Learning and Living on the Farm

We've been going out every chance we've been given. The weather is off and on raining and we're gearing up for flood season. The farm gets mucky but Keats loves to play in all the puddles, even the foot-deep ones. He stands in the middle with the water up to his waist peering in at all the leaves, swaying grasses, and bugs he can find. It's no wonder that Frida's first words were, "What's that?" as it is one of her older brother's favorite phrases as he explores the world around him. Both of my little ones are so adventurous and curious about everything they see and hear. It's this fascination with all things new that make having kids so much fun. As adults, we often forget the novelty and wonder in so many of the objects and happenings around us. A water strider swishing its way across the surface of a puddle, to Keats, is like finding the ultimate treasure. He invariably comes back from this outings cold and soaked, in dire need of a warm bath and perhaps a small cup of hot cider, too, or his very favorite: "a special, warm drink" which is merely milk, hot water, and a miniscule amount of raw honey. He loves to sip this sitting on the porch while Birch and I hang up his dinosaur raincoat and undress Frida.

 

Our dry, sunny walks around the farm are full of new life as well. Several litters of piglets have been born the last two months, either Large Blacks or Large Black crosses. The Large Black is a heritage breed and fairly rare in the United States. It is prized for its docile nature and mothering skills. They do extremely well on pastures and grow up to about seven hundred pounds (females). A mature boar can be about eight hundred pounds. The farm started off with two piglets raised them to be the wonderful mothers they are. The owners of the farm then acquired two boars from up north and started the breeding process. True to country style, they've taken in several various animals from the excess of other farms, including the white sow above. Birch and I are both learning a lot from the farm and our own research. Birch has grown a great affinity for pigs and his tasty adventures in the kitchen have spurred on his hope of becoming a pig farmer and charcutier. The more we discuss this with the owners, the more hope we have in accomplishing this goal. Perhaps they will even be the catalyst we need and hoped for, enlisting Birch in the butchering process, etc. We are so grateful to have friends so willing to pass on their knowledge to us. 

 

 

Our chickens and ducks, now numbering twenty-one all together, have had a few trying months with the move, the rain, and a couple of lost "friends." We finally decided to slaughter Shogun, one of our Ameraucauna roosters, as he was continuously attacking Keats (and me) and we felt that we had one too many roosters for our number of hens. Birch took him over to our friends, a couple who started their own pasture-raised poultry farm here in Pescadero, Early Bird Ranch, and they showed Birch how to go about the entire process. He ended up slaughtering seventeen chickens that day in exchange for the knowledge, equipment, and opportunity. Sending Shogun off that day was a little rough for me as I felt twangs of guilt, but I reminded myself that this was part of his purpose for us. Why we had raised and fed him each day and taken such great pains to make all our chickens happy and comfortable in their lives. We enjoy eating meat, but we feel very strongly that the meat we eat should exclusively come from animals humanely treated both in life and in death. We are grateful to him for providing us with a bit more experience and ultimately a wonderful meal. I feel myself tip-toeing around that subject, but that is what happened to Shogun and what will happen to many more of our birds, even the ones with names. And that is alright. We didn't buy them as chicks for pets. We purchased them with the goal of daily eggs, occasional meat, and endless entertainment and education.

Our ducks, it should be noted, are pets. They are Indian Black Runner ducks and are best prized for their pest management, a skill we plan on utilizing in our garden once it is up and running. We have one drake and two hens. We are beginning to be able to tell them apart. The drake is a bit taller, has a green bill, and iridescent foliage all over his body. One of the hens has a greenish-black bill and is all black while the other hen has an all-black bill and several white feathers speckled across her neck and chest. We are still considering names and may purchase two Blue Runner ducklings early next year along with our next crop of chicks. 

We've been to the beach several times a week, sometimes even just for a few moments before sunset, and each time we go we feel refreshed and free from the burden of the day. We've been visiting tidepools more and exploring different beaches up and down the coast from us. Keats is learning all about these new strange creatures that live in the water. We love hearing him say anemone, mussel, sea otter, kelp, and barnacle. He's a master at pointing out starfish, even the ones so cleverly camouflaged that even I almost step on them at times. I have a hard time teaching him to always watch the water, but he's learning it and remembers most times. I'm always on high alert, so for now, I'm watchful enough for us. My own mother told me a story that when I was about two, she actually saved me from an incoming piece of driftwood. She ran up and grabbed me up just in time and was whacked right across her shins. The wood would have surely knocked me down and at the very least could have given me a serious bruise across my chest. That story has stuck with me throughout my life as I know that it could have been much worse than a mere bruise. I know people laugh at our protectiveness sometimes, but I try to give parents the benefit of the doubt when it comes to safety. They know their kids, what they are apt to do or not do in a sketchy situation, where they are lacking and where they are sufficient. We've been asked when we'll let Keats go surfing and my response is always "Not for several more years." We get laughed at for that, but hey, he won't even let me put water over his head in the bathtub. I think swimming and surfing in the ocean is several steps away. For now, we are more than happy to explore the shore.

