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!

Confessions of a Homesteader

This week has seen a real start of working the land and preparing for what is to come.  Grass has been cut, fences have been moved, things have been planted, trees have been felled, and I’ve been doing what every homesteader does this time of year…preserving food.  Obviously we haven’t had much of our own produce to preserve this year apart from an abundance of blackberries but I did strike deals with local farmers and received a mountain of green beans and mini cucumbers.  I jammed the blackberries, experimenting with Chia seeds as a gelling agent thus avoiding artificial things like pectin, and I’ve pickled the beans and cucumbers.  We have enough pickles for eternity!  I like the occasional pickled onion – my Mum always used to lament about the time I was trying to steal one off her Ploughman’s lunch when I was about 2 years old.  I was so persistent she let me take it in the end thinking I’d spit it straight out and leave her be, but instead all she heard was “nom nom nom” as I tucked into the onion.  Anyway, I’ve never really experimented with other pickled veg until recently.  Thankfully, I really quite like it and I’m looking forward to preserving the excess of our own harvest next summer.  I’ve also been reading about the health benefits of pickling.  I didn’t know until this week that pickling is extremely beneficial to your digestive health.

Along with our productive week, there have been a few ‘hiccups’, of course.  We decided to mow the front paddock with the tractor.  Ian started it and I took over after he’d done a few circuits.  He told me that he had seen voles scurrying around as he was mowing and joked about their funny long noses.  Off I went, looking out for these strange creatures but only saw a couple.  After I’d mowed half the field, Lauren came out to do the remainder.  I passed on the information about the resident voles and stepped back as she pulled away.  As she started the tractor, something wet hit my face.  You know that moment, when you just freeze, scared to find out what the offending material might be…yeah, you guessed it, some mangled body part of a small animal had gone through mower blades and had been ejected all over me.  I looked around to realize it was total vole and slug carnage in the paddock.  The corpses lay strewed around.  So there I was, in the midst of a Farmageddon genocide.

That wasn't the only unwanted animal encounter, this time we were the ones at risk.  We set ourselves up with a camp fire, marshmallows and sticks ready to watch the meteor shower.  All was going so well, we saw the international space center pass over and it was fantastic quality time with the family.  But before we saw a single meteor, we heard howling.  We assumed it was coyotes and didn’t panic but decided to take the dog and kids in as they were extremely close.  As I was walking towards the house with the last few items, Ian turned around and stared at something.  I didn’t need to turn around to know what he’d seen was close.  He just about had time to utter “I don’t think they’re coyotes, they’re wolves” before I started running for the safety of the house.  I know, I know, a bit of an overreaction perhaps, but still, nature can be scary sometimes.

So another roller coaster kinda week, from feeling like we were achieving a lot to feeling that we’d taken on too much, and as always, this evokes some reflection.  It wasn’t until today that I teased out the message from our recent experiences.  It was the Insurance lady who had come to finalize some details that made the metaphoric light bulb come on.  Once she had lifted her head from her clipboard and truly started to look around, she began to do what everyone does when they come here, she oooo’d and arrrr’d and wowed.  It made me think back to when I worked in Social Care.  I always believed that you could support someone in a bad situation to make positive changes as long as they had even a tiny spark of hope.  If their hope was gone, the battle was lost.  One of the things that chips away at a person’s hope is their environment.  Too often did we venture into grim, dark homes and find the person inhabiting the stale space had lost all motivation.  And it’s that belief which makes me confident that we will succeed here.  We are so lucky to have this amazing environment.  A wonderful open landscape with a natural serenity and beauty about it.  It’s the environment that makes people ooh and arrr when they come here.  It’s the environment that keeps us working late at night.  It’s the environment that makes me want to pickle and preserve its offerings.  It’s the environment that makes me want to stay home instead of going out, that makes me happy and content and makes me want to share it with my friends.  And I truly believe that, no matter how many mangled animals splat me, this environment will keep us plugging away to make it work. 

Here’s hoping I still find it inspiring in the middle of a wet, gray Vancouver winter!

Food for thought....

I’m treating you to an extra post this week because next week there will be some actual homesteading activities to report (I know you’ve been waiting with baited breath), but in the meantime I have a few things to get off my chest.  I want to talk about food and emotions – two things that often go together, and one often triggers the other.

