A lousy farmer, that is

In the farm paradise piece below, I started to write about the thrill of harvesting our first 3 eggs from the 6 new chickens we bought yesterday, when I realized I'd forgotten to get them safely locked into the chicken coop for the night. After 1 hour with a flashlight scouring our land (and cursing how big 5 acres really is), I managed to find and carry 3 of the 6 back to their new home. When Sarah gets back from yoga we'll go look again, but I deeply fear I've made easy prey for the raccoons, ravens and minks tonight.

Not that I love chickens in any deep way - picking them up still scares me, to be honest - but I'm feeling more than just a loss of eggs and investment ($10 each). We're slowly embracing the real responsibility we've taken on to steward this land - growing food sustainably, managing the forested area, protecting the creek - and even more so to steward the animals. In my first night as a chicken farmer, I've failed to protect half of my flock. And the 3 I did find did nothing to assuage my guilty conscience - these same birds who feistily pecked then ran away as we tried to put them in transport cages yesterday were scared little baby birds tonight, sitting docile and relieved to have Papa Ricky carry them to safety, giving me that same "all the other mommies were here on time" look our kids give us when we're late at school pick-up.

Some couples get a puppy to see if they could handle a baby. Good thing they don't start with chickens, or we'd have a serious population decrease to deal with.

PS - an hour later now, Sarah and I did find one of the missing 3, but not before the raccoons had found her. We just hope the other 2 found better hiding spots, and that they forgive me more easily than i'll forgive myself.

I'm a real farmer now

well she might'a took my car keys
but she forgot about my old John Deere

Yup, that's me this afternoon, straight out of a Vince Gill country music video, driving my tractor for the first time, out to the new compost pile with a trailer load of chicken-coop hay and poop and dead rat remains (judging from the puncture wounds, i'd say our cat is finally earning his keep.) Then pulling weeds and turning soil to prepare for tomorrow's full-moon naked midnight planting of the 40 garlic bulbs we bought from Gail 5 farms up the road. Each bulb can produce up to 6 new bulbs, so we may end up with 240 garlic bulbs next year as testimony to our overzealous first planting.

Yesterday we took the 3 neighbour kids plus ours up the road to the old schoolhouse, where i climbed and vigorously shook an apple tree, producing a hailstorm of organic apples upon the heads of 5 screaming delighted children. In one hour we filled up the 2-kid Chariot buggy. We've already washed them and cut out the previously-enjoyed bits (Sarah discovered 5 different types of bugs still enjoying them) and made a winter supply caramelized apple butter and apple sauce, and haven't even begun harvesting our own 5 trees.

At the farm up the other street, all of Armande's basil died in the heavy frost last week (these natural events now mean more to us than just an icy car to defrost), but we managed to buy the entire remaining basil supply from the produce store on the highway for the winter supply of pesto. The kindergarten teacher Katie brought us 4 bags of the heaviest, meatiest tomatoes in the valley, from which we've put away sauce, salsa and ketchup for the year.

It's not just the local seasonal foods - that's last year's excitement. It's the intimate connection to the growers, and our growing identity of being amongst them. And it's our connection to our own land. We've loved past houses and neighbourhoods, but never felt tied to or responsible to the land. Now we are regularly called outside, rain or shine, to be part of it and steward it, walking around in Joyful reverence, in wider and wider circles of knowing, quietly pledging to make the most of this time and place. To misquote Corduroy, "I think I've always wanted a home."

Writing

To explain yesterday's hasty posting a bit further, both Sarah and I have been hired as regular contributers to the newly expanded website of Carrie and Danielle, the Vancouver-based authors of a popular book called Style Statement. The book helps people analyse their wants and patterns and characteristics then come up with two words that describe their core - contemporary exotic, enduring bold, sacred dramatic, etc. Readers then try to make all parts of their lives reflect that truth - clothes, friends, vocation, hobbies, etc. Gimicky, yes, but the idea of aligning all of one's life to a basic understanding of self and values is a good one.

