a><br />They are here; a corporeal translation of sunshine. They drink it up and grow dark and fat to the point where they burst open and bleed their insides down the vines. I try to save them all, but then it is me who starts to bleed. Like blood brothers we stand in this thorny clubhouse sharing our secrets and then eating them up. I crush and mash and juice and jam these jewels in the scorching heat of summer, hoping that when I taste them again in the cold winter mornings I will feel this heat and the sun making me sweat. <br />The logans are the first to come ripe. They are big, matte, burgundy berries that carry a luxurious reputation around here. People clamor to buy up our supply, and I get excited about the new positive cash flow. Next come our ever bearing raspberries that we just let Gus and Freja have at and fill their bellies whenever they are in the garden, call it keeping the natives happy. Next come the Cascadeberries, my favorite tasting berry, but also my toughest berry to pick and sell. Each berry is like a jewel, black, shiny, multifaceted, and thorny as hell. They have this tiny window of ripeness, pick them too soon and they are tart tart tart, as a friend said: "only a true berry lover would dare eat these", pick them too late and they melt in your hand Macbeth style. These berries do not look as glamorous as the logans or as familiar as the raspberries, and maybe part of why I like them so much is their underdog status. I love the look on peoples' faces once they have tasted a perfectly ripe berry, preferably still warm from the sun. They marvel at the complexity of the taste, the way the memory of the berry lingers well after it is gone. I get terribly defensive when people turn down buying the cascades and opt instead for the familiar, the predictable. But when I do find someone willing to step up and taste, buy, and come back for more cascades I find they are the kind of people I love to be around. <br />We seek out reflections of ourselves in friendship. It is easy to find the sweetness, conviviality, and classic good traits in a friend. But you know that someone really loves you when they risk the thorns and embrace you completely. I love what we are growing and making here on our little farm. I love our friends old and new. And I love berries.Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-81798603878077729612009-06-29T14:26:00.000-07:002009-06-29T15:46:29.693-07:00Plowing into SummerWe blink, and here we are growing into Summer. In just a few days we will be permanently planted at the farm. The remodel is almost done, and we are so anxious to be farming and living in the same spot that we bought, and erected, an 18 foot ti pi in our field so we may start living on the farm before the paint is even dry on the walls.<br /><br />We were blindsided by the amount of work it would take to orchestrate the remodel of the farmhouse while simultaneously pushing forward with our plans to double the size of our garden and convert the entire farm to biodynamic. We struggled to keep up with both weeds and potlucks, school recitals and unforeseen downpours on tender plants. Finally we learned to give in, but not necessarily give up, and nourish the parts of our lives we want to root and grow, and let the other parts grow feral.<br /><br />As I spend hours, days, weeks, pulling weeds, rotating crops, and answering questions of sub-contractors I am reminded of the struggles Toby and I went through when we became parents. We thought we were prepared after watching my belly swell over the better part of a year, reading multiple books on the topic, and asking everyone we knew lots of "probing questions". Yet, when first Gus, and then Freja arrived on the scene they seemed to repeatedly remind us that we knew little or nothing about parenting or even ourselves. Something happens to you when you become a parent, I do not care who you are, or how balanced and centered you think you are before hand. Parenting is an all or nothing affair; intense and refocusing. <br /><br />Since becoming parents Toby and I learned that we had to let go of who we thought we were before and not try to label who we are now or hope to be. We had to let go of control, and hang on for the ride. It took us a few years as a family to figure that out, and perhaps not by coincidence, when we finally started to realize what it took to be a solid, happy family we bought this little farm out here on Vashon. This past year we watched ourselves be reborn yet again, as Toby lost a job, Amy went back to a job, Gus and Freja carved out their own educational and social paths, and we all learned a little about what it takes to farm.<br /><br />So here we are, on the precipice yet again of an exciting, intense, and exhausting adventure. There is little time to sit around, the weeds are always growing and the berries are coming ripe. Peas are picked daily, and the kids are turning green from eating so many vegetables; or maybe just from lack of baths. Toby is settling in to his "new" job as VP who gets to ride a motorcycle to work each day. And I am still scratching my head trying to figure out the best way to grow a peach, the fastest way to bake a good loaf of bread, and the most fun way to teach ornery teens trigonometry. We love this life for all of its ups and downs, and remind ourselves that a life worth living has both.Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-51730954646007424692009-06-01T13:45:00.000-07:002009-06-01T13:55:06.911-07:00Tick Tock<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU7QWOVUyn7M3C5FnGIH4FbJQ2nPEvJ6oQKkuklJlRfFaila0wPNzBQ2ejFQk6JUGVf7CeQdbenTLaYU9-RYfCwhnPXB_87kwG-d9JeND0TlRbXPRSHWevGX5mm4XAXixrbhWhSD2cOtu4/s1600-h/DSCN3565.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU7QWOVUyn7M3C5FnGIH4FbJQ2nPEvJ6oQKkuklJlRfFaila0wPNzBQ2ejFQk6JUGVf7CeQdbenTLaYU9-RYfCwhnPXB_87kwG-d9JeND0TlRbXPRSHWevGX5mm4XAXixrbhWhSD2cOtu4/s400/DSCN3565.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342465587551903202" /></a><br />My apologies upfront for the lack of postings this last month. Those of you with gardens, and or farms, are probably nodding along with me when I tell you that May is planting month around here. We rushed to fill every spare minute with a seed in a hole, trough, hill, flat, and sometimes just threw thing out and wished them good luck. We almost got everything into an appropriate place, but I still have a few pounds of Ozette potatoes and a handful of winter squash seeds that need to be tucked under some soil pronto.<br /><br />Our big deal right now, besides finishing up building the farmhouse and moving in this month, is that we had a major crop failure in the orchard. Pollination went great for pears, peaches, plums, and cherries, but the apples did not do well. We ended up with crazy weather right around the time of apple bloom and almost no blossoms were turned into fruitlets and what did emerge was munched by a sudden attack of leafroller caterpillers.