My visit to Burnet yesterday was amazing! I was so happy to see all of your beautiful smiling faces. It makes me feel so very proud to see how all of you are growing up. All of you have been such an inspiration to me and have brought me so much joy. I love how your individual personalities shine through!
Please don't hesitate to email me ANY time, for ANY thing... my email is kaseym85@gmail.com. I will be far away soon but you are always in my thoughts and I will always be happy to hear from you. I wish you love and happiness throughout your lives.
Love, Ms. Mire
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Breakfast for Dinner
Oh my oh my how our gardens are growing! We have done a terrible job of taking photographs lately (i.e. by not taking ANY) and I wish you all could see the garden now compared to how it looked when we arrived. I do not have a picture nor 1000 words but if you will use your imagination a bit you will see in your mind a large gated area (roughly 1/8 of an acre) covered completely with tall green grass.. this was the state of the "garden" upon our arrival. NOW it is a beautiful space of 14 mounded garden beds, 9 of which are planted, and a raspberry/strawberry patch with bamboo trellises (grâce à Michael) and wood-chipped paths and pruned grape arbor overhang. We started planting 3-4 weeks ago and already the salad greens and fava beans and garlics are shooting up like they've got places to go. The carrots and radishes are a bit slower but I suppose that is just the way the cookie crumbles.
Speaking of cookies, we've had a crazy abundance of sweets and general deliciousness lately. A previous Lone Tree volunteer named Margaret is revisiting the farm this week and next, and she LOVES to cook as much as I do so we've had a smorgasbord of cookies and rice pudding cafe au lait and cornbread and hush puppies and real Mexican food (she is from Mexico). On top of that I baked bread, banana muffins and granola, plus Wendy left us a giant bag of dark chocolate before taking off for Austria for a couple of weeks (bagpipe gigs with Celtica). We've been so sugar crazy that one night we wanted cookies but couldn't use the oven (there is a limit of 2 hours per week to preserve propane) so we just made up some cookie dough and 4 of us went through the entire batch within a half-hour. If I don't have some sort of sugar meltdown (I don't even know what that MEANS but I still think it could happen) in the next coupla weeks I'll consider myself lucky. Oh yeah, also Margaret has made us breakfast for dinner twice now, which I have discovered is one of my favorite things.. last night we had pancakes with fruit and honey and granola and yogurt and roasted sweet potatoes and pan fried potatoes with sausage and HOLY CRAP it was so good.
Now that I've made everyone hungry I think I'll take the day off. It's rainy today and time for a day off, anyway. Maybe we will go to Wendy's dad's house to take a tour of his library (supposedly he has something like 10,000 books) and hang out and do rainy day things. But maybe I'll make a roux first...
Speaking of cookies, we've had a crazy abundance of sweets and general deliciousness lately. A previous Lone Tree volunteer named Margaret is revisiting the farm this week and next, and she LOVES to cook as much as I do so we've had a smorgasbord of cookies and rice pudding cafe au lait and cornbread and hush puppies and real Mexican food (she is from Mexico). On top of that I baked bread, banana muffins and granola, plus Wendy left us a giant bag of dark chocolate before taking off for Austria for a couple of weeks (bagpipe gigs with Celtica). We've been so sugar crazy that one night we wanted cookies but couldn't use the oven (there is a limit of 2 hours per week to preserve propane) so we just made up some cookie dough and 4 of us went through the entire batch within a half-hour. If I don't have some sort of sugar meltdown (I don't even know what that MEANS but I still think it could happen) in the next coupla weeks I'll consider myself lucky. Oh yeah, also Margaret has made us breakfast for dinner twice now, which I have discovered is one of my favorite things.. last night we had pancakes with fruit and honey and granola and yogurt and roasted sweet potatoes and pan fried potatoes with sausage and HOLY CRAP it was so good.
Now that I've made everyone hungry I think I'll take the day off. It's rainy today and time for a day off, anyway. Maybe we will go to Wendy's dad's house to take a tour of his library (supposedly he has something like 10,000 books) and hang out and do rainy day things. But maybe I'll make a roux first...
