Turn the Page

I’m moving to one of my old blogs.

https://theartoflivingsimple.wordpress.com/2014/05/10/414/

Turn the page!

Bob Seger, back in 1973, originally recorded a song named “Turn the Page.” I can hear the saxophone as I write this:

“On a long and lonesome highway east of Omaha
You can listen to the engine rolling out his one note song
You can think about the woman
Or the girl you knew the night before

But your thoughts will soon be wanderin’ the way they always do
When your riding sixteen hours and there’s nothin much to do
And you don’t feel much like riding
You just wish the trip was through”

Change happens to us all.  That’s just the real of it.  The past couple weeks have been filled with deep conversations between me and Bev, conversations about owning a home, our advancing age, what we really want from life at this stage, those sorts of heavy topics, and the bottom line is we want more freedom than we have right now.

A home, with a large yard, or a small farm, does not allow for much freedom. There is always something that needs fixing or updating or replacing.  There are always things to “do,” and Bev and I would like to rewrite the script where we have the freedom to do a minimum number of “chores.”

So we are selling our home in April and moving into a tiny home, which has been an ongoing dream for a long time.  400 square feet of bliss, thank you very much.  At one time we had over 100 chickens and 100 quail.  All gone!  We had rabbits and goats. All gone!  Now it’s just the two of us, and our dogs, and that feels exactly right.

Which all leads to the fact that me writing about an urban farm, or farming in general, will not fit the new lifestyle I’m carving out.  Farming is, in a very practical sense, a gig for the young. I’m not saying us oldsters can’t do it; I’m simply saying it is much easier to do when the muscles don’t scream in pain and the energy level is unlimited.

So thank you for following this blog. I wish you well and, if you should choose to join me on Living Simple, I promise to welcome you with open arms.

Bill

Looking for the Missing

I’m slowing up.

Part of it is physical, for sure.  This seventy-year old body just doesn’t have the same unlimited supply of energy it once had.

But mainly it is psychological, the slowing up, and toss in a healthy dollop of philosophical as well.

I simply don’t feel like constantly “doing something” any longer.  I want to gear down and enjoy life in the far right lane of life rather than the passing lane.  I want to enjoy the sublime pleasure of longer walks. I want to absorb the present rather than plan for the immediate future.  I want to look closer at life and see the things I have missed which were right in front of me all along.

I’ve worked, now, in one fashion or another, for fifty-four years.  I had an advantage over many of my peers in that I genuinely like working.  I like the feeling of accomplishment that a job well-done gives. I like to challenge myself to do the best I can on a task. I simply like the feeling of being productive, and truth be told working has always helped me to maintain my sobriety by keeping my mind active and focused.

But it’s time to say “no mas” and find the joy in other pursuits.

I love writing, but I always feel rushed in my writing.  I want to give it the time it deserves and find out just how good I can be.

I love nature, and I want to be more a part of it.

Perhaps I’ll volunteer and try to share my talents with others.

Or perhaps I’ll get involved with local politics or activist groups.

All I know for certain is I want a change.

I sold off the chickens. I sold off the quail.  We (Bev and I) are even talking about selling the house and moving out to the country on a much smaller scale.  You see, Bev is growing weary of working as well, so simplifying our lives even more is sounding very good to both of us.

The realization came as I was visiting my best friend Frank in Oregon a couple weeks ago.  I was sitting on Frank’s deck with him, talking about life in that comfortable way old friends do. We went for walks in the local parks.  We talked about random topics and had coffee in outdoor cafes, and not once in two days did I even think about work . . . and I found I didn’t miss it at all.

It’s time!

On a side not, I highly recommend you all watch the new documentary “The Biggest Little Farm.” It will have you smiling and crying and rejoicing.

Bill

Winter is Coming!

The wood is stacked.

The kindling has been gathered.

Spider webs are seemingly everywhere, and all are at face-height.

Winter is coming!

It seems strange to say that, early August, but the signs are unmistakable.  The sun rises later, sets earlier, and the early mornings have a slight bite to them.  Garlic has already been harvested, the potatoes are ready, some flowers have given up the ghost, and the chickens’ egg-production is lessening.

Winter is coming!

My seventieth year, snow atop my mantel, cobwebs adorn my brain, the machinery creaks and moans when activated . . .

Winter is coming!

