LAST CALL AT THE BARn

Fire, flood, drought, disease, debt and disaster. Sounds like the first line of a poem but is, in fact, a synopsis of my farming career. And it is time to call it a day.

Most of you will already know that we have had a disproportionate amount of things happen to us since we moved here in 2013. While it's normal to have challenges, we have had to fight for the survival of the farm following a major incident around 3-5 times a year. That's an exhausting way to live. It chips away at your resilience. It's time.

We haven't really been able to recover from the 2016 fire. Financially, we are still struggling to find a resolution with the big corporation whose device started the fire and have recently taken on HUGE personal debt (again) to keep going. The personal cost to us for uninsured loss has been catastrophic and there has also been an almost daily battle just to get the things we were entitled too. Emotionally, we are still struggling - mainly with the personal resource required that continually fighting and repeatedly having to relive the fire every time we call or email the people who should be making this right! I would like to live this year in a way that doesn't require medication to keep me going. And schedule...we are still rebuilding when we should be farming. It's time.

On top of that there have been additional and significant changes occur, all of which came together and totally disrupted our existing business plans. These events left us looking at a million different scenarios focused on both keeping the business going and folding it. Eventually we realized that all of the options were crappy! Getting out is now just as hard as keeping going as we have invested so much in new websites, business cards, t-shirts, equipment, seed, etc. We have sold CSA shares, event tickets, etc that will all need to be refunded. But going on is next to impossible too regardless of the plethora of ideas for change we have run. We find ourselves caught between a rock and a hard place. It's time.

When you realize there is no preferably way to proceed, that there is no sensible plan or easier path, it becomes quite liberating. It's at this point you can let go of thinking about the business and just focus on what is right for your family. I am not strong enough to do what needs to be done to rewrite the business model and find people to get on board with us at this point in the season. Ian is drained with the battle too. He is the strongest, most resilient and reliable man on the planet, he's my absolute rock, so to see him bruised, battered and battle weary hurts my heart. Our kids don't really care! Not because they are heartless human beings but because they have become emotionally self-sufficient  due to us being so removed by the trauma, toil and tragedy of the farm. That's not ok. It would be one thing to continue if I believed that things would get better, but I don't. I cannot knowingly continue to fail them at this crossroads in pursuit of farming. It's time.

I am not special or more entitled than any one of you reading this. I can only expect the same from life that everyone else gets. I am not a religious person, or particularly spiritual. My life is fairly black and white usually. But I do now believe that for whatever reason, this was not meant to be. This is a sudden decision in as much as we were talking to chefs and customers about the season just 48 hours ago. However, we knew this year was our 'do or die' year. The year we had to turn things around and here we are at the end of January with every last option snatched from our reach. And it's frustrating because it should have worked! Our business plan and financial forecast showed a strong year, but fate it beyond our control. It's time.

There are lessons to be spoken and commentary to be made. There are 'thank yous' to be said. But not now, we just have to reel for a little bit before we can collect our thoughts and strength and let all our farm supporters how much we have appreciated them. It's time.

We didn't come this far just to come this far

The last year, life has thrown us in a lake and held our heads under water, letting us up occasionally for a quick gasp of air before shoving us down again. With the last breath we decided to metaphorically swim for another shore. It's time to set some goals and some boundaries. Enough with the ifs, buts, maybes, what ifs and most of all, the complaining.

With regard to last years fire, we are finally making in-roads. We fought tooth and nail almost daily to get our hempcrete house design approved and last week, we received our permits and broke ground. Not only is it exciting in itself to start building a house but we're amazed at the interest in the build and hempcrete as a material. Somehow we find people joining us and supporting us as we push forward with the house. However, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. We thought we had made some victories with our insurance company, but they are causing some issues again. There's a point where you have to throw caution to the wind and just start building. We have missed an entire farming season this year, we CANNOT afford to miss next year because we are still waiting to build. So it's on, we are starting a build that we now don't know will be fully covered by the insurance money. We're nothing if not dramatic! And it's just us. You know when you hear people say "oh, I'm building a house" when what they mean is "I'm sitting in my kitchen giving instructions to a contractor"? Yeah, well, that's not our reality. It's me and Ian sweating at the bottom of the foundations we dug in the blazing sun.  And of course, Ian's type-A syndrome has kicked in with him declaring that "there is not another person on the planet who is accurate enough to frame his house". Sweeping generalizations and insults to the global carpentry industry aside, with or without a decent insurance payout, there won't be enough money to pay other people to build it.

The farm without farming has been has been like a party without wine this summer! We've kept the animals going and another farmer has used our land for a few crops. But most of the growing soils that we worked so hard to build and nourish, lie empty or covered in weeds. We had a couple of events just to keep breathing life back into the place but Laurica Farm has been a quiet shell of it's former self. No crowds, no new growth and no farmer burn out, tantrums or break downs! It's almost become cliché to say it's been a time of reflection. Reflection suggests something quite and peaceful but we have a gun to our heads as we choose our pathway. And so it goes on...new plans, new relationships and renewed vigour. 2018 will be our 'do or die' year.

Next February will see us merge with our friends at True Grit Farm. Ashlee founded True Grit this year and mainly grows microgreens for restaurant supply as well as  CSA shares for the local community. Check out this story though, it's almost as daft as ours. Ashlee met Devin at the end of 2016. Devin has been so blown away by farming and inspired by the farming community that he is going to give up his well-paying job to become a farmer. Ha! Where have you heard that before?! Every time I look at him, it is with either pity or amusement, I can't quite figure out which emotion is stronger. But in all seriousness, you can teach anyone to farm, but you can't teach values. Devin is hard working and has innate farming values, he just doesn't know it yet.

So, Ian will be at the farm full-time for the first time since we moved here. He will farm mainly with Ashlee, who will teach us about microgreens and share her areas of expertize. Devin is chatty and confident so he will look after the customers. I will head up the events, which will see you strengthen an existing partnership with The Watershed Arts Café, and the rental of the tree house. And there it is! Not a complex master plan, but a plan nonetheless. A plan to keep going, a plan to address the burn out, a plan to pool our resources and aid the mutual growth of two awesome farms. A plan to make a living and reclaim a lifestyle during 2018 and if not, call it a day. It seems the last year has certainly made us fragile, but not fragile like a flower. Fragile like a bomb.

