The Start to 50% Of My Summer Meals!

Oh Kale, how I adore you. To take a big pile of your curly, clever leaves and chop them up with a clever is a happy act, indeed. I set you in a big wok with warm oil and mix you all up in it with a wooden spoon. For a little kick I sprinkle chicken rub seasoning on you and a pinch of garlic salt until you are a cooked down, glorious, warm slaw. With that same spoon I can push you aside like wet spinach and lay a nice piece of wheat bread in there. It seeps up the oils, too. I take out my savory toast and top it with as much kale as I can and bite into it with eyes closed and a giant smile. Come midsummer this is better than any meat, any ice cream, or any fruit. It is so filling without making you feel hot and heavy. It is delicious, keen to all the human senses. All you need is a bunch of Kale, seasoning, olive oil and a slice of bread for this little bite of summer heaven in about five minutes with only one pan to wash. Divine, folks. Just divine!

Celebrating 1 Year

One year ago this week a dream of over 12 years came true. I had tried several times to get my license in Ireland but life got in the way. My dream became reality in early 2011 when I started my FAA PPL training in Arizona. On June 27^th 2012, I passed my checkride and became a Private Pilot.

One year on, I realize that I will be a student for the rest of my flying career. My last flight three weeks ago didn't go so well. Lack of a sterile cockpit led to me departing my home base in Oregon without completing finishing all items on the pre take-off checklist. Flight was uneventful, but it was my first real miss in terms of checklist execution. This knocked me back for a few days, but I am now ready to get back into the air again. Lesson learnt, I can't strive for perfection, but I might never fly that perfect flight.

I've been on so many small adventures since getting my ticket. Some of the highlights are as follows;

1. Two weeks after passing, I found myself transitioning SFO's class bravo airspace. Amazing flight with Marc.

2. Flew an overnight trip to Luke Air Force base in a C172 and spent two days with F-16 pilots and other Arizona GA pilots.

3. Flew a C172 into Sky Harbor International (PDX).

4. Landed parallel to a F-16 at KTUS.

5. Seen the joy on my kids face when they are up flying with me.

6. Flew with Marty in San Diego.

7. Expored the airspace around Phoenix enjoying every second talking with ATC.

8. Met some amazing people who I can now call friends thanks to social media and flying out of CHD.

GA is amazing in the US. I hope everyone can fight to keep it affordable. I will leave the US in 2014 back to Ireland knowing that I made the most of my time here in the US.

Over the next month I will be passing through the 100hr PiC mark. I'm planning a trip from Oregon to Boeing/King Field in Washington State.

Who knows what will happen in the next 12 months!

Short Final Half Moon Bay, CA

KPHX Cutter Aviation N54288

Overnight Flight KLUF Air Base

Andrew's Common Sense

That adorable face belongs to the newest member of Common Sense Farm, in many way's Cold Antler's bigger brother. I say that because from the month I moved to Jackson and started meeting locals it was the community at Common Sense

Andrew is the first lamb ever born to the farm, the fruit of their tiny flock of three blackface sheep (two ewes, Annabel and Rain and a ram named Cloud). Andrew came as a surprise since they weren't sure the fall breeding would even take! But here he is, a gorgeous ram lamb and named after a homeschool story about a sheep that was so loved and special, and then fed to the community. That is Andrew's fate as well, this being a working farm with Cloud already holding the only open male position on staff. But until that day comes Andrew will live a life many sheep can only dream of among the stone walls, hundreds of acres, friendly people, and constant care. When a flock of four has an 80+ person community on a mansion's property to watch it, it grows up pretty good.

I met Andrew because I offered to do any lambing work they needed with their two girls. This is Anabel's boy and she was nervous when I showed up with my Doctor's bag. I have an old lunchbox that carries things like tools for tail docking and castrating, needles and shots, vitamin paste and other odds and ends. We lifted Andrew out of his lambing jug and mama yelled but between Yeshiva, the farm intern, and myself we got the lamb work done quick. In a few minutes his tail was banded and he had a little anti-toxin to stop any possible infection from the band or ear tag. I was honored to help, and so proud of the job they did with my farm's sheep. I have to share a shot of Cloud, because compared to my ram, Atlas, he is a TANK! If Atlas was Joel McHale Cloud would be the late Michael Clarke Duncan. Both rams brought some new Sottish Blackfaces into our little hamlet, and that isn't to be scoffed at. Atlas managed a pair of twins, too. Not that I'm keeping score or anything!