The website (www.carrieanddanielle.com) features articles about intentional living, spirituality, environment, fashion, etc. No doubt there's a high-tech widget way to do this, but for now I'll just post links here anytime we're published. Here's what we've got up there so far:

• Love is in Fashion - a call to express love as openly and fully as we do for our children
• Beyond the Checklist - we have to go beyond the standard 10 simple steps (low-flow showers, recycle, cfc lightbulbs, etc) and make some deeper shifts if we truly intend to save the world
• Down the Drain - the one i mentioned yesterday about water conservation and teenage fantasies
• Locavore Thanksgiving - Sarah's article about eating local

One of the goals of this new phase of our lives is for me to finally have the chance to write. For over a decade i've been believing there's a book or two inside me ready to come out, but as with most important things in life, just never had time. Now here's the time - kids in school, no job - and it is rather intimidating. No excuses, just gotta do it. This website, and this blog for that matter, are giving me a chance to start doing it, to start writing and sharing in small chunks that will I believe come together into a larger body of work when the time is right. For now i get to learn about the fine art of blogging, writing, being edited, receiving feedback (I absolutely cherish any comments you care to make on my writing - it's a huge help), getting published, etc.

So, thank you so much for reading, for being part of this new journey. They say writing is a lonely world, but so far I feel well supported and part of something. If you'd like to actively help, here's how:

1. keep reading!
2. post comments on the carrie and danielle website - it gives me feedback, and also shows that people are interested which makes others want to read
3. pass along my writings, blogsite, etc to others who might enjoy
4. send ideas of things i should be writing about

Published article

I've had my first article published - something about saving water and showering with Rhonda Warwick... Check it out (and please leave a comment there when you've done) at: www.Carrieanddannielle/com

We've also finally moved into our new house -more about that soon, gotta go unpack before Sarah catches me on my blog...

Journey of People - Hollywood, Amtrak

Whew, in the past week I’ve been a busy dizzy puppy. Packed up my life in the ecovillage tent, dropped the kids at school then met sarah at the Nanaimo ferry terminal on her way back from teaching a Vancouver prenatal weekend class. We spent a romantic few hours on the beach before handing her the keys – tag, you’re in – and jumping on the ferry myself.

Spent a beautiful night catching up with friends in Vancouver. One of the benefits of moving but not too far away is that, while we won’t see all our mainland friends much, when we do it will be great visits. Whether it’s them coming to Duncan or us popping over, there’ll be more time, sleep-overs, the full attention of visitors rather than a playdate squeezed in between other appointments.

Then a 31-hour greyhound ride to Hollywood for a 3-day Birthing From Within training. This is the same program that Sarah teaches, and the first time they’ve had a group of men join in. It was powerful to more fully understand the workings of Sarah’s magic, and even moreso to engage in dialogue about how men can better be supported in their own personal journey through labour, fatherhood and personal growth. Becoming a father is a huge time of transformation, and we as a group committed to further exploring ways to better support men’s journeys.

Now a beautiful 41-hour train ride back to Vancouver, mommy picking my up at 3am. Lotsa time for connection with people on the train – here’s a sample of the folks I’ve met and topics discussed:

• First seatmate – daughter’s art career, a page-by-page recounting of her daughter’s horror book plot, secret of marriage getting better after 33 years
• Marcos and Maggie & Earl – a friendly san diego roofer and his tijauana mama, and a cincinatti businessman with little to add
• Jen – soon-to-be brady bunch mixed mom, church involvement, car accident, foster kids, fresh organic tomatoes, boys’ shelter, gym fitness instructor
• Marius – philosophy, music, art, god, Evergreen College, moontribe festival
• 3 old people – played dominos & cards the whole trip wearing matching shirts
• British journalist – Zimbabwe reporting almost got him arrested, dog cloning
• Irish journalist – following the footsteps of her lost irish immigrant grandpa
• Klamath falls café – town doesn’t actually have a waterfall (tourist gimmic), best thing in town is the happy hour Mexican karaeoki
• Korean guitarist – living with band, vegan
• Kristi – showed me all her doodles, leaving 2-year California boyfriend
• Louis & Todd (Kansas City) – dad’s garage, girly action on other trains, seattle gangs, drug rip offs, assessment of every woman on this train
• Lounge attendant – sex on train (usually prohibited), ringworm in the shower, house of blues, Disneyland
• Lynn & Heather – H got pregnant with L at 17-years-old, and now Lynn’s 18-year-old daughter is pregnant. Interesting talk about how teenage pregnancy is perceived differently now, how they looked at abortion and adoption options.

