Spreading The Love

I'm done with feeling mopey. Turns out that when I wrote my last depressing post, I had a notifiable stomach bacteria which, I'm going to suggest, was impacting my mood. Not that it wasn't a true reflection of how we are feeling, but maybe those feelings were heightened. Anyway, a course of punishing antibiotics has helped kick my brain into gear for the forthcoming season. Business as usual. No, actually, business better than ever.

The last two years have been about hard work, resilience, sacrifice and grit. But this year is about creativity. 2016 is about more options for customers, more learning opportunities, and a greater reach without working ourselves into the ground. I made a rough calculation of the hours we worked on the farm & at our 'real' jobs during 2015. Ian and I collectively worked the equivalent of 5.5 full time positions. That is not sustainable, yet growth of the business remains an essential component. The commitment to hard work will continue but we will nurture new relationships to make it manageable. Take, for example, the sheep we have here now. These are not our sheep, this is someone else's project (headache/labour of love), it is being run in it's own entity but under the umbrella of Laurica Farm. We are looking for more entrepreneurs who want to run their own business that compliments the farms values here and for the benefit for the land and our customers.

We're working collaboratively with other farmers. Our beef was raised by a neighbouring farmer who has the same ideals about how livestock should be treated. We were able to pay that farmer a fair price for his product, cover our own costs for marketing and storing, etc. and offer our customers a reasonable price on top quality grass-fed beef. We are also linking with Glorious Organics Farm to offer Farm Camps and a couple of events. This helps us pool our resources and avoid duplication of effort.

Our tree house has been offered to two Yoga teachers to use as a studio, with a view of running joint ventures in the future. We've also traded pork to Todd who is coming to teach workshops in there. We'll continue to utilize the tree house as a resource for the farm. Another little project is creating a whimsical fairy garden in the tree grove, apparently people will volunteer to do things like that!

We don't have to do everything ourselves anymore, we are established enough to forge new links and mutually beneficial relationships. Now it's time to let others have the opportunity to flourish so our family can working on our existing relationships with each other.

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

Animal Antics!

One of my main motivations for writing this blog is the hope that one day our children will look back on it, remember & understand.  So for this post I want to focus on the livestock, which brings some comic moments.  It’s not that we don’t have anything else going on; we’re expanding our delivery service and opening our farm gates to the public next week.  It’s all very exciting, but it’s having the animals here, doing their thing, that makes it feel like a real farming venture. 

Let’s start with our new arrivals.  Last Friday night, Ian and I toiled in the dark to finish a homemade ‘cap’ for the truck.  We were quite pleased with our $160 lid as they cost thousands to buy new.  Of course, being homemade, it made us look like hillbillies!  Anyway, early Saturday morning we set off to go and collect the first four of our pedigree piglets.  We worked really hard to source heritage hogs rather go down the commercial route.  If you’re interested in the differences, here’s a small article that outline some of the reasons for this decision: http://www.mnn.com/food/healthy-eating/blogs/6-reasons-to-buy-heritage-pork-from-small-farms

We got them home and off the truck without incident and settled them in.  They were very nervous but appeared to like their new pasture.  They tested the electric fencing causing quite the cacophony, but no harm done, they learn fast.  We named them John, Paul, George and Ringo.

That night, Ian went out at about 10.00pm to check on them.  He came running back into the house exclaiming that the pigs had gone!  Now I tend to be far less reactive than Ian when it comes to the animals but perhaps my “gone where?” question was a little daft, even by my standards.  So off we went with flashlights to traipse around an acre of chest high grass in the dark.  Nothing.  It was starting to look like our four heritage pigs that we had paid for that day had indeed gone. 

Ian and I met back at the pig house in despair.  It was at that moment we heard a faint snuffling noise.  Relief flooded over us.  We heard them, but where were they?  Further investigation revealed that they had tunneled underneath their piggy mansion and decided to make their bedroom underneath the structure intended for them. Pests! 

Underneath the house is where they choose to stay.  I call them 'the troglodytes'.  Seriously, why rent the basement suite when the mansion above is vacant?

The baby chicks have moved into the big girls’ hen house.  They’ve settled in now but were rather upset by this move at first.  Being free-range, the chickens go where they please during the day.  The babies were adamant that they were going to move back to their cozy nursery.  As the nursery is all closed up now, they persistently got lost.  Off we would go again, trawling the field in the dark looking for the chicks.  We usually found them snuggled into the sheep, apparently not quite ready to give up the comforts of a Mothers love.  This made for some late nights and I hate walking through that snake infested field at night, but at least the animals are giving me plenty of opportunity to become adept at it!

Let’s talk about the sheep.  Sheep must be one of the easiest livestock to look after.  All I do is change their water once a week.  Other than that I barely see them in all that long grass.  However, the oldest lamb is a ram and is getting a bit above his station.  He’s been testing us recently by threatening to butt us every time we go to check on them.

Last Friday, a delivery driver left the farm gate open unbeknown to me and I hadn’t properly shut their field gate.  Chaos ensued.  I wrote a brief Facebook status about this incident but it didn’t fully capture the comedy of the situation. Let me fill in the gaps.