P.S. Common Sense Farm accepts Organic Farming interns for weekend, week-long, or even longer stays here in Veryork. Work with livestock and vegetables, get fee room and board, and learn what it's like to be a serious food producer. It is a religious commune but the working farm interns are not expected to convert! If you are interested, go look at their workaway profile and read the reviews and get the information to work on their farm.

Munchkin!

Game Night at Cold Antler is an institution now. What started as the occasional game of BYOB Catan is now a league of dedicated friends. The core group is Tara and Tyler (of goingslowly.com fame) and Tom (of magnificent beard fame) have gotten into our groove. Last night we played Munchkin which is a card game spoof of Role Playing Games like Dungeons and Dragons. Instead of making a dramatic character and sitting through elaborate stories you just fight monsters, trade cards, yell, threaten each other, bribe, slam your hand on the table, stab your friends in the back, make promises, steal treasures, and try to ask forgiveness instead of permission. It is a riot, and a modern classic for us game nerds. Below I posted the TableTop episode with Wil Wheaton, the game's creator Steve Jackson, Felicia Day and Sandeep Parikh. If you just watch the first few minutes it explains the rules and how ridiculous last night's Game Night was.



I don't know if any of you other farmers, homesteaders, parents, or fancy single people out there have Game Nights, but I can't encourage you to start one up enough. Avoid the games people are used to, set aside Scrabble and Monopoly and try something brand new. Not because there is anything wrong with Scrabble but if you are trying to get new non-gaming friends excited about coming over for a night around one table, things might need to get a little sexier. Fight Zombies in your very own action movie with Last Night On Earth. Bone up on your creative skills killing your horrible family in Gloom. Become a Settler of Catan, trading sheep for wood (Hey, my real life does this?!). Build a rail empire in the early 1900's with Ticket to Ride. These are award winning, super clever, inexpensive games. As someone who HATED board games until I discovered these gems I can assure you it is a whole different ball game. And If none of these games I mentioned mean anything to you right now, you can preview them all on Wil's show on Youtube (free show, of course) and get a feel for them. A good game may cost up to fifty dollars (Munchkin costs 18 bucks, which is less than delivered pizza with toppings) but once you buy it you have so much more ahead of you than cold pizza in tomorrow's fridge. You have endless fun hours with friends, laughing face-to-face, interacting the way movies and dinner parties rarely let us interact.

Games bring out a different and sadly lacking kind of social interaction for us modern folks. We're so used to getting together to have dinner or watch something on a screen, sometimes engaging in playful argument or debate but it's nothing like saving the world from a Pandemic. Hanging out on the porch with a drink is fun, but trying to airluft a Medic to London because Germany is about to infect all Eastern Europe has a lot fore flair. Pandemic is a Co-op game, meaning you play against the game as a team and not against each other. If that isn't your style you can try to steal someone's Laughing and Dancing Sword in Munchkin. Regardless, when you play games you are a group of problem solvers, competitors, and comedians. You are working the brain hard, but doing so between swigs of microbrew and long laugh attacks. Us kids at Cold Antler adored Munchkin, and we'll play it again. It'll become a GN favorite like Catan, Pandemic, Gloom, Ticket to Ride and Zombie Dice have become. Maybe someday we'll even actually beat Pandemic. But probably not. We are all convinced that the only way people beat that game is by accident or because they missed a rule. But SOMEDAY! SOMEDAY, we will save the world. And that's a lot to look forward to on a Wednesday night.

Now go play games. It will be better than you think it'll be. Promise all over.

Only TWO SPOTS Left for Summer Fiddle Camp!

Summer Fiddle Camp is back! After how well last year's camp went, and in anticipation of this winter event, I thought I would announce this year's summer camp early so everyone has time to plan for it. It will be all weekend-long, August 31th and Sept 1st 2013. Join me and a handful of other beginners for two days of the farm, campfire, and fiddles. All you need to start your musical journey is a few basic supplies. I'll even supply the fiddle!

For those with raised eyebrows but skeptic of their own talents - this is a camp for people with absolutely no experience. Folks who never held a violin, can't read music, think they are hopeless cases but still really want to learn. All you need to do is sign up and I'll take it from there. The fee for the weekend will also include an entire beginner fiddle package. Everyone who signs up will get a quality student fiddle, case, and bow with rosin to boot. The only requirements for supplies on your end is to purchase the book "Old Time Fiddle for the Complete Ignoramus" by Wayne Erbsen, a standard electric guitar tuner, and a spare set of violin strings. We'll be learning by feel, by ear, and by a system of music notation called tablature. This means you won't need how to read notes to play, just be able to read words and count to 4.