So many other peoples’ stories, feeling very honoured and open today. Not sure if I’m just more in touch with my feminine after the birthing workshop, or if this new Writer identity calls to people.

Folding Underwear

Here at O.U.R. Ecovillage in Shawnigan Lake, our tent home for another couple weeks, lives are weaved together both formally and informally. On the formal side, we sign up for a chore each week - this week I'm cleaning the composting toilet and the shower in the greenhouse; last week I was in charge of putting out granola and fruit for breakfast then blowing the horn across the valley to roust everyone. We also put in 10 hours a week of work on the buildings, garden, office, etc as needed, though that's hard to balance with being with the kids and all the work of prepping for the move.

It's the informal connections that touched me yesterday. We took our visiting Texan friends on a hike up nearby Mt. Baldy (with stunning views of the lake to the West and the ocean and Mt. Baker to the East, though the boys were engrossed in crystal hunting), and took along one of the other boys living here for the hike, allowing his parents to get their work done. Arriving back just in time for lunch, I found that someone had taken our sleeping bags out of the washing machine and hung them up to dry. After lunch I took our other clean clothes and someone else's off the line, folding them into their laundry bag, then put up our second load to dry. While Zekiah and I napped, Galen played with another family. At dinnertime, a volunteer took Zekiah into the garden to help with picking the salad greens, while I went back to the laundry line to discover that someone had folded my clothes into a neat pile. Someone produced icecream to adorn the homemade apple pie for dessert, and someone else procured wine for the campfire sing-along that ended around 1:30 in the morning, with people from 20 to 70 years old joining in.

Living in community requires alot of meetings, conflict resolution, consensus training, and hard work. But it's the easy flow that makes it magic. The ever-present opportunity and impetus to gently touch someone that we all crave and have so much trouble creating in the day-to-day modern world. We don't have to be isolated, don't have to be alone. I'm thankful each day for this brief opportunity to once again live in this natural, connected way that we hope to eventually create in our new home.

Welcome all - you are welcome into our lives, welcome to play with our children while we fold your underwear. It's as easy as Yes, as comfortable as Thanks, and as natural as Friend.

The not-so-simple country life

Ah, the move to the country, back to the land, to a simple life… send the kids for fresh eggs from the chickens every morning, raise tomatoes in the greenhouse, and pick guitar on the porch as the sun sets. What could be easier?

That was our dream vision until we walked the land that is soon to be ours (our responsibility, that is) with the people who have lived it for the past 30 years. It turns out that while we will do the work, many others will be the ones who try to live offa da fat of da land:

- raccoons eat chickens during the night, and ducks during the day

- voles eat much of the fruit. I don’t actually know what they are, but their cat catches one per day

- rats have pooped so much in the crawlspace that the fumes are noxious and borderline dangerous, so it needs to be cleaned and sealed with plastic

- bears stroll up that beloved creek to eat our beloved berries, and occasionally dip their snouts into the chicken feed, leaving long cylindrical lick-holes as far as their tongues can reach

- ravens and eagles just love to snack on chickens

- human neighbours don’t tend to steal anything, but will shoot any dog that goes near their sheep

- frost will sneak in early onto our property as the cold rolls down towards the river but gets stopped at our treeline, regularly killing their market flowers and our winter supply of vegetables

- hundreds of mould varieties will feast on our lovingly-prepared root cellar supply of veggies and fruits

- deer will of course be thankful for lettuce and pretty much anything in the garden

- those delicious, invasive blackberry bushes will soon take over the whole garden if we don’t regularly cut them down and burn their roots with a blow-torch

A huge huge learning curve, that’s what we’ve bought. Now when folks ask what we’re planning, we just shrug and say we’re planning to read a lot, try to learn the land through the winter, and start slowly. A tomato plant here, a rabbit hutch there, over the years it will add up to a productive piece of farm to sustain our family and community; but not in the first year. It’s very seldom that I’m intimidated, but a simple walk with people who Know this life drove home the point that it’s a lot of work to properly care for this land that has become our home, our responsibility. To properly nurture and honour it will be a hard, rewarding, and enriching way of life.