Wait for it...It's coming from somewhere in left field!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

New Year's Eve

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.

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.

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.

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.

Blessings All Around.

Last weekend we officially blessed the farm. And in true Holmestead fashion it was a grand celebration with great friend and family and fabulous food and drink. We chose today because it coincided with the 200th anniversary of the Messe du Sovenir des Charcutiers; or mass of remembrance for the guild of butcher who create hams, sausages and pates. So what you say? Take a moment and think about the importance of this group of "artists" and the many connections they have to us as burgeoning farmers.

We have really tightened our belts to swing the purchase of the farm and preparing for its transformation into our permanent home. One of the greatest savings we have discovered is eating as locally as possible, mostly from our own garden, and when we eat meat it is often the "nasty bits" that taste so good if treated right, and cost so much less than the more traditional cuts. We have cultivated friendships with fellow farmers to find out who are the good slaughters and butchers on the island and surroundings. We have asked more questions of chefs, and cooks at every restaurant we visited and community gathering. And we have read way too many books on how to grow your own, slaughter your own, grind your own, and cure your own food.

So when I heard that November 16th was the 200th anniversary of honoring this guild of butchers it seemed like a wonderful reason to eat, drink, and hold church in our favorite sanctuary: the farm. What resulted from our call out to friends and family was a triumphant affirmation of friendship, generosity, and lots and lots of humor. We pressed cider for hours, and even ended up with a little left over despite the long line of kids (and a few adults) catching the fresh juice in paper cups. We could not wait for Toby to deliver his homily before diving into the food, and were happy that we did. The fog of the morning, of our minds, of the state of things, burned off just after noon. Toby lead almost 90 of us down into the field and gave a heartfelt thanks and praise. And then we all got back to eating!

Some of the most memorable dishes were:
Lise and Tamlyn's Pigs in a blanket (what makes it the perfect dish is Lise's professional cooking background)
Ann's plate of trotters
PK's Thai pork with yummy rice and rooster sauce
Wiley's chocolate chip cookies with crackling's
Andrew and Erin's offerings from Canada (is it legal to bring cured meat across the border?)
Steve's rillettes
Bill and Shirley's spare ribs
The Hammer's showing up with enough various pork products to feed us all twice
The Vegetarians Kathleen and Bryce showing up with Kielbasa
And the fabulous array of salumi from Salumi

It was absolutely stunning to see the thought and creativity that so many people put into what they brought to the party. It reminded us all that we chose to gather that day, we chose to be friends, we chose to create this community. And what a fabulous foundation we set for all of us in this vacillating time hope and uncertainty. Thanks everyone.
Here is a copy of Toby's Homily, enjoy:
The Blessing of the Farm

The sun shines of us all today after days of fall rain. Like the growing plants around us, we welcome the energy to renew our spirits. And we welcome you here today for a gathering of friends and family for many reasons to take pause and celebrate. We celebrate the bounty of the fall harvest. We celebrate the sale of the Seattle house and the ability to now pursue our vision for Holmestead Farms and share that vision with you. We celebrate by pressing cider together, enjoying each other’s company—making new friends and reconnecting with long time friends. And honoring the pig.

Our gustatory theme today is the natural pairing of apples and pork. Today, November 16th, marks the 200th anniversary of the charcutiers mass of remembrance. In 1513 the charcutiers formed their own guild and broke from the general butcher trade. The mass honors the makers of sausages, hams, and pates. By the way, Saint Anthony is the patron saint of the chacutiers—thanks Tony. And the pig is a great and appropriate symbol of a farm—pigs eat the scraps and eventually become food, with virtually every single part of the pig edible.

We want to thank everyone who is here today for supporting us in our move to Vashon and in our first season of production. Each of you, in some way, helped us and we appreciate your support and love.

Remember the original Stuart Brothers roasterie in the old Country Store building—the current location of Minglemint, now a central gathering place to share a good cup of coffee or chew the fat with buddies? How about the monks who have been roasting coffee for ever? And now, Vashon has a vigorous farmers market, the most active fruit club chapter in Western Washington and beyond organic farms like Sea Breeze, other family farms like Greenman Farm, Hogsback, and others. And how about the underground dining at Kurtwood? Vashon has a productive and engaged farm and food culture.

There’s a demand for local produce, dairy, and meats. In preparation for this party, the woman at Salumi in charge of wholesale accounts asked when they can buy our eggs. We’ve sold berries and apples at the local farmers market, through Bernie and Norine, and privately by the box. Much more to come next year. We’re excited about people’s interest in knowing where their food comes from and who grows it. Ultimately our vision for Holmestead Farms is to include the production and sale of honey, preserves, pickles, produce, eggs, and fruit. And we intend to have culinary gatherings, cooking classes, and private dining events.