Monday, March 7, 2011
Lost and Found
The Mission
It so happens that on the neighboring property to Lone Tree Farm, there is a spring or two (or three, maybe) to which Wendy and Peter have water rights and from which they garner the large majority of the farm's water supply. At some point in the last couple of weeks it was noted that the level in the water tank was very low, and since we WWOOFers hold the very purpose of learning and fixing such things, Peter took Michael, Jeff, and me on a walk last Sunday all the way up the water line to the contributing spring. After unclogging the pipe's entrance and exploring the hillside a bit, we gathered back together to start on the walk back down, hoping our small effort had mayhaps fixed the problem. It was at this time Peter informed us there were several ways to get back down to the house, one being to go up a bit more over a steep hill and down the other side to the "main" road. As I happened to be in the mood to walk by myself, and additionally was curious to see how I might in the future reach our current spot from the "main" road (yes, I do have a purpose for using quotations, as you will see if you graciously bear with me), I decided to go this route, leaving the others to take their own paths back.
And thus my adventure began.
Getting Lost
After going over the directions once again with Peter (Peter: Just go this way up these hills, cross over and on the other side if you go on a bit you'll hit the main road. Me: The MAIN road? Peter: Yeah yeah, the main road.), I set off on my appointed path. After climbing up a steep hill and crossing a fence, I saw just below me a dirt path. Now, I should mention two things that were going through my mind at this point: firstly, I expected to have quite a longer trek than I had just taken to get to the road, maybe because it was such a long way up in the first place. Secondly, I have walked and/or driven the ENTIRE length of Peachland Road, which is the one and only public road that could be considered the "main" one for miles around, and had never encountered this dirt path. Just for everyone's further edification, by the way, my Mac's Dictionary app defines main as "chief in size or importance; denoting the center of a network, FROM WHICH other parts branch out," meaning said branches are not considered "main," connected or no. I did not have a dictionary handy upon encountering the dirt path, but I was armed with a bit of education, which brought me to the same conclusion a dictionary would have: this was not the main road. For these reasons, and also since I had twice gotten pointed confirmation that I was to hit the MAIN road, I felt very unsure about taking the path in front of me. Still, it was the only road I saw. In the end, I figured I would continue down the hill a bit and, if I didn't see anything else, return to the little dirt road to see what I could find.
So there I went: down the hill, over a fence, across a meadow, into the woods. I didn't feel yet that I had gone very far (later I was to realize that I was mistaken, but going downhill makes the way seem shorter than it really is) and decided to walk just a little further along a fence to see if I could find anything. After a bit I could see a clearing a small distance away and made up my mind for sure to turn back if I couldn't see a road from there. And so, leaving the fence, I climbed down a couple of steep embankments and came to the clearing where, as I am sure you have guessed, I saw absolutely nothing helpful. I turned back and started climbing up to the area in the woods where I thought I would find my fence. I didn't. I went a bit further over and up and criss-crossed back and forth, looking for my fence. Still nothing. As confusing as this was for me, I "knew" if I just walked in the direction of 'up' I would find my path again. And so I walked. Then came the thickets. The damned spindly, grabby, poky, impossible thickets (now I know why they do not call them "thinets") that spread out and pop up magically in EXACTLY the place you want to walk. And of course, I definitely had not seen them on my way down and was doubly confused by them- not only by their mere presence but also by the way they forced me to go this direction and that, so that I was so turned around I lost all sense of direction other than the direction the hill was going. And so I walked up as best I could until finally, finally I cleared the woods and came to a meadow. Now, whether or not this was the same meadow I had walked through on my way down, I still have no idea. I only know that I could no longer tell which way was ultimately 'up'- this side went down and then back up, this side up and then down, this side went through woods thicker than I dared to venture, etc.
I suppose it was around this time I figured I was lost. Still, I didn't panic- there was still about an hour or so left before sunset and I felt sure I would find my way before then. After all, I couldn't be TOO far off course...
...Except it turns out I could. Or at least, I could definitely wander around for long enough to get myself WAY off course. I still didn't know if I had totally missed the main road or simply had a major miscommunication with Peter, but I did eventually realize I was NOT going to find my way back to where I was before. I made up my mind instead to walk in the general direction of Wendy's house, occasionally coming upon a path through pasture or wood that I followed in hopes of finding a road or some other sign of humanity. Every time, I was wrong, and every time, I got myself more turned around and off-track. By the time it turned dark, I had somehow (I would find out later) gotten myself way down into a valley, crossed a river at the bottom, and walked or scrambled on all fours a good distance up the opposite side from where I had started. By this time I knew it was no good to try and go further and that I would most likely be spending the night outside, so I found a grove of trees in a large clearing and curled up inside a fallen tree. I figured I'd be fine, it was cold but it wasn't Siberia, but I also knew Michael and the folks at the farm would be worried and I felt terrible for it, and for getting myself in such a ridiculous situation.
