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

No One Needs to Know

The word 'Adventure' has been overused, in my opinion. Adventure begins when everything goes wrong. Our fight for survival on this farm continues; physically, emotionally and financially, but out of this fight, great things emerge. I had become so entrenched with the battle that I overlooked to triumphs.

A couple of weeks ago I saw my friend, Lisa. Lisa and I worked together in Old Navy and that's where I saw her. Immediately after the usual greetings people share, she said "I follow the farm on Facebook, you have such a great life". She went on to talk cheerfully about the animals at the farm and all the events that have been happening. Lisa was smiling while she said this, while it was all I could do to hold back the tears.  I couldn't believe or process what Lisa was saying while we were drowning.  Just a few days earlier, Ian and I had sat under the trees in the sheep field, both of us sobbing, seriously (at that moment) saying we were selling up. We had just buried our fourth sheep of the summer and we had already lost too many animals during the summer. The well had dried up again, now tallying a bill of $60,000 in less than 12 months, and we are still without a full resolution to the myriad of problems the well has presented. Staffing has been a nightmare for the last part of the summer. My car was written off. My oven died. We've had damage from a storm and a power outage for a week. We've been without water for one reason or another for a big chunk of the summer growing season, to name just a few of the challenges. I've been covered in animal blood, snot and feces way too much and I had to learn how to insert a tube into a sheep stomach from a YouTube tutorial while 'in the field'. And yet, I was being presented with the fact that, to the outside world, it looked great, enviable even. There have been many, many times this summer when my old life as a normal person felt very appealing.

Driving home after seeing Lisa, a song came on the radio. The artist sings "No one needs to know, no one needs to know right now. Take a deep breath in and don't let them break you down". Something resonated with me. I knew I could not make decisions about the farm in the middle of the farming season, while everything appeared so crappy. I had to suck it up, ride it out to the end of the season and then take the time to reflect.

So here we are, at the end of the season, and it's time to reflect and decide. It's easy to remember what went wrong, but what went well? I'll tell you what went amazingly. Last year was our first growing season and we started the delivery route to take fresh produce from the farm direct to our customers. This year we  built on that and added a CSA scheme, farmers markets, restaurant supply, and farm gate sales. This time last year, we had four pigs on the farm. Right now there are 22 pigs and 22 more coming in the next month (although 7 will be 'leaving'). We have our own breeding program for heritage hogs that supports breed conservation. Those pigs are used to support the farms activities and our environmental stance. The pigs get no commercially made grain, ever. We divert around 5 tonnes of organic food waste away from landfill every single week! And then we either reuse, re-purpose or recycle the packaging that goes with it.  The pigs turn the food waste into fertilizer and bacon! They till our fields while they are at it which reduces the amount of heavy machinery use on the farm, builds the soils and means we don't have to bring in compost. We watched Cowspiracy recently which does not look favorably on any type of animal agriculture, even 'sustainable' models. We agreed with most of the content of the documentary but felt that it wasn't representative of what happens here at Laurica Farm. We could answer the concerns about water and land usage. And that is something to be proud of. We have found a different way, our own way.

The pigs rolling in organic melons as part of our food waste program

There are now 103 laying hens, we've done our first batch of meat chickens and we have a permanent flock of sheep on route to the farm, primarily pregnant ewes. All of this is managed on just 5 acres through a process of pasture management and permaculture design.

We have also launched events at the farm. Two awesome events have led to numerous inquiries about weddings and other events for next year.

Farm Jam

There are more buildings on the farm this year. The poly tunnel has doubled in size, it has a concrete floor with a sustainable heating system underway. There is another salad tunnel for summer growing. Last year, we grew in two fields, this year we filled three fields. There's a new chicken coop, another pig pen, new fencing, 35 more fruit trees, trellis along fences for growing, a new outdoor washroom and another bathroom almost complete that is totally off-grid.  And on top of all that happening on the farm, we have been nominated for a 2015 Business Excellence Award in the Environmental Leadership category.

Two years! That's what it's taken to turn an empty piece of land into a fully functioning, sustainable farm. It's nearly broken us emotionally, physically and financially, and it still might. But it hasn't broken us yet. I'm not sure if I should say despite the challenges we've made it work or in spite of the challenges, but you can bet you're bottom dollar I'm not giving up now. If I leave this farm, I'll be doing it bankrupt or dead, because sensible not, the decision has been made. We're all in! Let the adventure continue.

Heirloom tomatoes

Piglets born here at the farm

Our ducks, Simon and Garfunkel, catching insects in the fruit cage

Some of our market produce

Night time events at the farm

Lamper, the kale thief

An open letter to Mother Nature

Forgive me, Mother Nature, for I have sinned. I have had traitorous thoughts about abandoning my eco-hippy lifestyle and reverting back to the dark days of luxury and convenience. I'm sorry, Mother Nature, I know it's wrong but Irony and Fate have had a part to play in my flirtatious feelings towards modern life. I know you are pushing back against the human race and the way it has taken advantage of your genourous disposition for so long and so recklessly, but do you, Irony and Fate need to push me so hard? Because I've been saying sorry for a long time. We've personally sacrificed to heal some of your scars and give something back. We've even pissed off most of our friends by advocating so vehemently for you. So why us, again? Is there any chance you could ask Irony and Fate to just back off for a year or so? Please? Pretty pretty please with an organically grown from non GMO seed, heirloom cherry on top?