Subsidizing my farming habits

Every cloud has a silver lining, but sometimes you have to adjust your focus to see it.

This blog was always suppose to be about our transition into rural bliss. It has been hijacked by farming and financial drama and so far, bliss has eluded us. In my last post I talked about a substantial withdrawal from a majority of our farming activities while we rebuild, regroup and re-evaluate. A number of things have happened since then that have helped us focus on our ultimate rural-bliss goals.

First, we moved out of the RV's that housed us over this unusually tough Canadian winter, and into the treehouse that we have toiled over. Thank Goodness for Ian! What a trooper. While I assumed my position of apprentice and clean-up crew again, he transformed the underside of our existing tree house from a storage shed into a beautiful home. We will live here while we rebuild, and we're happy to do so. Moving in here and feeling the transition in my mood took me back to my days in social work. After visits to small, dingy, dark & inadequate homes, we often used to theorize on how environment, specifically housing, could impact a persons ability to make positive changes in their life. Moving into the small but gorgeous tree house lifted me and gave me the energy to look forward. I could even go as far as seeing passed the house rebuild to a time when we could rent this lovely space, an additional income that could cover half our monthly mortgage payments. The majority of the cost of this treehouse refurbishment has been covered by the emergency living fund from the insurance. Continuing to rent RV's would have been dead money but we've managed to turn it into an asset for the farm, and ourselves.

Of course, just because we can see financial incentives in the future, doesn't eradicate money troubles now, and once again, we've had to hustle. Ian hasn't had full-time employment since the fire and now that we have reduced our farming activities, we have cut our earning potential. We're no strangers to picking up casual and sometimes obscure work to make ends meet, and we certainly aren't work shy. Ian has been working nights salting roads and parking lots during this cold spell. In the meantime, I have had to take a serious look at where my time is most valuable. The outcome of that is that I should go back to work outside of the farm, with a view to easing the immediate financial challenges but also to relieve some of the pressure that will allow Ian to stay here and build the house over the summer.

So, I now have a job....and a home....like normal folk! Tomorrow I don pink and black scrubs and walk in as the new girl at a Wellness Clinic. A clean, sterile environment a world away from the daily animal poop encounters of the farm.

What does this mean for the bliss journey? It means we can continue to farm the livestock and look at manageable models for 2018. It means I can eventually subsidize my goat and piglet buying addiction. It means I can see us reaching our goal. Just imagine for a moment duel income, a rental income and a farming business of some description. It could enable us to stay here for good or give us the freedom of choice. Say, for example, we can keep living here for the next 10 years, we could potentially sell and walk away to a mortgage-free/debt free life with money in our pockets from the equity in the land. Ian would be 52, I'd be 48 and the girls will be 26 and 19. That's an appealing retirement plan!

The journey to us finding our bliss continues to snake its way up this rocky mountain road. The plans change with each hairpin bend in the road and the steep incline continues to demand every ounce of energy and commitment we can throw at it. Maybe it's taken disaster to make me realize that the road isn't paved with farming, maybe farming is just on the sidewalks?  But I can see the peak of the mountain now, for the first time, and it looks reachable.

Whatever doesn't kill us......right?

There is a blog post written that I was going to post just after Thanksgiving that will now go straight to the archives because it seems so incidental now. Why? Because just over a week ago, our house burned down. Thanks to a charging cell phone left on a chair, everything we own is now is in a dumpster and the house is beyond salvageable. I had to stand and watch, completely powerless, as our home and belongings went up in smoke. Tuesday afternoon, the day of the fire, we left the farm with the clothes we were wearing and nothing else.

Once again we find ourselves in crisis mode. It seems that we go from one to another and it leaves so very little time to appreciate the good times in between. There is good shining through this latest challenge though and that's the way our community is rallying around us. To be honest, I don't completely know what's happening out there is the real world, but I know there are efforts, primarily  led by Laura, to try and help us. I am eternally thankful. But a little detached from it all. Partly because of the limitations on our internet use due to the loss of electronics and wifi and partly because I just can't face opening facebook or any other social media platform right now. I can see that there are 357 facebook notifications for me but I just can't go through them. It's not that I'm ungrateful, it's that I'm unable. Undoubtedly my communication shut-down a coping strategy that I will be out of soon. I don't know if I will ever respond to every message, tag or comment but know that we appreciate every single word you all have written and every effort you have made. You've delivered clothes, money, food and your support to us in abundance which we are so grateful for. I thought we would have been ok as we have insurance, but in truth we would have really struggled without your generosity. Insurance companies move slowly and only cover a percentage of what you loose and apparently I'm not great at covering the basics in a crisis. The night of the fire, the emergency response volunteers gave us $150 each to go to Walmart and buy a few clothes. I believed that I was shopping super smart. I thought I had picked up Jessica a few items of clothes that would mix and match really well to create the illusion of multiple outfits. I also thought I had made smart purchases for myself, clothing that I could wear to the farm but that would look ok away from the farm too. However, Wednesday morning came and Jessica went to school looking like Super Mario and I looked like the angry teenage son of a lumberjack in ill-fitting jeans, a Marvel t-shirt and plaid hoodie which I wore all day button up wrong!

I would love to talk about what happens next and how we will rise from the ashes, but all I know right now is that are living in two RV's on the farm for the foreseeable future and demolition of the house will begin shortly. After that I just don't know. I have to catch up with farming and the farm business. We were suppose to be in planning mode for next season. I'm wondering how we rebuild a house and our lives while managing the farming season too.  Farm events are probably off the cards for next season, which was going to be our main focus, as the house is right in the middle of the farm and the place will be a building site for most of the summer events season. We're considering just picking one thing (farmers markets or CSA or something) and concentrating on that. We're also toying with the idea of establishing a farm cooperative to have more people involved in the running of the business, but that comes with challenges too. Maybe we'll hand the farming operations over to a Farm Manager, assuming we can find someone that enjoys being underpaid and over worked. We'll let you know as soon as we do.