The weekend will start off with an early morning introduction, how to string, tune, and hold your fiddle and bow. We'll then go into the basic bowing motion and finger positioning on the D-scale. We'll break for lunch and then spend the afternoon learning your first tune, Ida Red. There will be plenty of time for practice, too. Find a place in the pasture with Sal to work out your D-scale. Stand up and play a few notes at the horse gate for Merlin. See if you can balance a chicken on your bow while you drone? (I'm kidding about that last part). Saturday night will include a campfire with live music, laughter, and stories. I'll have local musicians and friends come and you are welcome to bring your own guitar, banjo, or whatever else you'd like to play.

This Comment was recently posted and I am thrilled to share it:

For those wondering ... I have NO MUSICAL TALENT, well, at least that's what I thought; until I attended Jenna's first fiddle camp. I fell in love with the Devil Stick and am now playing songs I never imagined I could tackle. (Check out Jay and Molly on YouTube; I've mastered a few of their tunes) So, if you are on the fence, sign up ...I promise you won't regret it! And the fiddle that is included in your package - it's a pretty damn decent fiddle, too!

-Chautauqua

Sunday is a day dedicated to learning more songs, droning and shuffling techniques, and plenty of practice time between one-on-one sessions. Enjoy the farm in its late-summer splendor, taking in the sounds and sights of the animals and gardens. There will be a forest tent site behind the barn. Your alarm clock will be my rooster choir. I can also suggest local Inns and hotels for folks not interested in roughing it with port-potties and possible rainfall.

I personally guarantee that anyone who signs up and WANTS to play will leave my farm a fiddler. This is not a hard instrument, and the building blocks you'll find here will be all you need to go home and learn every single song in Wayne's book. This would be a great gift, couples weekend, or graduation present.

WORKSHOP RUNDOWN
Fiddle Camp is a full Saturday and Sunday, 9AM - 4PM
Each workshopper gets a student fiddle package
Each student gets a CAF fiddle Camp T-shirt!
Camping on the farm is an option (it will be August)
Cost will be $350 or $200 (sans fiddle) a person.
Limited to 15 people or 8 couples.
Only 2 Spots Left! FIRST COME FIRST SERVED!

Humble Yummy

So here is a tour of my little garden at Cold Antler. It isn't much, but always growing. There's a row of raised beds and a potato plot, as well as a small extra bed I worked on yesterday. Since I use a shovel, pick, and hoe it takes around two hours to make one 4x4' bed, and I add them as I find time. This year the second tier will expand and a lot more plots will go in with late season greens and as much kale as I can grow. In the video I explain my favorite breakfast of kale and toast, which sounds yucky but is amazing! Enjoy!

Brie's Got a Dream

Archaeology 101

Was out in the garden with my new hoe (which I broke in three hours) breaking sod and turning in compost when I hit glass. I dug this little gem out of the ground, an old Orange Crush bottle. I have no idea how long it's been there but here's the kicker: I turned it around. On the back all the ingredients were listed. For a bottle of soda a few decades old the whole sum of its parts was: Carbonated Water, Sugar, Orange Juice, Flavor of Peel, Citric Acid, 0.05% Benzoate of Soda, and Color Artificial.

Now, for an eye-opening experience go to any gas station of corner store and see how many ingredients are in a bottle of Orange Crush (or any soda) now. What you'll see is different versions of field corn in several unpronounceable scientific terms. Soda isn't what it used to be and neither are we. And in celebration of my hard work out there in the garden I'll be doing myself a favor and drinking well water instead.

Backyard Fertility & Thank You Subscribers!

I walked into the hardware store with Gibson and everyone asked where he was? I explained that Gibson rolled in enough goose poo to gag a garbage truck and he wasn't allowed in public till that misfortune had passed. No one seemed to mind his absence after that. "I do not miss that," said the woman behind the counter with a nostalgic smile. Sometimes people give you hints to a whole history in one phrase. I smiled back. I think she's the new owner? She had just walked down the loft steps from her office with two giant carafes of coffee. Our little Ace Hardware got a total makeover when it changed hands but my favorite things about it are the following:

1. Farm Dogs Welcome
2. They sell sheep and chicken feed
3. Free Coffee

I was there at 7Am to buy a bag of layer mash, some grain for the goats, and a new hoe. My old one's handle broke yesterday. Probably the third time I broke a hoe in so many years. You think I would learn to invest in a quality tool but I always end up buying some twenty-dollar tool with a prayer. Today I had a nice prospect, an ash-handled job. I put it on the counter and explain the grain I needed and made some small talk. I had been up since around 5:30 so I was loquacious as a toddler. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits and I realized it was Tuesday. Tuesday must be a pretty big business day in town since its the day the livestock auction is held a mile up the road. Hundreds of cars, trucks, and trailers fill the parking lot for the beef and dairy animals up for market. I bet a lot of those farmers need this or that and stop in at the store too.