The squirrels are busier than sweatshop workers in a Third World country, geese can be heard, colors are muting, pedals are falling, and vacations are coming to an end.  Thoughts turn to duct-cleaning, pie baking, and canning as pumpkins continue to enlarge and corn stalks sway in the breezes.

Winter is coming!

Nuts are being gathered by ambitious squirrels, resident birds are fortifying nests, greens are fading, and the last of the lettuce is picked.

Winter is coming!

Fences are mended where needed, driveway potholes are filled, drainage ditches are dug, coops are repaired, hoops are taken down, cloches dismantled, fertilizer is spread, fields are mowed, and children say goodbye to one more summer and pick out new plumage for school.

Winter is coming!

Anyway, winter is coming and I have chores to do.  Have a brilliant week as August sighs and prepares for the inevitable.  It was forty-eight degrees this morning in Olympia.  Nature is sending a message.

Bill

Inner Debates and a Farmer Tribute

Conrad home

The house I grew up in, in Tacoma, recently sold for $230,000.

Blow me away!

My parents bought that house in 1953 for $12,000.  It is 1,340 square feet of living space and a one-car garage.  When I lived there it was a three-bedroom, one-bath home. It just sold as a four-bedroom, 1 ½ bath home.  Mind you the square footage is the same, so there must have been some serious squeezing being done to accomplish that magical trick.

$230,000 . . . blow me away!

Bev and I bounce back and forth between staying in this house we own or selling it, downsizing, and moving into a tiny home.  We’ve been debating this for years now.  I’m not sure we are any closer to a decision than we were five years ago.

We are comfortable in this home and really that’s the main reason for staying.  As our kids love to remind us, we have equity in this home, and “equity is important,” they love to tell us, but important to whom?  Sooner, rather than later, Bev and I will pass on, so I guess the equity is important to those who would inherit but truthfully, we don’t much care about that.  This is all about the quality of our lives.  Our kids can fend for themselves, and how our equity affects them is not really a point of conversation.

On the other hand, selling and living in a tiny home on an acre of land has always appealed to us . . . take the equity from this home and completely pay for something small…no mortgage payment sounds heavenly right about now.

So the inner debate continues.  In the end the decision will really be Bev’s.  I’m twelve years older than she is, and chances are pretty good that I’ll die before her, so it all comes down to what does she want when that time comes.  I’ve lived in my truck before, so it makes little difference to me.

In the meantime, I’ve got firewood to stack.  Like it or not, winter will be here shortly, and firewood is our only source of heat, so this task can’t be put off much longer.  It might be eighty-five right now, but those temps won’t last much longer in our northern environs.

ANOTHER SIDE OF THE COIN

We went for a hike up in the mountains this past weekend, and on the way back home we stopped and visited with some friends who own a farm in the town of Mossyrock.  Now get this: Lydia and her husband Richie work 200 acres . . . by themselves!

You gotta love farming to work 200 acres of cattle and sheep, just you and your spouse.  Think about that for a moment.  Do you know how much land 200 acres is?  It’s about 150 football fields.  Let that sink in for a moment.  Two people!  The night before we visited them, Richie wrapped up his day of haying at ten p.m. I have no doubt he started at sunrise.

God bless the farmers of the world!

Have a great week living your fantastic lives!

Bill

The Changing Face of Farmers Markets

An interesting thing happened to farmers markets over the past few years as they tried to establish a toehold in the marketplace . . . they became too popular!

No, not too popular with consumers.  Statistics show that consumers continue to support local farmers markets in record numbers.  The statement has more to do with the communities where you find farmers markets.  Success breeds success in retail.  What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, that sort of thing, until it is not, and then it just becomes excess.

Put another way . . . too much of a good thing will eventually have unintended consequences.

Let’s use our local area, Thurston County, Washington State, for an example.

The grandfather of farmers markets in our county is the Olympia Farmers Market.  It has been around seemingly forever.  It literally does millions of dollars in sales, and what was once traditionally a weekend market during the summer has expanded and included Thursdays and Fridays and a limited schedule during the winter.

So if it’s good for Olympia it must be good for Tumwater, three miles away, and it must be good for West Olympia, and Lacey, and Delphi, all of which are less than five miles from The Grandfather, and suddenly the year is 2019, the dollars to be spent are limited, and something has to give.