Once again we are fighting for the farm and calling on our most resourceful selves to continue. If I'm honest, it has crossed our minds to leave this place; to rebuild and sell. In three short years, we have faced more adversity than some people deal with in a lifetime and we've questioned our ability to continue this quest.

In the meantime though, farm life goes on. Eight goats have been born in the last 20 hours, sadly three goats didn't survive. Five chickens and a duck have been killed by a raccoon and we're expecting a litter of piglets anytime, but there we go, that's the reality of farming. If anything in our lives is consistent, it's the unpredictability of what happens day-to-day on the farm. I'm now off to my neighbours to use her laundry as the few items of clothing I own are covered in blood, poo and placenta.

The Summer of Evolution

In my last post, I lamented about the unsustainable lifestyle of a small farmer. In all fairness, I do this every year at the mid-season point. This year though is the first time we have the luxury of not only being able to do something about it but actually having the opportunity to reflect, talk and plan. Almost everything we have done so far has been reactive instead of proactive so this is certainly a change for us. Ian and I just had a three day road trip (for work purposes of course, not a vacation or anything crazy like that). We were effectively shut up in a small space together with the agreement that we would not finish the journey without a plan for next year.

We began the discussion from a common ground, that we were not going to operate next year as we have been doing. However, I soon realized that didn't really mean the same thing to Ian as it did to me. Ian still had the same vision of farming but somehow being more efficient, whereas I was envisioning a smaller scale farming operation and a more streamlined business model.

Our differences were the only thing to be established on the first leg of our journey. Fortunately for us, the first leg of the journey was a mere hours drive to Kw'o:kw'e:hala Eco Retreat in Hope, a place so shrouded in tranquility, it was impossible to continue our disagreement and all thoughts of pushing Ian out of the moving truck subsided.

We left there with a desire to recreate this blissful oasis. We were certain that we could do it. We could continue to run a working farm that fed the guests of the eco-retreat that we would establish. After all, Ian is building tiny homes on site at the moment so there's the solution to guest accommodation. As the plans evolved, they got ever more elaborate & more expensive to implement. Regardless, we blindly talked about funding, building, barn conversions and outdoor showers all the way to Golden, BC.

Day three of the road trip, on our way back to the farm with the 12 piglets we had gone to collect, and focus returned. I had another "what the hell are we thinking" moment. Why are we even talking about finding funding, new building projects, etc.? That's not making things easier, it's just another way to work ourselves to death and accrue debt! The process of stripping it back had to start again, holding on to the objective that we wanted to do less...employ less people, work less hours, less input, less change, all while holding onto the things we enjoy. We loved the idea of the eco-retreat but in reality, that's not achievable for next year. It can remain the long term vision, but we need to take smaller steps to get there.

And so our plan for 2017 was finally agreed. We are going to scale back the vegetable farming - that's the thing that requires the most amount of output for the least amount of return. We will continue to grow but on a scale that we can manage for the number of people doing the work and only to supply our primary focus which will be events. We will continue with the animal agriculture as our meat sales are good. Generally our meat sales subsidize the vegetable farming and we use the animals to help us maintain well fertilized land for the veggie production. But we will decrease the CSA program and we won't go to farmers markets or run the Saturday market at the farm next year.

Long table dinner

Under the new rules from the Agricultural Land Commission, we are permitted to hold events on the farm, with certain restrictions. We intend to take full advantage of that and will schedule regular agri-tourism and learning events including long table dinners and workshops. We are set-up for events, there's not really much work to do to make them a regular feature and showcase local talent and businesses on the farm. We will organize educational programs for children and adults around food and farming. And why not, we're good at that element, we enjoy it and the farm is the perfect venue. We also have the perfect opportunity to cement this new idea when we host Feast of Fields in a couple of weeks.

School tours and kids camps

Fermented Foods Workshop and dinner

Ian and I have finally found a common ground. He certainly feels some grief for the elements we are loosing and continues to harbour unrealistic expectations of what we can do, but Ian is an over-achiever, that's his personality and the thing that pushes us to be successful. We both recognize that we are giving too much and sacrificing our personal and family time. We have a shared confidence that we can make it work with an organized plan for events. Farming here has to sustain us at the level we want to work or not at all. And I am happy with the decision. I believe we can make it work and we will enjoy it more. There are many people farming but not many people promoting agriculture and local food in the way in which we will embrace it. It will give us a platform to advocate for the things we believe in. And heck, we might have a bit of fun (and even the occasional day off) along the way!

The bar!

After dinner warmth in the gazebo

Ian the soux chef...apparently

Laura and I co-hosting a fundraiser with our neighbours

Chef Sean Bone preparing a Cinco De Mayo dinner

A Laurica farm advocacy group downtown

As night falls, the fun factor goes up

Bands in the barn

Writing the Next Chapter

We're currently mid way through our third growing season. Even saying those words surprises me because it's starting to feel like we have been doing this a lot longer. Every day I learn something new, but the initial "I have no idea what I'm doing" concerns are starting to subside a little and it's hard to remember a life before farming.

This season has been pretty good to us. Business has been much better than the last two years. Something has changed with people's attitudes towards the farm too. We spent the first two years pounding the pavements and hustling for business to build a decent following. From the very beginning of this year, it felt like we were finally cashing in on that investment. People are coming to us and we have not had to work so hard at selling product, getting people to the farm, involving chefs in our dinners, etc. In fact, Chefs are asking me if they can do events here and that's a good feeling. The farm is also co-hosting Feast of Fields this year. What an amazing opportunity to host the regions top chefs, producers and about 1200 foodies! We've had a fantastic article in the Vancouver Sun about our business practices and we are once again nominated for TWO Greater Langley Chamber of Commerce business awards. It was fab to win the award for environmental leadership last year and so to be up for Business of the Year and Entrepreneur of the Year blows my mind.