<br /><br />So please pardon me while I juggle yet another ball, finish up the teaching/school year, rescue our orchard, plan our summer crops, throw out my chin and say glad out and give you all a proper posting in a few more days. In the meantime please give thanks for what you eat and those of us who grew it!Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-42248679948056402982009-04-20T06:49:00.000-07:002009-05-01T15:11:44.026-07:00The Place We Want to Be...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCGYtJpWujatVb_1Xwu4FmwyxbKXeW0TDDQSvuArSgiI0NHhSjewagEkDFJdXb7iygvll7fOorn3Ab-Htx8c0Cg7Nw3U_voykNyBZyypS0GSGOyBVJIUs6RCCjycASH-3-pJ39vNOUyxyb/s1600-h/Bee.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCGYtJpWujatVb_1Xwu4FmwyxbKXeW0TDDQSvuArSgiI0NHhSjewagEkDFJdXb7iygvll7fOorn3Ab-Htx8c0Cg7Nw3U_voykNyBZyypS0GSGOyBVJIUs6RCCjycASH-3-pJ39vNOUyxyb/s320/Bee.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330965311871818306" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETgJuDdWgTzLbmFc_55M_dErxgNJPcTRlc18OIPr-Qyvw5pNTB327BHXGxs0QDm5W3W0iI2noTOJafbKV42FAPjwFQ0Z_PtALjLUkuvk-aqYsrPZlvGG1amoepo_EBWSU9MR0Vej07rLb/s1600-h/Cascadeberry.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETgJuDdWgTzLbmFc_55M_dErxgNJPcTRlc18OIPr-Qyvw5pNTB327BHXGxs0QDm5W3W0iI2noTOJafbKV42FAPjwFQ0Z_PtALjLUkuvk-aqYsrPZlvGG1amoepo_EBWSU9MR0Vej07rLb/s320/Cascadeberry.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330965210751740994" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXMztfTEK6IsxAOdkGa7BHLp9NOIatvc9A_BlBhnkNjNsreKHVui1DGcTI5F9THpcHadeljiyxNk6pKZ9HFVQZfXli3GhJSM67q84t4MQ6ZsHN2pL8bTuKuDkqVmjeY7nb6iLMwY-Avrk/s1600-h/PeachyGus.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXMztfTEK6IsxAOdkGa7BHLp9NOIatvc9A_BlBhnkNjNsreKHVui1DGcTI5F9THpcHadeljiyxNk6pKZ9HFVQZfXli3GhJSM67q84t4MQ6ZsHN2pL8bTuKuDkqVmjeY7nb6iLMwY-Avrk/s320/PeachyGus.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330965098444832274" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYuzO8ViOVLAuv5_aanowZ3utz2v1tCkBXDkoTmC8PZIrA_PSkfrvvt2phXtY5Ty1pxVs2iW1NIZtZCZxvgXqGY87qwYoKvq0v0atNwKeU1nxDNSW9F4wUHou05D1R2-sMpUvFfB_JPDL/s1600-h/Freja.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYuzO8ViOVLAuv5_aanowZ3utz2v1tCkBXDkoTmC8PZIrA_PSkfrvvt2phXtY5Ty1pxVs2iW1NIZtZCZxvgXqGY87qwYoKvq0v0atNwKeU1nxDNSW9F4wUHou05D1R2-sMpUvFfB_JPDL/s320/Freja.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330964984111507122" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwcy8UeELTfE7vBVrwdSZAi7f3VPctJPPEpcn2Tk77vAIkRCaP5cJ-2LXHX2vUgjeuSHKzvv1z6U_OswqjRHbb4Sn763YBFm6AvXaTQ5zmG6y68yfKcj5_2bP-QPMTgcxUfzVlgYIEED6v/s1600-h/DSCN3330.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwcy8UeELTfE7vBVrwdSZAi7f3VPctJPPEpcn2Tk77vAIkRCaP5cJ-2LXHX2vUgjeuSHKzvv1z6U_OswqjRHbb4Sn763YBFm6AvXaTQ5zmG6y68yfKcj5_2bP-QPMTgcxUfzVlgYIEED6v/s320/DSCN3330.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327144535031208930" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxWb8TcEHScedMMX9jlTzsHKwyLQiXm4B4T_KzEFWK8uvrzMCSbptCuoZ7Nv2r2hJ0ikbNqdrgXXuGLQunFankf_AJ20f4KXo2j5zUIgzTtdT_vzHtFlwzEYea0_p1JOO8Fk0IB5x45f5/s1600-h/DSCN3340.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxWb8TcEHScedMMX9jlTzsHKwyLQiXm4B4T_KzEFWK8uvrzMCSbptCuoZ7Nv2r2hJ0ikbNqdrgXXuGLQunFankf_AJ20f4KXo2j5zUIgzTtdT_vzHtFlwzEYea0_p1JOO8Fk0IB5x45f5/s320/DSCN3340.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327144374125090162" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UHxBqpWxXizLldLHhy8lS9M857kSpikD8v1uBa68kzyPmwJmAnGb2YA51-ak_qqyxcu-ELqV0FCdrzOPHKft6LbbdxAJFNasgIMOIJJp6JQnPVdOlNBEAfpFojJeAiF9E8vkNFJBqqKD/s1600-h/DSCN3350.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UHxBqpWxXizLldLHhy8lS9M857kSpikD8v1uBa68kzyPmwJmAnGb2YA51-ak_qqyxcu-ELqV0FCdrzOPHKft6LbbdxAJFNasgIMOIJJp6JQnPVdOlNBEAfpFojJeAiF9E8vkNFJBqqKD/s320/DSCN3350.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327144212871408146" /></a><br />We are now, officially, in the weeds. This was a term I was familiarized with when I waited tables more than a decade ago. We would say someone was in the weeds if they had more than five tables ordering the same course at the same time, and probably had other tables that needed some special attention and a long line of hungry customers waiting for a table. If it was a good day in the restaurant everyone pitched in to pull you out of the weeds, filling up water glasses that were dreadfully low, delivering a dish to the proper table when it was hot out of the kitchen, and generally just helping to maintain the flow of the place. If it was a bad day, you found yourself in the weeds and when you looked around for help everyone else was in the weeds too. Those days went incredibly slow, earned ridiculously little in the way of tips, and usually ended up in a crazy nightmare reliving the whole sorry day at two in the morning. Fast forward fifteen years...<br /><br />The remodel of the farmhouse is in full swing. So far the demolition, plumbing, concrete floors with hydronic heat, and the framing are done. Electrical will be done by next Tuesday and insulation should get done by the end of the week. Things are humming, but there is always more. I started consulting at the local private school three days a week, and Toby has finally turned consulting work into a full-time gig. These two things added into the remodel/living in a rental and trying to grow a farm just put us over the edge. The rental house is in total chaos with growing chicks in one of the bathrooms, seedlings growing on the kitchen table, dust bunnies so big they scare the cats, and a kitchen counter hidden somewhere under cookbooks and empty jars from the winter stores of pickles, jams and preserves. The farm itself if very forgiving, and we are grateful for the perennial berries coming back along with the rhubarb, and the orchard waking up and beginning to bloom. There is no way we can keep up with everything these days, but somehow our friends and family feel the vibe and are all pitching in to pull us out of the "weeds".<br /><br />From building berry trellises to selling us plant starts, to feeding us dinner, we feel supported and uplifted. Just when we feel like we want to throw in the towel and cry, someone drives up the driveway for a visit and an encouraging hug. Others remind us that they want to buy produce and eggs from us when we are fully operational, and that alone is motivational. Bees have been gifted to us by wonderful neighbors, and sage advice has saved our skin more than once. This community, this time in our lives, is seeing a lot of uncertainty. We all struggle, stumble, worry. We all have strengths, passions, abilities. What seems to keep us sane, what keeps the weeds at bay, and what keeps us going are the neighbors we find ourselves among right here.