 

Finally, we celebrated Frida's very first birthday with a party. Her birthday came up so quickly, we could hardly believe it. She is such a sweet little thing. She is absolutely infatuated with animals and loves to dance. She is more than generous with hugs and kisses. She learns things very quickly and is quite adventurous, though she is shy around a lot of people. She is so different from her brother in so many ways and I love to watch her playing with him. He tells her about all the different pictures in books and has taught her the great wonder of cars and trucks (much to his annoyance, as now she loves to play with his toys). She follows Keats around like a shadow, but enjoys the hour or two alone with us before he wakes up and after he goes to bed. One of these days I'll put my foot down and put her to bed at the same time as him, but we're still putting together her crib so that's a few days off yet.

Autumn Reigns

It's been a very long time since my last entry. Summer has ended and the coast's largest pumpkins have been weighed. Our days are a mix of rain and breezy sunshine, with the dark of night coming on suddenly and earlier. The nights are crisp and we see the stars shifting.

We're settling in at home. The move proving to us, once again, that we'd like to be without so much cumbersome Stuff. It blocks passageways and sits untouched for weeks or months. It is passed time to say goodbye to those things inexplicably held onto as we look at more days inside---cozy but NOT crowded. Finding the time can be difficult, but that excuse has outworn its welcome. Time for a Fall cleaning before we drudge in so many leaves and so much mud and wet that we can no longer judge what's clean and what's not.

The kids are growing up, both in their own ways. Keats' imagination has come out since his older cousin's visit from England. Her near constant humming and dancing has rubbed off on him and it is so fun to see. He pretends that his different fingers are various people and places them gently into his cars to race or to drive to the beach. He gave Frida's dog stuffie a diaper change this afternoon and has really made some leaps forward on his fake phone call skills. Frida is walking and has added a few words to her one-phrase vocabulary that has monopolized her speech for the few months. Her first word? She didn't have one. She skipped right on ahead to "What's that?" She has now found that a tad limiting and has added Olive, Keats, Daddy, Thanks, and Yum-yum. She still feels that crying and turning bright red is sufficient when getting MY attention, so Mama/Mommy has not made its debut as of yet. She is eating most things we give her, most notably, a hunk of smoked pork freshly sliced from the whole animal at a local BBQ on the farm. She was sucking and chewing on it the entire duration of the party. It was fantastic. Sadly, I'm almost sure she's allergic to cow's milk as she's broken out in hives a couple of times after playing with what Keats spilled. Both occurrences were outside, however, so I may be overlooking another common denominator. Birch and I were discussing the possibilities of goat and sheep butters, concluding that they must be disgusting or too low in fats. Anyone out there know? Luckily, there are plenty of vegan alternatives around here and lots of knowledgeable farmers, too.

I really do love living here. We still yearn for a small farm of our own and Birch's meat dreams have graduated to a local charcuterie. I'm still unsure of my aspirations in life but a shop up for lease has caught my eye and reignited my desire for a kind of girly paradise shop. Think a small, local version of Walmart/Target. Ha! That's a somewhat odd description, but imagine your favorite, quaint little fill-in-the-blank shops and now smoosh and mix them together into a small shop you could peruse while visiting a lovely farming town on your way down the coast. You pick out a picnic blanket, that Schleich cow family you've been meaning to buy, a few packets of heirloom tomato seeds, and perhaps handing the kids over to Daddy while you sneak a surprise lingerie set for next Months' date night. Oh, and of course, you'll make a note of the mugs, plates, and designer fabrics for your next visit. Did I mention we have story time and lectures/classes for the local community? Oh, dreams... I especially like the part where we're open Thursday through Monday. And so I battle the ever-dueling need to follow my aspirations and the haunting pressure of Anxiety. In this particular case, the anxious worry is well-founded as there is so much to hurdle and tackle. Business plans, loans, child care, lease agreements, and I'm not even sure what else. It may be too much when viewed along with Birch's hopes for himself and that opens up a huge can of worms...