The summer has seen a huge increase in loyal customers coming to the farm for the Saturday market, arriving early at White Rock Farmers Market on Sunday to ensure they get their bag of salad and we've doubled our CSA clients - I'm actually turning people away who want to join the scheme half way through. We are at full capacity and the crops that we thought would last us into the winter are almost done and we are frantically sowing more. Crazy crazy times!

We have Laura here full time on the farm this year and we really couldn't manage without her. I feel quite indebted to her and the way she goes above and beyond the call of duty. Ian has now left his well paying job with benefits at PCL Construction to work for nothing on the farm! While that is terrifying in many respects, it's a huge relief to see the difference in Ian both mentally and physically. He is doing some time on the farm, a couple of days a week with a friend in construction and a few days building tiny homes on the farm as a new joint business venture with Laura's brother, Shane. Shane is also helping out on the farm and we have had some German home stay students who are working four days a week throughout the summer in exchange for board and food. While we could really do with more staff, we are managing and feel more on top of things this year than previous years.

All in all, apart from a torn foot ligament, things are going well for us. But that doesn't change the chronic mid-season blues and we've got a particularly nasty case of them this season. There was one day in particular when I was feeling crappy and I looked up and saw the rest of the team looking exhausted, limping from various ailments and sweating in the hot sun and I thought to myself "this is ridiculous". We can't ever compensate these people (or ourselves) for the effort, commitment and hours they put into this farm. Doing it for the love and lifestyle of farming can only be stretched so far and we went over that line a while a go. Both Ian and I were hit with a serious case of "that's it, we're out of here at the end of the summer". There were tears. There were conversations. Eyes were rolled. Hands were flung in the air with exasperation. Feet were stamped. And the feeling continues to ebb and flow. In truth, these are not just mid-season concerns, these are the fears I've harboured for about a year now.

There is a constant discourse in the farming community about whether or not small farming is sustainable, and the rhetoric centers around financial concerns; will consumers pay what is actually costs to produce food? I believe that there is no clear cut answer to that, it is totally dependent on the model you use. There are, for example, small market gardeners turning over $250,000 annually on less than 2 acres using SPIN farming methods. There are also people leasing land for $1 a year and still not able to make it work. We're somewhere in the middle of that. We purchased our land, sunk a lot of time and money into building and then unexpectedly had to pay $60,000+ on water and well drilling. We'll never recoup that investment and we're not paying ourselves per se, but that doesn't mean that farm is not sustainable or won't be in the future. It is bringing in some money this year. While I haven't drawn a salary so far, I haven't paid for food in three year and we've almost doubled the equity in our property in three years. That's a pretty decent return. But I still struggle to believe that we can really bring in the true cost of food. I feel there's definitely a fine balance between farm location, farm size and output that needs to be established for any new farmer seeking a sustainable farm business model.

Laura and Carina and a few of BC's politicians hanging out at White Rock Farmers Market

So what does all that mean to us at Laurica Farm? Is our farming model sustainable for the people doing it? Could we go on doing exactly what we are doing and spreading ourselves this thin? Yes, of course we could. We have stared in the face of bigger challenges after all. But should we? The answer to that is easy: no, it makes no sense from a business or personal standpoint. And to be honest, it's not the farming that's the primary cause of us feeling burnt out as much as the bureaucracies of running a farm business. The ridiculous processes and restrictions are the things that make small farming in this area unsustainable, not the farming itself. There seems to be constant road barriers put in place for small farmers and it's that I can no longer be bothered with. I'm battle weary and I'm taking risks. It's like self harm, I wonder if I'm looking to get intro trouble as an excuse to walk away.

This week we are meeting with a business consultant to help us tease out the answers. We need to undertake some sort of feasibility study about our farming activities. Currently we are doing two markets, restaurant supply, CSA boxes and delivery service, events almost every week, tours, open days, cooperatives with other farmers and kids farm camps - all with just two full time staff. Next year we will have to streamline or rethink the business model in some way. This is not a defeatist statement, I feel incredibly lucky that in three years of operation, we are in a position where we can stop, reflect and revise. It's because we've worked so damn hard that we are able to be more selective in our planning.

It's not all hard work...the farm camps provide some child labour

In truth, we have no idea what that looks like yet. We've toyed with several ideas and studied other people's models but we're too entrenched in it all to be objective, which is why we need a new pair of eyes looking at this challenge. So you had better stay tuned, because we survived the hard times and now we're evolving again!

So You Think You Can Farm?

In the last year or so, I've been approached by numerous people looking for advice about becoming farmers. My first thought is always "why are they asking me, don't they know I'm winging it"? But then I realize that although I don't have decades of farming experience under my belt, I do have transitional expertise. It is flattering to be asked but it can be, at times, frustrating, and sometimes quite insulting when you're approached by people who clearly have no concept of what this lifestyle demands.

Out of the many people seeking advice, I've only believed two of them would or could make the transition into farm life. One of them has done so with success and has our continued support. The other couple have demonstrated all the right attributes, a plan, determination, the passion for it & (I say this with the utmost respect) the somewhat naive belief that farm life is better.

So what made these two examples stand out to me the first time I met them? I've taken some time to think about this and have put together etiquette guide for approaching a farmer for advice and a couple of points on how to prepare yourself for farming:

Value our time. Farmers sacrifice many things to be farmers. Money, friends, personal hygiene, notions of self care, but most of all, spare time. So please, do not be frivolous with our time. If you say you are coming to the farm, then show up and be ready to listen. You might think the nature of our work offers some flexibility, and to some extent it does, but there is never enough hours in the day! The time we give to you for tours and answering questions could be spent with our families. We have so little time, be gracious with it.

Be prepared. We are not your personal Google. I love to help and advise new or wannabe farmers but we made it predominantly on our own. I have great neighbours I can go to if I'm stuck, but generally I put the effort in to educate myself every single day. What impressed me about the last couple who came to seek advice was their focus & preparedness. They came knowing what challenges they would face and they had specific questions. They had done their own research and came to us for practical guidance on applying their theories. They did not come and exhaust my time with questions that a quick internet search could have answered.

