A Little Sunday Walk-about

Meteorological Spring…March 1^st…a time of transition and renewal…

It seems appropriate to post a walkabout today after months and months of silence. Turning the calendar page is always a point of reflection, an opportunity for change. While I would like to say that we’re knee-deep in new projects and I’m making great progress on that oft-mentioned book project, we seem to have been stuck in some weird limbo state where we’re just caught waiting…and waiting…  and, quite honestly, I’m not quite certain WHY we are waiting…or for what. We’re just stuck.

first sunrise of 2020

Personally, I would welcome a little transition and renewal, I’ve been mired in my annual February funk, https://barbarawomack.com/february-funk/  This year was complicated by cataract surgeries and continued fibromyalgia issues. https://barbarawomack.com/all-in-your-head/ With surgery/recovery behind me and a new approach to pain, it is definitely time to move on.  I know I’m not the only one who has had struggles, (I saw a friend yesterday who has suffered devastating losses on two separate Februarys) so maybe we can heave a collective sigh of relief and look forward to something new.

Meteorological Spring seems like a good time to embrace that. 

(and, here are a few sunrise shots for good measure)

Not much has happened here on the hill since I last posted. But, then again…much has changed.

this view is pretty much the same as the first time we ever saw this place
way back in March 1997

early morning chore-time is still the same

so is the cat awaiting treats by the back door

this is new
I have a whole entourage when I go to collect packages at the lane
OTIS and Karma always go along
sometimes, Otis even dances!

Winter weather never really materialized. We had one measurable snowfall. ONE (which honestly has me wondering what March will bring…) The rest of the time it’s been wet, really wet and warm(ish).  There have been relatively few brutally cold days, although enough for me (and numerous others) to complain. The woodstove is warm and wonderful, but it means the rest of the house is cold…too cold for comfort. Lured by the warmth and comfort, my productivity tanks. The cat and I have an ongoing struggle to see who gets to claim the recliner. I’m fairly certain Remy will rejoice when warmer weather lures me outside and she can nap in my chair in relative peace and to her heart’s content.

I won! I got the chair!
But, it was a hollow victory...
she sat behind my head and pulled my hair

Pretty snow scenes

But, the mild weather meant that lambing season was far easier than some…no hourly checks in the middle of the night because of frigid temperatures…HURRAH! We did have one disastrous birthing experience where mom and babies were lost…but, that had nothing to do with the weather. These things just happen sometimes. (It has taken 20 years for me to be able to accept that without beating myself up for days afterwards---so, progress)  The rest of the lambs are growing nicely and it even looks like the hay supply might hold out until the grass comes in. Processing dates have been scheduled and we’re already fielding requests for lamb chops.  The farm isn’t done yet!

apparently it happens in every species!

very misty morning

this looks like trouble

oh, the cuteness!

he looks sleepy

little sisters

nitey-night!

The whole down-sizing thing is just plain weird. This was the first February in nearly 15 years that we weren’t rushing to get broiler chicks started in the brooder and making worried phonecalls wondering if the seed potato shipment had gotten lost or frozen somewhere along the way. The seed order was so small it was laughable. (really, we are still laughing) No one seems to understand WHY we chose to change up what we’re doing…or WHAT else we could possibly do… And, frankly, sometimes I wonder myself. WHO am I—are we-- without the Farmers’ Market? Food for thought, much thought, no doubt.

a new project in the works

I wrote some time ago about being mindful of what’s around us…not being so caught up in the doing that we/I overlook what is all around us. https://barbarawomack.com/a-little-mindfulness-walking/  You never know what you might see! And, maybe somewhere along the way we will find our new purpose and direction…

a hawk flew into the front window
(he was okay)

backyard birdwatching
Bluejay

bittersweet

breezy cardinal

full moon through the trees

the deer come to visit most every morning

this time they left a little something behind

heading out to graze at sunrise
(can you believe this was late December?)

frozen rosehips

spent garlic chive seedhead

after he dried off
he flew away
(the chickens were most relieved)

weather coming in at sunset

crescent moon behind the trees

morning glory seeds in the sunlight

muskrat Suzie...or is it Sam? (dating myself here) at the creek

nuthatch

sparrow

titmouse

even the driveway puddles are starting to look like Spring!

