We started by looking over our tomatoes that have reached jungle status. It became clear that something had to be done.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Potatoes are weeds that we eat.
It was the perfect day to garden. Most farmers would talk about the benefits of rising at dawn to beat the sun and make certain that all was right. In our suburban farm we find that the evening is the most comfortable time to be in the garden. In the afternoon we built a pen for the rabbits to be outside their cage. We read Watership Down and watched the bunnies jump around and waited for the sun to move.
We started by looking over our tomatoes that have reached jungle status. It became clear that something had to be done.
After surveying dozens of tomatoes we took some branches that we trimmed earlier this season and lashed them together to make "tomato tripods" to allow the vines to spread and the fruit to develop. Then we moved to the actual task at hand.
We went to the south side of the yard where we had potatoes and herbs that had gone too long mismanaged. First off, we are terrible at taking "before and after" pictures so trust that it was full on chaos. We hacked back our oregano and now have enough drying that we could season a million tacos and enhance a dozen pots of marinara. It was truly out of hand.
With some careful weeding we sacrificed some carrots and beets that had been taken over in the weeds, herbs and potatoes. Fortunately, we were able to salvage some beets and chard.
When we cleared the underbrush and harvested the potatoes we salvaged and moved some of our beets. It is our hope that the beets end up like the one that ended up in dinner tonight. But on to the potatoes.
We have only planted a handful of potatoes on purpose. Those were blue potatoes that have yet to be harvested. All our others are volunteers from either our compost or generations of potatoes that were planted by grandparents ahead of us. Because of the abundance we made room. We harvested over ten pounds of potatoes this evening. Most of them were "new" potatoes which are roughly the size of a golf ball. Many of them were destined for dinner.
Many of the new potatoes were cut in half or quarters. We also chopped and onion that was found in the garden. There were supposed to be carrots in the fridge but there was only one wimpy one. Carly went and harvested a beet to add to the meal. It was the biggest one we had ever grown, about the size of a tennis ball.
When we cut the beet open at the top it was completely white inside. We looked at each other and Carly asked if it was a radish. We could tell by the top that it was a beet but needed to make sure. I took a bite and tasted the distinctness of beet. We realized that it was a candy cane beet that was planted from an organic variety pack. It's color and flavor was absolutely fantastic.
We poured some olive oil into our skillet and blessed it with some mild elephant garlic while we chopped our harvest. The mixture of new potatoes, candy cane beet, onion, and even beet top made an excellent hash. The garlic cloves were taken out when we turned up the heat and then we added it back toward the end of cooking. A little Yves' turkey to add gave a little extra flavor. Rosemary, thyme, kosher salt, and pepper was all that was necessary for the fresh from the ground food from our garden.
The simple finished product is satisfying after a busy evening. We had a busy day and a portion of our yard that had become nearly useless not only provided dinner, but was replanted for meals in the future.
We started by looking over our tomatoes that have reached jungle status. It became clear that something had to be done.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Mortality in the coop: Note - pictures of dead chicken proceed accordingly
I was hoping to write about so many things other than what I am going to today. The farm is doing well, we are eating it's produce at several meals, the kids are helping, we were blessed with a surplus of hay, our call duck Mavis has bonded to Carly, we got ladybugs to stop our aphid problem - so many things have gone well.
But we can't deny that part of life is death. Acknowledging this makes death less scary and life more precious.
Josie went to harvest eggs when we got home from a very enjoyable picnic at the church. When she came back she said that Huevo, one of our Araucana chickens was dead in the aviary. I asked if she was sure and her response was that she wasn't even certain if her head was still attached to her body.
When I went out to verify the situation there wasn't much to decipher. Before we got married our chicken, Clouds was attacked by an unknown predator. She walked around the yard shocked and we put her in the coop overnight. The next morning we found her dead. Huevo had a much more gruesome fate.