Leave your excuses at home. I'm sorry but you cannot come to me and tell me that the barriers to your idyllic farming utopia are money and land. If you say those things to me, I instantly know that the barrier to you farming is attitudinal. Now, I am fortunate enough to have found a brilliant piece of land for a farm and we put everything on the line to get it, and we continue to risk everything to keep hold of it. However, if you don't have the money to buy land, start by finding out about local land lease programs. There are lots around. Where I live, for example, Young Agrarians links land owners with potential farmers. The farmers gets to lease the land for little or no cost and the owners gets farm status and therefore, reduced property taxes. If you don't have a program in your area, there are people making private arrangements all the time. We ourselves are in discussions to lease a little more land for expansion. So take to the streets, starting looking, there are opportunities out there. I appreciate that they are not available to everyone in every area but if you are committed to the idea, you will make the sacrifice needed. If you are not willing too, then you don't have the right approach for farming.

And money. In case you haven't noticed from my last ten whiny-assed blog posts, we have none. Almost every penny we had went into the land and anything that was left was depleted by the ongoing issues with water. But we have still built an operational farm and we are not even three years in. Again, you have to pound the pavement and go and find resources. It's doable. 70% of our farm is built from reclaimed materials. If you don't have the money, you have to be willing to put in the time. You must be prepared do the work.

Be ready to sacrifice. I've already touched on some of the sacrifice required, but you cannot really anticipate or understand the level of sacrifice until it's too late and you are already immersed in farming. But know this; farming is all consuming. You cannot dabble in it, you cannot work part time, and you cannot do it for just part of the year, for goodness sake you'll be lucky to get a day off ever again if you choose to keep livestock.

Get ready to work. You literally have to stop making life plans. The work is hard and constant. Your body will be constantly covered in scrapes, cuts and bruises. If you are inclined to wear skirts occasionally, you can forget about that because you will probably have a permanent indent in your shins from your Muck boots. I thought I knew hard work, but I didn't. Especially in the first few years of farming you can expect to have never worked so hard for so little in any job you had before.

If any of that puts you off, then turn back now. Because once you dip your toe into the pool of farm life, you're hooked. You will forget how to function in regular society. I fear that should I ever have to return to normality, I will starve to death because I would not want to eat food that I haven't produced myself.

Once you find yourself naming a chicken, chortling at a particular pigs personality quirks or talking to a baby lamb like you would talk to your own baby, it's too late for you. When you find that eating out is ruined for you because the best tasting food grows 10 yards from your back door, then you know you're in for the long haul. When you find more beauty & pride in a basket of fresh vegetables than in designer clothes and you choose to spend your Saturday nights watching pigs play in a puddle rather than drinking and dancing, then farming already pumps through you veins and the addiction owns you.

So choose this path carefully and thoughtfully. Because once you give yourself to the lifestyle, you will not ever be able to detox.

The final breakdown

I'm writing this post before I change my mind. It's like a real-time update if you will. It's going to sound mopey and mauldling, but please do not post sympathy comments. You see, it is New Years Eve 2015 and I am mid breakdown. And I can't decide if it's a real 'beginning of the end' episode or if it's a 'end of the beginning' process.

Let me set the scene. As I mentioned it's new years eve. I had purchased a family ticket to the festivities on Grouse Mountain. But, I am sick so have sent mia familia off to enjoy themselves. There's certain factors playing into my perceived breakdown that aren't farm related at all. Sickness, for example. I keep having to stop & curl up in the fetal position while waves of stomach pain wash over me. My loving husband was unable to fulfill my requests of medicine and supplies because he could not stop working on the greenhouse in time to go to the store. I am also without any means to light the wood burning stove (it's going down to -7 tonight) so I am confined to the bedroom, the only room with any other form of heating.

I was actually in a rather calm state of mind as everyone left, quite relieved to suffer alone. However, I got up to try and light the fire and had a bout of stomach pain at the same time. The combination of the pain, profuse sweating, the no-fire predicament and the aloneness bought on unexpected wailing that, quite frankly, I was unprepared for. You see, it was not just a sob but consisted of loud cries of "I've had enough, oh god, I've had enough"....repeatedly.

What is going on with me?! Two scenarios present themselves to me.

The Beginning of the End: I have to confess that I've been struggling with the 'why we are here' dilemma. 2015 has been a great year for the farm in many aspects; achievements, recognition, awards, events, new products, new ventures, etc. but it has also been another extremely challenging year in other ways: the ongoing well issues, drought, the loss of animals, ongoing financial challenges, relentless work and relationship difficulties with my oldest daughter. I've used two analogies to summarize all this recently. The first I think I've heard somewhere before and I've adapted. I told Laura that my life is like a bar stool. 4 legs, and each one represents part of my life. Finance, Family, Work & Health. Again this year we struggled with money, family life is difficult, work is unmanageable, and although our health is generally good, we are having some challenges with our well-being too. A stool cannot stand up with all it's legs broken.

The second analogy relates to Ian, my incredible hard working and long suffering husband. Again, something I think I've heard before and plagiarized but living with Ian, a type-A, perfectionist and workaholic, is not always easy, despite the fact that I love him very much. I sometimes feel like he is driving along in a truck and I am not in the passenger seat but hanging on by my finger tips to the window. Sometimes I slip back to the tail gate and have to claw my way back to the window, but I still can't quite make it into the cab. It's great to have a motivated and ambitious husband but with all this hanging on, I'm getting bruised. I'm gathering scar tissue and I'm not sure I will ever take a comfortable seat as his passenger or if I'll just find myself struggling to keep up forever.

