Category Archives: DINKS on the Farm

DINKS on the Farm

January 2008

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Wednesday, January 2, 2008 – Our anniversary

Today is our one year, nine month anniversary, which is not special enough to deserve celebration but worth noting nonetheless. One year and nine months doesn’t seem like a long time, but in that time we’ve moved four times, changed jobs, settled in Duncan, bought property, embraced a massive mortgage, bought a truck, built a home, and have essentially transformed from government yuppies to farmers with day jobs. Not too bad in less than 2 years! (Although I am dreading the complicated tax calculations we’ll have to do this year.)

In other news: the past two movies we’ve rented and watched were TERRIBLE (Oceans 13 and Music & Lyrics), and we’re scared to watch any more for fear that Hollywood has finally become unbearable. We really like movies. Please don’t ruin them. Our third rental for the week, as yet unwatched, is Knocked Up, which has been recommended by Banker Nils and my family. Fingers crossed.

Today, Brock returns to work for the first time in 13 days. His holiday was spent designing and building a greenhouse, surveying the property, planning where we’ll plant things, digging, and other farmer-activities. How strange that he’s back to wearing a suit and commuting!

I go back to work today too, although it won’t be as tramautic for me since I’ve worked a few days over the holidays. I’m not too happy about this impending stretch of No Holiday Time, though. I like a lazy weekday every month or so.

Oh, and another farmer first: I made turkey stock yesterday! Last week, I stuck the Christmas bird carcass in the freezer (as advised by Brock’s aunt Shelley). I pulled it out yesterday, smashed it with a hammer to make it fit in our soup pot, and boiled it in lots of water, with celery, parsley and carrots (from our garden!!!) for three hours. Our home smells turkey-greasy and wonderful. Today I will skim the rest of the fat off the stock, which is in the fridge now, and freeze it in ice cube trays for soup use. Brock and I are notorious for not eating leftovers, so I’ll have to make a special effort to use the stock within its three month expiry date.

Enough rambling . . . it’s breakfast time. (One day, that will mean eggs from our chickens and bread I’ve made . . .)

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Saturday, January 11, 2008 – The electronic housewife

I am drinking tea, wearing my new Christmas flannel pjs, and:
– washing clothes
– washing dishes
– baking bread
all at the same time. My Super Multitasking abilities are due to the wonders of modern technology – specifically our washing machine and a bread maker that I borrowed (possibly long term) from Brock’s mom. The dishes are air-drying. Nonetheless, I feel very domestic and productive. I think I shall fart around on the internet as a reward.

Last week I helped Brock assemble the greenhouse he’d been building. It’s about 12 feet by 8 feet, wood frame mounted on concrete blocks, dirt floor (actually muddy clay, due to recent rain), and wrapped in poly. It’s a beautiful thing, and has already survived a week of wind, snow and rain. Today Brock intends to build a door. We are very excited about this greenhouse, because it’ll help us start our seeds without infringing on precious indoor space.

Oh, and the turkey stock I made earlier this month turned out quite nicely! We used it to make turkey soup (thereby using up the rest of the turkey meat). It tasted REALLY bland, despite all the yummy barley, rice and veggies I’d put in it, and both of us were heaping salt into our bowls (very unusual behaviour for both of us).

BROCK: “What sort of seasonings did you put in here?”

HEATHER: “Seasonings?”

Brock’s dad saved the day with some chicken boullion. It was edible after that. If I can figure out how to make good soup, we’ll be set for meals all next winter . . .

I just checked on my bread. I’m making rye bread as my First Ever Loaf. I love rye bread, especially toasted wih peanut butter. The thing I always hated about making dough – and probably the reason my bread never tasted right – is the kneading. Baking shouldn’t have to be so physically demanding. That’s why the bread maker is perfect. If I want to bake something in the oven, the machine will still knead the dough for me. Or I can be completely lazy and just have to add all the ingredients. It’s 10 minutes into the bread making process and nothing appears to be happening, except that there’s a crack in the mound of flour. Nothing’s been mixed yet, no cooking or anything. Fascinating.