What inevitably happens is that some of those smaller markets will close.

The same can be seen nationwide. The amount of dollars being spent at farmers markets is increasing across the nation, but the number of farmers markets, for the first time in decades, is declining.  In other words, the market is saturated and only the strong shall survive.

What does this mean for struggling markets?

It means the same thing it means for any retail establishment facing stiff competition: learn to market effectively, learn to diversify, learn to attract customers, and learn good customer skills . . . or perish!

It is not enough in 2019 for a farmers market, facing tough competition, to simply offer fresh fruits and vegetables.  A farmers market in 2019 must be a fun place to visit.  It must be a destination that people wish to visit, a happening place, a place people want to return to.  All markets have live music. They all have community booths and local artisans.  What can your market offer that other markets do not offer? Why would a family of four prefer to visit your market rather than a market three miles down the road? A market manager, or a market Board of Directors, who do not understand this basic retail concept, are failing at their jobs.

The Flea Circus Effect

I like to use the flea circus analogy to drive home this point.  Are you familiar with the flea circus concept?

Flea circuses date back to the 1820s.  They may, or may not, have used real fleas, but they all consisted of tiny machines, rides, etc, which were activated “by fleas.”  Those which did not use actual fleas simply presented the magnificent illusion of tiny fleas on merry-go-rounds, or fleas on trapezes. It was really a brilliant piece of showmanship and marketing, to present an illusion so grand that people would spend money to see something that actually did not exist.

This same way of thinking would serve well the smaller markets trying to compete with the larger ones.  Present the illusion of more happening than what really is or do, in fact, present something that can’t be seen anywhere else.  Simply having live music is not enough. Simply having fresh fruits and vegetables will not do the trick.  “Unique” should be your call to action, or you will find yourself facing a situation where all the action in the world will not save you.

Learn to adjust to the times or become a statistic!

This is hard for some market managers. They may be great organizers. They may even have great people skills.  What they are lacking is creativity. They can’t think outside the box.  They pour money into advertising when, in truth, all the advertising in the world will not make their market attractive; and besides, the best advertising is word-of-mouth, which will not happen unless they find a way to make their market interesting and worth attending.

And so it goes!  Some “get it,” and they manage fun, successful markets.  Others do not “get it,” and their markets slowly rot on the vine.

Bill

Into an Uncertain Future

I do believe it’s time for an update as June quickly transitions into July.

It seems odd not doing the farmers market scene. I miss the fellow vendors and the customers . I don’t miss the politics of it all, or the constant scrambling to get things done, or a market manager who was rude and inflexible, but I miss the people.

And it’s weird going out to the farm to feed the chickens and only having twenty-five greet me. I’m accustomed to hordes greeting me, not a measly twenty-five.

But it’s all good!  My attention is now turned to our backyard.  Bev and I are trying to figure out what we want to do with it.  The pictures I’ve included are the backyard as it is currently.  As you can see, we have a lot of unused space to play with.  We have two aviaries to play with. The question is: what to do with it all?

OBSERVATIONS ON WHAT IS THERE

It’s all changed so much over the past five or six years.  At one time there were close to 100 quail back there. We had probably thirty rabbits . . .three goats for a few weeks . . . up to eight chickens . . . at one time half the yard was an unruly vegetable garden.

It all started with an herb garden.

The thing is, we have far too many ideas than we do time. That has to change or I refuse to even begin another project.

But so much could be done.  I can see it on the projector in my mind.

All told there is probably close to a ¼ acre here.  The front yard is solid berry bushes.  Occasionally we even go out there and trim them back.  We were determined to not have a lawn and by God, we don’t have a lawn!  So the front will stay pretty much the same albeit a little bit neater.  It’s the back that has us mystified right now.

Oh well!  As grandma was fond of saying,  it will all come out in the wash.

The veggie garden is 12’x17’ if I remember correctly.  It is, as you can see, quite full.  A part of me wants to add to it; a part of me does not, opting instead for using one of the aviaries as a greenhouse.

So many ideas, and we’ll sort through them all, in time, and come up with a workable plan.

Stay tuned!

Bill

Monsanto, Chickens, and Other Things

I read with some interest a story a few weeks ago about the verdict in a lawsuit against Monsanto, the chemical giant in the United States.  A couple sued Monsanto after they were diagnosed with cancer, and they were claiming that the pesticide Roundup caused their cancer.