The next scenario is less negative, The End of the Beginning. 2 years and 5 months we have lived here and in Ian's very modest words "We've built an empire". It's true, we need to give ourselves credit for what we've achieved, how we've hung on to our values and the compromise we've endured. We have faced road blocks at every turn but here we are, writing our business plan for 2016. Things have to be easier next year. We will have more people involved in the running of the farm, a team that I'm excited about. This winter we are finishing off building projects, fencing and roofing. We are nearly done so that pressure will be relieved. Last year we finished installing our walk-in fridge 1 day before the meat chickens were due to be processed. In fact, we were still finishing the chickens coop as they arrived! The pressure was constantly on, everything was last minute, we lived life on a knife-edge. This year, there won't be any of that....hopefully. Maybe I like the chaos? Perhaps I'm mourning not having the chaos as an excuse and I have to pretend I know what I'm doing. I'm still a rookie at this. Does being a martyr suit me? Oh god, is that what I'm struggling to let go of?

The Farming 'dream' is obviously not over for us yet. We can't afford to leave even if we wanted to. But big changes are afoot, some of which I can't talk about yet. I am excited about 2016 as much as I am resentful of the work that goes with this crazy life. I still have this niggling feeling that there is a remote homestead somewhere for me and Ian and the girls that offers peace and calm. Luckily, I am not being asked to make that decision today. The only thing I have to achieve today is pulling myself together.

Laurica Farm, winner of the Greater Langley Chamber of Commerce Business Award 2015 for Environmental Leadership

It never rains but it pours

The title of this post has both literal and metaphoric purpose.  As I sit at my kitchen table typing this blog, it is literally pouring down with rain (hence I'm blogging instead of completing the outdoor tasks Ian asked me to do today).  But it is also a reflection of life on the farm at the moment; once something goes wrong, everything seems to tumble down around you.

Regular readers of this blog will know that we've had quite a good transition to homesteading life.  We have worked hard, made sacrifices but achieved a lot.  That changed recently.  The major story is the fruit cage falling down under the weight of the snow.  This collapse triggered a lot of other things that have thrown us off track.  Firstly, the work that has gone back into rebuilding it.  The biggest thing to overcome was an attitudinal barrier for me.  The first day after it collapsed, I went around undoing all the cables that are for training the fruit trees and bushes along.  I'd only finished installing these 3 weeks earlier.  My arms ached tightening them all up and now they were aching again undoing them.  It was really hard to overcome the mental challenge of doing it all again!  Thankfully, Ian and I work well under pressure and have banded together, erected flood lights and laboured through the dark, snow and rain to rebuild the frame.  One week after the collapse, the entire 20,000 sq. ft. frame is back up.  We still have to replace the netting but it's a little less soul destroying seeing the fruit cage now.

The time wasn't the only cost of this rebuild.  We had to replace some of the timbers too.  Unbeknownst to me, the price of wood fluctuates depending on the US construction market.  Of course, timber is way more expensive now than when we purchased it the first time.  We still need to buy more concrete and other materials, I think the remedial work will cost us around $1500, which we can ill afford.  We are also really behind our schedule, we should have moved in animals and begun planting this week but everything has been put on hold.

I also have to acknowledge the friends that rallied around to help us, especially Kyle and Shenade Ingram.  Kyle came and volunteered his time to help demolish, paint and rebuild for four days.  Shenade collected Jess from school and cleaned my house.  Thank you Ingrams!

The dishwasher died about a month ago.  Followed by the tumble dryer.  Followed by numerous other seemingly little things that all add up to one big headache.  I've spent this week trying to focus on the silver lining.

Fruitcagegate: Although devastating at the time, thankfully it was empty (apart from the chickens who miraculously escaped death by crushing).  If this happened in five years time, it would have destroyed $1000's of dollars worth of fruit trees and bushes.  We are now able to make a more accurate risk assessment for the rebuild and take steps to ensure we are never in this position again.

The dishwasher is turning out to be a blessing in disguise.  I quite like washing up.  I stand at the sink looking out of the window planning and musing about farm issues.  Two deer wondered passed the window today which was just beautiful to observe and was a reminder as to why we chose rural life - far nicer to look at marauding wildlife than gangs of marauding youth!

The other upside is the closeness it evokes within the family.  With one of us washing and another drying, we are literally close in the teeny weeny kitchen space but also we talk.  Lauren and I have been chit chatting about friends, school, the farm and even politics.  I think we'd forgotten to do a lot of talking as she turned an Internet obsessed teenage and I became busier.  But now we find ourselves in a small space discovering pleasures in each others company again.  I now relish this time without distraction.  Even Jessica is learning the value of helping with chores and asks to help dry the dishes after breakfast.  It's heartwarming to see the girls take responsibility for helping.  We're not going to replace the dishwasher and might use the space for an extra cupboard or even try and remodel the existing kitchen a bit.

The tumble dryer is another story.  I've been trying not to use it for a while now and dry the clothes on the line whenever possible.  And that's the thing. 'Whenever possible' turns into when it's raining, when I'm short of time, and a plethora of other excuses.  I'm learning that as long as I'm organized, I can dry clothes indoors when the weather is bad.  A clotheshorse in front of the wood burning stove is amazingly effective.  Tumble dryers are expensive to run so we're saving a fortune.  We've decided not to replace the tumble dryer either.

The offset of all this is my time.  I've talked about this before I think but my previous reliance on modern luxuries like dishwashers & tumble dryers was driven by convenience.  It's hard to manage a frugal lifestyle and a full time job!  But now this is my job.  When you consider the cost of going to a job (fuel, childcare, convenience items and easy food), I believe I'm saving us more than I could earn.  And that monetary value will increase as my homesteading role extends to growing and produce.  Somebody said I was a housewife which a disdainful and patronising tone last week, which made me laugh.  Well I'm not sure there are many housewives that can operate the kind of power tools I can or have the carpentry skills I'm acquiring, but whatever.  I know the value of my time here on the homestead may not yet be making us financially better off but all our lives are richer.

Housewife, eh?

As for the other things that have failed, broken, given up, well it's nothing we can't manage really.  It's amazing how creative you become when you walk away from a throw away society and mind set.  And so it's time.  This is it.  The point in my transition that I have truly become a homesteading hippy. :-)

Cathy and Ian, circa 2064, probably. :-)

Culture-shock!