So, on this first day of meteorological spring, I hope you can look past the worrisome news, the troubling and divisive times and find something to point you toward transition and renewal as well.

Happy Sunday! 

 

All the best from Gus and Karma!

Thanks for stopping by! I hope you will “visit” us again.

November 2019 Walkabout

setting sun through the backyard maple

November is nearly over...

Thanksgiving is right around the corner…

and I am running far behind my projected preparations. (oh, so far)

Every year I think THIS November I will focus on my gratitude…THIS year I will make lists and posts of all the things for which I should give thanks…

And, every year something knocks me off course.

This year it was sickness and surgery, neither of which being huge events in themselves, but the combination was enough to make me feel like I have to cram a whole lot into the next several days and completely altered any focus on gratitude. Nose to the grindstone and all that jazz.

But, the “cold-crud” that had us both confined to our respective recliners, hacking and actually missing the Market completely one week (first time ever) has subsided. And, the headache and uncomfortably weird vision issues have resolved (somewhat) following my first cataract surgery. (cataract surgery has come a long way since the days of my grandparents...and while the whole process is strangely unsettling, I'll have to tell you all about it sometime)

So, after those slight detours, I think we're back on track.

Just in time for T'giving prep! (and, I suppose I should give thanks for that)

beginning of another pretty day

Despite my misgivings about the leaves, the colors were spectacular, although short-lived. Here are just a few shots.

the last redbud leaf

fiery maples 

misty autumn morning

more gorgeous color

(not a great shot, but...)
a bald eagle and a red-tailed hawk were flying together in the cloudless November sky
I could hear them screaming long before I saw them right overhead
pretty cool!

mid-air leaf
stuck on a cobweb
spinning in the breeze

burning bush berries

morning glory seed pods in the sunlight

pinecone stuck in the fence

beautiful leaves at the Market

So, now I have four days to focus on providing the family feast that marks the end of the growing season and a time to focus on all the things for which we are grateful.

FOUR days.

Getting all my preparations completed will be a challenge. Focusing on gratitude while doing so…is going to take challenge to a whole new level.

LOTS of history between those two photos

This year is slightly different in that yesterday was not just the final Market day of the season, it was our final Market day ever. Ever. For those who wondered, I don’t think the reality of the finality of that statement has quite sunk in yet.

While it wasn't our greatest season (or even close, for that matter) we did manage to set a personal record for one-day sales and sold every single chicken and lamb we raised. And, yesterday we sold 50 dozen eggs in a little less than 3 hours! All in all, a good season by any measure.

Moving on from the Market changes everything in our lives. Everything. Doing the Market isn’t just about showing up on Saturday morning. It’s a finely tuned choreography of animal husbandry, gathering/washing eggs, planting seeds, harvesting produce, planning for the next season, keeping up with the filing and the bills and countless other things. Any hiccup in the routine has far-reaching effects. Without it, we will have to completely re-define ourselves and our purpose.

The Market may never have been our dream, but it served us well for a lot of years. And, we are truly grateful for that. Customers became our friends and have supported us throughout the years. Our vendor friends feel more like family than our actual relations sometimes. The Market offered opportunities and exposure that we never would have experienced had we not become vendors all those years ago.

Definitely a reason (many reasons) to GIVE THANKS!

A few random views from around the farm...

November sunrise

a hen eyes the last volunteer tomatoes

stormy November skies

some unlikely friends

evening sheep grazing  

requisite sunset shot

doing chores before Market
one last time

There are a whole lot of posts lurking under the surface of the preceding paragraphs. After the holidays I will finally take the opportunity to sit down and write out some of those things that float across the periphery of my brain as I tried to keep up with that farming choreography. 

But for now, you’ll have to excuse me…I have lists to make and food to cook!

Hope you have a Happy Sunday! 

one of my cardinal friends looked right in the kitchen window!

Thank you for stopping by. Come back and “visit” again soon.

Here's a blast from the past if you need something to read...

 https://homesteadhillfarm.blogspot.com/2017/11/taking-things-for-granted.html

October 2019 Walkabout

poison ivy creates a spot of color
(just don't touch it!)