Search and Rescue
The thing about stopping to rest under a tree after dark in February is it gets cold. All the moving around and adrenaline had kept me warm as I was getting myself lost, and now all that was gone and my sweater wasn't going to cut it. Besides, after resting for a while I got pretty antsy and didn't like the feeling of giving up, even though "giving up" a few hours earlier would have gotten me found a hell of a lot sooner than I was. But still, I was restless and as I sat under my tree I kept hearing cars in the distance and who am I anyway to turn aside from a streak of bad luck without following it to the bitter end? And so I persisted up the accursed hill towards the distant and too-infrequent sound of car engines.
I hadn't gone far before I found yet another path, but this one seemed more promising and more used than the dead ends I had come across in the woods. I followed it up to the top and was near to going around the bend when I heard what sounded like a whistle or some strange animal noise. Hoping it was the former and from a human, I stopped to listen and sure enough, "Kaaaaassseeeeeeeeey!!" The voice was VERY faint and very far away but I could tell it was coming from somewhere across the valley and I yelled back at the very tippy-top of my lungs. There was much shouting back and forth and I knew the voice was Michael's and also that I still had a long wait ahead of me because he sounded so terribly far away but I was so happy to be FOUND (sort of)!
Ok, I know I haven't exactly been short-and-sweet with this tale, but listen, I've been reading Tolkien and he's no Charles Dickens but still you know how he is with details, so hopefully you'll forgive me getting into particulars a little. Anyway I'll try and make the rest a bit shorter.
So once I was sure my rescuers knew I was ok and perhaps had a general idea of my locale, I sat tight in my little clearing and waited. I didn't do nothing, though. There was lots of shouting for what seemed like hours (well, it was actually, at least two) and I watched little lights going up and down and across the hill opposite me. This was frustrating and it is difficult to get an exact location on sound in those hills because of echoing, so I kept trying to tell them how to reach me ("DOWN DOWN DOWN, CROSS RIVER, UP UP UP!!", "GO DOWN, CROSS RIVER, UP HILL!!!" and other variations) and other than that just kept putting out my sound beacon. I finally saw flashlights on my side of the valley but I could tell they didn't have a clue where to go from there (every time they hit the woods below me they couldn't hear a thing any more), so after a very long time of sitting and waiting and thinking about mountain lions, I set off with two walking sticks towards the place I had last seen the flash of lights. I was yelling the whole way and finally I heard a response and we kept calling back and forth and back and forth and the voice got nearer and nearer and then I saw LIGHTS again and the two voices were so close and then I was FOUND (really truly found) by Michael and some other guy I'd never seen before. Turns out they had called the fire department, which is probably what anyone in their situation would have done but still somehow I was surprised. I guess I figured the Lone Tree Farm and co. could've braved the search all by themselves, and I am still certain they could have, but maybe it would have taken a good bit longer and so I am VERY thankful to the Anderson Valley volunteer firefighters.
The three of us crossed the river (I guess it's more of a wide creek, really, but we still got pretty wet) and hiked back up the huge hill to where Jeff and the crew were waiting and it was nearly 2 a.m. by the time we reached the top and I swear, Gatorade has never tasted so delicious. Nectar of the gods it is, at least after 8 hours of being lost in the wilderness of Anderson Valley. And then we journeyed back to Wendy and Peter's place and there was much rejoicing and eating of lentil soup. And that is the story of how I was lost and found in the woods.
Epilogue
So here I am a week later, none the worse for the wear other than a few minor scratches and bruises which are fading, and a few spots of poison oak which I hope will fade very soon. I do have some advice for you all, if you can stand to read just a little further....
1) Never wander lands you do not know without a guide, a compass, a map, snacks and drinking water, a working cell phone, and/or camping gear.
2) If you do not follow rule #1, the moment you realize you may be lost, STAY WHERE YOU ARE!
3) No really, just stay put. It's much better that way.
4) Stay calm. If it is dark and starry look for O'Rion's belt.. for some reason it just makes you feel better.
5) Be loud. Bear and/or coyote and/or mountain lion encounters are much less likely that way.
6) If you are indeed lost and then found, nothing says "thank you" to your rescuers like a GIANT basket of homemade cookies and a self-made thank-you card.
Thanks for reading! God bless!