Why are we doing this? We firmly believe that the sharing of food is the key to building a community—to break bread with one another. Growing our food connects us with the land, the air, and the water and reminds us that these are delicate resources to be handled with respect and care. Our animals have personalities and are well loved, especially the ones that become food. Food brings us together, slows us down, and nourishes our bodies. And it’s important for conveying our family values to our kids.

May we all be blessed to find and develop a greater community through the connections provided to us by sharing food. We bring together friends and family to celebrate each other, the bounty of the harvest and to give thanks for our resources, both the natural resources and our individual industrial efforts. May we not take these for granted.

Let’s remember our obligation to treat the earth, air, and water with respect, like the essential relationship between bees and apples trees. Neither survive without the other. Let’s remember the value of communing with others and the significance of sharing food—for sustenance, pleasure, and for art. Let’s remember to give and receive graciously and thankfully.

It takes soil, rain, sun, seeds, tender care and patience to raise a good turnip, apple, or raspberry. It takes magic and chemistry to make a great meal or vint wine. But it takes human interaction and love to make any of it worth while or taste good.

As Pere Luc Forestier, the pastor of the church in Paris where the mass occurs every years says, “It’s not just about taking care of an organic need of the human body, but, more important, about providing what responds to our desire of conviviality, for sharing, for good taste, for beauty.” Amen.

Slow and Steady, Slow and Steady

So we have this turtle named "Reach". I adopted him many years ago when a student of mine went off to college and need a home for her pet turtle that was as old as her. I had a large biology classroom at the time, and would take in fish, hedgehogs, small rodents, plants, etc. partly in an effort to fill up the room with living examples of our topic de jour, but also partly because I had a hard time saying no to something that needed a home.

Reach lived in a 65 gallon tank his whole life, and when I received him he came with the tank and his "play things", a glass fish and plastic dinosaur he seemed to enjoy moving around the tank. I would bring Reach home in the Summers, and then back to the classroom in the Fall, and when I finally stopped teaching, Reach and his tank were tucked up against a wall in the playroom of our old Seattle home.

When we bought the farm out here on Vashon, we decided that Reach could use a change of scenery. Instead of moving him and his tank, we just moved him to the pond in front of the farmhouse. We figured that he had lived a long enough life (we figure he is almost 30 years old) in a tank, and either he could retire happily in the pond, or just "retire" if he could not survive on his own and that would be alright as well. Time passed and every once in a while we would see Reach hanging out in the bottom of the pond with the few resident goldfish swimming overhead. Then we stopped seeing him in August, and wrote it off to either a Raccoon that we knew was visiting the pond, or to the over-grown lily pads that provided lots of hiding places.

So this morning we received quite the surprise when our neighbor down below our two-acre farm, came up the long drive to see if I wanted a new pet. I immediately told her we were quite full up with cats, dogs, and chickens, and we could not take any livestock until at least the Spring. She smiled and said, "This pet is perfect, I think it could even just live in your pond!" I immediately asked her if it was a turtle, to which she gave me a shocked look and asked me how did I guess? I told her that we "had" a turtle many months ago, but were pretty sure he was dead. Besides, this turtle she found trying to cross the busy road at the bottom of our driveway in a downpour yesterday afternoon. Could it be that Reach went on a three-month tour of the farm, and was still alive? As soon as we peered into the empty bathtub at the neighbor's home it was obvious that Reach was still with us, and as soon as I picked him up he game me an appropriate hiss and tucked into his shell. We returned him to the pond, did a big three cheers for the traveler, and left him to his own devices.

Reach's big adventure through our farm, the neighbors' properties, and dodging traffic fit so perfectly into how I have been feeling this week. We just witnessed the first black man being elected in our country, and all around me I see stunned and happy faces. It has been a long slog for so many before us to abolish slavery, fight for the right to vote, march for civil rights, and struggle for equal opportunities. Sometimes those struggles got stretched out so much that the daily efforts went unnoticed. People wake up every morning and decide to fight the good fight, knowing that they may never reap the rewards for themselves. And then one day the seas part, we summit a mountain, we feel the sun on our face, and know that today is different. We have elected a new man to be "boss" of our country, as my kids put it, yet they struggle to see how he is different. They think he is a great person because they hear how excited I am, they see me tear up when I hear him speak, they feel like they won, because he is the one we voted for. They are still young enough that they truly take each day as it comes. They were happy yesterday because Barack Obama was elected our new president, and they are happy today because we found Reach.

