Follow Your Heart

What does following your heart look like?

Notes From The Farmers' Market

It occurred to me when her blue eyes smiled at me. Scratch that, they twinkled! She did not stop to talk but just smiled as she passed by.


Visiting a farmers’ market is healthy. Not just because of the food, but because of the interpersonal connection. Something magical happens when you make eye contact with others.  Suddenly you are one. Or not. Some folks like to talk, some do not.

For some reason, I dislike the phrase, “How are you?” It feels contrived. I find myself telling passersby “Let me know if I can answer any questions.” And that seems to be a neutral invitation for conversation that doesn't immediately obligate one for extensive personal reveal.


Then, the connection either grows or is broken. It is unlike reading a Facebook post or receiving an email. It is a two-way interaction that rests light responsibility on both pairs of shoulders. I've learned it is okay to always be myself – foot-in-the-mouth and all – regardless. I can’t help but be myself. Besides, I hear everyone else is already taken.

Interestingly, repeat customers know what they want and typically don’t read your signs anymore after about the second visit. This is, again, an opportunity for conversation. If an individual chooses just one or two items, I always say, “What else?” instead of “Is that all?” – and open ended question is better than a closed-end question and the reason for this is not to make another sale, but to expound upon an opportunity to learn about your customer. “ I've got lettuce growing at home,” they might say to which I always smile and encourage anyone that attempts to grow their own food. It seems contradictory but really, it’s to everyone’s benefit to grow one’s own food, and creates a ripple effect that cultivates all of our roots – we all have this in common: the necessity to eat. Not one of us is immune to that need.

One of the greatest things about the interaction of the farmers’ and their customers is the invaluable feedback that returns from week to week. “Your lettuce keeps so well, I still have some left!” This is valuable to us, and to consumers, and we growers will remember this as our experience grows. Feedback, negative or positive, is essential to good customer service. I've come to offer the vulnerability of telling the truth – the heat makes lettuce bitter, and that if they experience anything that makes them unhappy, to come back and tell me, and I will replace it. So far, everyone that has come back has told me that they have loved the fresh food. This makes me happy.


What also makes me happy is that people seem to smile more at the market. There must be something in the air. Maybe it’s the fresh morning breeze.


Getting to know your fellow vendors is important, too. Most often, if they don’t smile – smile at them first. It’s free and they can’t help but smile back – it would make them look like a jerk if they didn't  yes? It can be like an awkward dance, at first, especially if you and another vendor are producing like items. The produce world can be brutal. Dealing with perishable crops and being at the mercy of the weather and persistent pests can cause stress. Stress can help us become better farmers and better customer service providers. Competition, on a healthy level, is usually a good thing. Sometimes, when a farmers wears too much of a frown, especially when he or she looks my way, it might be a sign that they are having a bad day. Or, it could mean that they’re just jealous. Wait, that’s what I just said! Or, it means that it has nothing to do with me and that comparison is the thief of all joy. Be like a duck and let it roll off.  Better yet, extend your hand and smile in grace and mercy and open that door to conversation. You might be surprised.

On another note, kids (of ALL ages) like to touch. It’s always good if you can have something out front for people to squeeze, pinch, smell and feel. I learned this from a gentleman who genuinely loves to grow plants and is a very talented grower and is very much a people person. The senses are very much a part of the farmers’ market experience. Put a bouquet of herbs out there – lemon balm is always nice to touch and smell. Interactivity is the basis for our relationships. It starts with the twinkle in the eyes which starts with the smile.

See you at the market!

Winning Friends, Influencing People and Cheap Spinach

Today I learned a lesson over again. You can't please everyone all the time. You can only please one person at a time. Today was not my day.

I learned something else, too. Slugs will eat holes in your Wong Bok. They will also eat holes in your Romaine lettuce. Fire ants will take up residence in your raised beds, laughing at you because they know you refuse to use poison (diatomaceous earth slows them down and even makes them move, but then they come back and with a vengeance.) I hate slugs. I'm thinking of inviting them to an all-you-can-drink beer-fest. "Leave your keys at the door, boys and girls!" Heh heh heh.