Carly took the chicken and carefully examined her. With forensic observations that would rival David Caruso she saw that her neck was badly severed. Her leg was chewed to the bone and her entrails were mostly exposed. It seemed that whatever got to her ate their fill fairly quickly. We think it was a raccoon. When Clouds was attacked it seemed that she was struck quickly and then left, either by a cruel cat or a hawk that couldn't get her off the ground. Huevo was clearly pinned and killed immediately.
Upon determining the cause of death she decided to make this autopsy more of a learning lesson. She took out Huevo's entrails very carefully to show Ethan who was very interested. Here is where the pictures come.
The liver of the chicken is front and center. The pink tube at the top is the ovaduct which passes eggs from her ovaries. The yellow tube is the digestive tract. The yellow that surrounds is fat. In the future, the liver and fat could be used for stock. We, however, did not use any of this chicken for human consumption.
She took the gizzard and cut it in half. When she opened it a treasure trove of stones and even bits of glass were found to help her process her food. The interesting thing about the gizzard is that the lining that contains all of those food processing bits are surrounded in a lining that can be peeled away. That can be used for stock as well. Below the gizzard is the heart. Again, the yellow is fat and the muscle is firm compared to the rest of the organs.
This part is by far the most interesting to me. This picture has Carly's hand holding four eggs in different stages processing through the chicken's ovaduct. Yes, these are eggs. Yes, they are edible. We did not eat them.
The four immature eggs were not all that were in her. If you look to the bottom left you'll see an egg that is fully formed. It was clearly an egg that would've been laid in a matter of hours. It was fascinating and built even more perspective about what we eat. Before we owned chickens eggs came from a store. When we got chickens the eggs came from them but we treated them like gifts. Like something that the chickens discarded for our dietary pleasure. Looking through the ovaduct it was clear that eggs are part of the chicken; that they are a tremendous makeup of how these birds function and a tremendous part of their mass.
The last picture is of her feet. Carly really took a step out of her comfort zone while examining this chicken. She didn't wince at the breaking of bones or the removing of guts. She helped Ethan break the joint and remove the second foot after she removed the first. This is the only thing we used for food. Not for us, for Grimsby our dog. After a quick dip in boiling water Carly peeled the outer skin and removed the nails. These went into the dog food we made tonight. Apparently they are fantastic in stock. If we ever slaughter our chickens in the future we will certainly incorporate the feet into the stock.
During the majority of this anatomy lesson I went to the task of digging a grave. It was kind of surreal. Our chicken that chased Carly and the kids, the one that got out and was first to eat our garden, the one that I promised would be first in the oven when she stopped laying, was dead. I didn't feel sad. I also didn't feel animosity toward her. I felt like nature took her share of our farm. Huevo was buried on the other side of the fence from our aviary. Four large stones mark her grave. A pretty good life for a chicken. She was beautiful and her eggs fed our family. Even the frustration she caused was comical. She forced the kids to be brave. She forced me to be diligent about protecting the garden. She was a good chicken.
This picture was taken this spring when Huevo escaped the coop and defiantly stood at our back door. Tonight as I look out upon the coop I see the chickens defying safety and roosting up atop their coop. They sit in rebellion to every predator that could come for them. Their flock is smaller. I am not worried about the safety of our flock. We have had chickens for two and a half years with only two attacks, and this was the only one that happened in their aviary. I do want them to be safe, and maybe I will listen a little harder for a cluck or quack as I sleep tonight.
But we can't deny that part of life is death. Acknowledging this makes death less scary and life more precious.
Josie went to harvest eggs when we got home from a very enjoyable picnic at the church. When she came back she said that Huevo, one of our Araucana chickens was dead in the aviary. I asked if she was sure and her response was that she wasn't even certain if her head was still attached to her body.
When I went out to verify the situation there wasn't much to decipher. Before we got married our chicken, Clouds was attacked by an unknown predator. She walked around the yard shocked and we put her in the coop overnight. The next morning we found her dead. Huevo had a much more gruesome fate.
