canned beets

I am too often too quick to criticize my husband. He is messy, a bit chaotic, rather disorganized, perpetually late and always in a rush because he is trying to do too much. Despite the consistency of his quirks, sometimes I am still surprised by them. Most days however, I am predictably irritated. Unfortunately, I am too seldomly unappreciative of those qualities - too numerous to mention - that are most endearing about him and that have certainly forwarded our lives in certain ways for which I am so thankful. The amount of energy I seem to expend reacting to those traits in him that are less desirable far outweighs the actual flaws about which I am complaining. In effect, I am creating a worse environment for us through my reactions than if I would choose not to react at all and just accept certain things for the way they are.

During a visit to our friends farm this evening, I was again reminded of my need to look past the flaws and spend more time appreciating the good of him that far outweighs the bad. His most amazing gift by far is his amazing way of breaking down barriers between people and cultures. He has a gift of speaking simply while teasing out complex situations that might otherwise be ignored for those less strong in the spine that are happy to avoid potential conflicts. The relationships and information that he can achieve in such a short time frame is rather astounding. He is constantly learning and seeking information while teaching as he gathers what he is looking for. When you know what you are looking for, it is very fun to watch him in action. His style and method of seeking information is very unassuming. He asks questions in ways that expose his vulnerability and showcase his intellect at the same time all in a way that leave judgments behind and people thankful for the discussion.

One of my brothers often jokes about him and how he can strike up a conversation with anyone. This trait can often be bothersome when we are on a tight time line trying to get from point A to point B and he engrosses himself in a 2 hour conversation with a stranger about the price of corn. I often joke that half of our time together over the past 9 years has been spent in parking lots and random places - if you can picture this: he is totally involved in a conversation and there I am (with my short attention span) fidgeting and wishing we were elsewhere. It is a pretty common occurrence.

Those that know me well know that I often imagine tragedies (likely a result of seeing too many too young) when I am too wrapped up in negative thinking. Recently, I imagined Jay dying (which was precipitated by me trying to reach him for hours by phone with no luck - sure that he crashed the truck and trailer on a mountaintop somewhere delivering goats). When my mind jumped through the the events after his death I imagined the wake and the funeral and the days after. In a strange way, I was comforted knowing that those days and my life would be filled with good people helping me through that time simply because he has helped so many people through things and devoted so much of himself to their causes that they would be there to honor that in him. Not a great way to spend your day, but eye opening nonetheless. Suddenly, I thought, maybe his methods shouldn’t be so maddening to me. There is a rhyme to his lifestyle that does not always appear to be balanced but provides balance in unexpected ways.

I wanted to continue this post by writing about our evening with our Amish friends. But, I don’t know that I can wade through my thoughts just yet or articulate quite what I am thinking. What I know is that my husband has a gift with people. I like to think that I do too, but our gifts are different. Tonight his gift reminded me of how rich our lives are, despite our many troubles.

Perhaps if I had spent less time fidgeting in parking lots, I might have come to this conclusion many years ago and saved a lot of grief.

Reading back over my blog, I realize this is not the first time I’ve posted about this and it’s got me chuckling. I’m finally convinced, just in the past day or two, that spring is here. The leaves dropping puts me into a depression beyond words. Winter, though lovely, can get a bit long around here. Then April rolls around and one is left not quite sure if it will ever end. Then we got a rain like we did two days ago and FLASH it’s spring. The world is green, EVERYTHING is blooming at once - which is a bit unusual. But I’m convinced. I’m convinced that it’s spring, that the world will continue and that I don’t have to worry about looking at empty trees for several more months. It’s almost like winter comes and I press a pause button and now I can press play again.  Go forth - it’s spring!

Wow, how the time has passed.

Fall is behind us, winter is with us and spring is ahead of us. I find myself not knowing quite what happened to the time. I’m looking out my window today and I’m seeing only white. There is snow everywhere, the temperatures are quite low and the wind is howling. As much as I love PA and getting the full pleasure of all four seasons, there are days like today when I can’t help but be a bit impatient for the next turn of days. I get such pleasure out of the changing of the seasons: the photoshopped look of lush spring, the vibrant colors of the summer perennials, the duller long days of late summer, the intensity of the fall leaf colors and the crispness of snow, cold and ice. As much as I’d like to speed ahead today and turn the world green, the world I live in needs all of these seasons to survive as it was intended to be. Our goats, though shivering at times on days like this, need the cold temperatures to keep parasites and other critters at bay. Our plants, though frozen solid, need this dormancy to bloom this year. And we, complete with dry skin and chapped hands, need this time to rest and get ready for busy months of back breaking work ahead of us.

