For the Love of Drudgery!

I cancelled my cel phone bill and the cancellation kicked in today. At first I was worried I would go through withdrawal, and I am sure there will be times where I wish my phone still worked, but so far I feel liberated. I just called a real person to make plans with them, for the first time in a very long time. As I spoke, leaving a message on their machine, I realized I was feeling relieved. Even though I was talking to a machine.

Turns out, human connections are healthy, for more than one reason. We need each other, as much as we need to sleep or breathe or eat. When we don't speak to each other, we create walls. Human connections can be made in lots of ways, and I am certain that hearing each other's voices is one of them. So is touch. Consider the words of Alan Muskat, from his article, No Taste Like Home:

Struggling to keep up with the March of Progress, we also leave each other behind. We've invented machines to do work that our mind considers tedious, like processing wild food, weaving, and washing clothes. We call it drudgery, and women fought hard to be liberated from it. But what makes drudgery dull is isolation. This kind of work is meant to be shared, and it's just the sort of mindless activity people can do while hanging out, catching up, and really getting to know each other. I believe the loss of drudgery has unwoven the fabric of society. From TV to computers, our interactions with the world and with each other have become mediated; that's why it's called "media." We've gone from face look to Facebook. What we've supposedly gained in time — again, only to spend it working for The Man — we've lost in community. Divide and be conquered.

I'm excited about taking steps toward living a life where I can connect with people in a more real way. And I'm glad that I have an excuse to call instead of texting. Or to stop by someone's house without calling first: if I don't have a cel phone and I'm just happening by, how would I be able to call ahead? Spontaneous connections are important, I feel. 

So are physical connections. I recently read about how human touch is not only a stress-reliever, but in fact, it has healing power. As soon as you think about this, you think, of course! It makes sense. There is a reason my sister says her massage therapist is as much a therapist as she is a massage therapist. And it's probably not just about the fact that she is easy to talk to. The people who we feel comfortable touching are the people who we feel comfortable being ourselves with. 

I knew Charlotte Diamond had the right idea!

Now, everyone go hug someone they love. 

Thank You, St. Francis.

It is beginning to dawn on me that my path to farming was more of an evolution than a decision.

When someone asks me how I came to the decision that farming is to be my path, I have a difficult time answering. I don't know if there was a moment when I knew it for certain, but sometimes I look back on my life and try to figure out how I got here.

Me and George

I don't think it was growing up on a farm that did it. Not all on its own, anyway. Of course, if I hadn't grown up on a farm, I probably wouldn't know the first thing about farming. But still, I didn't grow up thinking that I was going to be just like my Dad, or that I wanted to get back to the land (I was kind of already there). I was exposed to a lot of things that other kids weren't, of course. Who knows at what early age I first observed the slaughtering of a chicken, or the miracle of an animal giving birth? But none of these things were what lead me to my decision to farm for a living. In fact, if anything, these things caused me to take farming for granted. The lifestyle my parents led (bless them and their hard-working ways) served only to lead me to believe that farming was not, in fact, a realistic way of life. 

So yes, growing up on a farm influenced me for certain. After all, there is nothing like getting scolded by your sisters because you didn't realize that keeping a lock of the hair of your long-dead horse Daisy in your room [as a memento!] was kind of gross. And how many kids can say they made their first buck selling eggs that they plucked from beneath the chickens themselves? And who can honestly tell me that they, too, saved for University by going to the sale barn with Dad and sister and picking out 2 beautiful calves to nurture and feed (somewhat begrudgingly) after school every day, all winter, only to be rewarded with a large deposit to one's savings fund come springtime? I can say those things, because I did them. But they didn't convince me that I should be a farmer.

Nor did living in Guelph. Nope. Even though Guelph just so happens to be [I'm pretty sure] the Aggie capital of Ontario (a claim evidenced by the fact that not too many people who haven't lived in Guelph even know when an Aggie is), and a haven for crazy organic hippies, raw foodies, and various breeds of your typical down-home cattle or hog farmer types, I still don't think that it was living there that did it to me. Of course, if I hadn't lived in Guelph, I may never have joined my first CSA, at Ignatius Farm. I may never have been exposed to the raw or local food movements. I might never have realized how much, in addition to cooking delicious meals, I also love cooking healthy, sustainable meals for myself and my loved one[s] to enjoy. And how much I need to be surrounded by good people who I love and care about, who love and care about me. And how much I want those people to be happy and healthy, and to have a world to live in 50 years from now that still remotely resembles the beautiful (though flawed) world we've still got now. 

Guelph sunrise.

In Guelph, at some point I realized that I wasn't just a closet environmentalist who enjoyed gardening in her spare time. I realized that my beliefs could become a way of life. In fact, they could be a guiding principal in my life. In fact-- in fact!-- they should guide my life. 