Putting all that aside and firmly in its place, we are settling into what we are and where we are right now. White-tailed kites and sharp-shinned hawks fly and hover over the field opposite us as the farmer drives his tractor across, readying the field for winter planting. The sheep eat the yellowing leaves from the low willow branches. The chickens have molted and are fluffing up once again as the nights drop with chill and frost. Apples simmer in a pot on the stove and we're finding fresh grapefruit in our CSA boxes. Birch is making pumpkin green curry again and we're licking our lips at the thought of scratch-chicken soup and white bean stew with pork. We'll see how our new home fairs in the coming months of rain, cold, and flooding. Should be an interesting ride. Let's see if I get any craft time, shall we?

We are a family of four renting a home on a farm on the coast.

  

Welcome Home

We are now in the new house. Phew. It has been over a month and we're nowhere near settled or moved completely in but there is now a strong sense of Home eminating from the textured wood walls. The books are in shelves, toys are in bins, and clothes are mostly in drawers. The kitchen flow is still working itself out as is our new chore chart/schedule, but that will be dealt with.

This month barely held me together. Stress built as if the road crews outside our window were purposefully pouring tar and asphalt over me each day. My one escape from my own spastic thoughts was my collection of Laura Ingalls Wilder stories. I whirled through them lovingly but also desperately. I needed to be out of my head and when the last sentence charged through and ended, I was left with myself and it was frightening. Suddenly I realized I wasn't just stressed or overtired or frustrated. I was depressed. Really, clinically depressed. Usually that wouldn't scare me but I discovered that my ability to recognize it (and therefore deal with it properly) was gone. I could too easily explain the anxious Sad away. My life felt too hectic. There were so many variables that could be contributing (and definitely were) to my unrelenting oppressive mood. Realizing those variables were not the root cause lifted my mood, making me realize that what was going on could be alleviated or even eradicated completely.

So, I keep trying (and looking for a therapist).

Writing Letters [1]

A few months ago, I wrote about my first son who I gave up for adoption to a lovely and loving family. He's ten years old now and I decided that enough was enough. I was going to contact him and his family. "Hello, I gave birth to you!" What? No? That doesn't seem like something one says... Despite my complete bewilderment as to what to write, I contacted the agency. I was hopeful. I was sure I'd be in contact with my son and his family by now.
But, the agency lost track of my son. They suggested writing a letter and then they would forward it around to other offices that may know the family's new address. Okay...

I have to admit, I haven't written the letter. It's been three months, nearly four, and I still don't know what to write. I didn't know before and with the prospect of basically putting it into a bottle and letting it float to whoever finds it? I'm absolutely stumped.

So, I'm writing a letter to Keats and Frida. Why? I'm not sure. It won't be perfect, but luckily I don't have to turn it into a college professor. I have to turn it into a much more important audience: my children. I hope someday they will read it and understand it. I'll write many more in the future, but here's the first.

...................................
Dear Keats and Frida,

You are incredibly young at the minute but you are growing quickly. Keats, you are two and are absolutely insane over trucks. Frida, you're eight months old and today you had your very first major tickle fest, which you loved. We live on a farm in Pescadero and Daddy is a high school teacher.

I didn't always know Daddy. I know that won't completely compute until you're much older, but it's true. We dated different people before we met each other. They were nice but didn't quite pass muster. In some cases, we didn't pass muster with them. I know, right? Get used to it, though. And trust me, it's fine. You'll be fine when it happens to you. Frida, you especially will have to remind Daddy that killing your exes is beyond unnecessary. To both of you, Mommy will need to be talked down from "having a word" with your exes on a regular basis. But back to the point: Mommy and Daddy met each other and quickly fell in love. We got married and had you two. We both love you very much. We love each other very much, too. Love each other. Be kind to one another. Look out for one another.

I thought it would be much easier to tell you this, but I'm finding it difficult. I'll just say it: You have an older brother. Yes, Keats, you too. He's Charlotte and Henry's age. You see, way back before Mommy knew Daddy, back when she lived with Grandma and Grandpa, she knew another boy. He was sweet and Mommy loved him very much. Mommy and this boy made a baby, but we were both very young. Grandma was sick and Mommy was scared. Mommy made a choice. You see, there are lots of people who can't make babies even though they want to ever so badly. I was scared I wouldn't be able to care for a baby but I knew there were lots of people out in the world who would love your brother just as much as I did, if given the chance. When your brother was born, Mommy spent two days with him then gave him to a wonderful family. Your brother has lived with them ever since. Someday, I really hope to see your brother again. I hope both of you and Daddy will meet him as well and we will have a new, extended family. Some people may think it's odd or strange. Some people may tell you mean things, but don't worry. Everything about this is focused on love. I love your older brother just as I love you two.