<br /><br />The Art Of Being A Neighbor<br /> <br />As heard on NPR's Weekend Edition Sunday, April 12, 2009.<br /><br />I used to believe in the American dream that meant a job, a mortgage, cable, credit, warrantees, success. I wanted it and worked toward it like everyone else, all of us separately chasing the same thing.<br /><br />One year, through a series of unhappy events, it all fell apart. I found myself homeless and alone. I had my truck and $56.<br /><br />I scoured the countryside for someplace I could rent for the cheapest possible amount. I came upon a shack in an isolated hollow four miles up a winding mountain road over the Potomac River in West Virginia.<br /><br />It was abandoned, full of broken glass and rubbish. When I pried off the plywood over a window and climbed in, I found something I could put my hands to. I hadn't been alone for twenty-five years. I was scared, but hoped the hard work would distract and heal me.<br /><br />I found the owner and rented the place for $50 a month. I took a bedroll, broom, rope, a gun, and cooking gear, and cleared a corner to camp in while I worked.<br /><br />The locals knew nothing about me. But slowly, they started teaching me the art of being a neighbor. They dropped off blankets, candles, tools, and canned deer meat, and they began sticking around to chat. They asked if I wanted to meet cousin Albie or go fishing, maybe get drunk some night. They started to teach me a belief in a different American dream—not the one of individual achievement but of neighborliness.<br /><br />Men would stop by with wild berries, ice cream, truck parts, and bullets to see if I was up for courting. I wasn't, but they were civil anyway. The women on that mountain worked harder than any I'd ever met. They taught me the value of a whetstone to sharpen my knives, how to store food in the creek and keep it cold and safe. I learned to keep enough for an extra plate for company.<br /><br />What I had believed in, all those things I thought were the necessary accoutrements for a civilized life, were non-existent in this place. Up on the mountain, my most valuable possessions were my relationships with my neighbors.<br /><br />After four years in that hollow, I moved back into town. I saw that a lot of people were having a really hard time, losing their jobs and homes. With the help of a real estate broker I chatted up at the grocery story, I managed to rent a big enough house to take in a handful of people.<br /><br />It's four of us now, but over time I've had nine come in and move on to other places from here. We'd all be in shelters if we hadn't banded together.<br /><br />The American dream I believe in now is a shared one. It's not so much about what I can get for myself; it's about how we can all get by together.<br /><br /><br />Eve Birch is a librarian in Martinsburg, W.Va., where she also runs a small remodeling business that provides day work for needy neighbors. Two stories Birch wrote about her life in the shack are featured in the anthology, The Green Rolling Hills.Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-9958411869074440072009-03-27T20:17:00.000-07:002009-03-27T20:29:05.585-07:00Home Construction<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdM5iUt0v6n-4yWArZ_9x3KEWkw1c2f1p53B7ux4Yj2K7g_x1-0ouVIqwrhiMgRRm_8J_Jmc4YJzQUkRuEu0jhIaoHqS2b7WD3Vfzf-lj_xlX6-Kv-SrruKfzVNFysZqDn4xZ4ekLf3Av/s1600-h/DSCN3259.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdM5iUt0v6n-4yWArZ_9x3KEWkw1c2f1p53B7ux4Yj2K7g_x1-0ouVIqwrhiMgRRm_8J_Jmc4YJzQUkRuEu0jhIaoHqS2b7WD3Vfzf-lj_xlX6-Kv-SrruKfzVNFysZqDn4xZ4ekLf3Av/s320/DSCN3259.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318075362298153970" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcEbK3voxocwNXsFHxmCg9mhjMwrJQQpWcnBVOcLwWZGkHmV-BMZof7AGlVjqcfe0TmaSOpB6cBMBTl-O0vlJXlERq9XOu1OELwvmMHotflVCyBZz9ehfjgPPD4q3KyL5M0JWh9EaeJa5V/s1600-h/DSCN3276.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcEbK3voxocwNXsFHxmCg9mhjMwrJQQpWcnBVOcLwWZGkHmV-BMZof7AGlVjqcfe0TmaSOpB6cBMBTl-O0vlJXlERq9XOu1OELwvmMHotflVCyBZz9ehfjgPPD4q3KyL5M0JWh9EaeJa5V/s320/DSCN3276.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318075196805572642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7DA4ZuixsQSmuxCkbbtrsqSxda1YN_Wh7CRdMhS3TP6Rq-gfeleNdFTytUuiNDzcW2_FG5YsiU65XZlcFqPhz54uRA7nrhHP998x2cTADz9J9vlC7Qq_yGTxLXtM7wHK_N9GSsHnhRmi/s1600-h/DSCN3259.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7DA4ZuixsQSmuxCkbbtrsqSxda1YN_Wh7CRdMhS3TP6Rq-gfeleNdFTytUuiNDzcW2_FG5YsiU65XZlcFqPhz54uRA7nrhHP998x2cTADz9J9vlC7Qq_yGTxLXtM7wHK_N9GSsHnhRmi/s320/DSCN3259.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318075044338224930" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HKpQTYJBnWFIgHkzx3GAclyo8YjyZEddEZMWBP5MeBuFwtDZIpGwStgC3lytojudVsYtNYRg2mzGgUJ0XtISRFp8gHr9pRZ_hoHViOZFhFc_DJcMeaCQgsiYROGc3BfGbAwVGMXgps_x/s1600-h/DSCN3253.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HKpQTYJBnWFIgHkzx3GAclyo8YjyZEddEZMWBP5MeBuFwtDZIpGwStgC3lytojudVsYtNYRg2mzGgUJ0XtISRFp8gHr9pRZ_hoHViOZFhFc_DJcMeaCQgsiYROGc3BfGbAwVGMXgps_x/s320/DSCN3253.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318074555787302226" /></a><br /><br /><br /><b>Picture of the house with the south wall opened. Mud all around. Let's get to work. </b><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyCUH7GKUK2AB6Xf2iHbjeZCkd1sV73-yFtCQN4K6SIg_o61WSpZ5u5NJ2yjp4fH7hknG2pETMfeHZ__QbkLpl_9ktKRth-xZ2Bl9NEgZvH9OL9R31TQMNAR7SfcE-tns1zuvYhkXuYMP/s1600-h/DSCN3275.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyCUH7GKUK2AB6Xf2iHbjeZCkd1sV73-yFtCQN4K6SIg_o61WSpZ5u5NJ2yjp4fH7hknG2pETMfeHZ__QbkLpl_9ktKRth-xZ2Bl9NEgZvH9OL9R31TQMNAR7SfcE-tns1zuvYhkXuYMP/s320/DSCN3275.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318073553103480578" /></a><br /><br /><b> It all starts with a big mud pile. Three weeks of rain doesn't help. </b><br /><br /><br /><b> Bobby Roggenbuck arrives with big equipment to make mud into tight corners. </b><br /><br />Other pictures<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzy04ofNbvvPjdGTBAT7KzMFqyrnvw0O1_r1XrbBMMxwemnO3_sOs3ll-Nr139AO1XMlD0W5j_ezlHSJY3slnUkq2vZogFx1lRbtdOl_t8Y32LfHcYqbc7QWtQUOyp27G2l4SdwTDzUop/s1600-h/DSCN3317.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzy04ofNbvvPjdGTBAT7KzMFqyrnvw0O1_r1XrbBMMxwemnO3_sOs3ll-Nr139AO1XMlD0W5j_ezlHSJY3slnUkq2vZogFx1lRbtdOl_t8Y32LfHcYqbc7QWtQUOyp27G2l4SdwTDzUop/s320/DSCN3317.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318073139767774146" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBy7UbAWxvBMUKJbPWIq8tnhZ1rfAiZFbX33Yofe_3GAfFhSFQF08hSn5xXUNyI7PgLcedRNoLaqs1ZNuqzeBTxBFBh7Yje9s-JdaTiaCdud1VztbCb9UWIkBVCvkwo0C0PLNOm50sC3d/s1600-h/DSCN3252.