It so happens that on the neighboring property to Lone Tree Farm, there is a spring or two (or three, maybe) to which Wendy and Peter have water rights and from which they garner the large majority of the farm's water supply. At some point in the last couple of weeks it was noted that the level in the water tank was very low, and since we WWOOFers hold the very purpose of learning and fixing such things, Peter took Michael, Jeff, and me on a walk last Sunday all the way up the water line to the contributing spring. After unclogging the pipe's entrance and exploring the hillside a bit, we gathered back together to start on the walk back down, hoping our small effort had mayhaps fixed the problem. It was at this time Peter informed us there were several ways to get back down to the house, one being to go up a bit more over a steep hill and down the other side to the "main" road. As I happened to be in the mood to walk by myself, and additionally was curious to see how I might in the future reach our current spot from the "main" road (yes, I do have a purpose for using quotations, as you will see if you graciously bear with me), I decided to go this route, leaving the others to take their own paths back.
And thus my adventure began.
Getting Lost
After going over the directions once again with Peter (Peter: Just go this way up these hills, cross over and on the other side if you go on a bit you'll hit the main road. Me: The MAIN road? Peter: Yeah yeah, the main road.), I set off on my appointed path. After climbing up a steep hill and crossing a fence, I saw just below me a dirt path. Now, I should mention two things that were going through my mind at this point: firstly, I expected to have quite a longer trek than I had just taken to get to the road, maybe because it was such a long way up in the first place. Secondly, I have walked and/or driven the ENTIRE length of Peachland Road, which is the one and only public road that could be considered the "main" one for miles around, and had never encountered this dirt path. Just for everyone's further edification, by the way, my Mac's Dictionary app defines main as "chief in size or importance; denoting the center of a network, FROM WHICH other parts branch out," meaning said branches are not considered "main," connected or no. I did not have a dictionary handy upon encountering the dirt path, but I was armed with a bit of education, which brought me to the same conclusion a dictionary would have: this was not the main road. For these reasons, and also since I had twice gotten pointed confirmation that I was to hit the MAIN road, I felt very unsure about taking the path in front of me. Still, it was the only road I saw. In the end, I figured I would continue down the hill a bit and, if I didn't see anything else, return to the little dirt road to see what I could find.
So there I went: down the hill, over a fence, across a meadow, into the woods. I didn't feel yet that I had gone very far (later I was to realize that I was mistaken, but going downhill makes the way seem shorter than it really is) and decided to walk just a little further along a fence to see if I could find anything. After a bit I could see a clearing a small distance away and made up my mind for sure to turn back if I couldn't see a road from there. And so, leaving the fence, I climbed down a couple of steep embankments and came to the clearing where, as I am sure you have guessed, I saw absolutely nothing helpful. I turned back and started climbing up to the area in the woods where I thought I would find my fence. I didn't. I went a bit further over and up and criss-crossed back and forth, looking for my fence. Still nothing. As confusing as this was for me, I "knew" if I just walked in the direction of 'up' I would find my path again. And so I walked. Then came the thickets. The damned spindly, grabby, poky, impossible thickets (now I know why they do not call them "thinets") that spread out and pop up magically in EXACTLY the place you want to walk. And of course, I definitely had not seen them on my way down and was doubly confused by them- not only by their mere presence but also by the way they forced me to go this direction and that, so that I was so turned around I lost all sense of direction other than the direction the hill was going. And so I walked up as best I could until finally, finally I cleared the woods and came to a meadow. Now, whether or not this was the same meadow I had walked through on my way down, I still have no idea. I only know that I could no longer tell which way was ultimately 'up'- this side went down and then back up, this side up and then down, this side went through woods thicker than I dared to venture, etc.
I suppose it was around this time I figured I was lost. Still, I didn't panic- there was still about an hour or so left before sunset and I felt sure I would find my way before then. After all, I couldn't be TOO far off course...
...Except it turns out I could. Or at least, I could definitely wander around for long enough to get myself WAY off course. I still didn't know if I had totally missed the main road or simply had a major miscommunication with Peter, but I did eventually realize I was NOT going to find my way back to where I was before. I made up my mind instead to walk in the general direction of Wendy's house, occasionally coming upon a path through pasture or wood that I followed in hopes of finding a road or some other sign of humanity. Every time, I was wrong, and every time, I got myself more turned around and off-track. By the time it turned dark, I had somehow (I would find out later) gotten myself way down into a valley, crossed a river at the bottom, and walked or scrambled on all fours a good distance up the opposite side from where I had started. By this time I knew it was no good to try and go further and that I would most likely be spending the night outside, so I found a grove of trees in a large clearing and curled up inside a fallen tree. I figured I'd be fine, it was cold but it wasn't Siberia, but I also knew Michael and the folks at the farm would be worried and I felt terrible for it, and for getting myself in such a ridiculous situation.