I left with my receipt and hoe. I'd have to drive to the loading area for the feed. I liked how it felt, the handle. I thought between sod breaking and compost forking I could pick it up and practice my bo-staff techniques I was learning at Tae Kwon Do. There are 12 attacks with the staff and I think I have them memorized. You can bet that later this morning I will be there with my arms strong from morning chores and a good hand milker's grip on the hoe, whirling around with martial arts flair barefoot in the potato patch. Let the neighbors think what they want, I'm a happy woman.

I'm excited to work on the potato patch today. I have a lot of ground to prep and compost to fork in but this year is a little celebration because I didn't buy any of the compost for this patch of spuds. I am using the 18-month old pile of pig bedding and manure and a 12-month-old pile of chicken yard hay to create the organic fertility. This may not seem like a big deal to most, but I am beside myself with excitement to see how this patch of taters grows. I'm so proud of the rich soil I am making here, a gift of the animals (one of their many offerings) that will be reincarnated through my little veg patch. Yesterday I used a heap of it to make mounds around the pumpkins and zucchini. Today It'll be mixed into the soil on the hillside to make a native dirt/compost combo I hope will get the seed potatoes excited. I always plant my potatoes in June, even if that sounds late. It lets me miss the blight and bugs that hurt the chemical-free crop and I don't care if the plant tops curdle in an early frost come October. I can always harvest them up from the earth a little into the cold snaps. That is the plan I am sticking with. In a few months I will be eating hash browns with my eggs thanks to a pile of pig poop, blood, and straw. Backyard fertility, how about it!

P.S. I wanted to thank the 15 folks!!! who signed up to subscribe to the farm. It is such a wonderful thing to help and support the writing. Most folks opted for the five dollar option and that is no small gift. To some people that is a lot of scratch! To others it is a coffee from Starbucks. Either way to me it is a tiny salary you are paying me as a reader out there in the ether for keeping you up to date on backyard manure, Ace Hardware's canine policy, Merlin and My adventures, and much more. I sent you guys an email (two addresses bounced back, so thank you Jackie and Cathy too) but I thank all of you who read, considered subscribing and could not, and all of those who may yet sign up. It means the world to me and makes me feel like what I do here is worth the time. Which really matters, to anyone really. We all just want to know what we do matters, right? SO THANK YOU! We will keep each other going!

Seed : $5.00 USD - monthly Lamb : $10.00 USD - monthly Ram : $15.00 USD - monthly Flocker! : $25.00 USD - monthly

Leavin' Photography to the Experts Since 1982

The "Me" in Meat: Part 1

I have to hand it to Vegetarianism, it got me to Cold Antler Farm. My interest in food politics started with animal rights and had I not pulled back the curtain during my college days and started learning about the industrial food system I would not be on my own farm right now. I'm certain of that.

My friend Kevin was a vegetarian and I looked up to him. He was my age but seemed to have a handle on the world I didn't. We were friends a year when I started asking him more about his diet. Without being preachy he explained his reasons and how most of them had to do with animal cruelty. At first I thought by cruelty he meant death itself, the basic idea of killing animals for food. But it wasn't that at all. Kevin wasn't opposed to the food chain as much as he was opposed to the modern industrial bastardization of it. I had no idea what he was talking about.

So I educated myself, mostly through the Peta Website and Vegan activist books and videos. I became a student of the modern animal rights movement, and this gave my life a verve and purpose it didn't really have before. I stopped eating meat and dairy and (of course!) lost weight. This grew my self confidence as well as my activism, feeling like not only could I become a healthier person in the body but in spirit and ethic as well. To keep my ideas fueled I watched the videos of slaughterhouse abuse. I read Buddhist works on kindness and mindfulness in every choice we make. I talked to others of like mind and we all agreed - unnecessary suffering was wrong and eating animals was unnecessary in a modern world with options. To me there was a line drawn in the sand. Caring, decent, people were on the side that said no to eating meat. The other side was taking part in mass suffering and worst of all, didn't care.