Let’s get emotions out of the way first.  I don’t know whether the adrenaline has ceased pumping after the busy time of moving or if my current emotional state is due to going through a major life event, but I’ve felt a bit down this week at times.

As you know, I'm a Brit abroad and it is sometimes hard to live so far away from your family and friends.  Obviously, when times are hard or challenging you yearn for family, friends and familiarity but also when things are good, I miss the opportunity to share it with them.  There’s been a few moments when I’ve been going about my daily activities and I see something beautiful, or I achieved something for the first time, that I wish I could share it with my family & friends in the UK.  Now I need you to understand that I am extremely grateful for my friends here in Canada and have been astounded by the level of support we have received, this is just about being reminded of people left behind.  The desire to hand my sister Shelley a glass of cider or tell Denise about a new granola bar recipe.  To share a laugh with Katie and Julie, or to pop in to Rowena’s for a cuppa while the kids play.  I also lost my Mother 2 years ago and I know she would have loved the idea of us embarking on this venture.

Anyway, I have to admit that a combination of all of this provoked a bout of tears yesterday in front of Ian.  I’m not normally a cryer, thankfully because when I do cry, it’s bad.  I can limit it to a few tears if no one asks me if I’m ok.  As soon as someone wants me to talk, I lose it.  My face involuntarily contorts, turns red and then the tears explode and I lose the ability to talk, breath, gain control.  The last time I had such a crying bout was approximately 4 years ago in the middle of London; a very public display!  We had just left the Canadian Embassy after a horrid experience at the visa office and I burst into tears.  Ian, bless him, tried to console me (or hide my hideous crying face from the general public) by pulling me in for a cuddle.  Unfortunately, he had a waterproof jacket on and so my tears and snot were basically rubbed back into my face and hair.  My muffled protests were mistaken for sobs which caused Ian to hold me tighter and not release me from drowning in my own bodily fluid.   This memory is a brilliant motivator to keep it together now when those moments of sadness pass over me.

Moving on to food.  I was telling a random stranger about our lifestyle transition and the motivations when the lady asked me what I meant by ‘food security’.  I started spouting some generic dribble but was struck about the lack of personal honesty of the words coming from my mouth. 

I read something in The Backyard Homestead Guide to RaisingFarm Animals recently that talked about the issue of food security.  It says:

“The term means different things to different people.  One definition involves having a reliable source of basic foods and not having to worry about going hungry.  Another requires the food to be sufficient quantity and quality to meet your dietary needs and satisfy your food preferences.  Still other definitions specify that the food be nutritious, safe, and healthful.  And some definitions incorporate the concepts of local self-sufficiency and environmental sustainability”.

The woman who questioned made me reflect on what it means to me personally.  All of the above definitions resonate with me but what does it mean on a practical level of running a homestead and providing food security to my family?  So I set about putting together some rules for a homestead that would enable my own personal definition of food security.

1. Animals raised for food production or meat will be allowed to roam free, and live in conditions as close to their natural environment as possible, whilst protecting them from the natural predators in the area.
   
2. The animals will get the best available diet, free of animal by-products.  Think grass-fed cows and flax added to the chicken’s diets, which will in turn enhance our diets.
3. Wherever possible, the animals will be slaughtered on site (not be me you understand, I’d like to think I could do it, but I can’t).  This reduces stress to the animal and reduces mercury released into the meat.
4. No unnatural fertilizers will be used for growing veg.  Last year we used mushroom compost which was very successful.  I do not want to put chemicals on the soil that grows our food, nor do I want these chemicals filtering down into the ground water…we live on a well and have to drink that water.  No matter how effective the natural filtration system, this is a something I want to avoid. 
5. We are not going to get our farm registered organic, because the buyer ends up paying, right?  However, we will set out a list of ethical growing practices, such as using natural predators and pollinators instead of insecticides, etc.
6. We will only use the water for food and animals, not for lawns.
7.  Our homestead will aim to produce minimal food waste.
8.  Finally, and most importantly to my personal values…I will never, no matter how hard things get, resort to making fruit wine, EVER!
   