Search and Rescue
The thing about stopping to rest under a tree after dark in February is it gets cold. All the moving around and adrenaline had kept me warm as I was getting myself lost, and now all that was gone and my sweater wasn't going to cut it. Besides, after resting for a while I got pretty antsy and didn't like the feeling of giving up, even though "giving up" a few hours earlier would have gotten me found a hell of a lot sooner than I was. But still, I was restless and as I sat under my tree I kept hearing cars in the distance and who am I anyway to turn aside from a streak of bad luck without following it to the bitter end? And so I persisted up the accursed hill towards the distant and too-infrequent sound of car engines.
I hadn't gone far before I found yet another path, but this one seemed more promising and more used than the dead ends I had come across in the woods. I followed it up to the top and was near to going around the bend when I heard what sounded like a whistle or some strange animal noise. Hoping it was the former and from a human, I stopped to listen and sure enough, "Kaaaaassseeeeeeeeey!!" The voice was VERY faint and very far away but I could tell it was coming from somewhere across the valley and I yelled back at the very tippy-top of my lungs. There was much shouting back and forth and I knew the voice was Michael's and also that I still had a long wait ahead of me because he sounded so terribly far away but I was so happy to be FOUND (sort of)!
Ok, I know I haven't exactly been short-and-sweet with this tale, but listen, I've been reading Tolkien and he's no Charles Dickens but still you know how he is with details, so hopefully you'll forgive me getting into particulars a little. Anyway I'll try and make the rest a bit shorter.
So once I was sure my rescuers knew I was ok and perhaps had a general idea of my locale, I sat tight in my little clearing and waited. I didn't do nothing, though. There was lots of shouting for what seemed like hours (well, it was actually, at least two) and I watched little lights going up and down and across the hill opposite me. This was frustrating and it is difficult to get an exact location on sound in those hills because of echoing, so I kept trying to tell them how to reach me ("DOWN DOWN DOWN, CROSS RIVER, UP UP UP!!", "GO DOWN, CROSS RIVER, UP HILL!!!" and other variations) and other than that just kept putting out my sound beacon. I finally saw flashlights on my side of the valley but I could tell they didn't have a clue where to go from there (every time they hit the woods below me they couldn't hear a thing any more), so after a very long time of sitting and waiting and thinking about mountain lions, I set off with two walking sticks towards the place I had last seen the flash of lights. I was yelling the whole way and finally I heard a response and we kept calling back and forth and back and forth and the voice got nearer and nearer and then I saw LIGHTS again and the two voices were so close and then I was FOUND (really truly found) by Michael and some other guy I'd never seen before. Turns out they had called the fire department, which is probably what anyone in their situation would have done but still somehow I was surprised. I guess I figured the Lone Tree Farm and co. could've braved the search all by themselves, and I am still certain they could have, but maybe it would have taken a good bit longer and so I am VERY thankful to the Anderson Valley volunteer firefighters.
The three of us crossed the river (I guess it's more of a wide creek, really, but we still got pretty wet) and hiked back up the huge hill to where Jeff and the crew were waiting and it was nearly 2 a.m. by the time we reached the top and I swear, Gatorade has never tasted so delicious. Nectar of the gods it is, at least after 8 hours of being lost in the wilderness of Anderson Valley. And then we journeyed back to Wendy and Peter's place and there was much rejoicing and eating of lentil soup. And that is the story of how I was lost and found in the woods.
Epilogue
So here I am a week later, none the worse for the wear other than a few minor scratches and bruises which are fading, and a few spots of poison oak which I hope will fade very soon. I do have some advice for you all, if you can stand to read just a little further....
1) Never wander lands you do not know without a guide, a compass, a map, snacks and drinking water, a working cell phone, and/or camping gear.
2) If you do not follow rule #1, the moment you realize you may be lost, STAY WHERE YOU ARE!
3) No really, just stay put. It's much better that way.
4) Stay calm. If it is dark and starry look for O'Rion's belt.. for some reason it just makes you feel better.
5) Be loud. Bear and/or coyote and/or mountain lion encounters are much less likely that way.
6) If you are indeed lost and then found, nothing says "thank you" to your rescuers like a GIANT basket of homemade cookies and a self-made thank-you card.
Thanks for reading! God bless!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Point of Return
Believe it or not, this is not the worst job I've done in managing a blog. One time I started a blog when I was in Morocco and I never posted.. NOT EVEN ONCE.
Instead of creating an exhaustive recount of everything that has happened in the past 7-8 months, how bout I just talk about what's happening now. Then perhaps later I will post a couple of blog entries that I hand wrote but never entered.
