Picture Perfect

At the lecture I saw on Saturday at Red Pig Tools, the man speaking (a 70 year-old blacksmith) mentioned people's aversion to so-called "hard" work.  They would much rather use motorized tools that work "effortlessly" than use hand tools that require physical labor.  And yet, after they are done using their effortless contraptions (anything purchased from an infomercial), they go to the gym to work out on still more strange machines.  What if fitness and labor could be fused, and the labor that sustains us also keeps our bodies healthy and strong?  Farming sustains you in that you are literally receiving sustenance from the work you do.  I genuinely believe in having my life be a closed system of sorts, where health, sustenance and art (among other things) are completely integrated.  

It's easy to talk in vague idealisms, in real life you have to get shit done.  In spite of what I just said about hand tools, there are a plethora of genuinely useful motorized devices (think: tractor).  Last week I got to use this one.  I found this image of a rototiller online.  The thing is incredibly good at doing its job and fun to drive.  Power tools fuckin' rule.  Apparently this week I will learn to use our tractor.  Pictures will follow.  

Until then, behold the potato planting party.  Talk about hard labor, my body was totally beat after 6 hours of planting these guys, but it's all going to be very worth in a few months, when the ground will overfloweth with taters:

Adam's Potato Kingdom, we planted most of these potatoes.  

Before we planted we amended the soil with fertilizer made from chicken manure.  I choose to refer to it simply as "Chicken Poo".

I made some buttermilk bran bread with raisins and prunes and no Chicken Poo to go with our afternoon coffee.  

After 10 hours of work, one co-workers started to go a little crazy.

Dinner was chili made from leftovers, with a side of homemade hooch.

One of the many topics I am interested in exploring now that my formal education has come to a close (or perhaps a pause), is ham radio, also known as amateur radio. René (one the the owners of Gales Meadow) is a total Ham, and after dinner on Wednesday we set up an antenna on top of the farm van and plugged into the airwaves.  He is going to teach me his ways so I can get licensed as well.  The Gales Meadow call numbers are KX7Z or kilowatt x-ray seven zulu.

This is the rig.

Night shot of the back of the barn, complete with hella tools and a fancy dart board (not pictured).

First thing in the morning self-po.  Lookin' a little tired.

I don't know what this is, but its somehow related to an onion.

On Thursday I was out laying down drip tape for all our baby alliums when I heard a very loud humming coming from the Doug Fir forest that runs along one side of the farm.  After seeing that swarm of honey-bees captured the other weekend, my mind has been on bees and swarms.  So I set off into the woods to see if I could locate it.  I stomped around and searched, the sound was so loud and it was coming from all directions.  Finally I looked up and saw a mass of honey bees flying 25 or 30 feet above my head.  I could not tell if they had even landed yet, perhaps they were flying between two trees.  I tried to get a good view of them to see if there was a solid clump, but there was a lot of greenery in the way. 

Nevertheless, it was a fun adventure looking for the bees, and actually finding them was even more rewarding, I'm only sorry we weren't able to make them our own.  There was one downside to my escapade, which is that for the first time in my life as a Californian (which I still am, howsoever transplanted), I got poison oak.  It's about as mild as it comes, but next time I hear a swarm of honey bees, I won't go wandering bare-ankles-and-all into the forest.

Here are some flowers I picked on a run a couple days ago.  They were growing wild on the side of the road.  Scot's broom, the yellow one, is invasive, so of course we have to hate it, but it sure is purdy!

Friday night was time for a party.  The thistles finally met their fate in a fatty bonfire.  Some old friends of the farm came to visit and we celebrated with good food (some pork from Big Table Farm), good drink and good stories.

At this moment René is playing a sweet little melody on what sounds like the mandolin and the sky is a deep shade of blue.  Soon it will be morning and the bright and even light will mean its time to give back to the earth and get my hands dirty for five days straight again.   We are going to be transplanting tons of tomatoes!

This evening I got back to the farm, did some weeding in the garlic patch until my tummy started rumbling.  I had a delicious piece of wild salmon given to me by the fisherman himself, some beet carrot apple ginger salad, garlic scapes and a beer.  It doesn't get any better than that, no siree!  The view didn't suck either.