I suppose the moment I knew for sure came some time last summer, after I moved home to the farm for a summer of gardening and enjoying the peace and stillness that can be found there. But what made me decide to make that move? What or who is responsible for me quitting my job, breaking up with my boyfriend, moving home, and gardening for the summer?

Not my parents, though they made it possible. Not my ex-boyfriend, who was and is never anything but supportive and caring. And even though my Grandpa, with his intense desire to examine life, see the good in everyone and find joy in everything, has influenced me to want to do the same, I don't give him credit for my current state of mind. Nor do I credit my grandmother, though I will admit she is probably the influence behind my plastic-bag-saving, composting, reduce-reuse-recycling ways. Nope, none of these people or places or things has brought me here all on their own. 

So, was it realizing that I needed purpose? That I couldn't just live heedlessly in the moment-- that I had to live right now with passion, and consciousness, and integrity? Was it yoga? Meditation? Was it learning my body, and finally seeing my place in the order of things? Was it finally understanding that I am just "a functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me?" And that this is actually a blessed thing to be?

That something that I am serving- this Earth, our Universe- is wonderful and beautiful, and the knowledge that I can, in my actions, make it more so is simultaneously humbling and inspiring. 

And it is worth working for.  

I've never really known something like this, so strongly. I've never been so driven to do something as I am driven to work toward retrieving the land from the jaws of the beast. And by the beast, I mean the myth of plenty that we all believe in. The sad, lonely belief we all have, that if we keep working, keep striving, keep seeking to gain, somehow it will get us someplace better. It's that myth that keeps us guzzling oil-- because we are trying to get somewhere. But where? It's that myth that encourages farmers to grow the big crops-- Corn! Wheat! Rice! Empty calories!-- Instead of nutritious, delicious vegetables and grass for our cows to eat. If only we could see that we are already here. And that all this seeking is making us feel lost, when truly, we are already found. 

You are already that which you are seeking. As I type those words, a fearful shudder pulses through my chest, as though I am knowing something true, and it both heartens and terrifies me. It's true. I've decided that it is time for me to stop looking, and start being, in every moment. And what I care about is what I know for certain is sacred and valuable. The land. The Earth, and her systems and creatures and peoples and stories. 

That includes us. You and me. We owe it to ourselves to take care of our home, and each other.

I come from a lot of places, a lot of people, and a lot of ideas. I've been influenced in a lot of ways, not least of all by my family, my upbringing, and my friends. There isn't a single person or moment that is responsible for the me that I am right now. Just like everyone, I am a convergence of ideas and traits that have fatefully gathered in one being, and I think that is a miracle, that I am a miracle as is everyone and everything else in existence. I intend to do that miracle justice. I intend to use my actions to demonstrate my beliefs and give glory to creation. What a glorious creation we have inherited. 

And that, my friends, is why I want to be a farmer. 

Wow, didn't see that one coming, did ya?

~

post script:

Several months ago, at the beginning of the summer, I read a book on meditation that told me to come up with a mantra from my own religion-- something familiar that was inspiring and easy to remember. I chose the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi. I am not a Christian or a Catholic, but felt attracted to St. Francis for some strange reason, and I did grow up in a Christian church. I read a little bit about him at the time, and then thought no more of it, even as I said his prayer repeatedly. Daily. 

Just now, I googled that quote, "You are already that which you are seeking," to find out who said it first. Guess who? St. Francis of Assisi. 

Oh, but it gets better. Click on the link above, and you'll see a picture of a statue of the saint, just like this one, that I admired in the garden of our apartment of Liverpool St, for 2 years, without ever knowing who it was.

The patron saint of animals and ecology. Nice hat, Frank.

How is that for synchronicity?

Getting Fresh

What's your definition of fresh?

Is it a juicy piece of fruit, straight from the grocery aisle? Organic and vaccuum-packed so as not to allow any germs to attack?  A submarine sandwich, made with ingredients that have been trucked half way across the continent, which were treated with chemicals to keep them from going bad and genetically modified not to rot as quickly? Maybe the veggies are crunchy, but I am not sure that they would fit everyone's definition of fresh-- or at least not the connotations of health they are trying to create!

Is fresh more of a personal concept to you? Something you've harvested yourself? Perhaps some milk straight from the cow, or a strawberry straight from the vine? Maybe somebody getting a little too liberal with their efforts to spark your romantic interest?

I tend to think of any of my veggies that have not been frozen, processed, or preserved in any way as "fresh." And I'm pretty proud to say I am still eating fresh, home-grown veggies from my garden. That's right-- and you thought the growing/ bragging season was well over!

Well, to be honest, it is (as much as it ever is... I've still got sprouts going year round and kombucha brewing in the den, and someday I want to have greens in every window, all winter long! But I digress). But the fact that we are still in the depths of winter doesn't stop me from enjoying 3 month old winter squash and parsnips that are still kickin'! You may remember these fellas as the subject of another post from a few months ago. Well, this is my last squash. And save for a little soft spot near the top, he's still as fresh to me! The parsnips are still quite crisp, and very sweet. So I went hunting and found a yummy recipe that incorporates these two vegetables plus some of the barley I've had kicking around for a while in a delicious soup. Don't be fooled by its rather mundane appearance-- this soup is f%*ing delicious.