Thank you to all those that have gone before us to pave the way for peace and change. Thank you to our children who welcome each day as it comes. And thanks to Reach, who shows us that all you have to do is put one foot in front of the other, and although you may not get very noticed in your day to day slog, you still can go far!

I wonder were Reach will take us next?

To Everything, A Time to Be Born, A Time to Die

This morning I awoke to find a dead mouse outside my bedroom door. Now, my cats (really just one cat) are prolific hunters, and started bringing us trophy kills after we had our first child. I try to look at these dead rodents as offerings of thanks, pride, and worthiness that our cats see as their duty to our family. For the most part they catch the small things that would just be in the way should they find a nook in our homes, and usually by the time they make it to my doorstep they have "gone to a better place". This morning's offering was something more extraordinary, not because it was a rare bird or a bat, but because of the way our kids reacted to it when they saw it.
When I pointed out the seemingly dead rodent resting at our doorstep, G and F ran outside to admire it. G marveled at how "cute" it was, and how lucky that its eyes were still open. F wondered if maybe mice just slept with their eyes open, to which I convinced them to just leave it be until after we returned from our morning of school to find out.
Sure enough, the dead fuzzy thing was still there when we returned after school. Before anything else could happen G insisted we have a funeral, "to help it find its way back to heaven". How could I say no to that? So I carefully picked up the mouse (using a towel) and laid it in the middle of our backyard. G, F, and I then joined hands around the small grey creature, and just when I was expecting a solemn prayer, G suggested we dance around it. So there we were in the middle of a sunny Fall day, dancing around a dead animal singing songs, can it get much more Pagan? We sang to thank the Earth for life, and loving the life we have. We sang to wish the mouse a happy time in heaven and a fun life the next time around. We ended the funeral by tossing the mouse over the edge of the ravine and listening to it come to rest in the leaves below.
I never cease to marvel at the depth of empathy all of our children posses. I would never have honored this small creature, had my kids not witnessed its death. And how wonderful for all of us to get a chance to embrace life, all of it, as the circle that it is.

Take a Moment to Sit and Say Thanks

Yesterday was one of those juggles. Toby was gone from early in the morn until way past every one's bedtime. Thankfully, one of the "Omis" swept the kids away on an island adventure for a few hours while I tried to preserve the last of the summer harvest. This latest round of kitchen mania included a double batch of green tomato chutney, and yet a few more loaves of zucchini bread for the freezer. As we plowed through the day we all accomplished a lot, although we missed a crucial element: the farm.

Some of you may not understand our current living situation, so I will distill it quickly to bring everyone to the same page. In January of 2008 we decided to buy the farm, pun only half intended, on Vashon. The farmhouse is way to small to house our crazy, energetic family so we got to work planning a remodel. In June we moved to Vashon to be close to the farm, the remodel, and start maintaining the orchard, field, chickens, and gardens. Since the farmhouse is too small we decided to rent a nice home a few miles away. In July we put our Seattle home on the market, and hope to finally close the sale of it in a few days. Whew, I get tired just explaining!

This somewhat fractured living situation keeps us constantly in flux. Almost every morning the kids ask if we can/need/have to go the farm and when. Sometimes it is not until the lights are all off and we are drifting off to sleep when we remember that we never went back to the farm to tuck in all the chickens and make sure the gate is locked. And it really stings when you head to the farm to do a specific thing, like press cider, and realize once you are there that you forgot what you needed back at the rental house, like all of the clean gallon jugs to hold said cider!

Last night, after G & F and I finished an early dinner I mentioned to them that I missed going to the farm that day. They both responded that they too missed the farm, and especially the chickens; they LOVE the chickens. So we all hopped into the bus and drove over to say goodnight to the "girls" and just be. As I paused at the beginning of our long driveway to collect my voter's ballot from the mail, I could see one of the two regular families of deer waiting for us up near the gate. We drove slowly so as not to disturb them and G&F called out happy greetings while we passed them by. The chickens were already roosting for the night, but seemed to enjoy being held for a bit and treated with some stale popcorn the kids saved for them. Finally, after making sure everything was secure we went running down to the orchard in the fading light of the day. Darwin dog lead us to a beautiful tree near the bottom of the orchard and there we all sat listening to the coming night noises. We all unwound and leaned against each other for support as we watched the sun set behind us and the moon rise in front of us. We listened to the ducks fly up from the neighbors pond (ducks are surprisingly loud fliers) and the occasional car driving by on the road below. Gus declared that he was happy, and could hardly wait until we were always here on the farm, and just as I was starting to choke up Freja jumped up declared that the day was done and started running back to the bus to head back for story time. I smiled, hugged Gus, grabbed his hand and we chased Darwin and Freja all the way up the field. The grass below our feet appeared iridescent with the rising moonlight, and the field smelled sweet and wet as we ran through it. As we drove away from the farm and back to the rental house no one really spoke, we all just breathed in the night, and I bet we were all thinking the same thing: we are so glad to be here.