October is generally the time of brilliant blue skies, gorgeous leaf displays and a frosty nip in the air.

But, in a year where generalizations have pretty much been turned on their head, October is no exception.

we had weeks of feats of amazing aerial skill as hordes of dragonflies
filled the air eating the tiny midge flies

the last of the monarchs have flown through

a crop-duster plane had the neighbors talking
his acrobatics were good,
but nothing like the dragonflies

fortunately, most of the grasshoppers have hopped/flown away, too

I got to see the migration in progress
as countless butterflies flew over me in rapid succession

After months of drought and brutally hot temperatures, everything seems worn and tired. (including the humans) And, while there are spots of beautiful fall colors, many trees dropped their leaves early due to lack of moisture. When the rains began in earnest, even more fell to the ground before the leaf-peepers even got a glimpse. The grass has gotten brown and crunchy. A glorious fall seems to be a fleeting wish.

However, since I was beginning to feel like my very soul was shriveling deep inside with every passing dry day, I am sitting here listening to the rain on the roof with a deep sense of gratitude.

(the drought drying my very soul is the reason there was no September walk-about…I just couldn’t deal…it was too hard to find anything uplifting)

The first frost (October 18) was a reminder of the fact that winter is rapidly approaching, although the temperatures quickly rebounded, and I think we’re still running a bit above normal. If there had been adequate precipitation, it would have made for a phenomenally long growing season. As it was, any fall harvest here on the hill has been decidedly under-whelming.

The fall brassicas were doomed from the beginning. It was so hot at planting time that they didn’t get a good start. (brassicas really like it cool)  Then the rains all but stopped and while irrigation is wonderful, it couldn’t begin to compensate for the high temperatures. The plants were stunted and hopes for an abundant harvest were fading. By planting in a new spot, we had hoped to utilize a portion of the farm that would have otherwise been idle. Good idea…in theory. In reality, it allowed the groundhog (or possibly more than one) easy access to a delicious meal. So, we (the Boss) fenced the groundhog out. no sooner was that problem solved and the bugs descended. Now, the stunted, gnawed on plants were beginning to look like they had leaves made of lace as the insects munched voraciously. After we garnered some measure of control over the bugs, the plants made some major recovery and I began to have some real hope…

It was short-lived. 

I saw her in the orchard eating apples

The marauding deer herd has finally decided to breach the perimeter fence. Yep…hopped right in that broccoli and mowed every one of them down. It looks like someone took a weed-whacker to the entire patch. (the dogs are on patrol, and I have seen them chasing deer, they just can’t be everywhere at once, I reckon) so…despite the wonderful rain today, sadly there won’t be any late broccoli. (first time for everything)

harvesting potatoes 2019

And, it may be worth mentioning that for the first time ever we harvested less potatoes than we planted. (no, wait, this may have happened once before) With growing conditions being both hot and incredibly dry, the potatoes started to produce, but the tubers never got much bigger than eggs, leaving us with less poundage harvested than what we bought and planted. Wow! And, once the plants died back, there was no point leaving them in the ground. They would have just rotted rather than growing. So, “tiny ‘taters” it is. At least the customers will buy the little ones!

So, the late season was rather disappointing. Although, I am happy to report that the grass has come back to some degree, and we have not resorted to feeding the sheep any hay. (unlike some of the cattle farmers in the area) We will take good news wherever we can find it.

it's been a long time since we saw
puddles in the driveway

despite the shenanigans that go on in the sheep corral
it looks like all the ewes are bred
the lambchop crop should begin to arrive in January

volunteer grape tomatoes in October
great story...the plant grew in the fence along the hen yard,
but the hens couldn't reach the tomatoes
score for the humans!