Carly took the chicken and carefully examined her. With forensic observations that would rival David Caruso she saw that her neck was badly severed. Her leg was chewed to the bone and her entrails were mostly exposed. It seemed that whatever got to her ate their fill fairly quickly. We think it was a raccoon. When Clouds was attacked it seemed that she was struck quickly and then left, either by a cruel cat or a hawk that couldn't get her off the ground. Huevo was clearly pinned and killed immediately.
Upon determining the cause of death she decided to make this autopsy more of a learning lesson. She took out Huevo's entrails very carefully to show Ethan who was very interested. Here is where the pictures come.
She took the gizzard and cut it in half. When she opened it a treasure trove of stones and even bits of glass were found to help her process her food. The interesting thing about the gizzard is that the lining that contains all of those food processing bits are surrounded in a lining that can be peeled away. That can be used for stock as well. Below the gizzard is the heart. Again, the yellow is fat and the muscle is firm compared to the rest of the organs.
During the majority of this anatomy lesson I went to the task of digging a grave. It was kind of surreal. Our chicken that chased Carly and the kids, the one that got out and was first to eat our garden, the one that I promised would be first in the oven when she stopped laying, was dead. I didn't feel sad. I also didn't feel animosity toward her. I felt like nature took her share of our farm. Huevo was buried on the other side of the fence from our aviary. Four large stones mark her grave. A pretty good life for a chicken. She was beautiful and her eggs fed our family. Even the frustration she caused was comical. She forced the kids to be brave. She forced me to be diligent about protecting the garden. She was a good chicken.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
First Fruits
Alright.
I get it.
One zucchini and a bit of lettuce. About a $1 worth of produce at Winco, maybe $17.80 at Whole Foods.
It is still pretty exciting to us.
Squash is technically a fruit so although we have harvested lettuce for a salad this is our first fruit. Yes, we understand that soon zucchini will be plentiful. Soon we will be eating zucchini in everything. We will bake it into bread, fold it into eggs, even use it as an ice cream topping.
But this is our first fruit.
It inspires a spiritual gratitude. It makes us recognize the harmony of God and Nature. The science of sun and water. The botany of plants and the birds and the bees all in harmony with supernatural concepts like hope and faithfulness inspires us. Certainly we have displaced ourselves from nature. Certainly it wasn't a mistake that God starts His story in a garden called Eden. Perhaps it is a little metaphysical for our little farm blog but we would be lying if we didn't include a little worship in every weed we pull, every egg we harvest, and every pen we clean. God gave us this world. This land to steward. Why would we do less than take care of it?
Back to dirt and plants and animals and poo. As the farm continues to produce so will our kitchen. So in the topic of talking about the spiritual, let me tell you about our heavenly sandwich. First off, credit should be given to Colleen Patrick-Goudreau's Color Me Vegan. The recipe came from her cookbook although our dairy loving leanings have caused us to add some fresh mozzarella. This is how we made it:
We started by growing our zucchini and red leaf lettuce. To date, these are the only items in this dish from our garden. A trip to the grocery store yielded sandwich rolls, sweet onion, red bell pepper, kalamata olives, and fresh mozzarella bathed in olive oil and herbs. To prep the veggies we cut them all coarsely, the zucchini into coins, and the onion and peppers into 2" long julienne strips. A pour of olive oil from the cheese and a blessing of salt, pepper, garlic powder, and chili pepper is all the more that is needed to season the already tasty vegetables. When the onions are clear the veggies are done. It indicates that the peppers will retain a little crunch and that the zucchini won't be mushy. While the veggies cook the olives are chopped to tapenade type consistency. The small balls of mozzarella are also cut to meltable size. Once this is all complete the roll's fluffy white innards are gutted leaving snacks for the cook as we take the roll and toast them in the leftover oil that has been flavored by veggies removed from the pan. Once the roll has been given a bronzing it is removed and immediately loaded with cheese for melting purposes. As the rest of the warmed veggies are added a topping of olives and crisp lettuce are the final touch. Where does this thing not sound like Nirvana? Thank God for our blessings.
I get it.
One zucchini and a bit of lettuce. About a $1 worth of produce at Winco, maybe $17.80 at Whole Foods.