As 2013 draws to a close and 2014 beckons, it seems appropriate to take some time to reflect, evaluate and plan.  Obviously 2013 has been an epic year of change for the Finley family and I’d like to think (perhaps rather arrogantly) that our experience has touched the people around us too.  If you have read our blog, dined in our barn, painted posts, shoveled concrete, drank in the Tiki hut or enjoyed farm fresh eggs for your breakfast, then you are part of Laurica Farm and you continue to motivate us to keep going.  Thank you for your ongoing and unwavering support and inspiration.

The farm has come a long way since July 24^th 2013 when we moved in.  What was 5 acres of serene land with chest high grass, a ramshackle barn and a small house has been successfully transformed into…wait, I’ve just looked out the window…into a muddy construction site with open trenches and half-finished projects!  So it’s not as serene and picturesque as it was six months ago but the fact that I now call it a farm is remarkable.  It wasn’t anything when we moved in and now it is a working farm with exciting new projects evolving before my eyes.  Even since my last post, things have changed.  A quick re-cap on this year’s projects:

• The Tiki Hut: the world’s most over-zealous fire pit.  What started as a vision of a ring of stones and some benches now looks like a gazebo on steroids.  What a fabulous asset to the farm and heart of the social scene here.  Thanks to the reclaim/reuse nature of this build and some charitable donations of roofing materials, the total cost was around $400.

• The Barn: The interior of the original barn has been stripped, insulated and walled.  No longer are there cattle feeders but a large open space with open, beamed ceilings and a wood burning stove waiting to be installed.  Venue of dinners and parties during the colder months.  The barn has an extension in the form of Ian’s workshop and feed store.  I love that we were able to painstakingly reuse some of the bevel siding from the original barn to make the extension fit seamlessly.

• Chickingham Palace and the Fruit cage: As you know the original coop did not meet the needs of our growing flock.  What was designed for 6 chucks quickly grew into a home for 41 chickens.  Over half of our birds are laying now giving us around 20 eggs a day in a beautiful array of colours and sizes.  The palace connects to the fruit cage allowing the birds to roam free in a 20,000ft netted area, protecting them from predators.  In return for their protection, the chickens are doing a fantastic job of fertilizing, turning over the soil and making compost ready for planting in the spring.  Although a few weaknesses were exposed with the recent snowfall, there is nothing a bit of remedial work can’t solve and we are pleased with the outcome.  We even have other homesteaders coming to view the concept!

  

  Chickens at work

  

• The Orchard: The area that is now referred to as the orchard has had all the existing trees ‘pruned’ Ian Finley style (no secateurs involved, just a chain saw!) and there are our first four apple trees planted and doing well.  Trees have been cut down around the area to allow more sunlight and what timber couldn’t be reused in our building projects has been chipped and turned into mulch for the new trees.  It also houses 2 tire swings for the kids.  Plans include a yurt for visitors and some sheep roaming through the orchard.

• The Duck Pond:  It’s finished and Jessica has already fallen into it – twice!  Another ‘bigger than expected’ project, made possible by the loan of an excavator in exchange for storage.  We will build a duck house and then find some new residents for it.  I will enjoy sitting in the hammock chair up there watching the baby ducklings.

  

  Note the boots stuck in the mud!

• The Tree House:  This is the thing that Ian boasted about.  Claiming he would have the base finished within a week of moving in.  Needless to say, other things took priority.  However the foundation posts are concreted in and we have some AMAZING reclaimed windows to go into it.

• Poly-tunnels: While we had the use of the excavator, Ian cleared a big plot of land and levelled it.  He has stated building raised beds in there and we will use our own compost as a base in these.  There is some talk of including an Aquaponics system here as well…we will see. (http://www.backyardaquaponics.com/guide-to-aquaponics/what-is-aquaponics/)

• The Pig/Goat house: The base is complete in the front paddock.  This project was put on-hold while we had the excavator so we could make the best use of the equipment we had on loan.

• The Asparagus Bed: A raised bed in front of Ian’s workshop that will get maximum exposure to sunlight and can be covered during the winter months.  Filled with our own homemade compost.

• The Trenches:  Not really a project as much but in taking advantage of the excavator.  We dug huge trenches across the land to sink additional power cables.  This property has a lot of power coming onto it but needs to be fed around to all the new buildings.  We’ve spent the last 2 days in the trenches, threading cables, gluing conduit, etc.

Phew!  Even typing all that has made me tired.  Of course, ‘the projects’ are just part of the story.  There’s always work going on behind the scenes.  But the biggest growth has been in us, the people.  Rarely can you measure human development in a tangible manner but I invite you to just come and see us here.  You will find a once reluctant teenager who has embraced the change, she’s the one driving the tractor.  You’ll laugh at a little girl who was always meant for the outdoors and has been released into her natural environment.  You will find a hardworking man who lights up when he returns to the homestead and gives everything to make it work. And somewhere in the chaos, you’ll find me, probably talking to my chickens, maybe blogging about the whole thing, occasionally applying my new carpentry skills but always making it fun.

As 2014 approaches, it’s time for some real farming.  Up until now, most of the work has been building and prep, but now we must plant, grow and keep animals.  We have not taken this looming challenge lightly and we have learned and researched as much as we can.  The biggest and cruelest thing I have learned, having just embraced a life of farming, is that agriculture is not sustainable.  That’s right, the very thing we came here to do conflicts with our core values.  Bummer, eh?!  But it’s ok, we’re learning about new approaches and ideas; we’re even playing with some of our own theories.  Permaculture is our way forward.  It combines three key aspects that are important to us:

1. an ethical framework

2. understandings of how nature works, and

3. a design approach

The word 'permaculture' comes from 'permanent agriculture' and 'permanent culture' - it is about living lightly on the planet, and making sure that we can sustain human activities for many generations to come, in harmony with nature. Permanence is not about everything staying the same. It’s about stability, about deepening soils and cleaner water, thriving communities in self-reliant regions, bio diverse agriculture and social justice, peace and abundance.  One thing is for sure, it’s a fascinating subject with many aspects, and it’s still evolving.  We have the advantage to working from a blank canvas and we’re looking forward to applying an ecologically sound and ethical concept to our future and our children’s. (http://www.permaculture.org.uk/)

As we learn more about farming, we learn more about ourselves, which changes our ideas, thoughts and feelings.  It’s clear to me now that we are part of a cycle of growth and learning.  We rely on our growing knowledge base to get the best from the farm and in return give ourselves the best.  How exciting to start a new year with this opportunity and responsibility.