I could not help but feel superior to those either too apathetic or weak to give up a base pleasure in the name of animal suffering. And while I wasn't eating animals, I was collecting them. I had two dogs and two ferrets in my first post-college apartment in Knoxville and my own pets ate better than most kids in my neighborhood. And whenever I was confronted with my for choices my answer was plain, almost indisputable to those who disagreed. I told them I didn't eat meat because I didn't have to. There were other choices in modern civilization (I always emphasized the word Civilized here) and if my choice meant some one didn't have to die I would make that choice.)

I soon switched to a Vegan diet and for the next few years bounced between pure veganism and lacto-vegetarianism. I could not imagine ever going back to eating meat. I was happier, thinner, and inspired. I thought animals were happier because of me, and my family was polite enough to hide their rolling eyes when I ate Tofurkey for Thanksgiving or ordered a salad when we went out to dinner. In my mind very meal I didn't eat meat meant some critter was being let free from a cage. I lived this way for nearly a decade. Not once did I miss the taste of meat, nor did I cheat on my diet. When I am dedicated to something, to anything, I am all in.

But when I moved to Idaho back in 2007 things changed for me again. This was my first year learning that chickens came with breed names and personalities. This was the first time I ever planted a real vegetable garden, baked bread, and raised fiber rabbits. I made a connection with my first ever sustainable grass farmer friend: Di Carlin. Meeting her was a revelation. She was the person who made the book, Made From Scratch (my first book) possible because she showed me that a normal, everyday person with zero farming background could raise some of her own food in the backyard. At this point I was eating eggs and dairy so I got chickens from her and suddenly my world shifted in ways I didn't even comprehend at the time. See, the Universe just handed me a whole new animal: livestock.

My chickens were not pets. Di did not teach me that, what she taught was husbandry. From her I learned that chickens were animals in my care and deserved the same amount of attention and affection as any dog or cat, but they were not dogs and cats. They were employees. Employees with a very good human resources department and personal cheerleader, but they were different because we had an agreement neither the house pets or wild life and I ever had to contract. Chickens were "mine" but there were here for a specific reason, to lay eggs. They lived outside the house in a coop, never inside. This is all elementary stuff but remember I was a hardcore vegetarian who never had a relationship with animals in this domestic, professional way. I had never had this distinction made out to me before. I only knew animals as either pets, wild animals, or my fellow human beings. And none of those three versions lived in my backyard and pooped out omelets.

When I started making quiches, egg breads, french toast, and other goodies from my free range hens I realized that there was an alternative to the Battery Cage Horror Sites from Peta. There were these free-range chickens, living a prime life and helping mine too. I tried to think of why there wasn't more backyard chicken propaganda on Peta's site because here I was caring and living with animals and working as a team of human/livestock we both had better lives. I had healthier food and a local source of protein and they had magically escaped (along with all the other hens at Di's place!) from being a bird in some factory farm.

Soon I added a pair of rabbits, a hive of honey bees, and started learning how to garden in small raised beds. Chickens had delivered me this new attitude about food. Eating wasn't a black and white issue anymore, it had the colors of a golden hive and a bursting garden. I still avoided meat but my attitude was changing. When Di was having a slaughtering day at her farm I agreed to help with a 26-bird farm process. All the other people working at plucking and gutting were both delighted and confused that the vegetarian friend of Di's was there. They asked for my reason and I said, out loud, that I wasn't against people eating meat, just the factory farm version of the modern diet. "So why don't you eat this chicken? It was grown in our Idaho backyard on clean food, free ranging" and I mumbled something about how I was still a practicing buddhist and it had been so long since I ate meat it felt weird starting up again. Clearly, the buddhist bit wasn't a good argument. Suffering of sentient beings was the reason most buddhists I met abstained, not the idea of food. By helping with a slaughter and not eating the meat I was in the most odd paradox at all. What was going on with me?

I moved to Vermont after only 13 months in Idaho. My job laid off 80 people when the economy sank in 2008 and I was only unemployed two weeks or so when I had a job interview lined up in Vermont. Orvis needed a web designer and I couldn't think of a better place for a farmy vegetarian than Vermont. Idaho was starting to make me question my choices on diet, what with these free-range chicken meals and ranches. But Vermont would have a plethora of liberal, animal loving, veggie folks right?

Right?

Red & Green

There's a red line across the lawn, subtle and loud at the same time. The arterial blood is sparse but so bright against the June green that I can't help but think of color wheels in my elementary art classes. "Listen up girls and boys, green is the opposite of red." and this was proven on a chart. It made sense to me in ways math never did. I suppose those more mathematically minded were just as confused at the random circle of colors on a chart. At least in math you were trained to know exactly why everything was the way it was. Certainty was a given. Us artists were forced to believe.

