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.

Pithy title forthcoming...

Hey there, boys and girls. Just a quick update today. Worked a couple of really long days this week. It went by so fast I can scarcely believe that it's Sunday. I have some pictures for your enjoyment, but have nothing exciting planned until later in the month. I'm going to do something fun for my birthday, but don't know exactly what, yet. Suggestions are welcomed; I'd be interested in hearing what y'all think I should do.

Those petit pois I mentioned last time:


Some perspective, to allow you to understand just how petit they pois:


Onions, just plucked from the ground:


Some jars of vodka infusing with fruit picked minutes beforehand:


Did pizza for the whole farm at lunch this week. That was a lot of fun. It's always gratifying to see the surprise on someone's face when they realize that something so familiar can be taken to another level.

The summer arrived with no warning, and has shown us no mercy. It's amazing how it happened, like flicking a switch, one day it was drizzly and cool, and the next it was dry and edging ninety. I've been assured that this isn't at all usual, and autumn will probably begin before my birthday. I think that was a joke.

We're in an interesting place in the season at the Johnston farm, maintaining what we've got accomplished requires a massive amount of effort, but we still need to prepare for the fall, and even the winter. Hence the long days, and less time for blog updates and adventures, but hopefully we'll arrive at a point of equilibrium in the coming weeks, and I'll be able to do some interesting things in addition to all the hard work. In the meantime, I'm going to finish the espresso I'm drinking, and head back to the farm for an afternoon of baking. I love you all, and wish you well...

One last shot in the name of meta self-reference:

The appearance of interns, and the impending emergence of summer...

I am not Alone!

Wow. What a week. I've meant to post long before now, but I just haven't had the chance. I meant to write a long, in-depth post about my second journey to Lake Crescent, last Sunday, but i think I'll limit my discussion to a few brief points.

The day started out gray and gloomy, i.e. Aaron's favorite sort of day. Kay and I met up with Maggie, who works on the farm on Fridays, and the rest of the week at the Olympic Park Institute. We went to Salt Creek at Crescent Bay? and walked amongst the tide pools for a couple of hours. It was fascinating, and Maggie and her friends are amazingly knowledgeable; working for the Institute they are used to sharing that knowledge.

After our fun amongst the tide pools we headed to Lake Crescent, and the Institute. This is where I began to realize that I wasn't going to have a just another fun day of hiking, but something better, more satisfying. The sun came out during our travel time, and the wind picked up. The lake was as blue as can be imagined, and it's normally glassy surface was rippled with a constant stream of whitecaps. The institute is the very stereotype of a summer camp, lodges and cabins on the lakeside; it evoked an instant nostalgia, of the sort the recalls every camp memory, and the whole coming of age genre of movies and literature.

We walked along the lake, and through the woods to Merrymere falls, which you may recall I've been to before, although from a different direction. Once we reached the falls, Maggie leaned over surreptitiously, and mentioned that there was a way to get to the top of the falls, but the trail wasn't an official path. I wasn't about to pass up that chance, so we hiked, and got a view that I'm sure far fewer people ever get to see. it was really magical. There's something about being on the mountainside in the PacNorWe, that I find profoundly satisfying. Every time I find myself there I feel like I would be happy to never leave.

After our hike was done we went onto Le Sage, an old home on the shore of Lake Crescent, owned by the park, and leased on a rotating basis to the educators who work at the institute. The whole time we were there I stared in disbelief that this amazing home, with a view as fine as any in the world, I'm sure, that these people, my peers, or younger, got to live in this place, and that their job is to teach an endless succession of schoolkids their love of the natural world in general, and this one place in particular. It makes me really happy to know that such a place exists outside of Hollywood, or our imaginations, this archetypal place where group after group of kids have formative experiences in an environment that is still seems unreal to me.

That was the short version. Sheesh, listen to me ramble on. So what's happening on the farm, you ask? We've gotten a lot done lately. Planted a field of winter sqaush, and got a whole mess of weeding done. We've been having an stretch of sunny days lately which means, we've had to spend more time than usual moving the water around. Kelly's planning on upgrading the irrigation in the next week, which will be a real help for all of us.

There was a formative farm experience on Wednesday? I was sitting in the Johnston farm Internet Cafe(the Gazebo), when Kay and Ruth came around the corner to ask for my help. The chicken had all somehow gotten out of teh coop. We spent the next half an hour catching chickens. I was mostly herding, while Ruth caught most of them. She's the last intern of the season, a classically trained violinist, who dates one of the Johnston's neighbors, who happens to be an incredible fiddler in his own right. She had chickens when she was younger so has chicken catching skills that make mine look strictly amateurish.

I caught one of the two roosters, the handome Bantam, and got him back into their area, and turned around in time to see Kay and Ruthie pulling the other rooster, the gorgeous white one, from under Kay's car, dead. It was a sad moment, but we had chicken to catch, so we didn't really consider what to do with him, until we got teh rest of the hens recaptured. Once we had done that, I presented Kelly with the deceased cock, and he said that we needed to bury it deep in the compost, unless one of us wanted to deal with the business of turning it from lievstock into food.