Michael, Sasha, and I are happily camped in Boonville, California at an off-the-grid pony farm. Well, there are things on the farm other than ponies, but if it is any one type of farm, it is a pony farm. The (separated) couple living on the land are called Wendy and Peter. Their 115-acre property is called Lone Tree Farm.. I really wish it was called Neverland something-or-other, but I suppose then everyone would think of Michael Jackson. Anyhow, most of their land is Douglas Fir and Redwood forest, and all of it is hilly and green and absolutely breathtaking. Michael and I stay in a lovely little cabin in the woods, which can be reached from the main house by walking down a rather steep path through a pasture and some forest. The cabins on the land were all built in 1910, and although there is no electricity or running water, it has loads of charm, as well as a woodstove and an outhouse.
Apart from breeding and selling Highland Ponies, Wendy and Peter make their living by bagpiping, running a CSA, and selling some of their produce and flowers at various farmer's markets. It seems Wendy also dabbles in several other small entrepreneurial ventures when she has the time- to name a few, riding lessons, greeting cards, and children's books illustrations. Wendy is in her 40s but from a short distance could probably be mistaken for an adolescent.. she is shorter than I am and probably weighs 100 lbs soaking wet, and also has lots of girlish qualities about her that make her 100% precious. Perhaps her adorability is amplified by her attributes as a manager: stern, direct, meticulous, and rather detailed in instructions-giving. Peter is an older gentleman who is as much a sweetheart as he is a curmudgeon. He is a bit of a loner and for the most part does his own thing, but when the timing is right he loves to tell stories about all manner of things, especially of his plentiful travels in Columbia and other parts of Latin America. To complete our little troupe, there is Jeff, another WWOOFer in his early 20s and a Californian, born and raised. He is a subtle and quirky fellow and has become a beloved source of entertainment, often pairing with Michael through some mysterious mutual understanding to weave obscure and evasive (but nonetheless delightful) comedy acts at the lunchtable. As long as we're on the subject, let me just say that from the instant Jeff set foot on the farm, there was an unmistakable brother love between him and Michael. It's a beautiful thing, really. And endlessly entertaining.
Hmm, now I suppose there is the matter of what we do on the farm. On a typical day, Michael and I wake between 6:30 and 7 and one of us starts a fire in the woodstove, upon which we prepare grits and eggs and coffee, or whatever else we have brought down from the main house for our breakfasting pleasure. Following post-breakfast cleanup and your typical morning routines, we walk up to the house to start our work around 9:30-10. Animal care, garden maintenance, and meal preparation are on a rotation, so we may begin with feeding ponies, mucking stables, uncovering and checking on planted beds, or whatever. Apart from the daily chores, we may work on mending fences, maintenance of electric fences, cleaning and organizing of one of the tool sheds, housekeeping, gardening, or up until recently, work on the septic line. Lately the main priority at the farm has been preparing garden beds for planting. Wendy was touring with her band Celtica in Europe for a good chunk of last year and there was no garden while she was gone, but we are doing the best we can to restore it. Digging, forking, raking, composting, and all of the things I'm sure you can imagine. So far we have planted carrots, radishes, garlic, beets, peas, and an array of salad greens. Wendy gardens in the French Intensive (aka Biointensive or Biodiverse) style, which means maximum use of small spaces (narrow paths, wide beds with closely planted rows) and a focus on rebuilding soil instead of depleting it (thorough digging, bed rotation, lots of compost and such added to the soil).
Oh yeah! In spite of the lack of veggies from the garden (other than some chard, kale, and green onion, which we went through in short order), we eat very well. Lots of fresh fruits and vegetables and honey and yogurt and tea, and of course since lunch and dinner duty is on a rotation, delicious homemade meals in plenty and multifariousness. I have also learned to bake homemade bread, which I do on a weekly basis. I would probably bake a lot more than I do, but the oven uses lots of propane so we try and limit oven use to two hours per week. On a similar note, in order to conserve propane the water heater is only turned on 2-3 times per week for showers. And while we're on the subject of water, allow me to point out that the tap water comes from a stream and is not necessarily safe to drink, so one of our daily obligations is to make sure there is enough boiled water for drinking.
Well, that is all I can think of to tell you and I'm sure it is enough for now. In sum, despite the absence of a few creature comforts and one highly disagreeable run-in with poison oak, we are having a fantastic time building muscles, appetites, and calluses. We love the place and the people and we are learning a ton. The current idea is to stay til May so as to get maximum garden-building experience before heading back to Texas, where we will hopefully replenish our (slowly) dwindling funds for a few months before setting off on our next adventure :)
We love you all!