It is still pretty exciting to us.
But this is our first fruit.
It inspires a spiritual gratitude. It makes us recognize the harmony of God and Nature. The science of sun and water. The botany of plants and the birds and the bees all in harmony with supernatural concepts like hope and faithfulness inspires us. Certainly we have displaced ourselves from nature. Certainly it wasn't a mistake that God starts His story in a garden called Eden. Perhaps it is a little metaphysical for our little farm blog but we would be lying if we didn't include a little worship in every weed we pull, every egg we harvest, and every pen we clean. God gave us this world. This land to steward. Why would we do less than take care of it?
We started by growing our zucchini and red leaf lettuce. To date, these are the only items in this dish from our garden. A trip to the grocery store yielded sandwich rolls, sweet onion, red bell pepper, kalamata olives, and fresh mozzarella bathed in olive oil and herbs. To prep the veggies we cut them all coarsely, the zucchini into coins, and the onion and peppers into 2" long julienne strips. A pour of olive oil from the cheese and a blessing of salt, pepper, garlic powder, and chili pepper is all the more that is needed to season the already tasty vegetables. When the onions are clear the veggies are done. It indicates that the peppers will retain a little crunch and that the zucchini won't be mushy. While the veggies cook the olives are chopped to tapenade type consistency. The small balls of mozzarella are also cut to meltable size. Once this is all complete the roll's fluffy white innards are gutted leaving snacks for the cook as we take the roll and toast them in the leftover oil that has been flavored by veggies removed from the pan. Once the roll has been given a bronzing it is removed and immediately loaded with cheese for melting purposes. As the rest of the warmed veggies are added a topping of olives and crisp lettuce are the final touch. Where does this thing not sound like Nirvana? Thank God for our blessings.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Artichoke garden 2.0 - a lesson in volunteerism
The Father's day gift of artichokes were planted about a month ago. The idea is that the plants would create a natural hedge on the north side of our front yard. The plants get as tall as 6' and we thought that the thistle would be a great addition to our edible landscape. Here is the end result of our initial planting:
After a month in the ground the chokes are starting to get bigger. As you can see, the one pictured below is over the double the size it was when we planted it.
The increase in size got us to thinking. As we reveled in the success of our planting in June I took a moment to make certain that we properly placed the plants. According to what we could remember the plants grew out to a three foot radius. Pretty big. Stupidly, I planted each choke 3' apart from each other. Waves of embarrassment and poor geometry skills waved over me. We planted expecting a 3' diameter plant, not a 3' radius. Our landscaping days were certainly not over. We eventually extended the artichoke garden another 20' to move three chokes. Our front yard now has added over 100square feet of garden that will eventually be edible.
We have so many volunteer potatoes they are earning 'weed' status. What is exciting is that we are also getting a variety of squash and tomato that will hopefully bulk up to create the edible hedge we have desired. The surprises are great and we know that they are varieties that we eat because they came from our compost.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
We are not farmers
We are not farmers.
We have never sold crops. We have never slaughtered an animal. We have never even had a successful harvest. Our vegetable starts died. Our chickens escape and eat our surviving plants. Our last litter of rabbits all died.
We don't seem to be successful.
Every time we take on a new venture we find out just how much work is involved. If we chose to do all we could the farm could be a full time job.
This is how I think sometimes. I think that we fail. I think we are crazy. But we keep going. Carly finds a beet the size of a tennis ball as we weed through the jungle; the biggest we have ever grown. So we keep going. We find volunteer squash and potatoes in the places where our planted starts died. They have flowers, even fruit. So we keep going. Heirloom tomatoes we planted knowing we might get a smaller harvest flower and we even find fruit. So we keep going.
In fact, our tomato plants (some that have been saved from near death) inspired the simple dinner that Carly made tonight. If we only get fruit from half of our tomatoes we can eat a subtly different version of this meal five days a week.
