waiting

As my mood wavers between excited anticipation and discouraged irritability--oh when will this baby appear...

 I harvest sun-drenched calendula

 smell the roses

 (not mine--we found these lovelies at Portland's Rose Gardens)

store away dried oregano and lemon balm for the winter

chuckle at this little one who insists on wearing her tutu to help dad in the garden.

 The garden bursts

bees work industriously

 cucumbers climb

tomatoes and beans grow tall...

...and our little corner of the world teems with life.

full of life

We had a lovely soaking rain today, after a week of hot, dry weather. All of us were tired this afternoon, but we managed to get ourselves out the door and into the backyard to do a bit of gardening. I'm so glad we did.  The gentle light of the sun through the clouds, the warmth of the damp earth radiating up. Everything so green and lush and full of life. The broccoli and kale especially are flourishing right now. The leaves are chewed through (in some places quite thoroughly) by cabbage worms, but the plants are big and strong and well nourished enough to withstand the onslaught, and we help some by picking off the worms we can find and presenting them to the chickens.

The soil itself is teeming with life--as we dug holes to plant tomatoes and marigolds, we saw earthworms, centipedes, millipedes, sow bugs, slugs, and countless tiny critters racing about. If we'd had a microscope I'm sure we would have seen microbes galore, working away to transform organic matter and minerals into forms usable by plant roots--nourishing the plants, and the plants, in turn, nourishing us. Granted, some of this life competes with us for the same food source, but when kept in balance, there's food enough for all.

On my way home from work the other day, I heard a story on NPR about the commercial strawberry business and was surprised by the complexity, cost, and many toxic substances necessary to get berries from a California field to the tables of families across America. I felt especially sad about the fumigation of fields prior to planting, to create a sterile growing medium, thus protecting the plants from fungal diseases. In the process, all living things (including people) in the surrounding area are exposed to toxic substances that compromise health and life. It's not just the fungus that suffers.

It may be that practices like this are necessary to grow crops successfully on such a giant scale. I don't know. But it certainly makes me want to work toward growing more of our own food on a micro scale, where we can use practices that help restore health and balance to living things, including ourselves. Shouldn't food, and the process of growing that food, nourish life rather than poison it?

intention

Photos taken at Portland Japanese Garden.

At a recent yoga class I attended, the instructor spoke briefly about the importance of intention--of starting your day, or your practice, or your labor (this was a prenatal class) with a single focus. For the next week I spent an extra minute in bed every morning contemplating my intention, and then writing a single word at the top of my to-do list for the day. Surrender, compassion, patience...

Seeing that word and being reminded of my intention throughout the day made a real difference in my perspective. I was more likely to take an extra breath before losing my temper, or giving into exasperation. It helped to bring meaning to mundane tasks, and provided a framework in choosing activities for the day.

A very small thing, but powerful, and manageable for a busy mama.

feeling optimistic

We had a good weekend. My husband stayed home all day with my daughter to give me the opportunity to attend the Oregon Small Farms Conference. And oh, am I inspired! How fabulous to be surrounded by people who spend their time with hands in the soil, backs under the sun (or rain as it may be) and minds in contemplation of the miracle of growing things. The conference is primarily geared toward farmers, but is also open to mere aspirers and interested community members such as myself. It's encouraging to see so many people undertaking the challenge of growing food in a small, sustainable manner, and making it work financially. 

The keynote speaker was Kristin Kimball,the author of A Dirty Life. She and her husband have a farm in New York that provides a full diet, year round CSA to about 200 members, with the goal of supplanting the grocery store. Her speaking was just as engaging as her writing, and the scale of what her family is undertaking is truly daunting and revolutionary (or just old-fashioned, I guess).  And I love the way she looks at farming through a poet's eyes.

I also heard a presentation on incorporating permaculture principles into the small farm by Don Tipping, who owns Seven Seeds Farm in Southern Oregon. He and his family grow food for a CSA cooperative, and open-pollinated seed for other farmers and gardeners.

Don spoke about the importance of observing nature, of noticing her patterns, and working with those patterns in our endeavors to grow food and support our human culture. I love patterns...how nature repeats design elements in organisms, objects and systems from the microscopic to the cosmic.

He also spoke about the need for a "social permaculture" in which we cultivate healthy, sustainable relationships within our communities. What good is sustainable agriculture if our loved ones are neglected or overworked in pursuit of this goal? Will our children find our way of farming compelling? Will they embrace it themselves when they are grown, or will they toss it aside in favor of ease and convenience?

Whenever I hear stories of people who are actually doing something I only dream of doing, I find myself wondering what it is in their outlook and attitude that makes this possible. Have they been merely lucky in accidents of birth and circumstance, opportunities in education, or connections with the right people? Sometimes. But more often these people who are living their dreams have a certain resiliency of spirit, an incredible work ethic, a buoyancy that keeps them afloat amidst trial and adversity. 

Kristin Kimball cited a quote from Wendell Berry's Manifesto: Mad Farmer Liberation Front: "Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts." 