The red blood trail is from the necks of the two pigs I had raised since late winter. Their names were Rye and Whiskey, after two libations I very much appreciate as a single writer on a mountainside. They grew up to a fine size and today a team of slaughterhouse workers from Stratton Custom meats (including Greg Stratton himself) arrived in 90-degree heat to kill, skin, gut, and divide the two hogs. This all happened just a cookout was wrapping up. I had company over, friends who co-owned the pigs and wanted to be there for the slaughter. Before the big show we decided to have a cookout and six of us sat outside under the big maple with Standard Farm's Beef Hotdogs and Venison sausage, homemade potato salad (Cathy even made the mayonnaise from scratch) and strawberry shortcake. It was a feast and exactly what we needed in the humid heat of a day suitable for baling hay, not for killing pigs.

But the pigs were killed and the work was good. The line of blood from barn to the driveway was red as could be. All along it chickens picked at it, proving to the world they were indeed omnivores. They ate up the red blades of grass as if someone had poured balsamic vinaigrette on them.

When the company left and the pigs were hauled off to the butcher shop I cleaned up from the picnic and realized I was dripping with sweat from every pour in my body. Two days in a row were spent working outside and in this intense heat. I had earned a sunburn of some account. Blessed on top of that red skin was blood, both mine and the pigs. I had loaded fifty pounds of entrails, heads, skins and hooves into the woods in a garden cart and dumped it where coyotes could sing to it, far from the farm house and chicken coops. But the trip out to that lonely orchard left me bleeding all over and some rose thorns were still sticking out of my skin as walked back to the house. I ignored them. Complaining about scratches was as pointless as complaining about heat. I accept any and all discomfort as normal, part of being the range animal I am. I never prefer to be hot or cold, dry or wet, alone or in company. Whatever life throws at me I just accept and trot through it. It got me this far.

In this case I was ready for a river though. Bloody and tired, sun burnt and dripping, I craved the Battenkill. I jumped in the truck with a book and a towel and drove the five minutes down the road to Pook's swimming hole. It's a parking area near a cornfield where locals go to fish and swim. I was one of twenty two trucks and pulled into an open spot. Children, dogs, and adults were swimming. Tubers and fly fishermen alike kept us company. I didn't have a swimsuit on. I had on the tank and sports bra I was wearing to kill pigs in and a pair of nylon capri pants. I jumped in like the river was where I belonged.

And it was! Cold water, running current, friendly faces. I knew a few folks there and chatted. I swam and fought the flow. I sat waist deep in the running water and read my book. It was the perfect baptism. When I left I had a towel wrapped around my waist and a grin on my face. It was only 4 in the afternoon and practically the Solstice. I had hours of daylight left. If this was October it would only be noon.

I air dried in the hammock, swinging and reading. When I couldn't take being still any longer I grabbed Merlin and changed into a kilt and riding boots. We headed up the mountain and the wind from his gallop dried my river-wet hair. He was soon covered in sweat and so was I and when we stopped in a stream for a drink I leaned over his neck to rub him and tell him how amazing he was. His sweat ran into mine between my fingers and I thought of an old college friend who used to share with us in dorm rooms the utter disgust he felt when he learned (from a play) that horses sweat. I tried to find that disgust and like the math from my childhood its logic wasn't there. Merlin and Jenna were green and red, grass and blood, opposite and necessary. We trotted back to the farm.

A few hours later I was back in the hammock. I had a cold drink, a good book, and Merlin and Jasper were high on the hillside eating grass in the pasture far from the house. I was finally tired. I could feel the wind lift up my thin hair between the cotton ropes of the swing and heard the distant rumbles of thunder. I smiled and curled my spine deeper into the hammock's arms. This day was all mine. The work, the sacrifice, the river, the horse, and now that sound I crave with such hope and force. When I hear thunder I am physically excited. Rain started in drops and then a torrent. I went inside and Gibson curled up at my feet certain I could protect him from the ruckus. I did. I held him close and asked him the same question I always ask him, 'Are you getting all the love you need?'

It's nearly dark now and the rain is over. The fireflies are coming out, gently but with purpose. I once glowed at the prospect of sex, myself. I welcome them in this wild, wet, world. Outside, barefoot and distracted, I realize I have walked across the bloody line on my way to the well to carry buckets to the horses. I check my feet and realize the blood is now gone, washed away. Everything is green again, damp and pumping with life. Fireflies flash alongside stray cries of lightning. I think to myself that I hope there's a thunderstorm right after I pass from this world as well. What could be more of an affirmation of the continuation of energy than an electric storm heard by thousands satiating a whole world?