Even though it slows, the world certainly doesn’t stop on a farm just because its winter. January 25th marked the last day of our 3rd kidding season. We’ve been sleeping peacefully ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT since that day and what a joy that is. Last year at this time we were dealing with hypothermic and dead goats not quite knowing what hit us - our losses reached almost 50%. This year, we were prepared  and that readiness helped us through our most successful kidding season yet. Our mothers did a great job and though we did experience some loss, they were few and expected.  It is such a pleasure and reward to go to the barn and see the kids dancing and prancing and jumping.  The inspiration of new life is all around us and helping us through these harsher days as the winter progresses and nears its end.

So as I think about the green of spring and the color of summer, I’m inspired to get things organized and together so that I can be out there enjoying it when it comes. I need to take natures signals for what they are and enjoy this rest while it is before me.

For the first time in the three years we have lived in our home, the peaches survived and provided a wonderful harvest. Though we got to them a little later than ideal, we were still able to process 28 mason jars of peach preserves. Seeing peaches peeled, pitted and sliced in a big bowl makes it hard to tell how much you really have to work with until you start filling the jars. In hind sight we would have split the bounty to make some peach butter too. Either way - we’ll be enjoying these wonderful peaches for some time! yay us!

Jay always says that I have a romantic view of farming that is not always aligned with the realities of life on a farm. I was at first offended by this but over time have realized that in some ways it is true. However, I believe that my view of farming, however romantic and idyllic it may be, is a good place for me to be. I’d rather that than to become an android that might accept a job at…say…a livestock auction house and get paid for whatever my boss tells me to do whether I believe in it or not. I’m someone that believes in people and believes in a mission. I have passions and I like to entertain them and see them through to the end. I find great disappointment with people in my life even just in passing that seem to not care to have a mission.

So, there is a livestock auction house in our state. In December Jay and I sold two goats there. These goats were left over from the spring breeding and the only two that hadn’t been sold for some other purpose (4H project, pet, meat, breeding stock). We had heard that this auction was the biggest goat auction in the country. Being a relatively decent day trip from our home and really new goat breeders, we decided to head down and check it out. Everyone that we had met up until this point that was in any way related to goats had at one point or another visited the auction and used them for their services to sell goats. Our myriad contacts had given us directions, information, and lots of disclaimers about the auction. One of the disclaimers included the warning that when the goats were actually going to be sold, we shouldn’t attend the auction.

So we headed to the auction with two beautiful goats in tow. It was a good day, a nice time to be together, good conversation, and we got to see a new place. Having lived in The Netherlands for a year where auction houses (of any type) are clean, ordered, well organized, reputable and effective cooperative selling points, we found ourselves immediately disappointed with the state of this place once we arrived. It was dirty, unwelcoming and disorganized. After much searching, we found a staff member who was less than helpful. He eventually loaded our goats into a stall. We walked around the place to check it out and were just appalled at the conditions of the animals and the set up of the system. I immediately started to say to Jay that we should load up the animals and go home because we’d seen enough. We both decided after a lengthy conversation that we would leave them there but we were going to head home right away. As we tried to get out, we encountered a few men unloading a trailer filled with sheep. Watching them unload the animals made me feel embarrassed to be a human. They were kicking the animals, cursing at them (what good does that do?), laughing, shocking them with tasers, and generally being extremely disrespectful to the animals, to each other as well as to us as observers. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I turned immediately and headed for the truck. We visited our goats one last time before we left and tried to give them water and food that we had brought with us. It was at this point that I realized that there wasn’t a water bucket or feed trough in sight – despite the fact that I was in a room of several hundred animals, maybe even thousands. Can someone explain that to me? Livestock rule #1 – constant supply of fresh water.