I had come into the house to do some baking.  As I put 9 layers of cake batter into the oven I caught a glimpse of four fluffy sheep bottoms disappearing out of the farm gate.  Off I went, panicking.  There was no real need to fly into a blind panic; our farm is at the end of a single track road so very little risk of them causing a multi-car pile-up.  As I got down to the end of the drive, they were happily munching on the roadside foliage.  But, because the road is so narrow, I couldn’t get passed them to usher them back towards the farm and they were ignoring my food offerings and bribes to follow me back to the farm.  Every time I tried to get past them, I just frightened them further away from the farm and towards 256^th Street.  256^th Street is not a major carriageway, this is rural Langley, but the cars do come along there quite fast and there are a lot of trucks delivering feed to the many farms around here, so as they trotted out onto this road, I was quite worried.  Luckily for me a kind man stopped to help me.  He introduced himself as Farmer Rob.  I’m not sure if he was Christened Farmer Rob but that’s exactly what I called him.

I feel it’s relevant to tell you what Farmer Rob looked like at this point.  Contrary to what I told Ian, Farmer Rob can only be described as a bronzed Adonis.  He was beautiful in a masculine, country kind of way.  Approximately 30 years old.  In any other circumstance, I would have found this meeting very pleasing.  While I drawled over Farmer Rob, the sheep continued to refuse to comply and it was almost 30 minutes later that we got them back into their field.

As I turned around to shut the gate, Farmer Rob bid me farewell (sigh).  I raised my hand to wave and shouted “bye Farmer Ro….”.  I didn’t get to finish the word “Rob” because the ram butted me.  Right on my bum!  He put so much effort into butting me that he sent me flying onto my face…in the mud….and the sheep poop.  I lifted my head from my disgraced position to see Beautiful Farmer Rob, still with his hand in the air, mid-wave, staring at me with his mouth open in disbelief.  For some reason, I decided to remain aloof about my predicament and uttered “Thanks again Farmer Rob, bye”.  With that, he shook his head and left.  It was all very Bridget Jones and highly embarrassing.  I shall never forgive that sheep for my humiliation and will feel avenged every time I put part of him into my oven.

During this episode, my nine cakes had burned to a crisp!

As I said earlier, it’s the animals that make this feel like a farm.  It’s also the animals that keep us humble and remind us of our naivety.  Time for us to work on our animal smarts before we can really call ourselves Farmers.

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. :-)

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.

Me and Mr. Kutcher

I’ve been thinking about Ashton Kutcher in shower.  Don’t worry, this is not turning into some weird confessions post (although he is rather aesthetically pleasing), but I do want to talk about Mr. Kutcher.  First a bit of a farm update.

We have made some encouraging discoveries.  I mentioned in an earlier post that we needed to do some soil testing to help us make a plan for the land and get the best possible growing outcomes.  We purchased a soil testing kit and it’s been on top of the fridge unopened for two weeks.  I don’t know why we’ve put this simple task off, maybe out of concern for what we will find.  You see, the area we live in is zoned as agriculture land.  Great!  This protects us from townhouse complexes springing up around us but the irony is that the soil is not great for growing anything other than grapes.  It is very sandy and stony across the entire area.  However, it was me with my astute agricultural prowess (???!!!) who observed that the soil appeared very different at the back of our lot to the front.  Anyway, we tilled the land at the back this week ready for some fruit bushes.  As expected, sand and stones greeted us.  But that’s ok; we will plant a ground cover crop, such as buckwheat, over the winter and then cut it, cover it and effectively compost it back into the ground.  This will replenish the nutrients in the soil ready for growing.  We think this will provide us with an excellent base for fruit growing.

The next discovery came when Ian was looking for the septic tank and found it at the front of the house, just outside the front door.  I know, it seems a strange location. In digging down to find the tank we found a lovely rich loamy soil.  Perfect for growing veg in the front paddock.  And so, that has settled the debate about what to plant where.  And what do you know….us inexperienced farmers have made these discoveries by instinct and not with plastic test kits!

Back to Ashton.  Some of you may have seen Ashton Kutcher’s acceptance speech at the Teen Choice Awards.  He gave a talk about opportunity looking a lot like hard work.  Good for Ashton, someone of influence needs to tell our youth that success rarely just lands in your lap.  But Ashton Kutcher, really?  Is he a true ambassador for hard work?  Because I thought about it a lot in the shower when I was using a nail brush to scrub paint off my bare skin and knocking scabs off as I went.  I wondered as I plucked another set of splinters out of my fingers while my newly calloused hands burned in the hot water, if Aston with his perfect hair and his manicure should really be waxing lyrical about hard work?  What does hard work look like to Ashton Kutcher?  I know he regaled tales of having to work in a deli or something before he was an actor or whatever he is, but does this really quantify hard work?  Are the kids getting the sincerity of the message from polished Ashton and his clichés?  I would like to invite Mr. Kutcher here to my own personal Farmagddon.  I would love him to show today’s youth what hard work really looks like.  I want him to tell them about waking up at night every time he turns over in bed because his shoulder muscles are so tight and painful.  I believe he needs to talk about feeling like he won’t ever be able to stand up straight again after bending over painting fence posts all day under the scorching sun.  He really should share tales of lifting impossibly heavy timber beams at 10pm to get a chicken coop finished.  Seriously, if you’re going to champion hard work, it should be well researched, right?

Ok, I’m going to leave Ashton alone now.  I’ve started to sound more Kathy Bates in Misery than Cathy Finley of Laurica Farm.  But I will give him this, opportunity IS hard work.  And in the same way hard works looks different to different people, so does opportunity.  I’m sure beautiful Ashton has had many opportunities in his career to become a celebrity, that kind of opportunity sounds like hell to me.  Working here with my knotted muscles and my calloused hands is my opportunity.  It’s my opportunity to give my family something Ashton will probably never experience.  Ashton can keep the bright lights, fancy hair and manicure; I’m all good with my Farmagddon opportunities.

I could sure use a manicure though!