Cabin Fever

It's not like we haven't been outdoors or out and about, it is just that it isn't very fun!  We are in the midst of some sort of weather phenomenon here in the Willamette Valley--I think it is called a high pressure inversion or some such thing.  Basically, there is sun and clear skies above us, but for the past week plus, it has been holding down stagnate, cold, foggy, smoggy air.  Nothing is moving, the temps are cold, and it looks downright dismal.

Ordinarily, it is rainy.  We got excited at the original weather reports which showed a nice break in the rain and promise of sunny skies.  Not happening.  We run outside for half-hour stints to try to do some early spring gardening, chat with the chickens or hammer some boards together and end up clomping back in with frozen fingers and sour dispositions.  For the past week, I've gone off to work in the morning in the thick fog and returned home in the dark in the thick fog.  Teri shares a story of a walk last week where she saw an enormous, loud flock of geese fly over while she was walking in the wetlands, only to watch them eerily disappear into the fog only seconds after she spotted them overhead.

We've got a toasty house and we know we're lucky--but there is something about an entire day where the light never changes that makes a couple gals feel as stagnate as the air here in the valley.  We have things to do: books to read, bread to bake, craft projects to complete, closets to clean, and plenty to keep us busy--but that doesn't seem to be lifting our spirits.  I think we have what is commonly known as cabin fever. Even though we don't live in a snowed-in cabin (rather a fog-socked house), we've got the fever...bad.

Supposedly, we only have a couple days left of this and things should start to stir and change by Tuesday.  Of course, this means there is rain in the forecast!  I never thought I 'd hear it, but yesterday I heard Teri tell someone she'd take the rain any day over this cold, dismal, grey fog!

Organic Obsessions

We have both been bitten by the bug.  Actually, it has been evolving for years for both Teri and I in different, parallel ways; and now, since we've come together as a couple, our two individual roads are becoming a super-highway of dirt, vinegar, herbs, and eggs...

I imagine we are fairly ordinary and not the slightest bit unique.  We've gradually become more and more educated and aware--whether it is about chemicals in our food; or the cost in gas and pollutants for shipping food and items from far away; the politics of water; or health effects of stress and an overwhelming schedule.  In the past decade, I've become an active advocate of public transportation, started riding a bicycle or walking whenever possible, and gradually felt my psyche pushing back on plastic packaging, disposable everything, and the super-pacing of modern life.  Teri spent nearly a decade as a vegan--reading and informing herself on ingredients and health choices, and backpacking throughout the Pacific Northwest.  Now, that we're together, our accidental quest continues.

We are not driven by a self-righteous craving for perfection.  In fact, we're pretty honest about our bumbling attempts and questionable knowledge base.  I still crave the French fries once in a while and indulge in a scrumptious bag of Sea Salt Kettle Chips; Teri has a weakness for dark chocolate anything.  Increasingly, however, I find myself reading labels, steering toward the bulk foods and the blemished organics, and choosing local restaurants where I know the food is either locally sourced or organic.  The simple fact that I use terms like "locally sourced" seems a bit of an odd evolution for me.

I know our little lives can seem like an episode sketch on Portlandia, but I suppose that is what makes the show hit home for so many of us. We really are becoming a bit obsessed with slowing things down, fermenting something in a big glass carboy, or learning how to save our own heirloom garden seeds.  Last night, as Teri and I walked through the local Good Earth Home & Garden show, we strolled past a cute, but impractical, little chicken coop/tractor with 2 or 3 hens inside.  It dawned on us that a year ago, we were just getting excited about the possibility of the backyard flock and we knew nothing. In one year's time, we could name the breeds of chickens in the coop and comment on how impractical the coop was as it lacked real shelter from any sort of weather. A year ago, I didn't really know that there were so many different breeds (I think I thought they were all varied colors of a few main hybrids--if I thought about it at all!) or know the difference between a chicken coop and a chicken tractor. 

Our journey is an organic one on many levels--organic in that it seems to be a meandering path of learning, making choices, taking chances, and asking questions; and organic in our growing yearning for simpler, more authentic, better tasting, healthier, and, well, earthier experiences.

Psst! I Know You're Bumbling Too!

I don't have very many pet peeves I choose to make public. In fact, I have this annoying personal characteristic of being able to see most things from multiple perspectives and sides (just ask those who have gotten cranky at me for the tendency to play "devil's advocate" how annoying this is.) I just can't hold back any longer on this one, however, so here goes...

You don't have all the answers and I know, for a fact, that you haven't got it all figured it out!  There, I've said it. I don't really feel a sense of relief and I do understand I need to explain myself. The advent of social media has taken the Self-affirmation Movement (I'll just call it SAM) to a whole new level. Where people used to tape little Stuart Smalley statements to their bathroom mirrors ("I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and Doggone it, people like me!) they now post them all over Facebook, Twitter and other world wide inter-places. I want to invite all the self-helpers and self-righteous, my-sunshine-happy-healthy-day-is-better-than-yours folks over for a nice, spiked cup of cocoa and say "Pssst! We know you are stumbling and bumbling along on this messy life's journey too and hey, that's where the connections happen so lighten up!"