I’m not sure what prevented us from turning around and reclaiming our beautiful well cared for goats. But for whatever reason, we didn’t. Our conversations on the way home were filled with our disgust and disappointment of the buildings, the staff, the set up and treatment of animals. When we left the goats at the building they were horrified. You could just see it in their eyes. They were panicked, unhappy in their new environment, sensing the air of death and mistreatment all around them and I know this is anthropomorphism (is that the right word?) but they looked disappointed that we would do this to them. They really really did. In a lot of ways, I realize I’m projecting because as we walked away I was disappointed in myself for leaving them there. In stalls to their right and left were hundreds of goats covered in crap, ribs protruding, eyes pink and filled with mucous, some had open and bleeding wounds and gashes from fights with others that had horns, goats that were visibly ill and not sale worthy for any purpose and others in terrible conditions beyond what I’d like to describe here. We couldn’t really tell how long the other goats had been there, but they looked awful. I thought to myself that it must be a moment of shame for a breeder to visit their goats there. How could they not feel shame for the animal they produced and then left for sale in this terrible place? Or worse yet, did they not visit the barns or stick around to see the horrid conditions of the place where they were selling the animals and they had no idea!?!?

Jay ended up going to the auction a few days later when the goats were actually being sold. He saw things he wouldn’t even share with me. What he did share with me horrified me. He spoke of goats that were just born being sold. These kids were still wet, had never taken a step yet and hadn’t had a drink from their mothers yet either. These poor kids were followed by their moms who still had retained placentas and were crying for their kids. He also talked about goats that had visibly broken limbs and in some cases bones had exited the skin.

At some point throughout this time period I cried. I felt embarrassed that I was crying for my goats, but at the same time embarrassed that I had left them there. The emotions I experienced and later realized that Jay was experiencing too were beyond what I had ever felt before. There was little reconciliation for me for all this time. I clearly understand that animal production includes a number of animals that are unwanted for some reason or another just like factories that make plastic widgets produce plastic widgets that get thrown away. I know this is a reality and that auction houses exist for a reason. What I have come to believe over the last few months is that this reality needn’t be treated the way that it is. It is not necessary for this auction house to function like they do.

So – all this time we’ve been asking ourselves…for what did we sell the goats? We got a measly $120 and a burden on our consciences that had stuck with us for all this time. As time passed, I realized that we had experienced this awful situation for a reason. The reason is so that we could move forward in a more informed way and act and live more responsibly as goat breeders. Had we not seen what we saw – we would have never known and perhaps used the auction house as a means to sell extra goats. But because we now know what we know, we can share the information like I am now by writing this and we can make better choices.

So last week, many months after the auction took place, we had a visitor at our farm that was inquiring about raising goats. He had been referred to us by several people and came looking for advice, stories, other references and possibly a source for goats. We had a really nice discussion with him. Towards the end of the discussion he asked us if we send out goats to the auction when they are at the right age and weight. Almost in unison we said NO! At that moment, we shared a glance of recognition and approval and suddenly felt very confident in ourselves. He seemed shocked at our answer and questioned us as to why we wouldn’t sell at auctions. We tactfully shared our story with him and said that we didn’t wish to give this place any business ever again. We vowed to seek every other possible avenue for sale before going there again. He nodded his head in approval. I felt really good about that moment. It was one of those moments when I knew I married the right person – we were so in line with each other without any doubt about something that is very important to us. And it was also one of those moments when I felt good about sharing what experience and information I had that may help someone down the road.

As of right now, we’ve taken no action to complain about the auction house, but have been checking with other farmers and breeders about auctions and their thoughts. The bottom line is that everyone sees it as a necessary evil. I hope for ourselves that we can be people of change and drive the industry to make more responsible decisions and choices about such necessities. I’d hate to accept it as a necessary evil and feel satisfied with that answer. I’m not there yet and hope that I never will be!

Moral of the story: be educated about your choices, no matter what they are!

Since December 12th, starting with the birth of Georgia’s kid boys, our lives have been full of non-stop goat issues. Our first kidding season last year went really really well. This year? Not so good. Since December 12th we have experienced the birth and death of more kids and goats than I can count. The first death was depressing, then the second, then the third…it got to a point where we lost count of both events and since then, we are one of those farms when you ask how many goats you have we say “um….I can’t remember - probably about 50?”. It’s a funny thing. Again - better farmers keep better records all around and might have handled the past three months better than we did. But we handled it and now that we are close to the end of it, I can say that I’m happy about that. We handled it.

Things that I have learned:

1. The baby monitor or closed video surveillance system that all the books recommend are really worth it! We don’t have either and that has to change. 2am trips to the barn, though part of the farming package, are not fun - especially when you have to get up for work the next day.

2. Goats should not be alone for extended periods. When I say this, I don’t mean alone from humans…I mean alone from each other. They are too social an animal to be cooped up in a pen. Though we don’t run an intensive system, they get penned close to their kidding dates and stay there until at least three days after they kid to bond with their kids. If this time period lasts any longer than necessary, the goats go nuts!