The couple was awarded $2 billion in damages.

You can bet your bottom dollar there will be more lawsuits against Monsanto coming round the bend.

Have you read “Silent Spring” by Rachel Carson?  If you have any interest in urban farming, or farming in general, “Silent Spring” is a must-read.  It was published in 1962, and it documents the adverse environmental effects from the indiscriminant use of pesticides  and herbacides. . . like the product Roundup.  It also accuses the government of turning a blind eye to those adverse effects, and basically allowing companies like Monsanto to spread disinformation and downright lies in their advertising.

It was a groundbreaking book in 1962, but obviously its effects were not far-reaching enough, not as long as products like Roundup are still being sold in the United States . . . not as long as people are dying of cancer caused by those products.

When will we ever learn?

We put poisons down our throat because they are cheaper to purchase than healthy foods. We put poisons in our garden because it is easier than pulling weeds.  We ignore scientific data which screams “DANGER” in order to simplify our efforts and save us time.

When will we ever learn?

I’ll stop with that. I’m on the edge of a massive rant about all things related to corporations, so it’s best I walk away at this point and wish you all a wonderful, natural, healthy day.

Pick up a copy of “Silent Spring” and give it a read.  It was a groundbreaking book then; it is just as important today.

ON THE HOMEFRONT

We sold off about half our chickens. Without the farmers market we had no use for all those eggs, and we are simply too busy to go out and market them.  We now keep about twenty-five hens. That is more than enough to supply us in eggs as well as eggs for friends.

We want to shift our focus back to our home, and in particular our backyard. This blog originally began as a look at urban farming, but it morphed into something bigger once we started raising chickens at the farm.  Now, I think, we need to go back to our roots.  Bev works full-time, so she has very little time to devote to big projects, and with my writing I’m left with little time as well.  So back to the backyard we go.  Back to urban farming!

I’m sure I’ll get the itch at some point and start raising chickens on a larger scale again.  I’ve got the coops and the space when that moment arrives.  Until that moment arrives, however, I’m going to concentrate on drawing up plans for a more efficient use of our spacious backyard urban farm.

Bill

Why Bother With Urban and Small Farming?

Some of what I’m about to write is tongue-in-cheek. Some is the truth as I see it.  I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which is true and which is hogwash.

I’ve thought long and hard about this topic, the advantages of urban farming. Why in the holy hell do I do what I do? Why do any of us? Is there any point to it at all?  Is there any social positive which comes out of urban farming?  Is this some crusade destined to fail, or is there hope attached to it?  And what could I possibly say here which might convince some of you to “leave the Dark Side and enter the Light?”

The problem, as I see it, is that what I consider to be wise, prudent, and socially responsible may seem ridiculous to others.  I came to this realization years ago, but it was reinforced recently when I was watching a Ted Talks on the topic of sustainability.

Let’s just take “small farming” as a topic to discuss.  I say we need small farms. We need that local connection with our food. We need to support those who do the hard, dirty work so that we might eat healthy foods.  We need to applaud the small farmer at farmers markets and roadside stands, not make it harder for them to succeed.

The flip side of it is this: small farms will never be able to feed all the world’s hungry. They are actually an inefficient use of the Earth’s resources, and the product produced is priced out of reach for our city’s poor population.  We need more room for housing, not more room for cows, sheep, goats, and chickens.

And my counter-argument kicks in immediately, as does the other counter-argument, and a stalemate of disparate beliefs settles in for the long-term.

I heard it over and over again while working the farmers market. People would come up and say: “I would love to come here more often, but I can get food for my family at a much lower price at CostCo or WalMart,” and it’s almost impossible to argue about that with a single mother of two on a low fixed income.  She can get food cheaper at WalMart, and the fact that the cheap food may be bad for her health is not of primary concern because, well, she is poor.

AND URBAN FARMING?  REALLY?

Buttercup is on the left

In Olympia, my hometown, we can raise five hens. Five!  To continue this discussion, what difference does it make if I raise five hens for personal consumption?  What difference does it really make if 1,000 people in Olympia do the same? What difference could it possibly make, in this world, if 1,000 people in Olympia raised food for themselves from backyard gardens?  I can show you profit statements for WalMart and Safeway and CostCo, and those profit statements would tell you that the majority of Americans are only concerned with one thing: being able to afford ANY food, no matter the degree of health concerns. The last time I checked, McDonalds was doing quite well, thank you very much. Either a vast majority of Americans don’t care, or they can’t afford to care.