The current Issue of Contention between Brock and me is how we spend our time. I have always believed that winter is for hibernating. For humans, that means getting lots of sleep, eating hot meals, watching movies and reading books. We are conserving energy for the rest of the year. Brock, however, wants us to be prepared for the spring growing season, which means preparing the soil, building greenhouses and cold frames and raised beds, writing up a business plan, sketching crop rotations and companion planting, ordering seeds and so on. I suspect the solution here lies in compromise, and usually we manage that, but occassionally Brock will get frustrated that we’re not working enough, or I’ll get grumpy and bored and want to watch a movie. I suppose it’s kind of funny that this is what we “fight” about, rather than the huge mortgage we share, the upcoming debts we’ll face as new farmers, etc.

Oooo, the bread machine is making noises!!! I think it’s mixing!!!!!

My first-ever loaf of homemade bread. (Made with a breadmaker, of course.)

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Friday, January 18, 2008 – I hate winter

Winter sucks. Especially now that Christmas & the related vacation time is over! I do not enjoy cold weather, or darkness, and winter involves both.

We have been spending our winter nights doing some combination of the following:
– sleeping (we keep falling asleep at really early hours, like right after dinner)
– perusing seed catalogues and making Lists
– speculating as to how rich we’ll become and/or what we’ll do if this summer is a financial catastrophe
– watching movies (when I can talk Brock into it).

We’ve found a new wonderful magazine, called Small Farm Canada, and there’s an article in the current issue about miniature breeds of cattle. They’re so cool — about the height of a big dog, but a cow. You can eat them, milk them, and do all the usual things you do with cows, but they’re wee. I love it. A great attraction for our farm, with 2-person portions of beef and fresh milk . . . perfect.

Speaking of livestock, Peter and Delilah are pretty happy these days. Delilah is a typical young bunny. I cleaned out their Villa last weekend and Delilah actively supervised the whole process, while Peter just hung out by the water bottle. I’m excited about building a proper summer-time yard for them, so I can interact with Delilah and get to know her better. She’s like a pleasant version of Caramel.

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Monday, January 28, 2008 – Wearing my pjs, watching the sun rise

This weekend we finalized our seed order, which was quite an exercise. Brock fought our VERY SLOW computer to maintain an excel spreadsheet of our list while we debated the usefulness of various veggies (e.g. no one really likes radishes, and the rabbits won’t eat the leftovers, so let’s not bother with them this year). Meanwhile, we’re growing enough tomatoes to feed the Cowichan Valley. Mainly because I want to can tomatoes, can sauce, sun dry tomatoes, and make enough salsa to last us a year (we go through a lot of salsa).

As a result of this “to do,” Brock ended up spending the entire weekend inside with me, which is very unusual. The ground was frozen despite blue skies and sunshine both days, though, so his time was better spent indoors. It’s funny, that everyone we talk to about farming asks what we’re growing right now. It’s winter. Even in the Cowichan Valley, it’s winter. There are carrots and beets and some frosty cilantro in the garden, but even the bunnies won’t eat any of that. Interestingly, the greenhouse Brock built reached 16-degrees inside yesterday, which is mighty impressive. The mice love it.

I posted a few more recent photos on Facebook yesterday. Something to watch for is Brock and my new wardrobe. I take credit for starting The Layered Look, but Brock has embraced it fully. My favourite outfit for a day on the farm is: warm socks, gumboots if outdoors, sweatpants (preferably my fleece pair, unless they’re already muddy or covered in seeds/burrs/straw), a tank top, one of my weird apron dresses with pockets, a bunch of hoodies/jackets, my toque, and some mitts or gloves. Brock wears warm socks, his gumboots, his sweatpants, shorts overtop, and many layers of shirts. Then his orange jacket and a toque or hat. These have become our (slovenly) uniforms. I heard the other day that what you wear to the farmer’s market is important. It’s a business, after all, and you want to present a professional, tidy image. We’ll have to dress up for the farmer’s markets. How peculiar. I think I’ll get T-shirts made (we love the phrase: “Keepin’ it Rural”) so we’ll look relatively put-together.

Also, a development in my “writer on the farm” career: I’m proofreading for Small Farm Canada! I love it so far (one issue in). Brock and I get a sneak-peek at whazzup in the issue before it hits the printers. And I love editing, especially farm articles since then I absorb them especially well.