When I price my spinach, Romaine lettuce, radishes (let's not forget the voles that take tiny, teeny little bites out of the radish JUST as it becomes ripe, the little twirps), turnip and mustard greens for market, sometimes I have to remind myself that here in America, we pay less for our food than most other developed countries. It seems bizarre that I would labor for hours, days and weeks over a few ounces of spinach only to practically give it away. Especially poignant is when people say, "oh, it must be nice to stay home and garden. I wish I could do that." But they forget that there are no acrylic nails here, the hair salon visits are years apart, and that hands are not Palmolive soft - they're more like #50 sandpaper and catch on any nice clothing you may have, but not wear, as it is too muddy, dusty, or you-name-it out there.

Today I learned that I really appreciate all of the things that Captain Strong Arms does to make our lives just that wee bit easier. Like the automatic chicken waterer. And the goat milking stanchion. And the list goes on. He was out there with me in the greenhouse tonight, until just a little while ago, holding the flashlight. Yes, you read that right, flashlight. An 8 am farmers' market in a county 30 minutes from here dictates an evening harvest. We'll see how everything holds up.

I'll try to remember to take pictures tomorrow.

Happy Farmers' Marketing everyone, 'tis the season! Support your local farmers, don't haggle them down on price, and ALWAYS WASH YOUR PRODUCE before you prepare it.

Cheers!

Farming Is....

I'm up late, or early, rather, as it is technically Saturday morning at 3 am. I've surveyed all the problems in the world and have determined that life is a lot like farming. "Farming is a profession of hope," said Brian Brett. There are so many things that resound with me regarding that statement.

Photo by Shannon Thompson

Today was one of those days. It was great, it was tragic, and strangely simultaneously normal.

I'll break it down:

Eddie and I went on a field trip for homeschool - the Discovery Kids is a terrific way to show children how the imagination can trump a pile of worksheets any day. After several days of Language Arts, Math, Spelling and Science - we put the "hands on" into our learning day. We both had a great time. What we didn't do was take pictures. I opted for joining him in the fun, and so I did not traipse around with my camera. He especially liked the water "exhibit" where he pretty much got drenched, played with boats, and unknowingly learned about density, gravity, displacement, and pressure.

Sadly, whilst we were having fun, another baby chick in our brooder died. That's two in two days, too high of a mortality rate for this soft-hearted farmer. We buried the baby and talked about why, sometimes, life with animals is really difficult and sad. Farming is hard.

Later, upon watering seedlings, transplanting some Swiss Chard and Kale seedlings, I looked upon two of my cabbage patches to find that Hattie had helped herself to my early cabbages. So much for taking those to market. She had let herself out of the open gate that Captain Strong Arms had left ajar while he was picking up the manure to add to the compost pile. At first, I was seething, "damn cow!" I said. But when I realized she could have done so much more damage, I stopped and felt gratefulness creep in like a kind reprimand.

Sigh. Farming is frustrating. And scary. What if some of my crops fail? What if I have to resort to using chemicals to prevent a total loss of a certain variety to pests? What if Hattie gets out again? What if I'm not good at this?

Sometimes I wonder why we do it. The grocery store is just 8 miles away. The jobs are just over an hour's commute north, east, and west of us. Is it because it's in our hearts? A nagging sense of duty that cannot be shushed away? An unending call from day to day to grow, nurture, cultivate and share? Once in a while unwanted doubt creeps in and takes a seat, "you can't grow enough to support your family and a farmers' market. Who do you think you are? You don't know what you're doing."

Farming is sometimes full of self-doubt.

Photo by Shannon Thompson

It certainly isn't for the recognition - the fame, or the money - the fortune. Farming is developed. I was going to say it is in your blood, and while I do believe that to be true, I'd say that something can be in your blood without being embraced. It has to be developed. Cultivated.  