Summer Vacation?

We took a short break for a day to remember our anniversary and celebrate Toby's birthday. (29 + a few)
It was hard to look away for a couple of days, and even though we gave ourselves permission to take a break for even longer the siren song of the farm called us back. (and no I did not choose the wrong metaphor, sometimes I feel like I am hurtling ever closer to the rocks)

Tonight we worked together as a family, and shared dinner on the farm as well. The kids are starting to get the hang of hanging; today they listened to a book on tape while picked berries. And after dinner much fun was had chasing chickens, watering the orchard, and generally goofing around.

The big news is that we ate our first fruit from the orchard today. I was desperate to show G & F that all our pruning, watering, and refusing to allow tree climbing had paid off, and finally I was validated. We ate three plums that were the most delicious things I think I ever could claim credit for. We did a dance and thanked everything and everyone for them. Yum!

Holding Our Feet to the Fire

We found the Lacanche!  We found the beautiful French Range!  We honed in on our next great kitchen monument!

For those of you who are new to the scene of our local, organic, seasonal food obsession, we will bring you up to date.

Amy started reconstructing our eating habits shortly after the arrival of August (Gus); realizing that it is one thing to feed yourself, but another to feed your child.  She started a mad pursuit of honing her cooking skills, tracking seasonal produce and dairy, and tracking down the best tools of the trade.  One day she stumbled upon a "French Range" posting on Craigslist and her curiosity was peaked.  Turns out the range is made by a small company in France called Lacanche, and the design has changed minimally over the many decades that they have been hand crafted.  

She did not successfully snag that first range she saw on Craigslist, but made sure to not miss the second, which then led to an entire kitchen remodel of their Seattle home.  Of course as these things always play out, the week after the range was in the perfect place with the dynamite hood over it, Amy and Toby decided to by the farm here on Vashon.  It was with a heavy heart that Amy said good bye to her "black beauty" and tried to be positive about finding a new range for the farm.

Shortly after moving into their temporary rental on the island, and cooking on an "average" range, Amy had a fit and contacted the only US importer of Lacanche. (which just happens to be here in Western Washington)  She explained to them her love of food and the vision for the Holmestead.  The fairy-godmother turned marketing director, Molly, heard Amy's cry and helped her find just the right range, even better than what they had in Seattle.  

So here are the first pictures that Amy snapped when she saw it for the first time in the warehouse.  It has the same five burner set up as their range in Seattle, but more safety features (great when you have two curious toddlers), a warming oven, and it is "British Racing Green".  All the gauges are metric, which is perfect for an ex-science teacher turned cook, and the top is a solid french top styling.

So now we are going to build a farm around a range, instead of just a kitchen as we did in Seattle.  Are we crazy?  If we are, at least we are happy crazy!

Who wants to attend the first dinner party?

Kids in the Field

Gus shows off a not-quite-ripe Cascade berry in the garden. We had just spent the morning biking at the park and the kids were taking a berry break before we did more work in the orchard. We planted two rows of peas today and will plant more in another two weeks. We like how the kids ask, before picking berries, "Is this for market or can we eat some now?"

Freja enjoying her round of berries. The raspberries are just starting to come in, which is really late for Vashon, but the crop looks like it will be sufficiently large.

The kids are not always happy to do chores around the Farm.

Gus at the Ready

The kids have been adapting to daily visits to the garden, berry patch, and the prolific orchard. Gus seems most interested in the tractor. For the last couple of weeks we've been harvesting a panoply of Cascade berries and Logan berries. We finished the summer pruning of the orchard and have been meticulous about removing all prunings and fruit drops from the orchard to the burn pile. The mason bees are doing their work and the fruit is coming in nicely.

4th of July at Farm

We had our first Independence Day on the Farm with our dear friends Ian and Sabina and their kids. Here are some pictures of our campout, no pictures of fireworks.