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Wednesday, January 30, 2008 – Playing Hooky

I took today off work, and it’s been wonderful. I rented four episode of Numbers, a harmless, often over-dramatic crime show, and have managed to watch three throughout the day. I made a loaf of whole wheat bread. I had a wonderful breakfast: egg, bacon, fried taters and baguette bread with butter. I sewed. And now I’m making dinner: pizza, from scratch. I was shocked just now when I realized the irony of making dough and mozzarella from scratch, BUT NOT THE SAUCE. How weird. The sauce is the easiest part!!!!!!!! Oh, Brock’s home — gotta go.

DINKS on the Farm

December 2007

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Monday, December 3, 2007 – Lockdown on the homestead

Holy criminy. I’ve been inside for three days now, with the occasional excursion to feed/water the bunnies, an early morning attempt to catch the bus, and twice I’ve dug trenches around my uninsured home so I don’t get flooded out.

It blizzarded this weekend, and we hoped the forecast (warmer temperatures) would mean the end of our worries Monday. No luck: the snow is slush, and our front yard has become a lake. I tried to get to work this morning, but Daisy the truck was stuck in the carport, the roads were unplowed, and the buses weren’t running. All for the best, because I’ve been battling the elements, trying to keep the water out of my home all day. There was some water by our baseboards by the couch, so that’s not good. And the dining room window dripped a little, when it was really bad outside. Snow, rain and wind — we’ve had weather warnings for everything in the past few days. I’m so bored. I have lots of food, the electricity’s working again, etc. but I can’t seem to settle down. I’ve been watching Eminem interviews on You Tube — that’s how bad it’s become. Hopefully things will be civilized again tomorrow, and I can get to work!

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Sunday, December 16, 2007 – Anyone smell bleach?

We’re shocking our well.

For those of you still in the city, that means we dumped a litre of Javex bleach into our well and run the taps in our house until everything smells like bleach. It involves not using our water for at least 24 hours, which is rather inconvenient, unless you don’t really like showering and brushing your teeth (so we’re fine). We are doing this because our water test came back with a coliiform count of 700-something, and it’s supposed to be zero. “Coliform” is apparently dead & rotting plant matter, and as a result the water smells like minestrone soup when it’s been sitting in the hot water tank. We were lazy and drank bottled water for almost 2 months, but I’m starting to smell minestrone EVERYWHERE, from my clothes to my hair, so it’s time to get this thing done. I really really hope shocking the well works. I hope we’ve done it right, because if I smell soup in the shower again this week we’ll have to shock it again next weekend, and that means another 24 hours of no running water. And if that still doesn’t work, there’s the scary and expensive possibility that we might need a fancy water filter. But our neighbours all have perfect water, and there are rumours of an aquifer under our neighbourhood, so I expect it’s just our water lines that are contaminated. Fingers crossed.

In other news: the bunnies are fine. They love having all that straw to burrow in. I gave them apple chunks with their pellets, hay and oats this morning, and that was a big hit. Every morning they attack me (well, they rub up against my hand) as I try to fill their food dish, as if they haven’t eaten in months. Makes me feel like I’ve been neglectful, but I’m actually overfeeding them these days, since it’s the winter and they need the extra pudge.

And . . . it’s almost Christmas!!!! Christmas is the only thing I like about winter. My home is currently adorned with the following:

  • a pre-lit, plastic Christmas tree, with primary-coloured bells as decorations and some ornaments that I’ve accumulated since birth and last month.
  • LED energy-efficient, flickering lights that look like mini-Christmas trees, from my mom in my family’s Christmas parcel (there’s a button I can push to change the flickering — very fun).
  • paper snowflakes that I make every year, but this year everyone keeps commenting on them — apparently I’m very good at making paper snowflakes. Perhaps they’ll sell at the farmer’s market 🙂
  • a ball of fake mistletoe (actually a staple decoration in every place Brock and I have lived so far).
  • the Christmas card we received, from Domino’s Pizza.
  • a vase full of rosehips and anonymous white berries that I dried for garlands, then ended up sticking in a vase with a red candle (don’t worry, I don’t plan to light it).
  • Christmas presents from my family under the tree. (I already unwrapped the Butterripple cream liquor, which is the best alcoholic beverage ever produced and is, strangely, only available at the gov’t liquor store in Kimberley, BC.)
  • a pre-lit, plain wreath on our front door.