The girls, being vegetarian and vegan, opted to skip that, but after a moment's hard consideration, I volunteered to do the dirty work. Kelly was surprised, I think, but It seemed more respectful of me, to do what had to be done. Kelly helped with the initial butchery, removing the head, tail, and wings, and leaving me to remove the feathers, and to finish teh butchery. I think that though he's obviously killed a chicken or two in his day, it's clearly not a job he relished. I was amazed by how little the whole process botehred me. I ended up the evening spattered with blood, and with feathers stuck here and there.

I dressed teh bird and got it into the fridge, and spent the next two days making the best stock I've ever made in my life, using every trick and technique in my,rather impressive, he says, modestly, arsenal. Then I made matzoh balls. Everyone said that soup was the only thing the rooster would be any good for, and while it's true that the breasts were a little tough, they tasted quite good, and the thighs and drumsticks, even after half a day in the stock pot were flavored quite nicely.

I liked that rooster, you have to understand. I thought he was beautiful, a proud creature, and one with whom I shared the sunrise for the last month and a half. I did what I did out of a sense of obligation. A need to ensure that though it was sad that he died an untimely death, at least it would not be totally in vain, and that I would derive nourishment, physical and mental from the occurence.

Still having a great time out here; had a couple of particularly stressful days this week, but we worked through them, and will keep trying to get as much done as we can. In addition to winter sqaush we finally got the summer sqaush and cucumbers in the ground, and transplanted the bush tomatoes out into teh field. The wheat has started to sprout, and the potatoes have been hilled up. The straweberries are starting to come ripe, and there can be no doubt that summer has arrived in the PacNorWe at last.

David is in Bellingham, and we're going to figure out a way to get together, hopefully soon. I'm excited at the prospect of seeing him again after so long.

I love you all, and I'm still working on answering e-mails; I know it's been awhile for some of you, but I promise they are coming, but I've been busy, and it doesn't seem like the work will be slowing down anytime in the near future. Love y'all, miss you, and hope you're well. Next time, I'll tackle some more faqs(frequently, heh). I'll leave you with a few pics to tide you over until next time, mi familia, .

The latest loaves, a challah, and a buckwheat pain au levain:


Cucumbers, and summer sqaush:


Look at how my peas have grown:

A tidepool, I know it's hard to convey scale in an image like this, but those sea stars were all about the size of a record album:



This is the second time I've been to Merrymere falls, and I managed to snap a single pic for your enjoyment, but I hardly think it manages to capture the experience:


And in closing, strawberries, most of which I ate with the cream that separated out of my milk, this morning for breakfast:


In closing, Happy Father's Day, Papa Miguel, I love you.

Images of things to come...

As I said in my last post, here is an update concerning life on the farm. Mostly concentrating on the work we've done in the last week, and some pics anticipating the things we'll be doing soon. I spent the last week doing the things that have become my regular chores. We finally finished weeding the garlic, and what a triumphant feeling that was. Of course by the time harvest begins to approach we'll probably have to do it all over again. C'est la vie. Life on a farm, especially one that doesn't use the RoundupTM. Yesterday I weeded strawberries, and it struck me how the skills I developed weeding the garlic simply don't translate. They're too different.

Our garlic, twenty rows most containing two or three varieties(plus some shallots, and bunching onions):


Berries - Straw:


Berries - Goose(two varieties):



Berries - Black (just coming into bloom, won't be ready to harvest until the end of the summer):


Berries - Blue:



Berries - Rasp:


Some apples (growing on the beautiful ornamental branching trees which will fence off the blackberry patch one day) :

The chickpeas we transplanted on Tuesday:

One of the twenty-odd varieties of taters which we're growing:


Brassicas (mostly Brussel Sprouts) waiting to go into the ground:


My peas have grown so much since we got them trellised:


A view from the roof of the barn, which is still under construction, but is starting to look really nice:


The first pizza I baked in my little RV oven, sauteed Bok Choy, with roasted mushrooms and peppers, topped half with feta and half Havarti:


The salad I ate for dinner last night, topped with a fried egg, the yolk of which was so golden-orange I almost stopped to take a picture rather than eat the thing:


So am I a farmer? I don't know. I do know that I'm loving this. Even the days which are frustrating, I feel like I'm doing something respectable, and I feel like I'm a part of a community here, which is a really special feeling, especially coming from the isolated islands of the suburbs. Everyone has gone out of their way to make me feel welcome, and to include me in their activities. I keep having these moments where I pause, look up at the mountains, and shake my head, grinning at the fact that I'm here. I hope you are all doing well, and if you have any questions for me, leave a comment and I'll endeavor to answer them as best as I can. I love you all. I miss you.