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.

Snowball Effect with Wine

This is the nature of the snowball-- this post was begun in the winter and is being posted just a few days before the SUMMER Solstice. At least the snowball is starting to melt! Here is our story, begun so many months ago-- it is the classic story of what the old timers call "getting drawed off". We are pros at this, maybe it is a part of the multi-tasking homesteady nature of things here.


The Snowball Effect, With Wine. . .

We have an incredible knack for organizing our lives here on the homestead by the "Snowball Effect".  Yes, one thing inevitably, for better or worse, snowballs into our own little perfect storm.

Here is the latest series of snowballing adventures:

You can see part of the shed here, with the attached greenhouse

We have been working to transform a poorly built shed, originally a three-sided shed designed for horses made from slightly rotted reclaimed timbers and never leveled, to a lovely little combo of a Air B& B shack with an attached sugar shack and greenhouse. Here is our snowball story:

After reaching a point in the transformation of this shed that called for some flooring, and having no funds or means by which to acquire some, we decided to remove our cork flooring in our kitchen that was slated to be replaced someday anyhow.

After removing most of the cork flooring we realized we would have to remove the refrigerator in order to complete this task.

After removing the refrigerator, we realized that we hated the refrigerator in the kitchen and wanted it back in the pantry where it stayed cooler and kept our unnatural noises to a minimum.

After deciding to put the refrigerator in the pantry, we realized we would have to remove the pantry door, as the refrigerator is larger than the original one we had there.

After removing the door, we realized that some cupboards would need removal. Perfect! We will re-use them in the shed's kitchenette!

After we removed the cupboards, we realized that the space needed reorganization, so we reorganized all the empty canning jars and gave them a space of their own.

After moving the canning jars, we realized that the fermented wine was taking up too much space.




And so. . . it was time to bottle the finished wine and get the grape, elderberry, and strawberry into secondary fermenters. All because of a "snowball".  At this point, all else is put on hold while bottles are scrubbed and disinfected.


The blueberry, ready for bottling, is decanted into bottles. The bottles are corked and labled. The strawberry, grape, and elderberry-- sitting for too long with all their fruits, are strained and placed back into a clean fermenter.

 

Following the wine-making, we realized that our floors, without the cork (remember, the cork removal started this whole snowball) just wouldn't do. . .  so we began a project of papering our floors:

 

 

It's pretty easy to google a tutorial on DIY paper flooring, and that is just what we did. We got a nice leathery look with it that satisfies us, but without a mudroom and with the farm life just outside the door, it hasn't held up in high-traffic entries and busy areas as much as we'd hoped. Still-- it's CHEAP, it's DIY, it looks great, and we'd definitely recommend it and do it again ourselves!

Finally, back to the shed! We are working on a little kitchen area (complete with the removed cupboards from the kitchen and pantry) and laying down the recycled cork flooring. Short-term rentals are a part of our sustainable homestead business plan here. We currently have a solar powered basement apartment-- so this little shed will be our second off-grid solar rental. We haven't tried Air B&B yet, but folks we know have had good luck. What do other homestead folks do to make ends meet? Do folks have a mortgage and fuel bills or are you debt free and free of fuels that you don't generate yourself?

***AND now, that it is actually just about summer, we have LISTED on space on Airbnb and are still working on that shed!! We actually hired for barter a friend & neighbor just yesterday! We love Airbnb thus far-- highly recommended!

The Sweet Spot

We were in the garden, Maizey and I, last Sunday.   Tension seemed to be mounting as we fought off the cucumber beetles-- the little newly transplanted squashes and melons were succombing quickly. Already riddled with holes after only a few hours of lapsed attention, we squished the bugs between our fingers and dug around the little plant stalks looking for the ugly squash bugs (which are too big for finger smooshing, so they are placed with a little prayerful thought, under our shoe).

 

Agnes Nancy Place Litter #2,
Double-wattled Kune Kune boar Jenny x Mahia Love

To temper this violent scene, I should let it be known that we are a pretty non-violent family. We let the squirrels nest in our eves. The birds return each year to their mud nest on the side of our home. The bats have a huge family just under some trim boards. We remove all spiders to the outdoors, or more often, just ignore them. Snapping turtles dig our gardens to lay their eggs.  Still, we make an exception with cucumber beetles, squash bugs, and tomato hornworms (we even typically remove slugs rather than squashing, which I think is pretty generous of us)-- so we sat there, in the evening sun, as the black flies swarmed our heads, the mosquitios buzzed our ears, and the no-see-ums chewed visciously at our ankles--  we sat there squishing bugs.