I know I'm a We'll see, I'll try and I'm learning as I go along person--even though I honestly thought I'd have it more together by the time I got to be my age--so this likely clouds my appreciation for other people's quotes about their inherent awesomeness and providence-given divine perfection. I want to cluck, Oh yeah? Well I know you spill your coffee and put your sweater on inside out, too!

I've read the books; I've heard all the very wise directives as to why I should think positive, imagine myself wealthy and all that other good wiseness, but here's the thing--I actually like being an ordinary, bumbling sort stumbling along here with all my other very human compadres.  I'm drawn to other folks who are giving it their best unpretentious shot too. I would rather not see other folks' soul-searching, illumination-seeking journeys splayed out in self-righteous splendor for me to climb over while I'm looking along for photos of delicious-looking meals, adorably naughty kids and pets, and tales of aggravating work days and attempts to make things--just sayin'!

Winter

The clever title eluded me this morning as I sat down to try to focus my thoughts about Winter.  We are having some atypical freezing weather and I think that has me Winter-biased and a little confused.  Sure, we usually get a cold day or two, but the clear skies and hard frosts are not generally our Pacific Northwest way.

Teri has been out in the sunny, frigid garden the past couple days while I have been working long hours.  For her, spending the day in the rare mid-Winter sun was more important than the layers of clothes she needed to keep her warm.  Besides, as she weeded the herb beds, packed straw around plants to protect them a bit from the cold and worked on cleaning up some recycled wood we hustled, her report is it kept her warm enough to make it worth it.  Besides, the outside critters truly enjoyed the company!

The cold has found me in a different place.  Since I am unable to play outside, I've been reading gardening, organic and urban farming magazines and grumbling about how my healthy January diet is making me feel extra cold.  Yay for the delicious home-baked bread and soup, but, sheesh, a hamburger would likely keep my old parts warmer!

Since I am the first one up on Winter mornings, I get to do the "farm" chores, so I do get a bit of the seasonal connection to our earthy lifestyle attempts.  This morning, (since we were out late at a work event last night and we forgot to bring them all in), I brought in all the frozen water/liquid receptacles and cleaned all the ice out, washed and filled them with fresh and warm.  The chickens, the outdoor cats and, even the hummingbirds, now have warm beverages to keep them going.  I admit, I felt a bit studly as my slippers scrunched across the frozen grass while I fed, fluffed and watered everyone.  Not so studly when I nearly slipped on the frosty deck. My furry red robe would have been less than appropriate covering had I ended up "ass over teakettle" (as my mother used to say) on the back porch!

So, it's almost time to start the indoor seeds; we're really trying to get a couple new garden beds built; we know we have to get our bee hive built; and it will soon be time to prune the fruit trees. We know Spring is only weeks away and yet, it is tough to see the Spring for all the Winter we are living right now. It still gets dark hard and fast too early every night, it is tough to creep out of bed into dark and grey mornings, the ground is frosty and the air is cold.  Gloves, scarfs, hats and boots are not exactly what one imagines to be the optimal gardening costume. Still, time is turning, the sun is shining and Winter will soon shake off her frosty cape and we need to have ourselves ready to slip sloshily into Spring!


Compatible Gardners? TBD

This morning, we have a bit of a drizzle--I imagine it is to be expected after the glorious sun and nearly 50 degrees we had for weather yesterday.  Teri spent the bulk of yesterday out weeding in the garden.  This morning, at daybreak, I was out rummaging and sorting through the wheelbarrow to rescue all the hard-grown perennials, biennials and herbs she'd ruthlessly deemed weeds.  The chickens and I were out there in the grey drizzle trying to poke the ones with some root structure back into the cold ground.  Maybe...maybe they'll survive--which might be more than I can say for the compatibility of our gardening styles.

Here's the thing--Teri likes clean lines, symmetry and a great deal of homogeneous order.  She loves to weed and clip and prune and cut, leaving piles of clippings and "weeds" in the wake of her industry.  This can be a good thing, indeed, an awesome thing, as she removes dead leaves, keeps the bush roses happy, and cultivates the dirt in the garden beds.  I respect this and I often appreciate it, but there are those other times when it seems diametrically opposed to my approach.

My gardening has evolved over several decades and I realize that I garden somewhat like I parented--going for health, versatility, diversity and embracing the chaos a bit.  I've learned that beds of slightly-crowded, diverse plants suffer less from pests and disease so I mix herbs and vegetables and cottagey flowers like calendula, poppies and nasturtiums in and around everything.  They self-seed and crowd out weeds if allowed to establish themselves.  I let things go to seed for the good of the order and prune at different times, depending on what's best for the plant instead of what looks best.  It's definitely not THE way, it is just A way. I'll transplant and divide before I'd ever just rip up and toss something. Do things have a tendency to get a bit overgrown in my garden world? Yes.  Yes, they do.