Instead of creating an exhaustive recount of everything that has happened in the past 7-8 months, how bout I just talk about what's happening now. Then perhaps later I will post a couple of blog entries that I hand wrote but never entered.
Michael, Sasha, and I are happily camped in Boonville, California at an off-the-grid pony farm. Well, there are things on the farm other than ponies, but if it is any one type of farm, it is a pony farm. The (separated) couple living on the land are called Wendy and Peter. Their 115-acre property is called Lone Tree Farm.. I really wish it was called Neverland something-or-other, but I suppose then everyone would think of Michael Jackson. Anyhow, most of their land is Douglas Fir and Redwood forest, and all of it is hilly and green and absolutely breathtaking. Michael and I stay in a lovely little cabin in the woods, which can be reached from the main house by walking down a rather steep path through a pasture and some forest. The cabins on the land were all built in 1910, and although there is no electricity or running water, it has loads of charm, as well as a woodstove and an outhouse.
Apart from breeding and selling Highland Ponies, Wendy and Peter make their living by bagpiping, running a CSA, and selling some of their produce and flowers at various farmer's markets. It seems Wendy also dabbles in several other small entrepreneurial ventures when she has the time- to name a few, riding lessons, greeting cards, and children's books illustrations. Wendy is in her 40s but from a short distance could probably be mistaken for an adolescent.. she is shorter than I am and probably weighs 100 lbs soaking wet, and also has lots of girlish qualities about her that make her 100% precious. Perhaps her adorability is amplified by her attributes as a manager: stern, direct, meticulous, and rather detailed in instructions-giving. Peter is an older gentleman who is as much a sweetheart as he is a curmudgeon. He is a bit of a loner and for the most part does his own thing, but when the timing is right he loves to tell stories about all manner of things, especially of his plentiful travels in Columbia and other parts of Latin America. To complete our little troupe, there is Jeff, another WWOOFer in his early 20s and a Californian, born and raised. He is a subtle and quirky fellow and has become a beloved source of entertainment, often pairing with Michael through some mysterious mutual understanding to weave obscure and evasive (but nonetheless delightful) comedy acts at the lunchtable. As long as we're on the subject, let me just say that from the instant Jeff set foot on the farm, there was an unmistakable brother love between him and Michael. It's a beautiful thing, really. And endlessly entertaining.
Hmm, now I suppose there is the matter of what we do on the farm. On a typical day, Michael and I wake between 6:30 and 7 and one of us starts a fire in the woodstove, upon which we prepare grits and eggs and coffee, or whatever else we have brought down from the main house for our breakfasting pleasure. Following post-breakfast cleanup and your typical morning routines, we walk up to the house to start our work around 9:30-10. Animal care, garden maintenance, and meal preparation are on a rotation, so we may begin with feeding ponies, mucking stables, uncovering and checking on planted beds, or whatever. Apart from the daily chores, we may work on mending fences, maintenance of electric fences, cleaning and organizing of one of the tool sheds, housekeeping, gardening, or up until recently, work on the septic line. Lately the main priority at the farm has been preparing garden beds for planting. Wendy was touring with her band Celtica in Europe for a good chunk of last year and there was no garden while she was gone, but we are doing the best we can to restore it. Digging, forking, raking, composting, and all of the things I'm sure you can imagine. So far we have planted carrots, radishes, garlic, beets, peas, and an array of salad greens. Wendy gardens in the French Intensive (aka Biointensive or Biodiverse) style, which means maximum use of small spaces (narrow paths, wide beds with closely planted rows) and a focus on rebuilding soil instead of depleting it (thorough digging, bed rotation, lots of compost and such added to the soil).
Oh yeah! In spite of the lack of veggies from the garden (other than some chard, kale, and green onion, which we went through in short order), we eat very well. Lots of fresh fruits and vegetables and honey and yogurt and tea, and of course since lunch and dinner duty is on a rotation, delicious homemade meals in plenty and multifariousness. I have also learned to bake homemade bread, which I do on a weekly basis. I would probably bake a lot more than I do, but the oven uses lots of propane so we try and limit oven use to two hours per week. On a similar note, in order to conserve propane the water heater is only turned on 2-3 times per week for showers. And while we're on the subject of water, allow me to point out that the tap water comes from a stream and is not necessarily safe to drink, so one of our daily obligations is to make sure there is enough boiled water for drinking.
Well, that is all I can think of to tell you and I'm sure it is enough for now. In sum, despite the absence of a few creature comforts and one highly disagreeable run-in with poison oak, we are having a fantastic time building muscles, appetites, and calluses. We love the place and the people and we are learning a ton. The current idea is to stay til May so as to get maximum garden-building experience before heading back to Texas, where we will hopefully replenish our (slowly) dwindling funds for a few months before setting off on our next adventure :)
We love you all!
