Empty Space

I've recently learned a lot about weeding and cultivation. Selectively pulling out plants so you can plant what you want to see grow, and managing the weeds as they creep in. One thing that goes along with weeding is that you end up with a lot of empty space, bare ground where plants or weeds once covered. And empty space in a garden just calls out for more weed invasions. Chickweed is a common weed around here. It starts off tiny and innocent and the next thing you know it has gone to seed and covered the entire garden. So one technique is to weed, or cultivate the chickweed and then plant something else in the space where it once grew. You can plant flowers that keep pests away and attract beneficial insects. Or you could plant other veggies that pair well with the one you want to grow. There are so many ways to fill empty space in a garden, transforming the bare into a beautiful, functional place. No matter how you fill the space though, the weeds are likely to come back again and again. However, as you persistently cultivate they will be less intense as time goes on.

Today is the 7th. June 7th. One month since I received an awful call explaining that my dad died. That is some heavy information. So heavy that I'm not quite sure how to process it. And it's odd how something so heavy, so intense has left me feeling so empty. There is this hole, this bare space in my heart. And I find myself trying to fill the empty negative space with positive things. I call my loved ones more than I ever have. I spend my time outside filling my mind with natural beauty and keeping my body busy with things to do. I am filling my empty space as best as I know how. And then there are moments and days where my sorrow creeps in, the chickweed creeps in, and it seems unmanageable. And I have to decide how to handle it.

All of this sorrow has given me great perspective. I know how important it is to appreciate every individual and every thing in my life. How great it is to feel joy and express laughter. And to appreciate the little things, like how wonderful it is when a bed is free of weeds- or at least has less than the day before.

In farming there is always weeding and cultivating to be done. It is how empty space is filled that determines the condition and success of the farm in the future.

As I have said many times before and will continue to say many times after, there really is a lot to be learned from farming.

One Bed at a Time

Growing up, our backyard neighbors had a beautiful garden. They had corn and sunflowers, cucumbers and tomatoes. It was such a special place for all the neighbors to see. As I grew older so too did the neighbors. The woman became sick and no longer gardened. The man stopped soon after. I remember coming home from college and the garden looked so sad and lonely, overgrown and neglected. I told my dad just recently that I wanted to garden in their yard, that I wanted to make that space beautiful again.

Now I am home, waiting for my dad to return home as well. Waiting to have a funeral, waiting for closure. What does one do while they wait?

The other day that man gave me permission to garden in his yard. The first day I walked over with a shovel and a rake. I got in there and started to pull out the dandelions and grass that came up to my knees. I realized this was a big job, maybe an impossible job and I needed a garden fork. So I went to a neighbors and they lent me their fork, giving me their condolences as I walked away.

The second day I kept weeding, and formed a few beds where peas were to go. Another neighbor came out and invited me in for water and a cookie. We chatted, she hugged me, and with her condolences back to the garden I went.

The third day I continued my work. So much work to be done. Three neighbor kids came over with plants and seeds in their arms, things they wanted to see grow in the garden. I told them I'll make space for their things and we could all plant together.

Yesterday I was forming another bed, weeding and shaping the space. Listening to the birds chirping, the leaves crunching. Watching the creepy crawlies in the soil, the worms and ants all doing exactly what they are meant to do. I looked up and was surprised at what I saw. A garden. This was really becoming a garden. Mounded beds for cucumbers. A trellis for the peas. Dill, cilantro, and basil. Onions too. Here I was, weeding and shaping one bed at a time. Not even realizing all my work was creating a garden.

I hear people do crazy things when they lose somebody. That crazy thing for me has been gardening. Gardening a space that I won't even be here to care for and to see grow. Yet here are all the neighbors. Here are all these people excited to see this garden, happy to help where they can. One says he will come out and water it, another says she will guide the cucumbers' vines in the right direction. How beautiful it is to see a community come together and care for one another. How wonderful it is for neighbors to come together and garden.

So here I am waiting. Waiting for so many things. Yet I have to remember, take one day at a time. Take one hour at a time, one weed at a time. And slowly but definitely everything I do will piece together just as it should. How lucky I am to have the time to create such a beautiful space for the neighbors to share. My dad would be so proud.

Precious Moments

There is a lot to be learned from farming, beyond the farming itself. I'm talking about life lessons like patience, resilience, courage, and fostering community.

If you jump the gun and plant too early there is a chance that a frost will still come and the plants won't thrive. Patience is key.

If you plant bed after bed with lettuce and pests keep coming and eating all your crop you keep trying different methods until you find one that works. Resilience.

When something comes up that you have never experienced before you greet the challenge. Courage.

And when the challenge is too tough for one person to handle you ask your neighbors and friends for help and guidance. Community.

Ever since I saw a basil plant go to seed I felt something magical occurring. Here was this leafy, delicate plant about to die. What was it doing? It was bolting - putting up this big shoot, doubling it's size, that many flowers would soon grow from. It didn't just shrivel up and turn brown. It grew and grew. It attracted various pollinators with its many flowers and then it went to seed. The sign of a dying plant is one that is producing it's seed. Getting ready to live on through generations to come.

I'm not quite ready to believe that my dad is really gone, but that time may never come. I feel comforted thinking about the lessons and cycles of farming. That death brings new life. When I think of death as a bolting plant I feel comforted. I feel comforted thinking that my dad went to seed, that death is not final and all the memories that we hold of him will carry him through many more generations. The heartache I feel will not pass soon. Patience, resilience, and courage will get me through. Above all, my sisters, family and friends- my community- will bring comfort and give guidance when I need it most.

Oh how surprising life can be. Each challenge along the way helps create who we are and the life story we leave behind.

I have big plans for my future. I'll be the first to say that the future makes me a little nervous. Unpredictability makes me nervous. Not knowing makes me nervous.