By the time you read this, I'm sure I will have talked about your brother before, but I wanted to write this to you now. I wanted to make sure you had something that explained it a little more. You are both so young now, but you will grow fast and I didn't want to lose track of this. This is one of the most important parts of your life. You won't know your brother as well as each other, but I hope you will all make an effort to become friends. Mommy will try hard, too. I promise.

There were mistakes throughout my life, but we all make mistakes and that is okay. I will keep making mistakes. Most likely, mostly concerning you two. I'm sorry about that. Know that I'm trying to be a good mama even when sometimes I fall short.

You two will make your own mistakes. Sometimes, Daddy and I will be upset, but don't worry too much. All we want for you is to be safe, to be happy, to be you. We love you very much. I love you very much. By telling you my own mistakes I hope that you will feel comfortable talking to me about the things that worry you, about the mistakes you've made, about your hopes and dreams for your life.

Know that I love you, Keats and Frida. Know that I love your brother, too. Love yourselves. Love each other. Strive to understand each other and be friends.

My heart is yours,
Mommy.

Embarrassed.

• I ate the last scone.
• I brought a book into the bathroom even though I didn't have "to go."
• I still haven't put together a playhouse.
• I thought something that happened the day before had actually happened the previous week.
• I gave the chickens an entire bag of wilted spinach leaves so that I wouldn't have to pick out the slimy ones.
• Birch and I haven't been on a real date in over eight months.
• I forgot that sweet lady's name again at the farmer's market.
• I still haven't mailed the care package to England.
• After a year of living here, it took moving out to finally deep clean the house.
• My hair is still falling out en masse thanks to hormones changing dramatically from pregnancy to childbirth to now.
• I know all the "Charlie and Lola" episodes by heart.
• Our cash jar system isn't working.
• I burned the crust on a cheesecake.
• I just busted into a huge bar of Norwegian chocolate complete with hazelnuts. Yum. Actually, I'm not embarrassed about that.

Positively Charged [8]: Why We Love Pescadero

Four Years

Birch and I fell in love in 2007 after discussing our love for devouring lengua and our mutual dream to farm. We were married just six months after we met, in 2008. We bought a dog, Olive, and a rabbit, Harlequin. We moved into a small apartment and I began a serious patio garden that I worked on every day. It was an oasis amid the monotony of apartment complex living. In 2009 we moved to a larger apartment with a backyard and began an even bigger garden complete with artichokes, grapes, beans, lettuce, and the dream of chickens. Keats was born in April 2010. He has added so much joy, laughter, and growth to our lives. He is just a terrific kid. We were planning on staying in that two-bedroom place for years, but fate jumped in and offered us an opportunity to move to a small farming community on the coast. We thanked our lucky stars and moved in May 2011 and starting plans for a large chicken coop and our first flock. We bought seventeen chicks from the local Feed & Seed and built a coop with the help our families. Frida was born in November 2011. She is such a lovely, coy, and funny little girl. It is so amazing how different we people are from each other. I love watching our children grow up and seeing their distinct personalities shine through. Our dear little rabbit, Harlequin, died in March as did one of our chickens in June. Spotting some lovely ducklings at the Feed & Seed we bought four Black Indian Runners just after Keats' second birthday. Now we're gearing up to move into a larger house on the same property and sneakily devising plans on how to transition Birch from a commuting public high school teacher to a stay-near-to-home farmer who makes and sells delicious meat products created solely from locally and humanely-raised animals.

For the last four years I've known real happiness and ease with Birch. We have come to know each other in ways I've never understood anyone before. It is empowering to be with him, knowing how much he loves me and admires me. Being so close with another can shock your system and I just feel so lucky every day to be with such a wonderful man, husband, and father. I am so grateful for the freedom I was given to marry who I loved and who I chose. What a true blessing that is. I am so grateful for both of our families for being an ongoing support to us. You make us so much stronger than we are on our own and help us to create a better life for ourselves and our children. I am so blown away by the friends who have become our second family. All you honorary uncles and aunts mean so very much to us. You help us to recognize what is good and worth it in this world. I'm so grateful for Birch's colleagues who help him to see what good he can do in his profession. It came on him somewhat by accident, but he has learned so much from it and from you. Lastly, I'm so grateful for the community we've immersed ourselves in. You help us to see what we can accomplish if we choose. You do what you believe and help others to do the same, helping the community you live in become a better place in so many different ways. You truly are changing the world you live in. We aspire to be like you.

Thank you so much for helping to make our marriage a success. We love and admire each other so much. We have found happiness in each other which helps us to find happiness with ourselves. Life is definitely not easy, not a simple sequence of events that lead to happiness, but a rough and confusing maze of thought, reaction, and follow-through. Thank you, Birch, for dropping your stones down along with mine so we can find our way. I love you.