What are you cultivating?

I'm signing off. Breakfast is just a few hours away. See you on Facebook for a morning mid-day photo.

Holding My Own Pen

When it is silent in the greenhouse, there is a lot of time for thinking. No noise pollution - just the singing of the birds - it is quiet. Often it takes some adjustment to hearing your own thoughts - we are so used to being conditioned to always be doing something; listening, watching, reading. I welcome the quiet of the greenhouse. It forces me to think about what I'm doing at that very moment. Being present takes getting used to.

What I thought about yesterday while starting lettuce seeds was, "Who are we?" Instead of the age-old adage, "We are what we eat," which is mostly true, I wondered, "What story are we writing with our lives?"

No answer came quickly, but as I painstakingly prepared the soil-less mix and counted each seed one by one, I began to realize that we are writing our stories as we go along.

Who (or what) is holding your pen?

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A Compilation of Right and Wrong

This week started out fairly well. I spent a great deal of time in the greenhouse, starting seeds, transplanting and potting up seedlings, and hardening off some cabbages that need to get into the ground.

Mesclun Lettuce Mix

Went to a farmers' market vendor meeting and found out that not all markets are created equal. Not that there was any negativity, it's just that it was...different than I'm used to. But maybe that is because I'm biased. Or, because I have baggage. Either way. It was different.

Seedlings awaiting transplant

The weather was perfect. In the greenhouse I couldn't keep my sweatshirt on - because it would have made me......sweat. I think I made up for any lack of Vitamin D I might have experienced all winter-long in just three days flat.

These tiny seedlings are now in the raised beds.

In between those perfect days spent in the sunny greenhouse were errands, school, appointments, and the like. And, old water-stoves that spring leaks.

In my errand-running and school-attending days I stopped in one of my favorite non-fast-food establishments to get a veggie sandwich. As I waited for my slow-but-worth-it sandwich, I saw this:

Which made me get closer, so I could really absorb what I was reading....

I had no idea that dogs, alcohol, crack, cocaine, and weed all fit similar categories. The only disparity I see, at this point, is the lack of a leash.

So I think that alcoholics probably aren't allowed even if they have a leash. At least Kat is friendly about it! I mean, there ARE hearts and all..... Besides, the sandwich was so good, I'd brave that sign again.

So, in honor of this semi-non-farmy post, I must end with saying that the one other thing that happened this week was that while I was out and about: I caved and brought home 22 somethings. I'll give you three guesses as to what they are.

More later,

Dear Farmer

Dear Farmer,

Thank you for getting up early, going to bed late, and always having dirt underneath your nails. Thank you for  starting seeds in January, February and March, knowing that there might be some cold nights that slow down the growth of, or even kill, the tender seedlings and you will have to do it all over again. And sometimes twice.

Thank you for planning your market garden, while everyone else is playing Farmville.

Thanks for hardly ever taking a day off, and for not having a negative attitude when someone asks, "what do you do for a living?" and then assumes that if you aren't at the farmers' market or on a tractor then you aren't "working."

Thank you for wearing out a pair of boots in one season, only to realize that you get what you pay for and finally break down to buy the more expensive but better-made boot that will last many seasons.

Thank you for buying the seeds that have not been treated, and for not using chemical and synthetic fertilizers on the plants to make them grow faster. Thank you for thinking of so many things months and years in advance to facilitate what you are doing now, early spring of 2013.

Thank you for having the courage to put yourself out there, to learn something you've never done before, to be vulnerable in a world that appreciates a 401(k) more than it might appreciate a crop of vegetables.

Thank you.

What's Stopping You?

There are few guarantees in life. Stability, certainty, and financial soundness aren't any of them. What is a rock solid theory, though, is that life is a high percentage what you make it. I don't think I fully comprehended the "attitude is everything" cliche until I was well into my thirties. And some lessons are still hard to fully learn. Some, still, are not learned yet.