Yes, I think that's what my soul needs to hear right now, and to remember each day...

a special vest

I thought I'd do something a little different for the yarn along theme this week by sharing a piece made by my late mother. Recently when I was back "home" at my dad's house, I came upon some wonderful knitted treasures. My mom was an avid spinner and knitter, and a skilled keeper of sheep. Over the years she bred her flock to bring out the softest wool and a whole palette of natural colors.

This vest is one I don't remember seeing my mom wear, and it has been tucked away in a drawer for years. But isn't it beautiful? The yarn is hand-spun from one of the brown sheep. I love all the texture in the different patterns. The edging on the collar was a little funny when I found it, but after a gentle washing, it settled down nicely. 

 

Now that the weather is getting chilly, I've been reaching for this vest and finding so much warmth and comfort as I put it on. It fits just right, and knowing that my mom's hands cared for the sheep from which this wool was sheered, spun that wool, and knit each stitch gives me a deep sense of connection with her. Many years ago, toward the end of my mother's life, she expressed the desire to leave a legacy. What better way to do that than through these beautiful handcrafted clothes, and the values of self-sufficiency, industry and patience they represent?

For more yarn-along inspiration, visit Small Things.

catching up

 It's been a little while since I've posted here. The funny thing about blogging is that it can become a bit of a compulsion. When I first started this blog, I found it to be a wonderful exercise in taking time to see the world around me, and to share those visions with friends. But lately I realized I was getting caught in the trap of wanting to photograph and document everything, rather than appreciating the beauty fully in the present moment. So I took a break from documenting, and it has been refreshing. I do still love this crazy medium of self-expression called the blog, though. And it has been such a fun way to connect with lovely people across the world, so I couldn't stay away for too long. Here are a few of the happenings 'round here since I've been away...

 We harvested our winter squash, and what a satisfying job it was! Our very first success with this wonderful crop. This was our giant butternut that I felt sure was at least 10 lbs (weighed in at a mere 5 lbs--guess I'm not that great at estimating weight!). I think I will turn it into a soup tonight. Any favorite butternut soup recipes out there?

 I've been branching out with the backyard tea herbs--mint, lavender, coriander, and calendula all make lovely additions.

 Finally blocked my Shalom sweater that I finished this spring when it was too warm to wear it. Hopefully more pictures coming soon!

 Trying my hand at creating kimchi for the first time. Leah over at the Adventure Learning Company has a wonderful tutorial here.  I used the daikon radishes we planted in late summer, and garlic from the garden, along with cabbage, onion, and carrots from the farmer's market (and ginger from very far away). I have my fingers crossed that I gave those lactobacilli the proper environment to thrive--we'll see in a few days.

And I'm very excited about finally tackling the task of making lotion. I have been slowly working away at finding natural, low-cost alternatives to artificial chemical-laden body-care products, and I think this one is a success. I took inspiration from Rosemary Gladstar's Herbal Recipes for Vibrant Health and from Amanda Soule's new book The Rhythm of Family, tweaked the recipe to use what I had on hand, and was amazed when it actually worked! The best part is that all the ingredients are basically edible--water, cocoa butter, beeswax, olive oil, vitamin E, a few drops of essential oil, and a few herbs from the garden. So satisfying!

Wishing you all a lovely autumn!

Sister-Mountain

"Mountains are giant, restful, absorbent. You can heave your spirit into a mountain and the mountain will keep it, folded, and not throw it back like some creeks will. The creeks are the world with all its stimulus and beauty, but the mountains are home."
~Annie Dillard, from A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

Last weekend we took a quick let's-make-the-most-of-the-last-days-of-summer trip to Bend, OR, my beloved home town. I've been pining for a chance at my favorite hike to Green Lakes in the Three Sisters Wilderness for the last three years (since pregnancy and babe limited mountain excursions a bit). This weekend, we finally got the chance and the gods smiled upon us. Perfect weather, good health, agreeable toddler, and only a little trouble finding a parking place at the trailhead. Our day couldn't have been more perfect.

I'm so happy to have a Heidi-style photo of my little one up here on top of the world in one of my very favorite places. She was such a champ on this 9 mile hike. Rode in the backpack most of the way, but didn't complain a bit, which is very unusual. Maybe she has her mama's affinity for sub-alpine scenery.

There were even a few wildflowers left.  I think this was the first time I saw Indian Paintbrush all year. 

This is South Sister, the aptly named southern-most peak of the Three Sisters in the Central Oregon Cascade Range. I grew up with these mountains always on the skyline to the west of town, like strong and benevolent aunties watching over my coming and going.

After we were home, I asked my daughter if she remembered the name of the mountain we hiked to. She replied, "Sister-Mountain." I liked that name very much and I think it might stick. My love for these mountains and this place has become deep and grounding, like that for an older sister.

There were several little stream crossings. My daughter is very interested in the concept of bravery lately, and this crossing earned the declaration, "Daddy was BRAVE!"