There is something out there that tells a seed when to sprout and a plant when to seed. I find comfort in knowing that some things are simply beyond my control.

I love you forever, Dad.

Blisters & Dirt

I spent hours splitting wood before I finally got the flow down. Swing it back and up, move your hand down the handle and let the force of the maul crack down on the wood. My left hand started to blister so I put on a work glove and continued at it. I looked down later and saw dried blood on my right fingers where the skin must have rubbed right off. It was pretty cold out so I hadn't noticed. I put on another work glove and continued on, determined to split each log on the first blow.

If you looked at my palms you would know that I have been hard at work. Splinters, mending cuts, and blisters neighbor each other while open gaps are quickly filled with dirt. You would see the soil beneath my short nails and the various marks that I have accumulated while I have been here. I am recognizing my body's resilience and appreciating my ability to heal. So often one will become accustomed to putting a band aid on every cut, and washing hands meticulously to stay healthy. I think those habits are completely respectable and at the same time I am finding that my 'rustic' lifestyle is breaking those norms. I accumulate a week's worth of dirt before washing it away, I share silverware and plates to save dishes, I sometimes wash my hands with soap, and I have been switching between two pairs of pants for the last three weeks.

You may think that all of that is gross and that is okay. I may think that you are too clean. What I am getting at is this... I am the healthiest I have been in my entire life. I wake up with good energy, work hard until night, and am ready to repeat the cycle the next day. My appetite is strong, my mind is clear, and I am happy. Each splinter and cut is a lesson learned, mostly to remember when to wear work gloves.  But most of all, every mark that I have earned is a reminder that when your heart is happy hard work does not feel like work at all.

Big Footprints

I had a dream two days ago about moving to Alaska. There was so much snow that I had to step in the big footprints before me to get to where I needed to be.

Now, in real life, I am in Alaska stepping in those big footprints that I dreamt about... literally. I was doing a lot of following today. Took a tour around the place, and went right into working. I have to say, the footsteps made a convenient path for me, without them I would have been lost. At the same time, it was difficult to walk in steps much larger than my own. I stumbled going up a hill, down a hill, up a hill, and down a hill again. I fell out of the path a few times and ended up knee high in the snow. But by the end of the day I went knee deep to create a path of my very own, which happened to have the destination of a propane tank that needed to be changed.

Every footstep I followed today I thought of that dream.

What does it take to become an organic farmer? Skill? Knowledge? Experience? Yea, those thing help. But what it really takes is passion and drive. It takes courage to push the fear of failure aside. So many wonder why I am doing what I am doing, what it will lead to, and how I plan to make money.

My answer to all of those questions is that I don't exactly know, but I do know that my heart overflows with joy when I am in nature doing this work.

There are many people who have created a path before me, and I am grateful to learn from you all. Now I realize it is my turn to create my own path, fearless of taking a wrong step.

So here I am, on my path to become an organic farmer.

Spiritual Cheese

Every morning we all get together and connect through music. This mantra has been singing in my mind throughout the week.

When I am Who I am,

I know I am You

There is so much beauty in this little phrase. When I look at you, I see a piece of me. When I speak to you, I am hearing me.

We live with so many barriers that make us feel different, or separated from one another. The clothes we wear, the neighborhoods we live in, the money we earn, the stereotypes we hold. But when we undress all those "differences"  we have the opportunity to feel a connection to something greater than  ourselves.  When we open our hearts to that connection, that pure essence, it becomes clear that those differences mean nothing at all.

I know some of you were probably expecting more posts about my farm experiences, rather than spiritual revelations. So in light of that, here is a farm cheese recipe that you can all enjoy at home!

What you need

- Raw milk (either cow or goat milk -has to be unpasteurized)

- Vinegar

- Boiling pot

- Cooking thermometer 

- Cheese cloth

- small strainer

-mixing bowl

How it's done

(Takes roughly 45 minutes)

1. Heat the milk in the pot until it reaches 180 F.

2. Turn the heat off and add vinegar to the milk (add 1/2 cup vinegar to every 1 gallon of milk)

3. Stir in the vinegar, you will begin to see curdles of cheese form and float to the top.

4. Place cheese cloth on top of mixing bowl, layering it over to cover the entire bowl

5. Use the little strainer to take out the cheese curds, placing them in the covered mixing bowl

6. Once all the curds are in the bowl, tie up the loose ends of the cheese cloth together

7. Hold or hang the bound cheese above the mixing bowl, allowing the cheese to drain out excess moisture

8. Wait around 10-15 minutes, or until draining has almost stopped

9. Place the cheese in a dry mixing bowl and mix together with your hands

10. Mix in fresh herbs and enjoy*!

*great with cilantro or basil. Makes an excellent cheese dip or great blintz cheese!

*The liquid left in the pot is whey, which is a great source of protein. Can be used in shakes or added to bread recipes for added nutrients and flavor

Take a Moment

We live in a society where the norm is to do everything quickly. Always rushing out the door, moving fast, and eating quickly. What's the hurry?

I'm in a place where I am being encouraged to slow down. Every morning we take the time to connect with one another before we start our day, and every night before dinner we take a moment to appreciate the food that is on our plate.

Making food is a slow process. Whether your food is coming from a farmer's market or a box, the local community or the global market, it all started on a farm. We often forget or don't even think about the time, energy, and love, that goes into the plant that we consume, or all the processes that turned that plant into one of the ingredients in our frozen meal.

I am inviting you to take a moment. A moment to appreciate the sun for it's warmth, the rain for it's moisture, the worms and vermin for the nitrogen they produce, and every individual that works on a farm.

So before your next meal or before your next snack, slow down for just one moment and think about all the energy that went into making the food you are about to eat.

Take a Moment and Say Thank You.