The dismal harvest made our “planned obsolescence” run a little ahead of schedule and I’m fairly certain we will run out of inventory prior to the end of the Market. (except for eggs) Which means I will have to continue to answer the question, “where is everything?” another approximately 9 million times. (slight exaggeration)

But, when the garden starts looking like this...it's time to bush-hog it, turn the chickens in to eat the leftovers and wait until it's time to start planting for next year...

last of the okra

late season tomatoes

forgotten cucumber

corn is long gone

But, it is what it is. And, the lack of product just seems another sign that it’s time to turn the page, start a new chapter in this epic saga.

not everyone benefits from rain...

the hens are still enjoying garden clean-up

wet leaves on the porch

leaves through the kitchen window

my attempts at fall photography have been somewhat impeded by my "helper"

I may have given the wrong impression when I wrote about our “retirement” in my last post. Did you read this? https://homesteadhillfarm.blogspot.com/2019/10/i-love-you-all-goodbye.html

That did sound a little final…the very thing I was trying to avoid.

We won’t be giving up our lifestyle completely. The sheep are still working toward a lambchop crop for 2020. (just need to come up with our marketing strategy for this one) And, we’ll be growing stuff for ourselves.

We just won’t be selling at the Market anymore.

I don’t think anyone who hasn’t at least attempted this type of life has any idea how very difficult it is. Taxing on the mind, wearing on the body and trying to your spirit. Not to negate the positives (and there are a lot of those)…but, the reality is farming (of any type) is brutally hard. Add to that health challenges and aging and you can begin to understand why more folks are not interested in agriculture.

(random shots that don't fit anywhere in this post...but, I thought they were pretty)

millet at sunrise

view across the valley in autumn

moon through the trees

Sissie-the-barncat pondering life

But, that’s not where I wanted to go with this.

We have been talking about changes for a long time. But, the time never seemed quite right. It’s scary to consider changing your entire identity. Particularly when you don’t seem to have any specifics in mind.

But, last week we were talking to someone about the whole “retirement deal” and he said something that I’ve been mulling over ever since.

He said that sometimes you just need to go for it…take a leap of faith. He likened it to sky-diving. And, while you might ask yourself why anyone would jump out of a perfectly good plane, that small step into the unknown took them on an adventure few others have experienced. A. The only thing between you and the fulfillment of a dream, the adventure of a lifetime or maybe even finding your purpose in life is one small step. So…Claim it. Own it. (thanks Danny, I appreciate your words of wisdom)

I, WE, changed our lives once before. And, quite honestly, it wasn’t adventurous or invigorating like I envision sky-diving. It was more like someone pushed us out of a plane, came back firing missiles at us and crashed the plane into the ground on top of us. It was horrifying, terrifying and cost us nearly everything. Not an experience I want to repeat in any way.

So, I reckon that’s why I’ve felt a little like Wile E. Coyote in a free-fall high above the canyon floor. Why I find myself hesitating when “so, what are you going to DO?” comes up in conversation. (again, about 9 million times)  It is so scary to face the unknown. To consider giving up your very identity.

But, watching the leaves swirling through the air I am reminded of a meme that I keep seeing on social media. It says…”the trees are about to show us how beautiful it can be to let things go”.

It’s time to let this one go and find out what is waiting around the corner.

 And, take the time to appreciate all we have.

there is something almost magical about a misty sunrise

Hope you’re having a Happy Sunday! 

Come back and “visit” again soon.

I Love You All - Goodbye

For weeks now I’ve been trying to write this piece. And, for weeks now I’ve failed. It’s one of those projects where I honestly wish I still did all my writing with pen and paper so I could crumple up all those sad attempts and make a wild pitch at the trash can. Although that might simply serve as one more frustration, the only thing more elusive than finding the words for this post is my ability to make a neat hook-shot into the wastebasket.

In my attempts to figure out how to approach this writing, somebody suggested that I simply say, “I love you all, good-bye.”

 Oh…ewww….no, no, no…that’s just too flat, too sad, too final…too well, suicidal. Oh gosh, I don’t want anyone to get the idea we’re ending it all. Even though I am going to tell you about an end. Truth be told, I think there was a “thank you” somewhere in the original suggestion, but my heart heard only the finality, making the writing far more difficult. I really don't do well with change, with finality, with any sort of end. 

I am supposed to come up with some words…words to tell our customers that we’re “retiring”, that we’re not going to do the Market anymore, that we’re not going to have any produce or eggs or meat for them during the winter or next spring, or ever…and I don’t know how to do it.