The trail follows Fall Creek, which cuts through the pine and fir forest,

tumbles over several waterfalls,

 and is flanked by a stunning volcanic rock flow up toward the end of the trail. Lots of shiny black obsidian catching the sun. The water is so clear and ice-cold--it truly deserves the designation pristine.

I don't have a large family, and my parents moved a thousand miles away from our extended family when I was a babe. I've struggled at times in my life to gain a sense of belonging, and loneliness has been a common companion. But I've been blessed to have had the chance to develop strong bonds to place, and particularly this place. To my Sister-Mountain. I'm so grateful for the opportunity to have experienced the deep sense of connection that comes from solitary time in the wilderness. One of my greatest hopes for my daughter is that she will find her own special places, hike her own paths through the wilderness, and develop bonds with her own sister-mountain.

simple gifts: lavender bliss

I've been finding myself singing the old Shaker song "Simple Gifts" a lot lately. Such a pleasing melody, and the words convey a truth of which I need constant reminding. My daughter loves it too. "Again, again", she says, as I come to the last line.

Recently the two of us were preparing our dried lavender to store away for use in herbal recipes in the coming year.

My husband was happily occupied in his woodshop, and my daughter and I brought the drying racks full of hanging lavender down to the kitchen. We had the radio tuned to our wonderful classical station (KBPS), and discovered a lovely early music show called Harmonia. Beautiful melodies filled the room as we began to remove the lavender buds from the stems. Soon, the lavender's soothing aroma wafted into our noses and the essential oils worked their way into our fingers. Such a treat for the senses!

We made a big mess, but really, when the mess is made of fragrant lavender flowers, can it be called a mess? It was certainly a pleasure to clean up. 

The fifteen minutes we spent engaged in this activity felt so serene and joyful. It seemed that all was right in our little world and everything was just as it should be--like the line from Simple Gifts:

 And when we find ourselves in the place just right, 

   'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

In these moments of serenity,  I can feel the frayed edges of my being come back together, the tight knots in my muscles loosen, the space in my heart grow wider and more hospitable.  These moments seem so rare (serene and toddler are not often found in the same room, at least in our house!) that I want to take note and remember them with gratitude. They truly are gifts. 

weekend reflections--chicken challenges and lavender lemonade

This was a rough week for Dolly, our Cuckoo Maran hen. I came home from work last Friday to find our Storey's Guide to Raising Chickens open on the kitchen table, and my husband decked in latex gloves, tending to this poor girl.

She had a prolapsed oviduct, and her hen companions had started to peck at her. (For those of you curious about this condition, plenty of information is available online...but for the weak-stomached, I will spare the details here). After some first aid and clean up, we put her in a makeshift hen hospital (our old brooder where the chicks spent the first weeks of their life) in the basement for some convalescence.

We kept her there for a week with food and water, and a few breaks to run outside for fresh air and greens. This weekend, we re-introduced her to the rest of the flock in the main coop. So far she seems to be holding her own...she certainly isn't withering away. But I don't think she's completely out of the woods. We are breathing a sigh of relief, though, and hoping she is through the worst of it.

  

Storey's Guide has a lot of good advice, and I wish I had read this particular sentence prior to our experience with Dolly: "Before any problems occur and while you are unemotional, determine in advance exactly how much time and money you are willing to spend nursing sick chickens." (p. 170)

Keeping chickens in the city is a tricky endeavor. When happy hens are clucking about the yard eating slugs and laying eggs, it seems quite idyllic. But when a chicken gets sick, more challenging issues arise. If we lived on a farm and were raising hens on a large scale, we probably would have culled Dolly by now. But it seems more difficult to make this decision in the city (the mere logistics of killing a chicken in the city are a bit daunting). We try not to think of our hens as pets, yet we value their lives as we value the lives of all creatures, and don't want to end them needlessly. We aren't able or willing to spend large amounts of money on vet bills for these animals, but we want to give them a chance to recover if they do become ill or injured. After talking to vets and researching, mulling and worrying this last week, I still haven't determined our plan for sick chickens exactly. But my understanding of the ethics and practicalities of raising animals for food in the city has certainly deepened. We will watch Dolly and do our best to provide our hens with a healthy environment, and tackle each new challenge as it comes.

After all that, it sure was good to sit down with a refreshing glass of Heather's lavender lemonade. I thought I had missed my chance to make it this summer when the nights got so cold that I found myself pulling out the wool blankets. But then the lavender flowered again, and the sun's warmth returned, and I couldn't resist the opportunity.

 This beverage is amazing...like drinking lavender. The whole house smelled of the stuff as the lavender steeped in the syrup. Heavenly! Heather writes about how lavender lemonade will make you feel like a lady, which is very true (even when you're wearing grubby gardening clothes, and not a calico dress). But my husband will attest that it can be equally enjoyed by a Carhartt-clad man working in his wood shop.  

I believe he called it the best lemonade he's ever tasted. Do give it a try yourself!