So again, what possible difference can it all make? Why do this urban farming/small farming thing?

THE ANSWER

And really, the only answer I can give you which makes any sense at all, to me and to others, is the fact that it makes me feel good to do what I believe is right.  I harm no one with my efforts, and I certainly do not harm the planet by doing what I do.  It is good for my physical, emotional, and psychological health to work with the Earth to produce something healthy.  And it just makes me smile to know I am continuing in the tradition of my grandparents, Iowa corn farmers from back in the 20’s, back in a time when farmers were respected as the backbone of this country, doing their thing in the breadbasket of this country.

It’s the only answer I can give which does not invite argument.  It makes me feel good and brings no harm to anyone or anything.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it!

Bill

Back From the MIA List

It’s been awhile!

Sorry for my absence, but I’ve been busy getting my life in order.

One thing I did was drop out of the farmers market. I no longer sell there and I’m no longer the Board President.  I just didn’t have the time to devote to it and do the job I wanted to do. Add to that the fact I wanted more time to write, and add to that the fact I just wasn’t enjoying the market as much as in the past and, well, it was time.

Which leaves me with a whole lot of eggs and no market to sell them at . . . such is life!  I can’t worry too much about all that. I sold off ten hens this week, and I’ll probably sell off another ten soon, and then I’ll have the egg numbers down to a manageable quantity.

BACK HOME

So now I turn my attention to chores and projects at home, away from the farm. I just built a fence so we can have some privacy for the first time in over a decade, and we are working hard at getting rid of the mess that accumulates from non-stop projects.  Once we have an open space to work with,  we’ll decide what we want to do with it.

It’s always something . . .

And for me it really needs to happen.  I don’t do well with spare time.  Spare time provides me with too much time to think, and my mind is not a pretty place when left unchecked.  Chores and projects give me something to focus on, and focus keeps me safe.  For those of you who know me, that makes perfect sense, and for those of you who don’t know me, all shall be revealed one of these days.

Projects also keep me healthy, or so I believe, and I am healthy for sure  . . . healthy as in never sick . . . healthy as in never injured . . . healthy as in much more active than many people who are seventy.  So I think I’ll just keep on doing what I’ve been doing until the day comes with all systems shut down.

So there you have an update. The fence looks pretty good. I’m certainly no carpenter, but I am willing to keep trying until I get something right, a trait passed down to me from my dad.  Many of my projects fall far short of perfection, but fit quite nicely in the “passable” category.

Anyway, gotta run.  I’m kind of busy writing my memoirs, and I have a chapter to write.

Have a great day! Enjoy the beautiful warmth of spring.

Bill

The Changing Farm

The farm is changing.

Show me one that isn’t.

Farms are like that.  I think most people go into farming with a nebulous image of what that farm will look like but time, necessities, finances, the weather, all play a part in shaping that image over time.

One pasture is shrinking as new fencing is erected; another increases in size as another fence is moved. A memorial garden is created.  A structure for the ducks is built.  Damaged trees from the winter storms are cut down and new are planted.  Mud washouts are rebuilt with support beams and gravel.

Meanwhile life continues.  Baby goats grow, a new horse is introduced to the animal farm, and pigs become future meals, wrapped neatly and frozen until needed.

A farm is a living organism in many ways.  Day to day it is never the same, and I like that fact, and yet among the constant change is a foundation of stability, and a few of you will understand that.  Deaths happen constantly.  Farm animals are not immortal, they have a shelf life, as good a reason as any not to name many of them, for the giving of a name transfers a certain amount of affection and emotion. And yet we do just that because, well, our animals are important to us.

The work is constant, at times 24/7, day in, day out, no vacations for a farmer, very few moments of complete tranquility, despite the romanticized versions of Old MacDonald, EIEIO, and yet the numbers are increasing in this year, young couples saying “to hell with it, let’s follow that dream,” and I find that encouraging.

Yep, the farm is changing, and will continue to do so, but for those who love the farm, it will always remain a place of tranquility and a source of pride, as it should be.

Bill