3. When it’s less than 10 degrees outside, get the kid dried and get it on the teat. If those two items are not satisfied, take the kid inside. We lost too many kids to hypothermia this year to justify the mistake. We are beginners, but it was a dumb mistake in hindsight to have assumed the kids were OK.

4. Don’t leave the heat lamps on overnight. It’s not worth it. If you do, get up every hour and start praying as you put your boots on that your barn isn’t burned down when you go outside. Though our barn is still standing, the stress of worrying about the lamps was not worth it.

5. Get water pipes drilled to your barn so that you don’t have to walk far with the water. And while you’re at it, get hot running water in your barn! A luxury? Probably. A safe bet. You betcha.

6. In rutting season, make sure you have 14,000 pound boulders shoring up your gates and doors so that the bucks can’t get through and hump the ladies without you knowing. Every single goat issue that we had this year was directly tied to the fact that we did not know the breeding dates. Period.

So, we have 12 goats that had kids. And man, we got some fine kids from this batch. We have one more goat that has yet to kid. This has been going on since December 12th. Every day is a big question. When Don-kay has her kids, I am having a party of some sort and letting loose. I need to move on from kidding season!

When we got into raising goats, we heard two camps on the kidding season issue. 1st camp was all about the cuteness of the kids and how fun they are and how wonderful it is to have the kids around and how beautiful…and how special..blah blah blah.. We agreed wholeheartedly the first year. 2nd camp hears the first camp and says they’re nuts. That kidding season is stressful and worrisome and most can’t wait for it to be over.

We joined Camp 2 this year. It’s a shame, but I guess it’s the reality of animal husbandry. There are issues and the issues need to be solved or animals die. Moving forward now!

Oh ya! I’m also now officially 30! Yehaw!

It feels like the trees just got green yesterday. Then today on my drive to work I noticed abruptly that there are no leaves at all. Even the Oaks, oh the dear old Oaks, that typically hold their bronze leaves through January are down! I feel robbed! So, I’m driving and I’m thinking of the Indigo Girls singing “…I could go crazy on a night like tonight, the summer’s beginning to give up her fight….”.  I love that song and that line specifically.  I always think I’m going to be listening to that song at the perfect moment in the perfect place and just enjoy the goodness of that.  But it never really happens. Maybe that’s the point? I think summer just goes away. Fall is so captivating that it lures you into thinking that the leaves changing color is a GOOD thing. When in fact, it’s just downright deceptive!

For a few years, I have been catching on to the fact that I believe I may suffer (that’s an awful word) from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). For those of you that know me, you know the last thing I’m going to do is go to a doctor and find out. I’m just going to sit around and talk about it and feel pretty sure that’s what I got going on and then talk about it some more.  But man, I can feel it coming.  I get so upset when the leaves go. Perhaps it’s because I’m a Horticulturist and a green woman (although I feel the furthest from that these days). Or perhaps it’s the reminder of death that gets me this time of year. Whatever it is, I get so sad. So far, I’m doing alright and trying to set some goals and remind myself that all is well in the world.  But man, the leaves – ugh! I didn’t even notice they were gone and now – woosh – I have to wait another 6 months for them! Ugh! Blech! Eek!  Blah! Spit!

We spent the afternoon with some folks that live nearby. They are an older couple that are retired from farming and spending time with them is like listening to a book on tape of the farmers almanac. As most true farmers, they are really not done with farming despite what they say. Though they sold the farm, moved to a smaller more modest living quarters and downsized in acreage, they still have cats every where, a herd of dairy cows, a huge garden for canning and some chickens. Add in a few rabbits and various other small hobbies (like oxen pulling?) and you might be fooled into thinking they are still farming. I’m noticing that farming is one of those things you don’t really get away from. It’s a lifestyle, not a career. And what a good choice.

So, we spend time with people like them and just wish we weren’t our age. Every time that I’m with them, I just want to write a book about all the things people our age don’t know and give it away for free, because information like theirs (at least to me) is too expensive to be bought. It just has to be had as a gift. Some of it is so simple though, but things you just don’t think through because you got to get the kids to soccer, got to get dinner on the table, be to work on time, pay the bills, go buy more stuff….

“Ron set me up a tube so that we could put the gray water on the garden”. Why would you do that, I ask? Well, so that we didn’t use more water for the garden, she says. If she had the guts, I think she would have said ‘dummy’ at the end of her sentence. And I’m still scratching my head wondering why she wouldn’t just pull out the hose and water the garden.