Some days it isn't all pretty chickens, egg counts and Jersey cows with hats on, here. But what I can be sure of is that the consequences of taking risks must be worth the effort. How does the old quote go? "Farming looks mighty easy when your plow is a pencil, and you're a thousand miles from the corn field." Eisenhower. Rest assured, dear reader, that one day may look entirely different from the next, here, and then...some days simply repeat themselves.

Lately it seems that the less I try to control things (money, weather, laundry, dishes, child, etc.) the more they work themselves out. This is not to say that I don't constantly, on some level, touch base with the consciousness that wants to scream, "You don't have a JOB," but I keep it at arms length. I do know there are many out there that worry enough for all of us combined. And it isn't really any of their business.

Fear can be a motivator. It keeps us from stepping out into a busy avenue without looking right, left, then right again, first. It can also cause paralysis: That mountain is too high to climb, I'd rather just sit down. Fear can be an instigator, "you tried that once already, and failed, what makes you think you can do it right this time?" Fear can squash our dreams. If we let it. Fear can distract you, for instance: I'm supposed to be writing an essay in my Social Problems course about euthanasia, but I'd rather be here, pontificating with you.

Life = experience. How do we gain experience if we don't "do" and "be" what we want? This isn't to say we should just give in to the whims of the hedonistic human nature and only do what the ego would benefit from. This is to say, what makes you come alive? What do you do that makes time stand still? What happens to you when your work feels like your play? Chase that. Believe that you are deserving of your dream. Don't take anyone else's negativity to heart. It isn't yours - it's theirs. Let them carry it around for it is heavy.

By contrast to doing what you love, how does it feel when there is too much on your plate and you've said "yes" when you really meant to say "no?" Tipping, sliding, grasping, and dropping things is absolutely counter-productive to living the life you want. We can't have it all. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I present the truth. It's impossible. We must pick one. We can't be IN the world and OF the world. We can't serve two masters. This does have some spiritual connotation to it, but really, it is meant more as a way to capture the full meaning of living the life we dare to dream or never daring to live the dream life for fear of not being accepted. Or the fear of failure.

How do we get there from here? Right now, there's an old outdoor water stove outside that's on his last leg, so to speak, and we're fairly sure that the ugly beast is well over 20 years, perhaps into the early thirties. He has served us well for over 3 solid years - nonstop, winter, spring, summer, and fall - and even though it is an inanimate object, the squeaking door, the smoke-belching pipe has been an integral part of our homesteading and daily survival here on the farm. From hot water for dishes and showers to heating the 123 year old wooden-girl that is our home. The answer is one day at a time.

We don't "happen" all at once. Life is the accumulation of those "bit by bit" pieces that may be a mix of sweet, bitter, salty, and downright rotten. We compost. We turn. We burn. We dissipate. And sometimes we steam. In the journey, though, is the realization that we must listen close to that still, small, voice. What do we want? And then, when we have figured that out, we need to ask ourselves one. more. question. What is stopping us?

Then, we tackle the answer to that question one. day. at. a. time.

Doing something you know to be true to yourself is terrifying. Shocking. Wave-making. Gossip-starting. Are you afraid not of what is stopping you but of what others might think? We all are. Even if we say we aren't.

Tonight I'm a farmhousewife. A un-knowing and un-sure entrepreneur. A farmer. A mother. A lover of the simple (but hard!) life. Tomorrow I might be a housecleaner. The day after that a student. The day after that I might be wondering how I'm going to turn vegetables, eggs, and crocheted rag-rugs into income for my family to use as a tool to continue this simple (but hard!) life. One day at a time. Do what you love. Figure out what is stopping you and use the fear as a motivator. In the next two years, I will be second-guessing my commitment of continuing my education in order to chase my lifelong dream of working with individuals and horses with the goal of helping people. It isn't an option, though, for me. It is what I must do.

What's stopping you?

Don't answer me. Answer you. Aspire to make a difference, not just a living. Join me.

Farmchick?