 

Then we were both looking in the sky, craning our necks into the glare of the setting sun. We could hear them before we saw them-- a redemptive flock of geese overhead--we called to Shawn and Ella to witness this beauty, this perfect V, flying over our perfect life. How often we let the little things ruin an otherwise wonder-filled day, failing to be amazed by irritations and imperfections. Amid this unhappy chore of protecting plants and being a meal for others, there was stunning beauty, holding the balance amid the unpleasant, creating the sense of deep perfection-- made only better because my girl knew it-- looking at me in awe, she said, "THIS has been the best day!" 

 

My girls playing midwife on the homestead-- learning is everywhere!

 

And it WAS a great day-- and aren't they all??  This one, punctuated by our first baby-bat rescue (to be followed by many more), an anticipated skit at church, some family down time in Bar Harbor, the doula experience of newborn piglets and then, the geese overhead!

 






How awesome is it that Ella is out here doing her non-fiction
homeschool reading for the day while covered in piglets?



Our summer days have been filled, thus far, with long days in the garden, work that is exciting, lounging with farm friends (including the newborn piglets), visiting with, and sometimes living with all manner of wild creature--to TODAY, when a swarm of bees flew directly to our home, swirled above our barn, then next to it, and then, like a little tornado, swarmed right into the empty bee hive from last year's attempt at bees. This, only 1 hour after ordering new bees-- and a day before sending payment. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is our little tornado-- I told Shawn that I ordered money to fall from the sky on Father's Day, just for him.

 

 

The world is amazing. The small miracles that fill each day abound, if only we are there to honor them. When each day is filled with a sense of  gratitude, when awe and wonder become normal, when each day we search out the thread that weaves love, light, and abundance-- that is the sweet spot. We are so lucky to have found it most days-- and we will keep striving to find it in each moment.

At one week old-- outside sniffing the earth at the Nancy Place Homestead

 

 

Hey there Baby!

B A B I E S. . .

 

Agnes is a sweet girl. But we may have a piggy that beats a bit to her own rhythm.  We knew by talking to her previous farmer that she may be the type to be out foraging to the last minute. She may be the type to wait until the end before building her birthing nest. Well. We are getting to know her for sure! Our intuitions peaked the last few days; we watched her with hawk eyes. She became a bit more moody around her food. Gideon pestered her a bit more. She seemed a bit more needy/lovey. But no swelling, no nesting, no signs of giving up the acorn search.

Sunday we were exhausted from worrying into the night—we didn’t quite have the heated box finished. We were setting the alarm for every few hours to check her. Around noon on Sunday (the 27^th ) she decided to leave the yard to walk to the neighbors. (1/4 mile away down a long lonely road).  We shook our heads at her as the girls coaxed her home.

Sunday night about midnight the alarm sounded—I hadn’t slept still for worry that we’d miss the alarm. Ugh.  Shawn roused to check her, quickly coming back to say that one was out already and to hurry. I got into warm clothes, roused the girls, grabbed the wiping cloths and headed out into the cold. Shawn got the heat on and the girls came out to cuddle some life and warmth into the first born—Trouble.

 

Agnes then proceeded to begin to be agitated, started (!!!) building her nest, and continued building it for Two. More. Hours.  All the while little Trouble waited. We tried to get him a chance to nurse as she would briefly settle, but he seemed a bit ‘troubled’ by it all.

At 2am the babies started coming again. Trouble, a boy, was followed by Solita, then Luna, and then two more boys—Tiger and Leo (for Leopard).  Once they were all out, they all had a chance to nurse while we waited for the placentas. The girls were very helpful (Shawn was exhausted and disappeared around 1am). They kept the babies warm and safe while Mama was up and down and all around working through her labor.  Ella hit the couch around 2, but Maizey stayed until a bit after 3 to see the placentas come out. This part was a bit confusing. The placentas should be attached to each piggy, but since she was moving around so much they broke off. She instead delivered a large mass at the end. It will be interesting to see how the next delivery (hopefully in the early spring) will go.  We are still new to pigs and kune kunes, so we have a lot to learn. Learning through doing seems to be how we go, so hold on. . .

Thoughts on visitors

Hello Visitor!

The Nancy Place has had more wild visitors each year, and this year is no exception. New this year is a family of porcupines and a young moose, as well as some new birds to our feeders. This has left us wondering about how to continue to develop our gardens and perennial species, as well as work with farm animals, without beginning the usual war games. How do we integrate ourselves into this wooded environment? How does "farm" fit into nature? Can it? Can the principals of permaculture give us the answers?  We are striving to be a part of "here"; to find a natural flowing co-existance-- and, as much as possible, a "blended" existence. How, exactly to do this while avoiding damage to our carefully cultivated beds, poultry flocks, or property is the question. We'll welcome any input you have!

