January Update

This is my winter image. The one in my mind. Where things are bright white and cold wet. The one where quiet overtakes you, catching you and making you listen: Deepen, Rest, Swell. . . Ready to Burst forth. But. . . along this coastal edge the snow barely specks the brown. Ice still glazes our farm road, making walking a bit challenging; warning that the woods are protected from those not fully dedicated to arriving there.

We are readying, all the same, in our minds, our bodies, and our hearts for next steps-- both on and off the homestead. Our November trip to Standing Rock transformed itself to voice-- all the knowings collected over endless time suddenly flow into song and prose. That voice hasn't gone unnoticed, so we find ourselves off the farm, here and there, sharing our words and hearts.

At the farm is a mix of the unfun: taxes and fafsas, budgets and orders; the adventurous: woods walks and neighborhood gatherings; the to do's: carpentry, seed and chick orders, preparations and BEST: the dreaming-- flowers and colors, improvements and tweaks, music and meditation, hopes and dreams.

Soon, we'll take a last break before the B.U.S.Y. sets in. We will breathe in smells and hold a new place in our hands until it flows into our hearts. And we will carry its Hellos back to our place, The Nancy Place, and hope those hellos ripen into fruit that feeds our soles and souls during our busy season.

Homestead Update

The last week has snowed us in, measuring in feet, not inches. Only a couple weeks ago we had our first thaw of 2015, complete with rain, mud and then ice as it froze over again. The freezing rain came just as we said goodbye to our second January guests. Unexpected in the cold of winter, the pilgrimage of city-weary people needing to feel that vital spark from deep forests never stops awing me. Nature calls to us all.

As we said our goodbyes, the rain froze--and left us unsuspecting as we made our way to retrieve our youngest daughters from grandma's.  40 mph into the forest is not an experience anyone would want, but we walked away with only minor injuries, gratitude deeply felt.

On the homestead, we find ourselves falling ever more behind in projects already started and failing to get new, exciting, time-sensitive projects off the ground. Shawn is a steady sort of guy and has managed, even with the constant set-backs,  to finish a new chicken feeder. This enables us to use our barn more efficiently, as now goats and pigs can't get into the chicken grain but can still shelter together. He also did some rearranging of horse stalls, creating a small fresh air turnout attached to each stall. This takes the edge off tight routines for us while still ensuring happy, healthy horses.

We have also begun clearing a room in the barn loft for a potential apprentice. Still, finishing this room, as well as the airbnb cabin exterior ( See cabin interior here ),  decking on the main house (2yrs behind now), and the sugar shack--all still wait, long overdue. It does become stressful as projects pile, with new ones losing magic in the long waiting--pitted against finances and unforseen problems. Homesteading is not an easy path. Seasonal needs always take priority, no matter how long a project has waited. Now here comes firewood and sap,even as we continue to move snow and battling freezing water buckets,  followed quickly by starting seeds indoors, all with the threat of spring (which really we can't help but crave), with its tourists, planting, milking. Milking? Yes! 

Here are some specific updates:

Goats: Our two Lamancha does, acquired last spring, went into a few heat cycles before we managed to find them a sweet buck, just coming into his own. He is small, mostly Lamancha it appears, and really, VERY SWEET as far a Billy's go. He's here on a barter, so in trade, one of our new doelings (fingers crossed we don't get all bucklings) will go to his former owner after weaning. We will begin milking our does a bit after kidding and the new variety of dairy into our diet will be quite welcome. We had many guests ask about goat products last summer and will be looking forward to sharing!

The Meaties (Red-bro chicken broilers) have been disappearing 2x2, extra fattened by the long extension on their expected lives (normally they would have been gone by November). 

