Happy Thanksgiving(and the snowstorm of twenty-ten)

It's the day before Thanksgiving, I'm baking one loaf of bread, a long pie pumpkin and three heads of garlic, which will also be transformed into bread before the day is through. I'm off on a road trip, or will be in a few hours, and I'm jittery with excitement, and coffee, but mostly excitement.

It snowed here in Port Angeles on Sunday, an unseasonably early storm of impressive ferocity. We got somewhere between eight inches and a foot, on the farm there were drifts as high as three feet in some places, but I'm getting ahead of myself. On Sunday we went and saw the new Harry Potter movie. It was, as we all had to assume, quite dark. I love the animated tale of the three brother right in the middle of it; thought the animation was fantastic. I enjoyed it, but I have to say that it in no way compared with going sledding at the highschool with Maggie, and Jen and Nathan afterward. That was easily the highlight of my week, if not the month.

The day afterward, however, was back to farm life, and let me just tell you, farming in the snow? Even inside of the greenhouse...not ideal. We got it cleaned out, however, harvesting the last of the peppers and eggplants, and some green tomatoes that may or may not ripen off the vine. Yesterday we finished pulling up all the fencing, and cleaning it up as best we could, and then cleaned out the chicken coop. Ah, the glamorous and idyllic life of farm folk.

I've been getting some quality writing done, I think, and I've been enjoying my time immensely. Although living in a trailer during the snowstorm has taken some of the romance out of it, it was undeniably beautiful. Some pics from around the farm(it should be interesting to see what survives this, but I've learned not to underestimate the resilience of plants).


Chickens do not like the snow:
The display garden, lettuce?:

Leeks:

Parsnips:

Brassicas:

Asparagus:
Flax:

Raspberries and Blueberries:
Leaving the Athair's the morning of the storm:



Sometimes you find beauty in the most unexpected of places, like the skin of the greenhouse the morning after:

As for my Thanksgiving plans? A rented house on the Oregon coast, with some friends and some strangers. There will be much cooking, and celebrating, and, on my part at least, being thankful for what I have, for the opportunities I find myself with, for my friends and loved ones, and for all of you who care about me and my journey.

Thanks.

I really thought this was a short one, when I started writing...

It seems that one hundred days ago, I left Georgia for the great unknown. Having come to know at least one little section of it, I can confirm, that it is indeed, great.

I don't really have anything profound to say to mark the occasion. Farm work continues, we're quite busy all the time, but I still have time to write, and when someone invites me out for an adventure I always jump at the chance, and have yet to regret it.

Looking forward to Portland this weekend. Have no agenda, and don't even have plans for where I'm staying, or when exactly I'll be there, but I'm not stressing the details.

Some pictures to tide you over until I have something more substantial to share.

My first assortment of summer squash:



Blackberries, coming on strong. I swear the raspberries just started a week ago, and the last time I checked these were still green, and the size of a dime:



Hey look, pumpkins. Is it Hallowe'en yet?:


Food still grows, all of it growing inexorably closer to harvest. Zuccs and Cukes, Beans and corn, Celery, Broccoli, and Kohlrabi:




Sunday morning bread baking:


Some shots from today's hike to Lake Angeles. Wildflowers:




What on Earth are these?:

I don't know, but they turn into this:

And this thing?:


Lake Angeles, herself:


Look at that color:Come on in, the water's...well cold, but it was hot, and so that's fine:

A newt? I got better(sorry):


Waterfalls, at the lake, and on the trail:

I also took a hike with Maggie earlier this week up to Hurricane Hill, From Hurricane Ridge. Holy shit, pardon my swear words children, but holy shit. I don't know what I was expecting, but I can't believe it took me so long to get there. It was as beautiful a place as I've ever been. How does that keep happening to me here? It was fantastic, and I'm glad I didn't bring my camera because any attempt to capture what I saw would have failed to do it justice. The sun was setting, and the light was amazing. I can't say for sure, but I felt myself grinning like an idiot more than once. If mountains and wildflower dotted sub-alpine meadows are your thing, you could do a lot worse than to come to the peninsula. Also we saw bears. Plural. Heh.

I hope you are all doing as well as I. I know the time difference makes communication difficult, but I hope y'all know if you need me, you can call anytime. Love you all.

Oh, and lest I forget...Peaches, who knew?:

Reinforcing the transient nature of farm life...

Bear died this week; he was eight months old, and it was a total shock to all of us. Despite the sadness we feel at his loss, life on the farm continues, and there is no time to stop to mourn him, or even to slow down.

The peas are almost gone. We have maybe one harvest left. The strawberries might last for another two, but we have raspberries coming into full swing, now:



The zucchini should be ready for Wednesday market:


Apples and pears:





Discovered this week while making a regular walking apraisal of the state of the farm, Montmorency cherries:



Ume, I think:


So as things come to an end, other things begin. It is with this in mind that I've decided what I'm doing for my birthday. I have the entire weekend off, three days to do with as I will, and I'm going to Portland. I want to spend the winter there, at a bakery by preference, and maybe I'll be able to do something else of interest one or two days a week, if I can't find a full time gig. Rather than attempt to arrange this using the power of the internet, I plan on doing it the old-fashioned way. In person, face-to-face, in the hopes that this will reinforce the seriousness of my desire to come and learn from someone who has a passion for the same things I do. [edited: to remove shameless panhandling, which turned out to be quite shame inducing, after all]

Some of the baking I've been doing recently.

Roasted beet and garlic bread, beets courtesy of the kids at the Lazy J, garlic from the Johnston's:


Some gluten-free peanut butter cookies, and an apple cake I baked for the cookbook, I'm doing recipe testing for:


In other farm-related news, I got work my first market yesterday. It was an interesting experience, to say the least. On the one hand it was a lot of fun, to see the end result of what I've been working so hard for, and on the other it seemed oddly unproductive, at least at first. By the end of the day, I had come to realize, of course, that it was anything but. It was, in fact, the very neccessary end result of all we work so hard to accomplish. It was really satisfiying to see the appreciation on the faces of the people in the community who support what we do, and it was incredibly gratifying to be able to see the relationship Christie has developed with her regulars, and it was fun to see what the other farmers had available.

It was also like a recap of the fun and adventures I've had here so far; over the course of the day I saw most of the people who I've met, or had even the briefest of tangential encounters with; from Lindsay's girlfriend and her roommate, to the lovely young lesbian who shook the shit out of me at the rock show I went to the night before market, for not dancing. It was a great opportunity to recharge and reinvigorate myself after the hard work we've been doing, and to demonstrate unequivocally that what we do has a purpose beyond supplying us with fine fresh produce.

In summation: much to all our dismay, Bear, Nick's faithful dog, is no longer with us. It has shaken us all, but there is nothing we can do, beyond being there for Nick, Christie, and Kelly. The planting and maintenance, harvesting and selling continue unabated, in fact they have accelerated to the point where I have no doubt that whatever I do after this will make me feel lazy and unproductive by comparison. It's funny, now that I think about it. Twice this week, people have asked me whether I'm finding myself suited to this life. I recall saying early on that while I was learning a lot, I didn't think I would be doing this for the rest of my life, and though I'm unsure, maybe even doubtful, that commercial farmer is in my future; the more I think about it the more I can't imagine a life in which I'm not growing food in some capacity or another. Weird, but in another way entirely comforting. I naively did not think that this journey would change me. I had no doubts that I would learn about myself in the process, but I did not think that there would be any fundamental shift in who I am. Now I'm not so sure.