Pleasure on the farm...

How does one derive pleasure on a farm? No, it has nothing to do with moonshine and sheep, you sicko. From food of course!

Last week I lost the "paper, rock, scissors" competition which determined who had the unenviable job of weed-whacking the orchard. But like every seemingly bad situation, there was a silver lining. Whenever I'd need a break from wreaking judgment on the knee high weeds and grass, I'd stop and enjoy some of the delicious cherries from the cherry tree! (shh! don't tell farmer steve!)

Of course I shared, like a good boy should.

Today it was my turn to fix lunch for everybody, and like a magician I distracted their attention away from my amateur cooking skills by exhibiting my masterful baking prowess! Voila! delicious cake, raspberries freshly picked from the garden.

And of course there's hefenwiesen and orange. Is there any more delightful beverage to enjoy on a lazy Saturday afternoon? Methinks not!

It seems that small things are so much more rewarding when they're obtained via the sweat of one's brow. Cheers!

What is Permaculture?

Frog Farm practices permaculture, a concept not many people understand. The wikipedia definition of permaculture is:

"...an approach to designing human settlements and perennial agricultural systems that mimic the relationships found in the natural world."

Another definition:

"The conscious design and maintenance of agriculturally productive ecosystems to create the diversity, stability and resilience of natural ecosystems."

I like to think of permaculture as an intelligently designed system of agriculture which feeds itself; a diverse system in which everything serves a purpose and nourishes the whole; a system in which nothing goes to waste. The key word here is system. Much like the organs of your body, each aspect of a permaculture farm serves a distinct function, yet each is dependant on the others.

The interconnectedness of the system can be very complex and is virtually unlimited, but here is a quick everyday example: we harvest food from the gardens --> the stems, peels, leftovers, and scraps are fed to the chickens, ducks, and geese --> these birds lay many eggs which are eaten --> we save the eggshells, crush them, and use them in the garden soil --> the shells add nutrients like calcium and lime which help our plants grow --> we harvest food from the garden... and around and around we go.

What makes permaculture systems special is that they're sustainable and ultimately more healthy for the planet and for us. Industrial agriculture use systems too, but they are linear systems. For example, if an industrial farm wanted to add calcium and lime to their soil (and that's a big "IF" considering most large scale farms are not concerned with the nutritional value of their product), they would probably purchase it from a mining company, who of course extracted it from a finite source at a large cost to the environment.

Favorite Photos, Pt. 1

Work, schmerk.

Some may wonder why I haven't elaborated on what it is I actually do here. I've considered blogging about the various work-related tasks which occupy my day, but as I've said before: talking (or thinking) about work is like doing it over again!

Like today for instance. If I were to sit here and tell you about the greywater system we built, and how we dug a long trench through the hard earth with pick-axes, hollowed out what resembled a shallow grave, and assembled pipe leading from the house to the pit, why, I'd be exhausted! Trust me, feeling those heavy shovel loads as we layered the pit with stone and mulch is something I'd rather not relive right now! I mean, the only enjoyable aspect of the whole ordeal was when we relocated swamp plants into the area, which will help clean the dirty water as it slowly seeps back into the watertable.

Yeah, I'd like to tell you about what I did today, but it's really no fun.

Wedding Extravaganza!

This weekend, over 200 people of the most eccentric sort descended on Frog Farm to celebrate Steve and Debbie's love and commitment for each other. It was certainly like no wedding I have ever attended! Instead of a traditional ceremony, they created a musical which told the story of their relationship. Steve was a frog and Debbie was a fairy, and they sang to each other from across the stage until finally their love was realized, and - POOF! - they both became frogs and lived happily ever after. It was very entertaining, absolutely unpredictable, and the audience thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

Then the party began! The homemade alcohol was plentiful, the food delicious, and the music induced my feet to move against their will! The bluegrass band was comprised of neighbors, and sang of simpler times when hoppin' freight trains was a popular mode of travel, and when a man's biggest problem was getting ol' Betty Blue-eyes to notice him. Good times all around.

Back to work tomorrow!

Frog Farm

Ribbit! Oops... I mean, "greetings from Frog Farm!", the first destination on my Oregon exploration. For the last few days I've been hacking the legs from organically raised toads, packing them in ice, and shipping them to Whole Foods for immediate consumption. Just kidding. But they do have frogs here. In fact, there's a sign near the pond which reads: Do Not Feed The Frogs. I don't know if it's serious - perhaps its purpose is to confuse city folks. Glad I haven't seen any of THEM around! haha... ha... ummm... yeah.

But speaking of frogs, there is a french guy here. His name is Matt and he's a great, soft-spoken fellow who's been WWOOF'ing with his Japanese girlfriend for a year now. They've stayed in Quebec and British Colombia, and have used their experiences to learn many things, including english. It's funny how the owners of Frog Farm always recruit Matt to bottle the homemade wines. Coincidence or smart business move??

Speaking of the farm owners, their names are Farmer Steve and Debbie (or papa frog and mama frog as they lovingly refer to each other). They are really amazing people who know everything about everything. They've been together a while and are getting married this weekend on the farm! It will certainly be an untraditional wedding; more of an excuse to have a party with their friends and family - all 200 of them. I can't wait.

Ahh... and speaking of me, I'm doin' fine. The work is hard, but that just makes my free time (and meals) so much sweeter. I'd elaborate more, but it's friday night with some folks around the campfire. You can see the stars out here. Remember the stars?

Time to Daydream

Sunshine falls through the trees and is held for brief moments on beads of flying water. The rainclouds perform their duty, spreading their life giving jewels to the hungry plants below. Everything is so lush and green and healthy, the tangly limbs of herbs, flowers, trees, and bushes threaten to swallow the narrow pathways whole.

How horribly wonderful that would be.

As the water is to these plants, these paths are important to us. They lead from the barn to the kitchen, from the outhouse to the orchard, back behind the tool shed to where the bees busily make honey in the meadow. Without these small trails how would one ever find their way to the vegetable garden, the greenhouses, or the chicken coops? These single person paths guide us, yet mother nature moves irreverent, quietly creeping, slowly swallowing, engulfing and decaying everything we've worked so hard to build.

I imagine waking up one night, peering out the barn door, and as if I had overslept by years, discovering that everything had grown. Overgrown, been overtaken by a force so old and so powerful it frightens you. How strange it would be, having the paths you once knew erased, being in a familiar land, lost.

One could feel isolated, defeated, crawl up and cry.

One could see opportunity, a chance to blaze trails to discovery, to swing from tree limbs in search of the unknown.

Grow earth.
Grow.