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBy7UbAWxvBMUKJbPWIq8tnhZ1rfAiZFbX33Yofe_3GAfFhSFQF08hSn5xXUNyI7PgLcedRNoLaqs1ZNuqzeBTxBFBh7Yje9s-JdaTiaCdud1VztbCb9UWIkBVCvkwo0C0PLNOm50sC3d/s320/DSCN3252.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318073916665154770" /></a>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-80493211629937808762009-03-20T22:49:00.000-07:002009-03-20T23:38:41.154-07:00Left Field Chapter 2: Breakage and Loss<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixQx5Q-mEAYDMDWbkg5wgg3LO8iNFDZ9s6OSc_Da218qII-yXe_QSEvSxD56ypyqHr15A7P_hY9EvxBej60NUkJHyUfEfYgJLYOO6a6rk58zJan_xIIh1GkwSoNwSmx8CYnVZANE2SxrDe/s1600-h/DSCN1487.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixQx5Q-mEAYDMDWbkg5wgg3LO8iNFDZ9s6OSc_Da218qII-yXe_QSEvSxD56ypyqHr15A7P_hY9EvxBej60NUkJHyUfEfYgJLYOO6a6rk58zJan_xIIh1GkwSoNwSmx8CYnVZANE2SxrDe/s320/DSCN1487.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315521604320752002" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdtAAAVOWd2TAbgVY7jsWNT6fr6H-UOFFIyC3r1SyWGU1zEyN20hdZM5WCXV_CY4zDiLBJ_mIkejlpwRh0r7I4vuR3hCKGPm4LDRLwnNZuWwafC7KPW2yTmgMlz3JfsJSRt25b16PodmiS/s1600-h/DSCN1480.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdtAAAVOWd2TAbgVY7jsWNT6fr6H-UOFFIyC3r1SyWGU1zEyN20hdZM5WCXV_CY4zDiLBJ_mIkejlpwRh0r7I4vuR3hCKGPm4LDRLwnNZuWwafC7KPW2yTmgMlz3JfsJSRt25b16PodmiS/s320/DSCN1480.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315521493261500818" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZWZ0vb9epJ47QOwTb8BUyrc6UP480K6kFYY_pNdfyL8YpZNBZATt2PnqWUDLM4tTDI50QdcLux8E9BXY8EdT_aQTzgagOMP-LmdoEOYRr3ibH3SzS8sQEyZDb-YAfS1Nm-2EtNZ2ubMS/s1600-h/DSCN1479.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZWZ0vb9epJ47QOwTb8BUyrc6UP480K6kFYY_pNdfyL8YpZNBZATt2PnqWUDLM4tTDI50QdcLux8E9BXY8EdT_aQTzgagOMP-LmdoEOYRr3ibH3SzS8sQEyZDb-YAfS1Nm-2EtNZ2ubMS/s320/DSCN1479.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315521394142689218" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhqrxG8ctIgYQFXQRvwXAYVw8n0LdcMJ_80SluixtAdzqH0CiBRzYYN2L33hQu7psAc4HkcSGSAtQZ0MyRzxB6XCrC1e3bs2nXkv_jCY7D37ds_oCwF0JfVksqcW9-tt06juwfc9sZbjJ/s1600-h/_KMW8316.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhqrxG8ctIgYQFXQRvwXAYVw8n0LdcMJ_80SluixtAdzqH0CiBRzYYN2L33hQu7psAc4HkcSGSAtQZ0MyRzxB6XCrC1e3bs2nXkv_jCY7D37ds_oCwF0JfVksqcW9-tt06juwfc9sZbjJ/s320/_KMW8316.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315521168015427506" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbytYGABb5fIilUyhjvQnT_TSESHw0o1y3HoyY5uAJ-IRnetDKPMAina8lnhXzyJ4eqRX-I1rxsP9qwhWVWY6UAoL1QxDKJ97Tosexsd6ikHMt5gKVCASNZv3pUXvESBZxUybLtObP3WPv/s1600-h/_KMW8312.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbytYGABb5fIilUyhjvQnT_TSESHw0o1y3HoyY5uAJ-IRnetDKPMAina8lnhXzyJ4eqRX-I1rxsP9qwhWVWY6UAoL1QxDKJ97Tosexsd6ikHMt5gKVCASNZv3pUXvESBZxUybLtObP3WPv/s320/_KMW8312.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315521020769225522" /></a><br />The last posting could have gone on and on, so I decided to tackle the collection of balls that landed in left field on a "ball by ball" basis. Last posting ended up focusing on the crazy snow patterns we experienced this winter (it is NOW Spring and I refuse to accept any more snow) and this entry was intended to focus on breakage. The breakage I had in mind was the crazy two weeks in which our car broke, our bus broke, our refrigerator broke, our washing machine broke, and only a few of the heaters in the rental house we currently inhabit felt like working. I planned on regaling the comical way we tip-toed around afraid of breaking yet another thing, and how slowly but surely one thing after another was either replaced or repaired. Instead I am going to swing the bat and write about the breaking of my heart when I returned to the farm this afternoon to find the neighbor dog feasting on our small flock of chickens.<br /><br />Now those of you who are loyal readers of the blog may recall that we lost a few girls to an aerial predator a few months ago, and while that was upsetting and unnerving it does not even come close to what went down today. I arrived at the gate enjoying the first real sun we were granted all week. Toby arrived home a bit early and was playing with the kids back at the rental. I was planning on doing some evening chores and a little work in the orchard to make up for a week spent inside with the rain. However, as soon as I saw the neighbor's dog in our yard I knew there was something wrong. The dog immediately bounded up to me looking proud at what he accomplished but also in a panic. Apparently as he wolfed down (that meaning rings so true right now) one of the girls her bone got lodged in his mouth and he was in some pain. I rushed him back to his home and into the arms of his stunned and saddened owner and then returned to assess the carnage.<br /><br />Two girls, Fondo and Cherry-Egger, were the only ones recognizable and pretty much in one piece. Their soft feathery bodies were still quite warm and although the color had all but drained from their combs, earlobes and waddles I hesitated to pick them up for fear of hurting them more. I briefly considered cleaning and eating them in a sort of macabre memoriam, but Toby nixed that almost immediately when I offered it. Instead, I tucked them into an apple crate and stashed them away for a proper funeral the next day with the whole family. I then walked the entire property, and the three adjacent properties to see if I could find any other girls. Sobbing and unsure what to do I fell back on my purpose for coming to the farm this evening, and proceeded down to the orchard to start observing the trees for bud development. <br /><br />Three trees into my observations I heard a wonderfully familiar sound and raced back up to the coop to find that one of the girls Rose had reappeared at the coop. She was loudly proclaiming her survival, and probably her sadness over what had transpired and when she saw me running toward the coop she ran just as fast toward me. All our chickens have imprinted on me as their mom and I can only imagine what was going through her little mind as I scooped her up and held onto her for at least ten minutes. <br /><br />Feeling a little revived I put Rose in her coop and made one last walk around the property before the sun was totally gone. It was that end of the day when the birds and frogs sing out to welcome the night, and when the diurnal creatures high-five the nocturnal animals as they tuck in for the night. I was dumbstruck to see eight deer in the neighboring field; just standing their watching me look for a lost chicken, reminding me that things come and go. It was almost as if they were all saying they were sorry, and it was not my fault for letting my girls stretch their legs and wander around searching for the perfect grub. They too were taking their chances standing in such numbers in a wide open field. Life is for the living.