There is no good reason to quit. We couldn't neglect our animals and we have invested too deeply into our plants. In poker we would be "pot committed." We are fully invested in the farm, dirty nails and all.
We have never sold crops. We have never slaughtered an animal. We have never even had a successful harvest. Our vegetable starts died. Our chickens escape and eat our surviving plants. Our last litter of rabbits all died.
We don't seem to be successful.
Every time we take on a new venture we find out just how much work is involved. If we chose to do all we could the farm could be a full time job.
This is how I think sometimes. I think that we fail. I think we are crazy. But we keep going. Carly finds a beet the size of a tennis ball as we weed through the jungle; the biggest we have ever grown. So we keep going. We find volunteer squash and potatoes in the places where our planted starts died. They have flowers, even fruit. So we keep going. Heirloom tomatoes we planted knowing we might get a smaller harvest flower and we even find fruit. So we keep going.
In fact, our tomato plants (some that have been saved from near death) inspired the simple dinner that Carly made tonight. If we only get fruit from half of our tomatoes we can eat a subtly different version of this meal five days a week.
There is no good reason to quit. We couldn't neglect our animals and we have invested too deeply into our plants. In poker we would be "pot committed." We are fully invested in the farm, dirty nails and all.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Returning to the Farm and videos of the flock
It is amazing what kind of perspective-facelift a vacation can bring. Once we were slaves to the demands of our animals and the sensitivity of our plants. When we arrived home from our vacation we had a renewed idea of our little farm.
First of all, we took ten days away at the coast to celebrate a reunion and Independence Day. We took along Enslaved By Ducks by Bob Tarte with the recommendation of two of our favorite aunts. The story tells a tale of animals that is a similar variation of what we have a Rosefield. As we read of adventures with bunnies, ducks, and geese, we found ourselves missing our animals. The kids talked about the cats and Grimsby. I couldn’t help but wonder about our poultry and bunnies in the heat or our yard and garage.
When we arrived home I couldn’t help but see the animals in a new light. We let our daddy bunny, Sebastian, out of his cage to wander the yard. I have looked at the animals as mostly an obligation. After being away I saw them as having some unique personality. Sebastian is unwilling to go too far from his wife, Bigwig, who lay in her cage with the bottom pulled out. He defended his bride by surrounding the cage and chasing off much bigger cats and ducks. Every once and a while he would lay next to her as she ambitiously applied her wild instincts attempting to tunnel under her cage and destroying our lawn. They would grunt at each other as they both felt nature’s urges that couldn’t be satisfied with the barrier of the cage.
You see mostly flock in this video with Sebastian in the background. In the end he goes charging toward the flock and his caged love. Then there are our ducks. We coaxed the whole flock out to the front yard as we enjoyed our evening and watched them dabble in the grass. They are each so unique. Guppy is our huge Pekin that seems to always be out of breath. Fran is a silver-blue Swede that is almost Guppy’s size but much more fleet of foot. Confit is our Indian Runner. She is half the size of Guppy and stands up straight. Her voice is a whisper. She is the first duck and is responsible for this whole, crazy flock. Lastly we have the Rouens; Dabble and Billina. Billina is demure and looks like a wild mallard hen. She is easily lost in the flock except for her beautiful blue stripe. Dabble is our lone drake. Nearly the size of Guppy and Fran he is strongly encouraged to exercise his drakely will upon the ladies as he matures. As he continues to grow his head is turning more and more the brilliant green of his wild mallard counterparts. I love our animals. I used to love just the plants. The animals were far too much hassle and the returns diminished in comparison to the investment. After all, we have lost the garden on more than one occasion to our chickens. Perhaps Carly has used the sheer volume of animals to soften my heart to these things, because now that we have a zoo I find myself truly concerned about their wellbeing. Here is our flock of five on a rare visit to the yard. Meet Guppy our Plus-sized Pekin Meet Fran our Swedish princess Ethan presents, Confit, our "stand up straight" Indian Runner.