Okay. That sounds silly.

Surely, I know how to write some words to convey a thought. (I mean, I want to write a book for goodness' sake!)

But…

This is different. This is a big deal. It’s like writing a eulogy, although we don’t have the finality of death. And, it’s not just a letter of resignation, because we aren’t moving onto some adventure, I’m not even sure how this next part of our lives will look. It sounds vague and random and not at all well-thought out.

I certainly cannot just say “I’m tired and don’t want to do this anymore, grow your own damn food.” Not only is that rude, but it isn’t really true.  And I can’t honestly say that we’re “retiring” because that conjures thoughts of a move to a house at the seaside, a grand trip of a lifetime or at the very least a cruise (and quite honestly, none of those are appealing and that's pretty much how I envision hell…but, that’s another story) and, I don’t want anyone to imagine that we’re planning on sitting around watching Netflix, (while I might) or going on great adventures (which I know we will not), or any of the other things that “old people” are supposed to do.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe I am afraid to face the fact that I am old? Maybe. But, what do I do with that? Even the possibility that I have something else to sort through is definitely NOT helping this project. 

So, back to the keyboard…

More than twenty years ago, we found ourselves starting life anew, struggling to put ourselves back together after what was, without a doubt, the most horrifying and hurtful experience of our lives. The Market offered a chance to put that all behind us, to re-invent ourselves and provide for our family. But, that first Saturday morning was a scary thing, offering our paltry wares to an unknown crowd. Talk about feeling vulnerable! Who knew what that so many successful Saturday Markets would follow? Who would have thought that we would find our niche? Many of you know the story so I won’t re-visit it here. (besides, I don’t want to totally give away my book project)

Joining the farmers’ market seemed the best solution for our family at the time. It required little cash for start-up and the possibilities for return on our investment seemed limitless. It was an opportunity of a lifetime offering both potential income and creative outlet. (and some seriously delicious food) We were certain we could eke a living from our small acreage if we all pulled together.

And, we did, we have…we do. 

The Farmers’ Market quickly became the central force in our lives. Actually, it became our lives…taking over every waking moment at times. We took that opportunity and ran with it, proving that you can indeed make a living as Farmers’ Market vendors.

There are no words to describe what the Market has come to mean to us. Or at least I haven’t found them…and Lord knows I’ve tried. (ever read the farm blog? There are LOTS of words there! www.homesteadhillfarm.com )

But time moves on. Things change.

And, it’s time for us to change as well. While I know the time has come, we’re not just moving on, in some ways we are giving up our identity.  Who are we without this definition? Oddly, despite the fact that I (we) never intended to become Market vendors, it certainly wasn’t a lifelong dream to grow food and personally, I never thought I was in the least well-suited to the job, this has not been an easy decision to make. Our very identities are being revised and re-invented. No easy task, I can assure you.

But, after 22 years at the Saturday Staunton Farmers’ Market and 10 years of our special Winter sales, we are DONE. Finished. Letting go. Moving on. Ready to bid this chapter of Life a fond farewell…

With that final Market day of the 2019 season, it will be time to find out who we are without the Market as a backdrop. Re-invent ourselves on our own terms. Forge our new identity.

And, while it would be poetic (and perhaps expected) to say that we are riding into the sunset or heading for the islands…we’re just not that exciting. And, the hill remains our home.

Tom will be managing the market for one more year while he hopes to train someone else to take over (anybody want a thankless job that doesn’t pay very well?) and, I’m going to devote my time to writing that book I’ve been talking about for far too long (and quite possibly working on my hook-shot with all the ill-fated attempts) And, there is a lambchop crop for 2020 in the works…so, it’s not like we’ll be doing a lot of frontporch sittin’ any time soon…

We want to take this opportunity to THANK YOU, our market customer-friends, from the bottom of our hearts…

You made this all possible…and in the process y'all taught us more than anyone could imagine, tickled our funnybones when we truly needed a smile, and so doing touched our very souls.

I---WE---love you all, good-bye.

P.S. Keep in touch.

www.homesteadhillfarm.com    www.barbarawomack.com