It all looks quite nice and Christmassy.

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Tuesday, December 18, 2007 – Ode to Lettuce

Last night I prepped and ate the most amazing lettuce I have ever consumed. I’m not a lettuce conneiseur. I usually don’t care about lettuce, as long as I have it handy when I need it for my tacos. But I bought organic romaine hearts yesterday from Country Grocer (from California, unfortunately, not local), and they managed to impress me. Here’s a wee poem:

O! Lettuce
(organic, albeit not local)
you are crispy under my
knife
when I chop you up for tacos.
Not wilty.
Not mainstream, “I’m here but I’m not really trying” grocery store lettuce.
No — O! Lettuce
you fresh romaine hearts
I had to wrap the leftovers
properly, not leave them for the bunnies
because you’re so damn good.
Lettuce, please
inspire my garden to be like you
and I shall rule the organic veggie trade
on Vancouver Island.

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Thursday, December 20, 2007 – Buying seeds

Brock has tricked me into the gardening part of our farm venture, despite my natural aversion to dirt, cold, worms and getting dirty. He did this by saying:

BROCK: “Maybe you could be in charge of our experimental garden.”

Ooooooo . . . the chance to grow Freaky Plants! The chance to astonish our farm neighbours with Crazy Purple Peas and other nutty agricultural mutations! I was immediately sold. I started browsing seed catalogues and making a list of plants I’d like to grow: ginormous pumpkins, strawberry popcorn, blue carrots, green and orange striped tomatoes . . . The weirdest part of playing mad scientist with veggies is that the strangest creations (e.g. purple pea pods with neon green peas inside) are often the Heritage breeds. They were around back in the ol’ days, when my great-grandparents were starving on the Saskatchewan prairies. Long before genetic modification became cool and mainstream. To date, the largest, most freakishly ginormous breed of pumpkin I’ve managed to find via seed catalogue/website is the Atlantic Giant — which is NOT a hybrid. It’s the product of Darwinian plant evolution & selective breeding, not test tube chemistry. I’ve learned that carrots, back in the day, weren’t usually orange: they were red, purple, blue, white, yellow . . . but the Dutch (?) farmers liked orange carrots (it was a patriotic thing) so they bred the orange carrots. These days, the thought of a purple carrot is ridiculous. And prehaps the strangest thing is that, although I want to grow purple (aka heritage) carrots, the only non-orange carrots I can find are HYBRIDS.

Oh, the evil hybrid. I think of Frankenstein, but planty. How unnatural. Not to mention a waste of money, for people like us who want to be able to save seeds and encourage plants that do well in our particular climate/soil: if you plant seeds from a hybrid, they will probably revert back to one of the parent strains. Or not do anything. They’re disposable plants. That’s an oxymoron, and I find the concept abominable. (As in an abomination, not snow-monster-ish.)

One of the strangest things I’ve noticed about seed catalogues (especially Stokes, a very popular seed company that’s been around since 1881) is that they LOVE their hybrids. It’s a challenge to find seeds that aren’t hybrids in their catalogue. Like some little kid: “Look what I made!” They’re so proud to have created a new hybrid, and yet they don’t seem to question if they SHOULD or not. I find the whole thng, from perspective to product, repulsive.

I love planning my “experimental garden.” Assuming I manage to successfully grow one of my unusual-yet-natural veggies, I might manage to change how we perceive carrots here in the Cowichan Valley. Then Vancouver Island, then B.C., then Canada, then . . . . THE WORLD!!!

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Monday, December 30, 2007 – Happy last day of 2007!

I pruned our apple trees this weekend! First time pruning ever. Very exciting. A good excuse to climb a tree (which has become more terrifying than when I was younger, for some reason). It felt like I was giving the tree a haircut. After an hour or so of pruning, I stepped back to check that I hadn’t overstepped the “maximum one-third” rule: my clips had barely made a difference. Our trees are so overgrown . . . I’d love to come at them with a chainsaw and whack off the top third, just to ensure we’ll actually be able to reach the apples in the fall.

Heather invents “the layered look” at Makaria Farm.