I’m not the only one that seems to have changed. As I have ooed and awed over our menagerie Carly spent a good amount of time trying to determine what the unplanted plants (otherwise known as weeds) are in our yard. As she seeks out actual names, food value, characteristics, and legend, I see my wife becoming a practical botanist. Our garden has grown tremendously and so have the weeds which have spiked her curiosity.
When we left I was concerned that the garden would die. I even dreamed about it. I dreaded that the starts that we left on the patio table would die. They did. I obsessed over the unfinished project of retransplanting the artichokes because I didn’t place them properly and building bigger tomato teepees because our cages seemed to be too small. But all was okay. For every squash start that was dead on the table we found a volunteer in the newly turned artichoke patch. If there is ever a change, a feeling of peace, a feeling of ‘I can’t control anything, including nature,’ I felt it today.
First of all, we took ten days away at the coast to celebrate a reunion and Independence Day. We took along Enslaved By Ducks by Bob Tarte with the recommendation of two of our favorite aunts. The story tells a tale of animals that is a similar variation of what we have a Rosefield. As we read of adventures with bunnies, ducks, and geese, we found ourselves missing our animals. The kids talked about the cats and Grimsby. I couldn’t help but wonder about our poultry and bunnies in the heat or our yard and garage.
When we arrived home I couldn’t help but see the animals in a new light. We let our daddy bunny, Sebastian, out of his cage to wander the yard. I have looked at the animals as mostly an obligation. After being away I saw them as having some unique personality. Sebastian is unwilling to go too far from his wife, Bigwig, who lay in her cage with the bottom pulled out. He defended his bride by surrounding the cage and chasing off much bigger cats and ducks. Every once and a while he would lay next to her as she ambitiously applied her wild instincts attempting to tunnel under her cage and destroying our lawn. They would grunt at each other as they both felt nature’s urges that couldn’t be satisfied with the barrier of the cage.
You see mostly flock in this video with Sebastian in the background. In the end he goes charging toward the flock and his caged love. Then there are our ducks. We coaxed the whole flock out to the front yard as we enjoyed our evening and watched them dabble in the grass. They are each so unique. Guppy is our huge Pekin that seems to always be out of breath. Fran is a silver-blue Swede that is almost Guppy’s size but much more fleet of foot. Confit is our Indian Runner. She is half the size of Guppy and stands up straight. Her voice is a whisper. She is the first duck and is responsible for this whole, crazy flock. Lastly we have the Rouens; Dabble and Billina. Billina is demure and looks like a wild mallard hen. She is easily lost in the flock except for her beautiful blue stripe. Dabble is our lone drake. Nearly the size of Guppy and Fran he is strongly encouraged to exercise his drakely will upon the ladies as he matures. As he continues to grow his head is turning more and more the brilliant green of his wild mallard counterparts. I love our animals. I used to love just the plants. The animals were far too much hassle and the returns diminished in comparison to the investment. After all, we have lost the garden on more than one occasion to our chickens. Perhaps Carly has used the sheer volume of animals to soften my heart to these things, because now that we have a zoo I find myself truly concerned about their wellbeing. Here is our flock of five on a rare visit to the yard. Meet Guppy our Plus-sized Pekin Meet Fran our Swedish princess Ethan presents, Confit, our "stand up straight" Indian Runner.
I’m not the only one that seems to have changed. As I have ooed and awed over our menagerie Carly spent a good amount of time trying to determine what the unplanted plants (otherwise known as weeds) are in our yard. As she seeks out actual names, food value, characteristics, and legend, I see my wife becoming a practical botanist. Our garden has grown tremendously and so have the weeds which have spiked her curiosity.
When we left I was concerned that the garden would die. I even dreamed about it. I dreaded that the starts that we left on the patio table would die. They did. I obsessed over the unfinished project of retransplanting the artichokes because I didn’t place them properly and building bigger tomato teepees because our cages seemed to be too small. But all was okay. For every squash start that was dead on the table we found a volunteer in the newly turned artichoke patch. If there is ever a change, a feeling of peace, a feeling of ‘I can’t control anything, including nature,’ I felt it today.
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