Permaculturally, we're not fully there yet. We had to disturb a lot of the soil again this year, again hoping that this is the last time. We knew some of our terraces weren't yet smoothed correctly and that we'd have to begin again with soil building. Still, some aspects of our goals are starting to thrive. We've developed enough topsoil through our raising of animals that we now have lots of grasses and weeds growing-- enough to feed the goats and bunnies. Laura and Rocky, farm stewards, are working hard to build up with compost and mulches. It takes time, but even as we watch things grow well this year, we know that next year things will be even better. Despite my following complaints, we are pleased to see the natural animal diversity increasing. These are all good signs that we are fitting in with nature instead of fighting mightily against it. Many perennial additions are taking off and we now have our first fruits emerging. Plans for water harvesting and continued sheet mulching are underway and we have ducks, bats, dragonflies, songbirds, & sometimes wild turkeys (as well as Laura) all working to reduce pests.

We are always watching; observing. There is no question that mostly the visiting wildlife has damaged the farm. The fox steals the chickens and a favorite duck, the turtle damages the row cover and digs up a few cucumber plants, the porcupine has destroyed the blackberry patch and the soybeans, the bear ripped the wire on the chicken tractor, the deer eat the beans, the hawks hunt the poultry. . . don't get me started on the mice and insects. Still, we strive to use little intervention. . . and we use prevention strategies first and foremost. The fencing surrounding the property has thwarted the fox and deer, the turtles are forgiven for their quick seasonal intrusion, the bear is deterred by moving the tractor (with the precious grain) away from the wooded area. Truthfully, the aggravation is really just a part of it all. We wouldn't trade it for a sterile, electric fenced, poisoned farmland.

But, the most recent animal visitor is tricky. Porcupines.

Pictured here in a blackberry patch near the property

Research says that they'll stay in an area until its depleted of food supply. They eat everything and particularly love salty things (like tool handles, rich with salty sweat) and apparently love our soybeans and blackberries. When fixing the fence was no deterrent, we covered the beans-- that has worked. We now have cleared out the tall grasses near the blackberries so its less protected (more exposed) and we'll see-- wait, watch.  Hopefully Rocky & Laura won't be making porcupine stew as their next adventure on the farm, although I suppose that this, too, would be a part of nature's grand give and take.

See you soon, buddy!

When we say goodbye

Four months into goodbye and I still cry about it. To take leave of over one hundred souls, many to never see again has been a torturing process. The little farm still lives, to be sure. . . but it is in flux. . . its is a living transition. Its path is mirroring our own. Who are we now? . . .hobos without a farm to ground us to the fertile earth we wither as we bloom. 

Backing up, Nancy Place Farm is right now a place where the garden finishes its season untended, where neighborhood children make jack-o-lanterns of compost pumpkins, where garlic lies in wait hoping someone can be coerced to do its planting for its long winter hibernation. Nancy Place Farm, where its inhabitants have spread over wide distances, most to never return. Nancy Place Farm, where small trees struggle to take root and to become a perennial part of the landscape. Nancy Place Farm. . .who's owners have ventured thousands of miles distance to try on a new hat.

While we venture, we grow-- in leaps and bounds. But we are torn, and as each challenge inevitably makes us stronger, a part of us withers with the landscape we have abandoned. We sure miss you Maine!

up for air. . .

To think that I was waiting for the sinking in, back in winter. . . feeling so busy, even then, and like a mother forgetting the pain of birth. . . not realizing that I really WAS in the slow sinking in time. Now, so busy that finding time to write is laughable. . . Thankfully "the spring wind blew my list of things to do away" (Greg Brown, Spring Wind) and the kids got me out for a hike last Thursday. I hiked up the little hill by the blueberry field, just past where we got married-- up to the ledges and view of Hothole Pond. Gorgeous. Not without getting side-tracked to the old dilapidated junk car (filled with glass and other dangerous things, yes)-

Its been important to remember to take these moments. . . life changes fast sometimes. In spring, it seems more natural and being outdoors watching it all unfold so quickly-- it helps the human spirit to adjust as well, if that makes sense. Here, at our little corner of heaven, changes are always afoot-- surprises always bounding forth in such abundance, its a wonder that magic is dead to so many-- its alive here, in the water flowing, the chicks surpise hatching, little surprise bunnines, a mishap of mud here and there. . .discoveries that never grow old. As I have time and as the muddied waters clear, I'll blog about all the changes that may be coming here. . .Hellos, goodbyes. . .