To me, the whole garden is my little ecosystem play land.  Plants gone to seed attract birds, who then nest in our fruit trees and eat bugs.  To Teri, plants gone to seed are an eyesore and potential problems--creating more weeding work later on.  To me, low-hanging leaves or weak plants that the bugs are eating serve a purpose--giving them something to eat so they will leave the good and healthy plants alone.  To Teri, those slug-eaten holes are unattractive and need to be removed!  I like the way nasturtiums and calendula have a tendency to spill over bed edges and come up in surprising places while Teri wants things to stay where they are planted or risk brisk removal.

We haven't really figured out our co-creation yet.  Teri wants to feel empowered to do what she thinks best and enjoy a good afternoon of tidying and tilling, and I would like to avoid the sinking feeling of panic I get when I come home to find her beaming in her work gloves by a full wheelbarrow.  Dollar signs go off in my head when I calculate how much money and time it is going to take to replace those hollyhocks I've grown from seed since last spring. I clench and want to throw myself down, arms spread, to protect my babies from her sharp and ruthless tools.  I can only imagine she views the untamed bed as spoiled offspring in need of some sound discipline.

So, we continue our negotiations.  I know that it is possible for two gardeners to create together, just as it is possible for two cooks to share a kitchen.  It just takes some effort, ongoing communication, and a willingness to give in and let go occasionally.  We'll just have to see...

Planning for Spring

This morning, we wake to a gorgeous, frosty, Winter wonderland.  With an overnight low of near twenty degrees, every tree, rooftop and blade of grass looks like it has been dipped and rolled in sugar.  It has its crisp beauty and the sunshine is quite nice, but it doesn't stop our plans for Spring!

The seed catalogs have been arriving in the mailbox and I have been pouring over online resources as well.  We've made our list of what we want to grow and Teri is pulling all her warm workwear to the front of the closet in preparation for her mid-January return to the wholesale nursery where she works. Despite the fact that it feels as though Lady Winter is just getting started, we are feeling the need to get ourselves ready for the Spring...

 

With gloves and hats and frozen noses, we crafted the new two-bedroom nest box for our little urban chicken coop on New Year's day.  We have circled the February date on the calendar when the Welsummer and Dominique chicks are set to arrive at the fancy farm store and we want our hen house to be ready.  While our current flock is on laying hiatus for the Winter (we lifted our last egg out of the nest box on Christmas day), we are promised by those wiser and more experienced than us that come February, things will pick up again so it made sense to us to make our improvements while the platform was unoccupied. 

Our big planning and building project is looming: the creation of a top bar bee hive.  We've read our books, we've taken measurements and poked around other versions, we've been to the lumber yard to scope and measure and price supplies and in the next week or two, we'll embark on the Building of the Box. We are feeling a bit of a pressure crunch since we're told February/March is when we can expect to be on standby for the acquisition of a local swarm.  OR, we will need to go the less romantic route of ordering our starter bees from afar. We keep telling ourselves, we can do this and it will probably be a bit of fun in the process.  Besides, the $30 price tag for materials seems more reasonable than the $300+ cost of a professionally built one.

So, as we warm the nectar in the hummingbird feeders and chip out the ice from the hens' water, we are also stirring warm compost into waiting garden beds and drawing diagrams of where the tomatoes are going to go this year.  While it might seem as though the world of nature stands still in the depths of Winter, that isn't necessarily true.  Early spring bulbs are pushing up through the crunchy ground all around the garden, the fruit trees wait poised with their tight buds, and we've got a lot to do in the next two months!

What the Almanac Tells Us

Last year was the first year Teri ever picked up an issue of The Old Farmer's Almanac. Historically, she's a pretty urban, East Coast sort of person.  But, with our bumbling quest to grow and raise more and get on board the Self-sufficiency Train, it seemed the appropriate thing to do.  So, it probably comes as no surprise that the newest 2013 version of the "Sun, Moon, Stars and Planets" is sitting splay-backed on our coffee table.  The perfect reading material for the first day of a brand, new year!

If you've never thumbed through an issue of The Old Farmer's Almanac, you may not know that it is a kooky American trail mix of weather forecasts, how to plant by the moon's phases, ads for conservative Christian publications, Tarot reading offers, and tips on everything from saving the world with vinegar, to parenting advice and sheep-sheering strategy.  It is something!

You can order choir robes and sausage grinders from the Almanac, but you can also access several dozen spiritual healers, future tellers and psychic readers.  It has everything a person might be to plan and predict for the next 12 months. Some of this information is darn useful: who doesn't want to the sunrise and sunset times by day and month?  Some is a bit questionable: does one in 10,000 female chickens really spontaneously change sexes to become a rooster? Regardless of how trivial, banal or perplexing the information is, it surely does make for some folksy reading and it somehow makes a person feel a bit optimistic for what the coming year might bring.

So, as Teri and I try to figure out when the days might be long enough for our hens to start laying again, or when the last anticipated frost date will be so we can plant out our tomatoes, we are also dangling our feet in the waters of Americana: a little history, a bit of folklore, some mysticism and superstition, housekeeping advice, a recipe or two, and darn, if there isn't medical and first aid suggestions as well! Since New Year's day is traditionally a bit laden with superstition and folklore, what better way to spend a little first-day-of-the-year reading?

Here's wishing everyone an informed, useful, entertaining, and connected year!