Kune Kune pigs: The two original pigs, Agnes and Gideon, are doing MUCH better this winter after a rough start last winter adapting to the cold. The transition to winter this year was very sudden and that was quite rough, however. Gideon even was angry enough about his different type of rations that he bit a chicken, twice, resulting in the quick deaths of said chickens. He responded quite well to severe reprimand and got his act together quickly. Shawn made quick use of the chickens. Sadly, Agnes and Gideon seem to have fallen out of love and we feel sad to say that we have come to believe that we were a bit "taken" as newbies when buying Agnes. Although we paid top dollar for her, expecting her to be able to produce regular, average litters-- she does neither and also does not mother well or engage with us nearly as well as all the other pigs. WE will be honest and find her a good retirement home, maybe at a petting zoo and try MUCH harder not to make so many newbie mistakes. About anything. The girls from Agnes' first litter, Solita and Luna, will likely be on the farm as pets. We have fallen madly in love with them and hope to share their good nature with our many homestead guests throughout the seasons. Gideon and Agnes did have one litter together, which produced three gorgeous boys. We still have two-- they are still for sale and would make really great breeding stock. 

Horses:  Belle and Beauty have become permanent fixtures, cheering us with their antics and mareish hysterics. We have a lot of work to do to make Beauty sound, as it has become clear that the founder she had upon her arrival nearly a year ago could not be healed by regular farrier visits or a solid, healthy diet.  We are looking into some mineral remediation as well as gelled booties to keep her comfortable. We keep hoping to help her become more sound to take advantage both of her amazing ride, but also of Belle's -- Belle won't leave her behind, so even if we just let Beauty tag along, her pain limits the length of the ride. 

Layers: The newest layers, the ones born on the farm last summer, are laying regularly now-- as we come to terms with letting some of our older layers go. There are a LOT of chickens in the barn and with layers not laying and meaties still hanging around, things are inefficient and pricey out there! Getting a handle on this is STILL at the top of the to do list. 

Honey Bees: No good news here. We keep trying, and the saying goes it's insanity when you keep trying to do the same thing expecting different results, but that little thing called HOPE keeps us resilient. . . The first two times we tried bees, we failed due to mice infestation. This time, it was failure to winterize. It was not something we can escape blame for. We just got behind. We worried about mice, but when Shawn tried to check he was stung so badly, especially on the face and he refused to check them for some time after that. And then it got unexpectedly cold. Fast. And that's how quick we lost them. It's a particularly hard blow to us because this hive was such an immense gift from creation --scroll down this blog and check the details of how they came to live with us last summer The Sweet Spot. 

Community: You may have read in (blog link here) that we have been working to get a new community center off the ground Bald Mountain Community Center. It's slow going with everyone kept so busy in ordinary, extraordinary lives. We have also been in a big fight against corporate wind. And the town officials who are inviting them in on false pretense. It's a hard battle because in many ways its 3 battles-- we battle to protect our families and environment against health and ecosystem damages, we battle the nearsightedness of money-minded, right-leaning working-class who haven't researched the deal enough to understand the corporate grabbing and loose-lipped promises won't bring about thicker wallets, and most difficult to change, the hopelessness of earth loving liberals who can't accept that big wind isn't an answer to the hot mess of destruction we find ourselves in. We are protecting, calling out bad form and bluffs, educating and all but begging others to care about our cause. A hard go when the news is full of pipelines, disease, beheading, economy woes and climate battles. If you, reading this, find yourselves confused about wind turbines, I urge you to research it more fully before assuming that it is a good direction for earth stewardship. Support small wind, solar advancements and better research for a sustainable future.

Homeschooling (unschooling):  Our approach, a sort of combo of unschooling and homeschooling, continues to amaze me. We have 2 self-motivated learners who manage 95% of their learning themselves. No lessons, no "teaching" in the classroom sense. Coming in from outdoors one morning, I opened the door to find one completely engaged in yoga poses while the other took a hand-drumming lesson on YouTube. The girls follow some loose guidelines that keep them focused each day. This has led to deepening Spanish skills, feverish reading, mastery of most countries in the world by location and shape, a good start on US geography, all sorts of history, biology, physics and (with less enthusiasm) the memorization of math facts and long multiplication/division.  We have been hugely impressed with our variation of the unschooling model, finding that it inspires a love of learning, self-motivation & self-knowledge. 