Fast, fast dog.

How Polyface Farm Began

Slaughter Day

It's Pig Slaughtering Day here at the farm and a bunch of friends are coming over for a potluck-style lunch and to help with the day's work. Some of the people coming are the people who split the cost of buying the pigs and their feed with me. Others just want to be present at the event, and see the process of animal turning into food. I welcome them all. This farm is small, scrappy, and with its faults but no part of me shies from sharing this experience with others.

When I started raising animals for food I was just coming out of a ten-year relationship with vegetarianism/veganism. I felt that I had to talk about meat here in hushed tones, and when I started doing things like the work of today I felt every word had to be measured out in equal parts holy respect and noted sadness. After all, I was about to end sentient lives and doing so in a world where more people consider cows, pigs, and chickens pets they haven't owned yet than livestock. So any form of excitement or joy at a slaughter day felt wrong, even if I had recipes bookmarked and new cast-iron skillets with bows waiting for me to make them sing. To be happy on a day of death felt wrong, disrespectful. That is how my mind was formed as a liberal, vegetarian, spiritual person. Coyotes sang after a kill, not middle-class small farmers. So I wrote only eulogies, trying to defend my choices instead of celebrating them.

Things have changed.

I still feel animals' death should be treated with respect and offer as little stress as possible. I practice this when killing chickens, rabbits, and turkeys and I am there to help when larger stock like hogs are killed. I have traveling butchers come here to the farm to kill the pigs at home, avoiding the drama and fuss of loading into trailers and transporting to concrete-lined slaughter houses. Not all small farmers are lucky enough to take advantage of this, but I am and am grateful for teams like Greg Stratton's who have served this farm a long time. Today the pigs will be offered a giant bowl of food and when they dip their heads to eat they'll be shot and instantly stunned. It ends quickly and in surprise instead of pain. I will never become mindless when it comes to killing animals, but I have come to a place of comfort. It is easier than before, and no where near as upsetting or disturbing. Maybe that's experience or maybe it's because days like today are only one small part of the pigs' stories. There are months of care, interaction, ear scratches, fresh bedding, clean water hauled a bucket at a time before today and there are months of meals shared with friends, amazing recipes, potlucks, bbqs, and memorable meals to follow. I love both sides of today, and find the work ahead of me complicated and necessary to feel that love.

I can't pretend that watching pigs die is in any way peaceful or that I enjoy it. It's hard to do. Specially pigs as sweet and calm as Rye and Whiskey, who served this farm amazingly well, behaving themselves better than any pair of porkers I ever raised and growing larger to boot. But even the sweetest pig does not make me want to return to eating vegetarian again or avoiding bloody days like today. I love animals far too much to not eat them. I respect nature and my role in it far too much to not eat them, too.

Over the next few posts I am going to share a very personal story of paradigm shifts and growth. To some people it will get them upset, angry, or confused. To others what I say doesn't matter at all, since any animal suffering is wrong. But what I want to do is share my own story as a vegetarian-turned-meat farmer and why that change occurred. Also, why I think it is so important that people who care about animal welfare and the environment stop avoiding the good fight by abstaining and start helping those animals by accepting their natural role as hunter gatherers.

Get ready for a big one, folks. But right now I have a potluck to plan and a happy crew of us is taking the S off the word slaughter and planning on having a wonderful afternoon together. Wish you were here, too. It's important, wonderful, and serious work. It's the kind of work that changed how I see the entire world and my place in it. I may have been a lot more certain of the world and how it works when I was a vegan, but I sure wasn't happy in it.

Last Night From The Mountain

firewood and savings accounts

Homesteading changes you. It certainly changed me. The person I was just six years ago would be a complete stranger to the one I am now. It's made me stronger, braver, more self-reliant, hopeful, spiritual, and brought me to this farm tucked into sharp turn on a mountain road. And while there was nothing wrong with the person I was before chickens and compost became an everyday part of my life, I like this person a lot better. She's less afraid of failure and discomfort. She's more interested in being kind than being correct. She also knows how to saddle a horse and roast a chicken, and let's be honest, folks — personal growth and humility are wonderful but at the end of a a trail ride and a drumstick offer some seriously satisfying tangible reality.