<br /><br />When I walked back to the coop to close the door and say goodnight to Rose, Mildred another one of the girls showed up and quickly ran into the coop as well. With two chickens now present and accounted for, I breathed in and tried to be thankful. They on the other hand settled in to what they do, scratching around, looking for that perfect grub. I really hope they find it tonight, they have earned it.Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-59755247722812253492009-03-01T15:23:00.000-08:002009-03-16T09:14:45.543-07:00Wait for it...It's coming from somewhere in left field!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTxs81raZwFpVeFb56eV5sYOBqFBCUTiDuIp0Z34-4xl7ZErc9gmt3QUk11b87bELfB3ZLuIOQ2LlsQjrB6ykT2ox0DEwP9QdzhICP4WKhUSdBSe2j5gRIEUw-Ya1fQWLDV6l3TGynR6c/s1600-h/DSCN2861.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTxs81raZwFpVeFb56eV5sYOBqFBCUTiDuIp0Z34-4xl7ZErc9gmt3QUk11b87bELfB3ZLuIOQ2LlsQjrB6ykT2ox0DEwP9QdzhICP4WKhUSdBSe2j5gRIEUw-Ya1fQWLDV6l3TGynR6c/s320/DSCN2861.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313819735547553138" /></a><br />It seems as though we are holding our breath around the farm until we turn blue in the face, hoping someone will let us have our way. Something has got to give. We are emerging from our winter havens a little like the groundhog looking for our shadow and trying to decide if it is nice enough to plant our peas yet.<br /><br />In case you have not noticed, the blog has been on hiatus for the last month. "Why?" you ask? I will offer you two options: the short version immediately below, or the long, compelling, crazy, Booker prize-quality version following the short.<br /><br />Snow. Car breaks, bus breaks, motorcycle breaks, washing machine breaks, fridge and freezer break. Fix everything. Amy starts to teach in a classroom again after many years of teaching every minute of everyday not in a classroom. Play musical cars to entertain ourselves while we sell the bus and buy a "station-wagon Volvo". Started a massive remodel on the farmhouse. Receive seeds for the garden, and dodge snow storms to plant them in the ground.<br /><br />Let's take it from the top; snow. I am from the Chicago area originally, and have a great number of experiences with snow. I remember trudging through the stuff, my feet wrapped in old bread bags and secured with rubber bands around my calves, because my boots were never going to keep out all that white stuff even if their name implied it. I remember learning to drive in the snow pre-anti lock breaks. I remember packing snow on our front stairs and turning them into a mini luge track that lasted for weeks before melting away. And I remember how I felt when I moved up here to the Pacific Northwest; secretly happy to be leaving the Winters of guaranteed snow. Sure we get snow in the Northwest, but it is more like an old friend surprising you and showing up at your doorstep for a few days. You make accommodations, eat steaming bowls of goodness, sleep in because no one is going anywhere, and then tell yourself, "that was fun" when it all melts away to nothing. This year though, signals got crossed, my best friend from high school did not show up, instead it was the Mormons, followed by Jehovah's witness. It was someone from Sierra club, kids selling magazine subscriptions, and an acquaintance of my second college roommate who is on out of cash and hoping that they could just stay for a couple days until they figure out their next move. I was getting tired and scared of answering the door.<br /><br />Yesterday was the Ides of March, and Brutus came knocking on the door with a sloppy wet snowball to throw in my face. Yes, it snowed, yet again. Just after I chew out one of the seed companies to hurry up and send me my asparagus crowns and seed potatoes, because even if they think it is not time to plant them, I, the expert farmer, know my zone and need to plant. All I know now is that I must be living in wonderland. However, today looks promising, no snow, just rain so far...Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-42516817232308701412009-02-06T15:01:00.000-08:002009-02-10T07:12:15.612-08:00To Everything, Burn, Burn, Burn<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmzLsOS8wyOgvL_H-kVJDlUzDs_73B0aj9cfDmZXvV8ZlitxhERj87fg743T-ez6Rrc1MAPMoRd2-zjrWTHdNnknUn38nMpl-IGO8FakHBhXL0WDjvWd4Aivewjb1347XOuLQVFesIqCS/s1600-h/DSCN2901.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmzLsOS8wyOgvL_H-kVJDlUzDs_73B0aj9cfDmZXvV8ZlitxhERj87fg743T-ez6Rrc1MAPMoRd2-zjrWTHdNnknUn38nMpl-IGO8FakHBhXL0WDjvWd4Aivewjb1347XOuLQVFesIqCS/s320/DSCN2901.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301186086656845906" /></a><br /><br />We are "dreaming" in Winter around the farm. The first seed order is in and most of it arrived weeks ago save the live asparagus crowns which will arrive closer to planting time in March. Thirty six cardoon plants and twenty artichoke plants are inching their way out of dirt-filled peat pots and reaching toward the light of an artificial sun; hopefully they will be big enough when it is time to put them out into the chill to harden them off. We doubled the size of the vegetable garden which you can see at the end of this posting. And we are clearing away all the plants growing around the farmhouse to make room for the heavy equipment to roll in any day now and start reworking the home into our dream.<br /><br />Through all this land clearing and tilling, and all the pruning that needed to happen in and around the orchard we built up quite the burn pile. Our original plan was to have a solstice pyre welcoming back the light, but it snowed so hard then we would have needed at least a gallon of accelerant to melt off the icy frosting alone. So, we continued to add to the pile, and we continued to wait for a better day to burn. Finally, as we turned the corner into preparing to remodel the farmhouse and preparing the gardens for Spring the burn pile grew to inexorable size and we agreed to split the job of burning over a couple of days to purge us and make room for what is to come.