Monday, July 12, 2010
Ok first post! Michael and I have been in Buena Vista, CO since last Tuesday night.. feels like much longer. We finally found our first gig but here are a few other things that have happened...
Day 1- We arrive at Didi and Dida's (Michael's grandparents') cabin after 17 hours of driving (I'm pretty sure 16.5 of those were spent getting out of Texas). Michael was pulling a boat behind his dad's truck and I drove my CRV- i.e., NO BREAKS in driving other than pulling over to make a tuna sandwich. It was exhausting. Walkie talkies saved our lives.
Day 2- The cabin is surrounded by gorgeous pine forest, with Mt. Princeton in the background. We take some walks, look at some birds, run through the forest, make Sasha tired, watch Spain beat Germany.
Day 3- Fishing attempt #1: RAINED OUT!!!
Day 4- We get up at an ungodly hour to go fishing and catch our limit in the first hour. It was quite cold and windy, and I must've had 17 layers on at first but it warmed up quickly and we had a blast. Mmmmm, fish for dinner.
Dida's sister and her husband live down the street and we all went for a mountain picnic. Tragedy strikes! Lily knocks a styrofoam plate into the creek with her tail- Sasha jumps in the freezing water and manages to grab it and we are all yelling at him about what a good dog he is and to bring the plate to us, and he gets so excited and confused he drops it back in the water. Styrofoam floats downstream and 17 turtles die, or something.
Day 5- Germany beats Uruguay (way to go Deutschland, 3rd's not so bad) and then Michael and I drive out to a bunch of rocks for camping. Before setting up camp we climb climb climb for a coupla hours, all the way to the very top- Sasha made it almost all the way, I was so impressed! What a good dog. Now maybe he won't be such a fatty anymore.
At camp we use our cooking set for the first time (thanks Claire!) and by the time the rice is finished there was a STRONG wind a-blowin'. Dark clouds came in and we thought for sure we were about to get caught in a mountainous (haha) thunderstorm, but it ended up just missing us- we actually watched it come toward us and then blow away over another mountaintop, it was pretty cool. Shoulda taken pictures. Oh well.
Days 6 & 7- More mountain picnics!
That brings us up to date.. tomorrow we are setting out for our first WWOOFing site in Crestone, CO. Ciao everybody, hope all is well.
Day 1- We arrive at Didi and Dida's (Michael's grandparents') cabin after 17 hours of driving (I'm pretty sure 16.5 of those were spent getting out of Texas). Michael was pulling a boat behind his dad's truck and I drove my CRV- i.e., NO BREAKS in driving other than pulling over to make a tuna sandwich. It was exhausting. Walkie talkies saved our lives.
Day 2- The cabin is surrounded by gorgeous pine forest, with Mt. Princeton in the background. We take some walks, look at some birds, run through the forest, make Sasha tired, watch Spain beat Germany.
Day 3- Fishing attempt #1: RAINED OUT!!!
Day 4- We get up at an ungodly hour to go fishing and catch our limit in the first hour. It was quite cold and windy, and I must've had 17 layers on at first but it warmed up quickly and we had a blast. Mmmmm, fish for dinner.
Dida's sister and her husband live down the street and we all went for a mountain picnic. Tragedy strikes! Lily knocks a styrofoam plate into the creek with her tail- Sasha jumps in the freezing water and manages to grab it and we are all yelling at him about what a good dog he is and to bring the plate to us, and he gets so excited and confused he drops it back in the water. Styrofoam floats downstream and 17 turtles die, or something.
Day 5- Germany beats Uruguay (way to go Deutschland, 3rd's not so bad) and then Michael and I drive out to a bunch of rocks for camping. Before setting up camp we climb climb climb for a coupla hours, all the way to the very top- Sasha made it almost all the way, I was so impressed! What a good dog. Now maybe he won't be such a fatty anymore.
At camp we use our cooking set for the first time (thanks Claire!) and by the time the rice is finished there was a STRONG wind a-blowin'. Dark clouds came in and we thought for sure we were about to get caught in a mountainous (haha) thunderstorm, but it ended up just missing us- we actually watched it come toward us and then blow away over another mountaintop, it was pretty cool. Shoulda taken pictures. Oh well.
Days 6 & 7- More mountain picnics!
That brings us up to date.. tomorrow we are setting out for our first WWOOFing site in Crestone, CO. Ciao everybody, hope all is well.
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