Motivation and Other Nutrients

I woke up with a headache this morning.  A sure sign of some sort of weather change.  Mac has just left for work and I have gone through the house turning off every single light that he feels the need to turn on.  Turned off the television.  Poured myself a cup of coffee, and it feels like the world has taken a minute to go, "Ahhhhhh"

Quiet.  Contentment.  The throbbing in my frontal lobes drops down in volume.

With any great luck, I will be digging fencepost holes again today.  Yesterday, only three were dug with posts placed and tamped back down.  Three more were measured out and started.  Not my most productive day.  Motivation has been a difficult commodity to come by.  I got out my oft read volume of Sylvia's Farm.  I usually save it for my winter read, but I need it now.  I need that reminder that it is all doable.  Sylvia did it and she did it to a great extent alone and without a drivers license.  At least, I have the truck.  I can get to town if I must.  I don't have any money once I get there, but what the hell... baby steps.

Come to think of it, almost all of the small, do it the hard way, farmers that I have read about had years when they wondered what the hell were they doing?  Why were they beating themselves up like this? And then the miraculous happens and the land unfolds for  them and shows all that is possible.

Last night, I read about Sylvia cleaning out her barn and getting some manure out on some bad pasture.  It wasn't much.  Between what was delivered and what her sheep donated, the pasture was coming back.  That speaks volumes to me.  I keep moving the chicken tractor around and the grass is a subdued patchwork.  It is especially evident after a rain.  Rectangles of dark green with the lighter greens surrounding them.  Several weeks ago, my good neighbor Dan brought down a scoop of composted cow manure.  We spread it out on a bad spot in my own pasture.  There have been several instances when I have gone down and visited.  I squat down and watch the patch of new soil, waiting for it's inevitable burst of new life.  Looking for the new green spears to erupt.  So far.... nothing.  But it did motivate me to get started with my manure tea project.  The 55 gallon barrel has had a hole cut in the top.  To get the hole exactly the way I wanted it, I inverted a plastic bucket and drew around it's rim.  Then drew a second line about a quarter of an inch inside the first circle, then cut out on the inside circle.  This way the bucket can sit in the hole without falling through.  Then I drilled a bunch of holes in the bucket.  After that I filled the barrel almost full with water.  Filled the bucket with manure.  Then set the bucket down in the barrel hole.  Finished filling the barrel with water by spraying the water over the manure.  It is basically a giant tea infuser.  After the manure has soaked for awhile it is dumped into the compost pile.  Then I add additional nutrients to the tea.  Epsom salts will be added.  Some fish emulsion.  Kelp if I can find it.  Lime as well. Can't forget the molasses.   Then the tea will get sprayed over the soil.  Well, it would if I had a sprayer.  I do not.  I will take an old coffee can and punch some holes and make it into a watering can.  Doing it as a ridiculously small job still gets more done then not doing anything at all

When I have all 55 gallons of the tea distributed, then we start again.  It will be a break from digging post holes.  It's all good.

Louie

Cooking 101

I have mentioned before that I use the book Sylvia's Farm as a sort of literary guide or mentor to my farm pursuits. One of the things that she does in her book, is describe her cooking. She cooks in a french rustic style. She cooks many things that I cannot pronounce. It is an area where I feel I fall short. I'm an okay cook. No one has ever starved on my watch and I have a good touch with bread, but still.... It seemed that no matter, how many lambs Sylvia had to bottle feed she still had time to make her Shaker Daily Loaf. Maybe she didn't make it everyday. Maybe in reality it is Shaker Twice A Week Loaf. Can Sylvia eat a whole loaf in a day? Does she like toast a lot? Hmmm.....

I think about this stuff a lot. I don't have a radio and I don't like the noise of television. During the day, I usually have quiet.... just me and my thoughts and my plans. But Sylvia tends to jump into my head at least once a day, and let me tell you, that woman bakes a LOT of pear tarts! Sometimes thinking of her is a challenge to work harder and sometimes I just feel bad that I haven't gotten further. And when disaster strikes, she goes and cooks fromage something, something.

Then last night I did something that I was rather proud of... it had been a busy day. I was wounded by some of the attack plants that pass for brush around here. I had also been damaged by my own brush saw and had a jagged hole in my thumb and thumbnail. Just burgers for supper but my real victory was my home fries. I had seen on the scandinavian cooking show on PBS (just before switching off the tv) that the trick to a good french fry was the frying twice. But, if you had already cooked the potato then you could fry it just once at high heat. I thought, "what the hell! I'll give it a whirl" So, step one on my french fries was to just pop them in the toaster oven and bake for thirty minutes. They were medium sized, red skinned potatoes. When done baking, I halved them and then cut into wedges. They were a bit crumbly, which I worried about. In for a penny, in for a pound, so I proceeded. Got the oil hotter then usual as the second cooking is suppose to be at a higher heat.

They were AWESOME!! Absolutely creamy on the inside and the frying made the crumbly bits on the edges into a perfect texture. The best fries I've ever eaten. The skins were still on so I can lie to myself and say they were still healthy. A total win/win scenario.

Tonight will be beef stew and biscuits. Scratch biscuits.... none of that crap that comes out of a tube. It will be cooked after I spend a day cutting poles for the round pen, choring the horses, hauling water, walking a quarter of a mile to the mail box and back and throw a load of laundry into the washing machine... but there won't be any bottle lambs and there won't be any pear tart. I guess I will just have to live with that guilt.

Louie

Sylvia's Farm

I have recommended this book before... Sylvia's Farm. It has turned into my annual winter read. It comforts me. From the pages, she tells me that I'm not alone. Keep working. For every hardship there is a reward. It might only be the first flush of spring's green, but it lifts the heart.

Last night while reading, Sylvia posed the question, is it winter we fear or the not being prepared for it? I laid in bed thinking about this. I thought about having shelter for my animals... those here now and those to come. Safe fencing, of course. Continuing to plant my windbreaks and fence rows. Enough hay. Enough money for Christmas. Enough money to pay for heating. Coming out of winter with enough money to pay the spring taxes. I wonder if those things were taken care of if I could settle in for a good winter's hibernation. I wonder if my mind could rest. Would I crochet? Would I start drawing again? Would I bake?

This morning I look out on our first snow fall of the season. It is melting. I still have a little time. There are still posts to put in. I still need a run in shelter for the horses. The next weeks will be the test and then it will be time to cry "Uncle" and live with all that I have done... and all that I haven't.

Each winter I think of Little Finn, the mini, who died of the cold. Then I hope that no one will die or suffer as the result of my inadequacies. Do I do enough? Do I work hard enough? I have dropped in snow drifts when pulling buckets of water on a sled to the horses. I've gotten chilled through in freezing rains, sucked down by heavy mud. All small matters compared to Finn's death. I will never work hard enough. I can never make it right. And I can't let it happen again.

So I look out at what I have done, and I take a little time and look at Sylvia's farm... look through another's eyes. This winter has to be better then previous ones. We all have to be made safe and then we will tuck in for our winter's rest.

Louie