<br /><br />Last Thursday I had a full day on the farm while Toby was in town working and the kids were in school. This was the perfect day for burning, partly sunny, very little wind, and it had not rained in several days. Even with these great conditions it took all the fuel in one lighter, a good two or three cups of diesel, and a whole lot of crouching on all fours and blowing like I was back in school on the bassoon playing the Marriage of Figaro to finally light the first pile on fire. And once it was burning I realized that my plans of working in the garden while every once in a while adding an armful of pruned branches was a pipe dream. I needed to stay and feed the flames pretty much all day, and at first I was frustrated by this realization, but after I found the rhythm of the fire I transcended the pull of earthen tasks like weeds and seeds and turned my eyes and mind to the heavens.<br /><br />I watched as hydrangea branches, pruned away to make room for our eminent house remodel, bloomed in the fire unfurling perfect bright green leaves seconds before completely burning up. I watched our Christmas tree, that we cut on the island, start on the pile as a pillar of smoke and sizzle and then suddenly explode like a firework with the crack and pop I heard the week before in Chinatown. Apple wood, branches pruned from the orchard, burned clean and smelled a little sweet. Blackberry vines smoked for a while before finally catching on fire and disappearing a second later. And a broken fence post provided slow burning fuel to light up old wrapping paper from a pair of new sleds received at Christmas.<br /><br />By the time I needed to leave the farm and pick up the kids from school I smelled smokey, my cheeks were rosy, and my heart was warm and a little lighter. Tending the burn pile was a secondary observation, forcing me to look at things again even after I thought I was done with them. When we still lived in Seattle these items that found their way into the burn pile would have been carted off on a regular schedule by the trash men. I would have never stopped, months later to rethink my actions in my backyard and where I was going to next. It is here, farming, that things are slowed down and we are forced to be deliberate in our actions, because we are the ones making the mess, and the only ones to clean it up. We are being nudged by this land to live more simply, more stripped down, more connected, and I love it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTE3RNOaxXiaqUBXBC6ef9f35EpzRLqRRTXdyTf6t0Suxr9ToiWumfT-Wod154o9IOCuLfZe5loC75OE_6rhCzQtV8M6D-nKMS9qdkHzMQwxI9Wtmedcb_xH3yhELvIE8WsV7QQRYoCR_/s1600-h/DSCN2990.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTE3RNOaxXiaqUBXBC6ef9f35EpzRLqRRTXdyTf6t0Suxr9ToiWumfT-Wod154o9IOCuLfZe5loC75OE_6rhCzQtV8M6D-nKMS9qdkHzMQwxI9Wtmedcb_xH3yhELvIE8WsV7QQRYoCR_/s200/DSCN2990.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299824916517509170" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQs52rsQTPAlHwNVrqWwoXsyH2dBkBCqkU6ZEepuoriFvbiE0RcV1x9fb4eGLkTbAm4hFRMuWKceroYN_0flK27LIzEZuLdgdjxldOy3GmmRpebbtgmr42AK2lss2Zp5ouEogPSPuyBgCe/s1600-h/DSCN2985.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQs52rsQTPAlHwNVrqWwoXsyH2dBkBCqkU6ZEepuoriFvbiE0RcV1x9fb4eGLkTbAm4hFRMuWKceroYN_0flK27LIzEZuLdgdjxldOy3GmmRpebbtgmr42AK2lss2Zp5ouEogPSPuyBgCe/s200/DSCN2985.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299824911393635218" /></a>Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-33924287222231611532009-01-25T22:08:00.000-08:002009-02-10T07:12:41.799-08:00New Year's Eve<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQ0Ku9oyAUnDeqpAknMKnS_N0CYlVS0prVUDHREXhMOys3XqjTnws_dIUMQ5qXLlWrOREvmTx1vEU0pcoQDTtmntrkq79cfD6Cfd9IR8qy71imKxFjm0Af7TCBQW3r_G5p6jLwljNrejW/s1600-h/DSCN0579.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQ0Ku9oyAUnDeqpAknMKnS_N0CYlVS0prVUDHREXhMOys3XqjTnws_dIUMQ5qXLlWrOREvmTx1vEU0pcoQDTtmntrkq79cfD6Cfd9IR8qy71imKxFjm0Af7TCBQW3r_G5p6jLwljNrejW/s320/DSCN0579.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295488461161274882" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6HZ0VkNypAD5njEeyXOg3JVTcwak_Mj7VZWvb6y3Luf7tjpLH6kgPMuv6ejMh1AnPkiR1OhACSUEtjF9zNFUAo7Fk2nwtQUG5DZo-uWIOOY_fiV7IBQ7_EoY4IW5l3sGhq0KyQZwRO3l/s1600-h/DSCN0574.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6HZ0VkNypAD5njEeyXOg3JVTcwak_Mj7VZWvb6y3Luf7tjpLH6kgPMuv6ejMh1AnPkiR1OhACSUEtjF9zNFUAo7Fk2nwtQUG5DZo-uWIOOY_fiV7IBQ7_EoY4IW5l3sGhq0KyQZwRO3l/s320/DSCN0574.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295488459377734546" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ekn-xyz2wtdeEcQXw0VN-ZU0QTK4PbMumz_areW5NGq2NqvP9ArgZK9GxuG8rWLk15RJNtJy_MMsbNSxY0itYvg9na2ROcwQj6X9QBYpSmYKjGuahzQstT_eOFZfgTAXTHSg2nHWR72c/s1600-h/DSCN0576.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ekn-xyz2wtdeEcQXw0VN-ZU0QTK4PbMumz_areW5NGq2NqvP9ArgZK9GxuG8rWLk15RJNtJy_MMsbNSxY0itYvg9na2ROcwQj6X9QBYpSmYKjGuahzQstT_eOFZfgTAXTHSg2nHWR72c/s320/DSCN0576.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295488454246876722" /></a><br />Tonight we returned home to our "temporary" abode after two long days working on the farm. Yesterday we rented the uber-rototiller and went to town preparing for Spring and beyond. Originally when I walked into our island hardware store to rent a tiller I was thinking something along the lines of what you may see on an infomercial, but when the man at the rental counter showed me the hydraulic tiller supreme with reverse tine action and disengageable wheels for easing moving while powered-down I just saw my farm chores in the palm of my hand. <br /><br />We put the word out to friends and by the grace of something larger than us, our friend who used to run a large equipment/earth moving company said he would be happy to babysit the tiller ALL DAY. So there we were, Christian our friend with the tiller, Toby with the tractor, kids with the smiles, and me with the finger pointed to where to dig, till, dump, and plant. In just the first day we doubled the size of the garden to around 80 feet by 40 feet, and tilled some empty places in the orchard where we intend to put in a few more trees to eventually bring us up to a cool 100 total. The second day of work we battled with the evidence of a rat in the apple stores, snow flying, and a lack of power tools. Even still we were able to reposition lots of berry plants, hopefully doubling the growing capacity of our tastiest cash crop and tucking them in for the next few cold weeks with compost and a layer of straw.