Ode to January

A midst deepening snow, a slow cold light flickers and grows steady, returning hope. I have grown to love January. Its cold is unpredictable, with often the warmest days of winter contained within. Always steady in its commitment to start anew, to grow light and to give a brief farmer-respite from hard labor, tedious tasks and time sensitive pushes. With crazy, holy December behind and February holding spring just ahead, January sits in balance between yesterday and tomorrow, between wishes and reality. January dreams deeply and awakens, bringing our darkest secrets to strengthening light.

January. .  . Bringing forth needed changes to growing light, pauses---- waiting, waiting, waiting to see what emerges

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January Windows

I have come to love January. On the surface, its weather and temperatures are predictably unpredictable and people and animals (read: CATS) can become irritable and boxed in. Although really that could be just the detox from December's sugar and catnip. Still, January has a special hopefulness about it. It is when we first see, and really feel, the light returning. In December, it is just a silent prayer-- this light-- but in January we see it manifest.

In this month, we look back at what was and into what will be. It is a month of turning, of inner change--of deep, subtle, meaningful movements. Like a deep ocean current or a low winter wind, it is a game changer. January is a threshold month-- it holds a balance of light, seasons, years, past and present. It is a thin window-- a light veil between future and history-- and sometimes between hope and dismay.



Saved pole bean seed-- a mystery variety from Fedco and our treasured Scarlet Runner Bean.



Ella helping with some soybean.

We boldly keep circling this sun; we keep hoping for our utopian future in the face of our endless mistakes. It is this tendency toward hope that makes us unique-- and maybe a beautiful disaster. January reminds us to chin up, give it a go-- what is hard truly makes us. We have to decide how or what, exactly, we will be.

As the garden sleeps, January offers itself as a balance. It gives us a little time. Here, on this little homestead, we usually finally catch up on some of our seed-saving tasks, with a nod of gratefulness to our past. And -- with a little prayer for our future, we peruse the seed catalogs and inventory our saved seed as we plan the garden beds. What does January bring to you?

Finally getting our tomato seed dried. This is Cherokee Purple-- a heritage variety. We also saved Red Zebras and SunGold this year. To save tomato seed, you need to let them set in their tomato goo for a bit-- a little ferment. Waiting until January was really too long to wait, but it worked out just fine!

Underlying

Defined:

implicit in(p): in the nature of something though not readily apparent

located beneath or below

fundamental: being or involving basic facts or principles

A bean, a seed, all filled with the potential of the world. Implicit in a seed is not only its potential  but also its pattern or path to completion. The seed does not have to think much about it, as far as we know, it just is, it just does. A little water, a little soil and . . . magic. A teacher, a guide. . . a seed is an example of the reaching toward entelechy, which, according to Aristotle, is the condition of something whose essence is fully realized; actuality. The garden offers so much to meditate on. If only I could quiet my mind!

We have been shelling the dry beans, Jacob's Cattle. This was probably one of those things to do in October, but no one has touched them since the last of our CouchSurfers passed through. Now my youngest daughter has been doing her chore time with a focus on getting this done. Still one grocery bag to go, and then on to the soybeans.

The continual craving for depth, insight to soul, and the desire to impact the positive is enough to drive one to a fevered, crazy edge. Particularly in the gray of January. Hope is sparse, moods are dull. . . The little empty pots are beckoning with longing. The soil warms. The air today smells of sap season, the roots stir. . . remembering.

Farewell

Is this the end then? Is this how we’ll end it? our once a year meeting is always somewhat volatile—fevered fluctuations in temperatures, angry winds, annoying mud, deep deep snow, unsafe ice, ice so thick that it seems it will never thaw, endless shades of gray depression, bright bright sparkles on sunlit snow, intense rainbows on the water droplets of hanging pine bows. . . always predictable in its unpredictability—January, carving us into the strength to withstand life’s hard knocks and to appreciate the depth of its beauty. Farewell dear January. Please tell February to send back the snow, I’m so desperately not ready for mud season.

Are you a crocus flower?

Today's blog was absolutely intended to be an ode to Fiona Rainbow, the pig pictured here. I thought I'd write her obituary and fancied Shawn writing a bit about his experiences in her journey to the "Big Farm". But, other things are on my mind today.