Winter attacks!

It’s been a while since my last post and that’s a reflection on how busy life has been recently.  As you may remember, I took a seasonal job in Old Navy to keep me busy during the ‘quiet winter period’ on the farm. Pfft!  Winter has not brought rest.  Ian erected flood lights and we just carried on working in the dark, after the day jobs.  Old Navy has been good for me though.  I quite enjoy being around people who are constantly happy.  I’ve enjoyed making new friends that aren’t poultry and the light, fun atmosphere.  I’ve even enjoyed that madness that comes with sales and the quiet solitude of losing myself in sorting a heap of clothes balanced precariously on a table.  The whole work thing is proving a bit of a challenge for me personally though.  Trying to juggle a civilized work environment with rural farm life has presented both comic moments and feelings of failure.  For example, there was the time I was so rushed to get the school run done, buy chicken feed and get to work before 9am that I forgot to change out of my farm footwear!  I parked outside Old Navy only to be hit by the realization that I had boots on that were covered in paint and chicken poop.  Luckily for me, Old Navy is right by Walmart.  What I should have done is go and buy a cheap pair of shoes but my flustered brain did not choose that logic.  Instead I went and purchased some Brillo pads and cleaned my Hunter boots.  Also lucky for me, Hunter boots are quite fashionable at the moment and so when I strolled into Old Navy in my Hunters, a coworker said to me “I just love your style, the way you rock the country chic look is awesome”.  Well thank you naïve sole.  I love being an accidental style icon!

There has been quite a bit of progress on the farm as well as some harsh realities.  We have extended Chickingham Palace and there are additional occupants.  We now have 41 birds.  For those of you interested in chicken breeds, we have Caramel Queens (our only non-heritage breed), Coronation Sussex, Australoops, Amercaunas, (the blue egg layers) & Leghorns.  We also got 3 bantams (2 girls and a boy) for Jessica to tend to and enjoy.  We’re getting around 18 eggs a day now in a beautiful array of colours including white, hues of pink, brown and blue.  Despite plummeting temperatures and snow fall we have not lost any birds and although egg production slowed down during the cold spell, it didn’t stop.  I hate to gloat but this has made us feel good, especially as our experienced farming neighbours have significantly less eggs from the same amount of birds.  It’s really not about competition, but it certainly boosts our confidence that we are doing ok with the livestock.

The extension in progress

We built an asparagus bed in front of the barn extension as this is an area that gets a lot of sunlight.  I almost sustained serious injury (well, to my pride at least) during this endeavour.  I was filling the bed with compost (my home made compost!) when I went to push a lump of soil with a rake.  The lump was not moving and I had my legs against the wooden perimeter.  The result of me pushing unmoving soil and having no leverage resulted in me pushing myself backwards over the edge of the bed, much to Ian’s amusement.

Ian’s friend was looking for somewhere to park his excavator between jobs and so we struck a deal.  He could bring it here & we could use it.  And so we have started levelling out a plot for a hot house and excavating the site of the duck pond.  We’ve also started the pig and goat house in the front paddock.

Laurica Farm has had another opportunity to present itself as a master of social gatherings, this time in the form of Jessica’s 6^th birthday party.  On a beautiful sunny day at the end of November, 20 kids and their parents descended on us.  I had planned numerous party games to amuse the kids but they just turned into a wild, marauding bunch of squealing and laughing animals.  So we just left them to it.  We called them into the heated barn to feed them and sing happy birthday but then just left them to enjoy the fresh air.  There were a few tired kids by the end of it!  It’s a privilege to hear to sound of kids experiencing unconfined joy (right up until someone fell into a satellite dish of frozen water).  The other thing that brought me pleasure that day was to see the parents stay.  Some of these people we know well but some we have had limited contact with.  Everyone stayed at the party and had a glass of wine and some snacks by the fire pit.  That’s what this little piece of land excels at; making people relax.

There have also been some side projects here at the farm.  Ian built a custom stage for Jessica's school which look fabulous.  Also, we've been commissioned by our neighbours to build a cart for the farmers markets.  I hope that Ian takes this as a real compliment.  This piece of work was commissioned based on them seeing what he had created here on the farm.  I've also started working on blending some medicinal teas, to be marketed in the new year.  It's great to have these opportunities, but once again requires us to push ourselves to the limits.  

It was all going so well until the snow came this week.  Despite popular perception about snow in Canada, here on the West Coast around Vancouver, we really don’t experience much extreme weather.  In fact, the 6 inch fall that came this week is probably the most snow I’ve seen in this area since we moved to Canada.  However, it was enough to expose some weaknesses at the farm and keep us panic working until late on cold nights.  The 6 inches of snow sat on top of the fruit cage netting creating a white ceiling of snow pillows.  To be fair, the netting has held up fairly well but some of the weaker timbers that we didn’t finish bracing in the summer buckled.  Nothing broken but we do need to do some remedial work on the fruit cage.  We also lost the old lean-to roof at the back of the barn.  No harm done really and that can wait.

What this period has taught me is not to spread myself too thin.  By embracing Farmageddon, we’ve chosen a lifestyle.  It’s a lifestyle that has many rewards but demands everything.  We can flirt with other pursuits but we must stay committed to our little homestead.  We must ride the ups and downs of our relationship with farming and give ourselves completely to make it work.  Sorry Old Navy but you won’t be getting me back next Christmas.