<br /><br />Before tucking the kids in to bed tonight we stopped to wish each other a happy new year, because tomorrow is the start of the new "lunar" year. We love observing the lunar new year as a true turning point in our lives every year. We like it because it tends to be a bit separate from the cluster of holidays in December, and rather than following a date on the calendar it follows the cycle of the moon. The moon, we are learning on the farm, is really the Mother of Nature. It's pull is felt by the plants, and depending on where the planets are in the night sky the moon can work some magic on what we offer up to grow in our soil. We also love the lunar new year, because it is so ancient and tied to Asian culture, something we are very passionate about. Although we visit our international district way more than the average "white" family, we always feel out of place. When we take the kids into a Chinese medicine shop we are often ignored as the shop owner probably assumes we are lost or tourist from some far away place. It is only after we make the effort to engage in conversation or ask if they have sichuan peppercorns, or cloud ear mushrooms that the ice is broken and we are welcomed as if we are family. But during the lunar new year you see people of all colors and backgrounds mingling without reservation in a neighborhood that for just one week is loud, delicious, grandiose, and especially beautiful. This week we eat Asian food every day, oranges for luck, long noodles for long life, and dim sum and bubble tea as we watch the dragon dances. We light firecrackers to scare away bad spirits and bad luck and share our riches with our children so that they may do the same with their children some day. We love this week maybe in someways more than any other holiday, because no one in our immediate circle of friends and family have any expectations of us. We are both anonymous in our celebrations and very open and public in our love of all the ancient traditions. And each year we reach out to others to join in our complete joy revolving around this turning of the moon, the first new one of the year.<br /><br />We look forward to this new year, the year of the Ox, with anticipation of our own oxen abilities. We push tillers, hoe rows, pull weeds, and work out in the open under the elements. We eat and drink well, sleep a little, and breathe in the fresh air. We are hopeful for a great harvest, but take each day as it comes. We do the jobs that need to be done every day and marvel at how they add up to more than their sum. And most of all we thank our lucky stars....and moon.Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-67585955620723348282009-01-06T14:19:00.000-08:002009-02-10T07:12:26.507-08:00Go Away Snow!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5C9qvCCAijwcJ-zxZ49FBiw88yMgFZnLP4ZoG2oyezdZDzzGKi_PrMrX7ZsSfAw3BQZuCKAia-LRzFkyecnwqiA7cw1KsvE2YfoLwi7ruavGnt5HycFkaOVdblij75Ea0AzKUBEnNh2p/s1600-h/DSCN2656.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5C9qvCCAijwcJ-zxZ49FBiw88yMgFZnLP4ZoG2oyezdZDzzGKi_PrMrX7ZsSfAw3BQZuCKAia-LRzFkyecnwqiA7cw1KsvE2YfoLwi7ruavGnt5HycFkaOVdblij75Ea0AzKUBEnNh2p/s320/DSCN2656.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288310754430136546" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg023jDZdeepP2lSw_RDJfjAIqAswcGr0y9p4_fRfMJXyTzKlFnfz_jmD2qFMFzAXZymAeLavmgXvP5FprZ6BGbv5mjzziFC4m1gySaorGzXdzBjRkolCBlI1ksdoVtHnmQAw8X5zJxzw5/s1600-h/DSCN2649.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg023jDZdeepP2lSw_RDJfjAIqAswcGr0y9p4_fRfMJXyTzKlFnfz_jmD2qFMFzAXZymAeLavmgXvP5FprZ6BGbv5mjzziFC4m1gySaorGzXdzBjRkolCBlI1ksdoVtHnmQAw8X5zJxzw5/s200/DSCN2649.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288309838622330082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAzZBvQ_fqbxbZ-fR9j2kyHq55GUi7CF3CIURK-UV9lbaAxMWLdmrzqChaVK6C8a8HiEdXWtEdHnhb5BH1QS2A9xRPyA25a2X5NosYNBbVzQsFR2teYy3w2wJLPck4L9OWrAAwiTpfHhE/s1600-h/DSCN2630.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAzZBvQ_fqbxbZ-fR9j2kyHq55GUi7CF3CIURK-UV9lbaAxMWLdmrzqChaVK6C8a8HiEdXWtEdHnhb5BH1QS2A9xRPyA25a2X5NosYNBbVzQsFR2teYy3w2wJLPck4L9OWrAAwiTpfHhE/s200/DSCN2630.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288309680841174786" /></a><br />When I was younger I loved snow. I prayed for snow days. I loved to sled. I would build sledding runs down our front steps just to give me another place to throw down the sled between home and the park. Alas, I no longer love snow. We have endured a remarkable amount of snow at the farm. The first few days of the real snow we remained at our rental home, trapped at the bottom of a steep and slippery driveway. But after the second day, Toby brought out the tire chains before things got worse, and they did, and we crept our way to the farm. We figured that if we lost power at the rental house, were everything runs on electric, we would spend our days cold and miserable. But at the farm, although it is tight living quarters, the previous owners left us with a great generator that plugs right into the home’s power box and can pretty much run anything we need. Plus, we are one of the lucky few on the island who have natural gas as our heat, hot water, and cook stove, which is a big bonus when you have no power.<br /> <br /><br /><br />Now, for those of you readers who our new to our blog, or do not remember the set up at the farm let me bring you up to speed:<br /><br />We have one room in the upstairs of the farmhouse. It serves as the primary, and only finished out living space for the farm. It is a fabulous, cozy spot with a sumptuous view; very romantic. However, for a family of four plus a lovely dog the space seems pretty small. And it was small. After eight days sharing this one-room sanctuary we all needed a bit more elbow room. By then we were able to cast off the chains and slip our way back to the rental to catch up on sleep and stare at the Christmas tree that ended up getting ignored this year. <br /><br />The other reason for staying at the farm in the midst of all the snow, was to keep a closer eye on all of our “investments”. Daily we walked the rows in the orchard to make sure the snow and ice were not weighing to heavily on the branches. We were constantly digging out the garden to keep the hoops elevated over the slow-growing Winter garden, and thawing out the chickens’ drinking water once or twice a day until the temperature crept back up to above freezing. All of these things we embraced heartily and were thankful that nothing got too damaged, and we did not completely lose anything. We filled our bellies for a good week with the salvaged garden greens and roots, patting ourselves on the back for our fortitude. Since then we have dealt with more snow, power-outages, wind, and lots of rain. None of it is fun, and at least once a day I roll my eyes at the latest must-do that skips ahead of everything else on our long list of farm chores. I realize now, more than ever, that we pay too little for our food. We too easily forget the countless cold, dark, wet hours put into any crop before it even sees the light of Spring. So now we sit down to pour over seed catalogs, search out organic sprays and mulches for the orchard, and comb the aisles of our island thrift store for some gadget that can help us get things done. We clutch our checkbook in our hands and check our funds in the bank. We wonder how have so many farmers before us done it, and how many of us can continue to carry on the great tradition? Thanks to all who provide, and most of all to the Earth.Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-7304344159533842472008-12-30T21:31:00.000-08:002008-12-30T21:37:52.123-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_43Mzfo04WKAEsX7vUQsSd-FMS0RZKeRL9NYyYvTEHGVhJ3Vq1aa29-WzM2U8ihzpo83_AmRCqxYFduX298nulKwoJAQWAIduNCSdG1b7XYFuOWq7hmtTTcWN-_qbCFIE-62B1FOZTLba/s1600-h/_KMW8331.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_43Mzfo04WKAEsX7vUQsSd-FMS0RZKeRL9NYyYvTEHGVhJ3Vq1aa29-WzM2U8ihzpo83_AmRCqxYFduX298nulKwoJAQWAIduNCSdG1b7XYFuOWq7hmtTTcWN-_qbCFIE-62B1FOZTLba/s200/_KMW8331.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285823844997542690" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaSpQcx5-WVvQcwfxPFYIr2hiWU8jG77WgakT-VLhbV6m6o8RU-VM0itnoU88DYYJn92h2zpYgxv4rU8iDzsIxxS0KSt-P8_dOmi8VxTRABrRKXzAE99MRX3O445mpTNlEIKvLnWq3RjB/s1600-h/_KMW8285.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaSpQcx5-WVvQcwfxPFYIr2hiWU8jG77WgakT-VLhbV6m6o8RU-VM0itnoU88DYYJn92h2zpYgxv4rU8iDzsIxxS0KSt-P8_dOmi8VxTRABrRKXzAE99MRX3O445mpTNlEIKvLnWq3RjB/s200/_KMW8285.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285823842130562978" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTNpJB6m0Y02ABm-TFY8CMqZZ4R4bzZP8RmEMW7M1C_hM-NFUv3ILm2Q3P-cWmgoZ5EyiTxe59TOxiI_0qUHoTcMYKN0ajKUoj5vNcucziI_IGoRuqCO_m_V9xJReI5oigEldr2LRkoM2/s1600-h/_KMW8268.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTNpJB6m0Y02ABm-TFY8CMqZZ4R4bzZP8RmEMW7M1C_hM-NFUv3ILm2Q3P-cWmgoZ5EyiTxe59TOxiI_0qUHoTcMYKN0ajKUoj5vNcucziI_IGoRuqCO_m_V9xJReI5oigEldr2LRkoM2/s200/_KMW8268.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285823835979019490" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqXOm216VYtejQeecYkycWLGmhh8fWCc7yBZx6n4EeLujRD_4xE3UCIg2To2utsnQJyy-Jm7FkWpr5pikKuB6Mmf7bM1d5O2APQWcY8irdFm6a-elUnh-TvpQ0QgXCsn7AqEzDg1wfdv31/s1600-h/_KMW8264.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqXOm216VYtejQeecYkycWLGmhh8fWCc7yBZx6n4EeLujRD_4xE3UCIg2To2utsnQJyy-Jm7FkWpr5pikKuB6Mmf7bM1d5O2APQWcY8irdFm6a-elUnh-TvpQ0QgXCsn7AqEzDg1wfdv31/s200/_KMW8264.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285823830575939378" /></a><br />Here are a few fun shots from a day on the farm. We wish all of our friends and family the best of holidays, okay so I am a few holidays late. And we pray for a peace-filled and prosperous new year.Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4226205493174087321.post-6311840309456996862008-12-30T17:36:00.000-08:002008-12-30T21:30:12.923-08:00No Chicken Dinner for Us<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwuTgKwQmEqcLfA-o8-T5lJc2rVAm85hUCU-dz1E8GLvCe3yAp3Ua6m584sqEf5tRRE0GeODAk51MR78qiGJ_b83iQDaOmYCOhn27jAHRO5127qxsjwdIPPUrQ1vgLDBofiCcwD3xo29Zd/s1600-h/_KMW8312.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwuTgKwQmEqcLfA-o8-T5lJc2rVAm85hUCU-dz1E8GLvCe3yAp3Ua6m584sqEf5tRRE0GeODAk51MR78qiGJ_b83iQDaOmYCOhn27jAHRO5127qxsjwdIPPUrQ1vgLDBofiCcwD3xo29Zd/s320/_KMW8312.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285817815241073298" /></a> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjil5e4h7AhbBCPhghiDfgH_7lIvT3qOTIPGLg1hCbHTIIFtqk8Rqt45nEELylUlDg-CMvUhDoNNgwPAPqw81PALzY21bgY1KXFs1Uj_Eh4UlZh_vLG7Xo4mHoHli3f7TU1xVx8O0FIyO01/s1600-h/_KMW8298.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjil5e4h7AhbBCPhghiDfgH_7lIvT3qOTIPGLg1hCbHTIIFtqk8Rqt45nEELylUlDg-CMvUhDoNNgwPAPqw81PALzY21bgY1KXFs1Uj_Eh4UlZh_vLG7Xo4mHoHli3f7TU1xVx8O0FIyO01/s320/_KMW8298.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285817810060466114" /></a><br />We searched out new chicks to add to our flock this Fall. Our four "big grirls" as the G&F call them: Fondo, TaDa, Blanche, and Mildred, were all about a year and a half old. We really knew nothing of chickens before we got them, just that we loved to visit friends' chickens, and the idea of knowing exactly where our eggs came from was irresistible. Our first "coop" was created under the deck of our Seattle home, and our four girls quickly learned the routine of rooting around the backyard and perching by the kitchen window during the day, and snuggling into their coop at night. We brought these four hens with us to Vashon, after converting a stall of one of the outbuildings into the Uber-coop. <br /><br />Shortly after moving into their new digs, Mildred began to molt. And when we learned that chickens, in general, do not lay as many eggs after molting, and witnessed the other girls starting to look a less bird-like and a little more lizard-like, we decided something had to be done. So, being the overachievers we are, we started researching new chicken breeds. After weeks of research and a few lengthy phone calls with "the chicken lady", we headed off-island way out in Carnation to track down some downy new chicks to increase our "pet" flock. <br /><br />Home on the farm our chicks grew fast. We lost one chick right off the bat, we think to the neighbor cat, but that's to be expected right? It taught us to be more careful about protecting our little chicks, and we did until St. Barbara's Day. This is a day in early December when the tradition is to clip fruit tree branches and put them in water to bloom on Christmas Day. (it actually worked too, within a week of Christmas, but that is another blog entry) On this fated day, we lost three of the young girls, we are pretty sure, to a hawk or an eagle. Our first finding of the remaining girls was in the dark, in our dress clothes, because of course that night was our one and only night out of the holiday season, complete with babysitting from the grandparents overnight. Needless to say discovering that you lost some of your flock puts a damper on the night's "festive" mood. And our worst fears were confirmed the next day when Toby and Gus walked the property and found just hints of evidence in three places, while Freja and I were at yet another "party".<br /><br />Now we accept that living on a farm truly means we are living closer to the Earth, both its beautiful and gruesome sides. And we recognize that the beautiful raptors that we see flying overhead need to eat as well. But, and here is the kicker, out of the six chicks we picked out this fall on our epic quest to find the next great chickens, only the ones we named were eaten/killed. So I dedicate this entry to Pollo, Cutie, Petutie, and Lilly, four of the cutest little chicks ever. We are grateful to still have our four original girls, and love them and hold them and pet them every day. And we are also glad to have the two remaining "little girls" and really enjoy watching them find there place in the pecking order, although we are still afraid to name them!Holmestead Farmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280962615894312906noreply@blogger.com0