Other tidbits from today….

“I reckon the farmers will get another cut of hay because of this rain. That will be good”—”The corn is what it is already, so the rain means nothing to it now.”—”This storm is coming the wrong way. All that means, s’gonna cause us some trouble.”—”She better check her tree out, there’s something wrong with it.”—”Trying to find that trolly in the barn would be like lookin’ for hens teeth”—”Water is going to be up on the road in 12 hours , it has to get here from the next town. You’ll know because it’s muddy then.”—”Having barn swallows means that your barn won’t get hit by lightening.”

I asked them if they missed the big farm. All they had to say was “On a day like today, it’s good not to be worrying about whether the field is flooded or if the rain was gonna knock down the crops.” Things are never really yes or no. They just are what they are. Of course the rain is going to cause us trouble because it’s coming from the South and hitting the barn on the East side. Barns were built with the rock wall facing East so that the rain didn’t hit it and it could add some warmth for the animals downstairs. ????? Again, if you thought it all through it makes sense, but I’m always scratching my head for several days after we see them.

So here I am in a world in which I’ll admit, I fit into pretty well. I’m a consumer. I have a big house. I have gas guzzling vehicles. But I’m wishing for long skirts and the funny underwear (Laura Ingalls style), the doctor in the house next door with jars on his shelf, everyone bartering for goods and growing everything you need on your own land and depending on yourself, your family and your neighbors. Conversations with these friends of ours makes me know there’s so much we don’t know about farming and taking care of ourselves and yet in many ways we are a few steps ahead of others. For example, I had a friend recently ask me what “Buy Fresh Buy Local” means. After some conversation, she was still wondering why bananas were not a staple at the local farmers market……wait for it……in Pennsylvania. Either I’m a terrible explainer of things or she is really far behind. Giving myself the benefit of the doubt, I’m going to choose the latter.

Hanging out with these friends is like a window into a different era of time with different priorities and needs. But it’s also the realization that they probably felt the same when they were talking to their grandparents. I’m glad they listened so closely and I feel special because I take the time to listen to them and that I’ve been gifted with their friendship. I learn a little something everytime and always take home something I can employ immediately. This time, I’m going to stop knocking down those barn swallow nests. Next, I’m going to buy myself some of those underwear that Laura Ingall’s used to wear. Born in the wrong era…that explains my fight with this world.

Like her name implied, maybe not so obviously, she was the color of Skim milk. Sort of white, with with a hint of gray. She and her brother Eddie came into our lives in the most hurried of ways and left us similarly in a daze.  Our cat Skimmy, was most unique and unlike many other cats we’d met.  Skimmy met the rim of a tire more than we’d like to remind ourselves, and we’d begun to think that perhaps she, being the daredevil that she was, might continue to have these run-ins and somehow continue to dodge an inevitable death by rubber and tar.  But alas, her last day came at the roll of someone’s tire last week on blueberry night.  Poor Skimmy. I still look out the window expecting her to beg us to let her in. I still find myself opening the door randomly expecting her to be sitting there begging us to let her out.  Never entirely happy with her circumstances - or maybe so happy that she was always seeking a new adventure - Skimmy was always begging for somethign. That and she had alot of stories to tell.  Like the time she went missing for several days and we found her in the white barn all curled up and black as tar. Or the time she had relations with the traveling black and white sales cat, got pregnant and lost her litter. Or the time she actually got pregnant and had a successful litter and was like ‘who are these little things sucking on me - get them off!’. Or the time she lost her tail to an inevtiable infection after something fell on it or it got caught on something.  We’ll never really know all the details, but if she could write (or talk) she’d have some good things to say. You’d have thunk after her first accident that she’d be shy to be outside. Not our Skimmy. No one would dare cross her path for food, water, or any other treat. And certainly no one would get in the way of her and her man, Jay.  Not even me, his wife! Being part siamese, she was a little dim. But we loved her for it.

Now she rests under a rock in our brick garden where she’ll never really be too far away. We can watch her from our window and say good morning. Like Eddie, Annie and London, she was one of many animals that will cross our paths.  I miss her alot. My Skim-Skim. The joys of farm life are not always joyful. Sometimes they are downright depressing but it’s a constant reminder that death is a part of life and we just have to swallow it with everything else. Oh, Skimmy - we still got your tail to remind us of how crazy you were:)