You see, we have no water on the farm again and you need to understand what that has done to me. Remember Wellgate of 2014? The thing I said I'd never speak of again on this blog? The incident that cost us around $50,000? Well, the brand new Rolls Royce of wells has no water. Responsibility for the lack of water partially lies with you, Mother Nature. You sent no snow over the winter and no snow melt means the resovoires are not replenished. And don't make me bring up the lack of rain for the last 10 weeks. I'm pretty sure you're in cahoots with Fate over this well business but in case you're not, here's a brief outline of what Fate has been up to. He hid an underground lake! Extreme, right? I mean, the well drilling company have never seen anything like this in 3 decades of business. It appears that when we drilled the new well last summer, we hit that hidden underground lake instead of a running water stream. After a year of irrigation and you withholding water, we've emptied it. Now we have to drill down again to try and find another source of water. But it's ok, it's not like we've blown every cent and borrowed unmentionable amounts to build a permaculture farm to protect you, Mother Nature, from destructive Big Ag......oh wait, that's exactly what we've done. And Fate has put a roadblock in front of every single thing we've done/purchased/built. He's really been a big part of my bank managers stern looks and raised eyebrows. There's literally nothing in our home or on the farm that Fate hasn't touched and that guy breaks everything! Also, today Fate invited his buddy Irony to the party. You sent rain, torrential rain, and Irony kindly sheltered us from it. It got with 1/4 mile of the farm, but Irony kept us nice and dry.

I rebelled today. Guess what kind of unforgivable sins I have committed today? I'll confess. I went to my friends house after she offered to let me shower and do some laundry. I put two washing machines on at the same time! I selected 'hot wash', negating my responsibility to opt for the environmentally friendly cold wash. I didn't even care about using detergent instead of laundry seeds. In fact, it felt good and it smelt good.  I'm a laundry whore! And do you know what else? I put the washing in a tumble dryer to dry. That's right, no washing line. Ha! Rebellion! Then, while the two washing machines and tumble dryers were running, I took a shower. Not my usual navy shower, I left hot water running for the entire duration I was in there. Oh the frivolity! I then scrubbed myself clean with shower gel out of a plastic bottle, not the usual homemade bar of lavender soap. And do you know something? I LIKED IT! My frivolous ways did not end there. I drove around the corner to the shop after my shower. I could have walked within 2 minutes but what's a little extra pollution between friends? I was a little perturbed that the healthiest food I could buy for a snack was white bread and deli ham but whatever, I was living dangerously today anyway. Do you know what my kids said when I handed them the unknown pig parts from an anonymous pig between two slices of white, GMO bread? Yum! They said yum! They liked it. And my eye only twitched for a moment thinking about the pig I hadn't raised. Your barrage enabled me to step away from my values, it's so exhausting being self-righteous.

I'm only telling you this because I'm worried about you. Because Irony and Fate have been relentless in their assault of our resolve, we're asking some serious questions about the future of our dreams. Here's the thing. I'm not asking if we CAN make this work. It's crappy at the moment, but we'll somehow, maybe, probably find a way. The question we're asking is SHOULD we fight this battle? From a business perspective, yes, business is immense and exciting. From a personal perspective, I'm not sure. Even if we could figure out a way to finance drilling a deeper well without increasing monthly payments, we would still be accruing even more personal debt. And for what? For Ian to stay in a job he hates for another decade? For us to have no quality of life outside the farm into our 50's? To not be able to afford to help our kids if they decide post-secondary is important to them? To work so tirelessly that we get less time together as a family? That conflicts with all the reasons we did this. I knew it would be like that short term, but dealing with that as a long term reality is kinda tough.

So, Mother Nature, over to you. Can you get Fate and Irony in line? For us? We might be done here if you don't. And then what happens to this 5 acres of you, Mother Nature? A blueberry farm? I know everyone loves blueberries but that cash crop won't protect your soil. A developer? Do we need another 10 bedroom mansion with green lawns and a pony in the yard? 

Listen, this may sound arrogant, Mother Nature, but I know what we're doing here is a good thing. From a selfish perspective, I don't know how to live without the farm any more. I can't 'city'. What would I eat? Although I fell off the wagon today, I really wouldn't know what to do without our farm food. And the business. I just can't say goodbye yet. If I was an investor looking in from the outside, I'd want to be involved with Laurica Farm. It's an exciting time. How can I walk away? But then how can I not? Mother Nature, you've lead us on this path, tell us now what we should do.

Yours faithfully,

Desperate Farmer.

Let's talk

I had intended to write this post yesterday. When I told Ian, he suggested I should stop writing about being broke. As usual, he is right. Finance has dominated my recent updates. I had planned to tell you though about how we were turning things around. How we are doing what is needed to bring in extra income, about how I'd cleaned houses, baked cakes for people, transported animals and numerous other things to bring in extra dollars during our time of need. I was going to tell you about how enthused we were feeling about the forthcoming season. How we've planned, prepared, built and invested in the farm. But today, an unspeakable tragedy has dominated our small community here in Aldergrove.

Twenty four hours ago, a child, a high school student, son of a farming family and dear friend of my eldest daughter, felt such despair that he chose to take his own life.

The news of this incident rocked the high school which he attended. I can't articulate the way in which this incredibly sad and tragic event has touched us and I certainly can't begin to imagine the sadness that his parents are feeling. My fourteen year baby has never experienced shock like it and as a parent, it's heartbreaking to observe. Today, we have shed tears for the boy and his family as well as our own family.

There is a conversation to be had about mental health and the high suicide rates among boys of this age. But not now, and not here on this blog. Today, the discourse is about shock and grief. Today is for perspective and remembering. Today is for thoughts for the family.

Soon, I can write an update on our farming activity, but now is time to bow our heads, stand shoulder to shoulder with our farming community, and give our condolences to all at Aldor Acres Farm.