The news is glum, as over half the world motivates to help a tiny nation I am urged to pull up my boots and walk across this large country and swim to its borders, just to hold a grieving child. We have no television at home, which I am so grateful for. The images would burst my heart. The technologically driven world has this way of making us all neighbors, our hearts connected with our common humanity. The feelings of connection; of neighborly duty are overwhelming, urging us to reach out our hand in support-- yet our physical bodies are unable-- we are so far away.  Enmeshed in the complexity of grief and need, the shadowy siblings of jealousy, anger and want are clinging, looking for an opportunity to be heard.  I pray that our neighbors, not just in Haiti, but all over this world, will find strength and love through the simplicity of each day's movement-- the in and out of one's breath, the beat of a heart, a tender kiss, the gentle breeze, a setting sun, a spoon stirring-- the movements that make up a day, however troubled, give us something to grasp hope and love with.

The depth of winter in Maine is cold and lonely. It irritates and its silence deafens. It is easy to fall into the grayness of the skies and the chill in the bones. Wake us up, we call to spring-- wake us up, we call to our selves. But soon, the sap will run, the sound of bird chat will be everywhere and the crocus will rise, through that depth of cold and lonliness, to welcome the sun's warmth back to our little corner of reality.

The crocus flower is on my mind-- its metaphor staggering.  The crocus calls to the challenges of the world and of the soul. This beauty forces its way literally through frozen ground, ice and snow even, and bursts open -in spite of- all that stands against it. Its determination to bring change, beautiful change, to the world around it, is inspiring. The crocus brings spring ready or not-- inevitably breaking patterns and worn out woes and wishful for, but not dependent on, the world's embrace.  The vastness of the world is but an amplified reflection of the small communities that we move about our daily lives in. Community is what we make it, how far we can hold it authentically is up for each of us to create. Its not quite time, but I hope someday that this little farm can reach its hand across the wide land to help a faraway neighbor. For now, sights are set on bursting forth from this frozen ground into our own little Maine community.

Spring Flowers ~ Crocus

Crocus flowers daring tiny warriors

Fighting their way up through

The winter ice

Crocus darling early Spring harbingers

Promising days will soon

Be turning nice

Tiny Crocus flowers grow in close groups

Strength in numbers seeking

Where winter snows still may lie

Encircled encampment of floral troupes

“We march onward to spring”

They raise this brave battle cry

Bold strength contained in Crocus so small

Should winter challenge again

They simply refuse to die

Delicate blossoms possess such wherewithal

I cannot help but wonder then

Should not likewise you and I?

Mary Havran

sinking in

If winter is the time for sinking in, for relishing the creations of summer and fall, for resting our roots and replenishing our spiritual depths, then winter hasn't hit the Nancy Place Farm yet. Our little farm, nestled in a wooded hillside in rural Maine-- is always busy. I've been thinking about the way we are always pursuing some new endeavor or trying on a "new hat" to see if it fits right. Maybe 2010 will bring a sort of focus to our many adventures.

The last few months have time warped to the present in some sort of spiraling blur. To try to detail the level of activity that moved us through time would probably give some clarity to why it felt like a "time warp" but to do that would be dizzying.

Briefly, October brought our first community cider pressing, the sweetest baby goats, more terraces, a hoop house, and 2 ponds! We were barely through harvest in mid-November-- literally still collecting tomatoes from the little unheated greenhouse, finding stray squash and other random veggies and carving out time to collect the tons of apples (free!) from the local orchard. Gratefully, Thanksgiving sent us off to Ireland for a quick visit to Dublin and the green hillsides, then back and still needing to ready for the sad task of animal 'harvest', begin a frenzy of making Christmas gifts, bottle lots of wine, get the sap evaporator ready for its first use. . . and now, to here.

January 2010 already! This is the time to ready the seed supply, plan the gardens, check the supplies for the maple sap run, and maybe, just maybe, begin this sinking in thing. I'm trying to remember what that felt like. Like laying in cold snow on a bright sunny day, after a satisfying ski. Like sledding with a laughing child. Like yoga, apple pie, and snow forts. Like a good book, a cup of tea, and a quiet (very quiet) (and maybe already cleaned too) house.

Blessings for you and for this world as we begin this circle round the sun, here's hoping we all find more time to "sink in".