Bigger, better and far more fun.

This is week has been incredibly busy but very rewarding.  Firstly, Chickingham Palace is finished and looking very retro.  After we got the structure and chicken run up and painted we had to go begging for some cladding for their double insulated house.  I sent my friend Kirstin, whose husband Bruce works for a roofing company, a begging text.  Now this is the one thing I find difficult, making ‘the ask’.  Asking people for anything makes me squirm, and so after typing the specifics of what we needed in the text, I ended it with “SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL FARMER”.  It worked!  We have corrugated cladding on our chicken coop at no cost.  This will now be my default line whenever I need anything.  Surely this technique of playing on people’s emotions is classed as psychological warfare?

The next big project is well underway.  Obviously we have prioritized, sort of.  There are many things we need to do.  We need to build an animal shelter, the barn needs remedial work, there are shelves to be built and land to be tilled.  However, all these tasks have come second to Ian building what is essentially a grown-up swing set.  I showed Ian this picture from the Internet:

Now we have one, almost.  But this is Ian Finley; ours has to be bigger and better.  Ours is hexagonal and will have hammocks as well as swinging benches.  The fire pit will not be a commercial, purchased one but rather hand made from reclaimed rock.  It is filled with reclaimed gravel, built with reclaimed timbers and crafted with love and alcohol.  We will have more seating than friends.

Talking of friends, this week has been a time for valuing existing friends (again) and making new ones.  I went to meet the neighbours behind us.  We knew they had some sort of growing operation and spotted a sign saying that they were open to the public on Sundays, so in I went.  How absolutely wonderful their enterprise, Glorious Organics, is!  Not only was I welcomed enthusiastically by “oh, you’re the people with THE chicken coop” but I was introduced to their cooperative and given unusual fruits, veggies and flowers to sample.  I left with an Ikea bag full of organic yumminess for $20 and an inflated ego knowing that our chicken coop was a thing of legend.

This weekend was a holiday weekend and we received offers of help from our friends.  I found it amazing that people wanted to give up free time to come and help us.  On Sunday afternoon, three couples plus kids arrived at Farmagddon to paint and construct.  It felt sooooooo gooooooooooooood.  Not only was this saving us time and effort but people were willingly investing their time in this little project of ours.  My heart swelled to see our friends sweating in the hot sun and covered in paint, cuts, bruises and mosquito bites.  Thank you to Martin, Erica, Shenade, Kyle, Travis and Kyla.  In exchange for services rendered we lit Ian’s homemade Texas BBQ (an oil drum cut in half, put on a stand and filled with charcoal) and served up homemade Alpaca burgers (the Alpaca farm is just a couple of blocks away) with bread baked in the Otter Co-op and organic salad and edible flowers from the field right behind us.

I also want to talk about growing, the thing we came here to do believe it or not.  Occasionally, but not very often, I get to talk to Ian, you know, when I’m holding something he’s nailing together or we’re washing paint brushes together.  The topic of conversation recently has been what and where to grow.  We know we want an orchard at the back right section of the land.  This will be netted at the top to protect from birds and other fruit stealing critters.  The bee hives will be here too for effective pollination.  I’m going to plant wild flower seeds in the orchard to make it beautiful.  The Royal Hens, Elizabeth, Victoria, Anne, Eugene, Beatrice and Georgia, of Chickingham Palace will be able to roam in the orchard during the day to forage and provide natural fertilizers.  The location is also near to the barn which will someday double as a brew house and kitchen….think craft cider and jams.

The veggies are presenting more of a challenge to our marital harmony, where to put them and what to plant changes daily.  Our continued discussions are largely irrelevant really.  We need to do some tests on the soil here to assess for nutrients and PH levels.  As far as we know the land has never been used for growing but it is quite sandy in places and very stony everywhere.  There is also noticeable differences in the soil in various places.  We can argue about the virtues of the back left section vs. the front paddock all we like but it is these tests that will determine the outcome.  In the meantime, I’m putting a few broad beans in a pot outside the back door as a gesture towards self-sufficiency.  Maybe when we have a swing set to swing on and our creativity is warmed by a hand crafted fire pit we’ll be able to make better decisions????!!!