Root and Barley Soup

Usually I get carried away and tweak most recipes quite a bit, to suit my tastes. But this time, I was fairly faithful to the version of the recipe that appears in Ripe from Around Here by jae steele (check out her killer blog!). I actually went to the work of going to the store and buying produce, something I haven't done often this winter. The only thing I changed was that I did not use miso paste, but instead added a little extra of the other salty ingredients-- salt (duh!) and soya sauce. I did intend to buy some miso but decided that someone who is about to reduce their income by 3/4 probably shouldn't be spending $9 on a single ingredient for a single recipe. However, if you can afford it, I would think that miso could only improve this recipe! Plus it's really good for you.

This is a basic soup recipe, which means it's fairly idiot-proof, but it's great for this time of year because most of the ingredients are winter-friendly (and those that aren't can be retrieved from the freezer or purchased frozen from a relatively local source, i.e. not purchased "fresh" and trucked up from California).

Here's what you need [these are my tweaks]:

3/4 cup pearl barley [pot barley]
7 cups vegetable stock [water & chicken boullion]
2 cups of peeled celery root [too pricy! omitted]
1 1/2 cups peeled & cubed winter squash
1 tsp sea salt
3 tbsp barley or rice miso [omitted, substituted extra  soy sauce, boullion]
2 tbsp olive oil
1 onion, diced
2 cups of diced parsnip (you could also use carrots)
3 1/2 cups of sliced or chopped mushrooms
1 cup green beans
2 tsp fresh marjoram [1 tsp dried]
2 tsp fresh thyme [1 tsp dried]
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley [omitted- didn't miss it!]
1 tbsp tamari soy sauce [or to taste]
black pepper




First, cook the barley in water for about 15 minutes, then add cubed squash and celery root (if using). Cook until squash is fairly soft, adding water as needed (I didn't really follow the 7 cups of liquid part of the recipe... sorta just went with it, giving the soup what it needed!).

If you're using the miso, mix it into a 1/4 cup of stock and set aside.

Meanwhile, heat the oil in a frying pan and start to fry those onions. I don't know about you, but I find this to be one of the most pleasant scents known to humankind. Add thyme to that mixture, and you've got heaven on your hands. Oh, what a coincidence! Thyme is one of the upcoming ingredients!







Once the onions are soft, add the parsnips and cook for a few minutes. Then add the mushrooms and cook for a few minutes more. Then add the beans and the spices.









Then-- you guessed it!-- cook for a few more minutes after that.

Once the veggies seem cooked through, add this mixture to the squash/ barley pot. Add the miso, as much water as you need, and then you'll probably want to season with a little extra stock/ soy sauce, salt and pepper to taste. Also, as with most recipes, this is a good time to say to yourself, "hmm... what does this need?" Then, follow your instincts. If your instincts say, enjoy, well.... Enjoy!

Seeds

Have you ever stopped to think about seeds?

Seeds, to me, are a really poignant metaphor for the miracle of life. And calling them a metaphor is stretching it-- seeds actually contain life.  All a seed needs is a little moisture and a little warmth, and it can create a whole new being. Seeds carry all of the knowledge needed for an entire plant, tree, animal or person to grow for hundreds, even thousands of years. In one tiny little pod. And they can hold on to that knowledge for years, waiting for the moment to be right to rise up, and triumphantly fulfill their destinies! Seeds are like teeny little computer chips that hold immense amounts of information. They are the embodiment of the knowledge of the Earth.

Seeds might even just be the answer to all of the questions of the Universe.

But I don't really think there are any answers. Just more questions. The questions just beget questions, like the seeds beget more seeds, in a never-ending chain: an infinite pattern that we live within. This is the way the world works. Isn't it beautiful? Maybe we should show those seeds a little more respect.

Next time you are munching on a delicious seed, remember what you are consuming: the infinite knowledge of the Universe, contained in one cute little button-like package.

It's no wonder seeds are so good for you!


How to roast pumpkin or squash seeds perfectly:

1. Watch Rachael do it a million times and try to replicate her method from memory, but repeatedly burn them or season them wrong. 

2. Ask her how she does it. Try again. Fail again.

3. Ask her a second time, this time demanding very specific details, including oven temperature, timing, amounts of seasonings, etc. 

4. Thinly cover the bottom of an oven safe dish or pan with olive oil. Spread seeds in an even layer in the oil, and shake a bit of salt, pepper, and paprika over them to season (not too much!). Roast in an oven preheated to 350 for as long as it takes for the seeds to turn golden brown and become crunchy. Enjoy!