I didn't set  out to be a Farmchick. Really, I didn't. Somehow having horses all of my life and keeping chickens for the latter half has just been a reality for me, as opposed to a dream. Or, maybe I made those dreams come true with the help of my parents, then, and now my husband?

Chicken Whisperer?

There seems to be a great revival in the movement of local food, farming, and the ethical implications that come along with all of the above.

Egg Whisperer?

But we're not here to discuss that in detail today. Today, we're all about this Farm Chick Hat! Is it not the cutest thing you've seen?

Farmchick - the hat makes it!

As usual, since I'm late for almost everything, I got this hat about a month two months ago, but have not taken the time to write anything about it.

The point is, I've worn it, though, and it is such a nice fitting hat! The brim is solid, sturdy and thick - the cap material is soft yet holds shape well, and I LOVE the Velcro (why did spell-check just tell me to capitalize the V in velcro? Weird.) size adjustment!  And, since I am a Farm Chick Chit Chat Farmchick (say that three times fast?) and Hobby Hill Farm is the official outfitter of the Farmchicks, it is a perfect fit - literally and figuratively.

Aaand, one more pic of that cute hat!! I wear it a LOT!

This hat is embroidered by the good folks over at Hobby Hill Farm and for a short time, you can head on over to their website and by using the checkout code HOPE - you will receive 15% off of your purchase! Folks, click the link NOW and get your Farm Chick hat on!! They have all KINDS of farm-ware - check out their beautiful sweatshirts, too! I'm loving the colors.

And after you're done shopping, hop on over to check out Farm Chick Chit Chat - I'm quite sure you'll feel right at home there, I do! A while back, we started a project, which would sort of explain the plethora of photos above, here it is in all its glory:

"We are the Real Farmchicks of Farm Chick Chit Chat.  We are scattered from as far north as Maine to as far south as Texas, and from as far east as Virginia to as far west as California.  In September of 2012, we began to work together to bring the best of what we do into one convenient resource.  We have become close friends and truly value the friendship we also share with our readers.

We are hobby farmers, chicken keepers, gardeners, goat herders, canners, knitters, homesteaders, and DIYers. We raise cows, goats, rabbits, sheep, chickens, ducks and farm kids. We grow crops; we preserve and can; we bake and cook.  We home school, knit and crochet, build, re-purpose, and craft."

After you shop Hobby Hill Farm for your official Farmchick gear: Click here to read more....

**I would like to thank Hobby Hill Farm for allowing me the opportunity to review the Farm Chick Ball Cap. I was sent a sample product in order to allow me to evaluate its performance on my farm. *Disclosure: I did not receive additional compensation for writing this review. The review framework did not guarantee a positive review in exchange for the receipt of their product. This review contains both facts about the product and my opinion of its performance while being used at my farm.

What We Did Today

It's all fun and games when I can sit down at the computer, after a shower, with a cup of tea and tell about it.

We added more raised beds today.

It was an exhausting day, but in the, it-feels-good-to-move-around, instead of sit-in-the-chair-all-day and stare at the computer, way. It's that good old-fashioned tired. You know the kind.

I smiled at the radishes poking up. They are so quick to grow.

Getting back into the groove of farming, (growing our own food, in addition to growing for market) is not a gradual step. I've primarily been in an office, in meetings, and organizing events, workshops and such for the last  year.

After three (or 15) days of convincing Captain Strong Arms that my spinach would come up - it finally began to come up. Phew!

 It's the softness of winter that gets me. It'll be a good while before I build up the strength and endurance I had and it won't come easy. And then, it will be the heat of summer that gets me. Oh for the love of farming.

Back to the Farmers' Market in just 6 weeks and three days.

I am looking forward to getting back the the farmers market - there's a reward in that unique to anything else one will ever do. Tomorrow? Meeting in the morning, meeting in the afternoon and meeting in the evening. Farming will have to resume on Wednesday, for me, thank goodness Captain Strong Arms takes good care of the farm when I'm home and when I'm not home.