So I have changed a lot, and most of those changes are under the surface. The most action has happened in my head, taking old ideas and stretching them out like a work shirt cranked through an old-fashioned wringer on a washtub. My thoughts on being a vegetarian, politics, relationships, personal freedom, and food in general are so complicated and different from the college graduate I once was reading back over old blog posts sometimes feels like reading someone else's life. Out of all the paradigms that have changed one stands out above all the rest: energy.

When I say energy I am not talking about peak oil or solar panels on the barn roof. No, no no friends. I am talking about raw effort. I'm talking about sweat and horseflesh, axes and garden hoes. I am talking about the effort my body and farm animals' bodies put forth into the world to create. Create anything, really. Be it a stack of cordwood or a newborn lamb, all of it comes from energy expelled and transferred and that is the foundation of my new religion and what separates me from 99% of the people in this country: I think about energy all the time.

That photo of Gibson and a pile of wood is a conversation loaded for bear. What you are looking at is hand-collected and stacked rounds and limbs delivered here one light-pickup truck load at a time by Tim Hoff. Tim's work had a lot of downed and cut up trees sitting around doing nothing so he asked if he could haul them away since he had a friend who heats exclusively with firewood. His boss said sure and the pile has grown over the several Hoff trips to the farm. I am beyond grateful for this amazing gift because what I see is weeks of warm winter nights by a roaring fire and money saved. And Tim knows that. He brings it because he sees energy being wasted and knows someone who could use it. So he loads up his truck and drives the miles to deliver it. And he isn't doing it so I owe him a favor in return, he's doing it because we're a community, and because he's Tim. He's helping because he can, and I would (and will!) do the very same for him.

Over the summer that pile of wood will become split cords. It will be a lot of blisters and sweat, friends and potlucks, and more and more trips into the woods with a chainsaw and a draft pony. But when it gets cold I will know there is heat outside my door, lying in wait for me. It's not coming from some country I couldn't find on a map, or a credit cards swipe from a pipe on some truck. It's coming from the effort myself and my community is willing to offer.

Tonight at Ben Hewitt's talk (which was wonderful) he hosted a community discussion on money and our lives. At one point he said something along the lines of how four-thousand dollars in a savings account (he was just riffing thoughts, not talking about his own money at the time) and I had to laugh. I did. I laughed right in the middle of his talk because I can't even imagine having four thousand dollars to my name, much less sitting in a pile somewhere like that stack of cord word. If that kind of money comes my way it is already owed to the mortgage, late bills, student loans, etc. Anything that comes here goes right back out like a bucket bailing out a sinking boat. I think my bank account is somewhere in the double digits right now if I'm lucky? I have absolutely no idea where the next payment will come from either. It may be an ad sale, or one of you will decide to take up the dulcimer and come here and pay me for that. Maybe an Indie Day will pop up, or a local will email me about buying 5 hens for their backyard? I have no idea. I do have an unwavering faith that something will get me through long enough to tread water. It just has to.

Money is something I gave up, but not like the subject of his book did. I can't live off six thousand dollars a year like the man he writes about, I need to pay a mortgage, pay off bills and debt, etc. But I gave up any security in the form of money. I gave up expecting a regular paycheck, health insurance, a 401k and paid vacation days. I gave up the idea of weekends and days off. Instead make a living through the occasional book contract, workshops, farm events, speaking, ad sales, ad clicks, part time work, and sometimes you guys even donate here. And I do worry about it a lot, but it's not a worry about obtaining it for security.

I'll close this ramble tonight with this thought: I have changed, and I have changed a lot. I changed how I live, how I see the world, how I relate to other people, animals, and even that demon beast we call money. Some of it changed by getting more involved and some of it changed by giving it up, but I'm a whole new animal and that's a fact. I am going to sleep with less than fifty dollars to my name but with a pile of firewood and people in my community like the Hoff family. If I had money I could buy five cords of firewood tomorrow, but no swipe of any plastic card can bring you people like that. And I think that was the heart of Mr. Hewitt's talk. Money is make believe, but people are real.

And that's good energy.

Walking & Talking

Dulcimer Day Camp: October 2013!

The dulcimer workshop that was supposed to happen in April was canceled due to a lack of interest, and then it was revived due to an influx of interest! I wanted to give you the new date of it: October 5th 2013! And why such a fancy exclamation point after that date? Because it's the same weekend as the Southern Adirondack Fiber Festival! That's right, you can come to Washington County, spend your Saturday morning and early afternoon learning to play the dulcimer and hanging out with me at the farm, and then spend your Sunday at the festival, hanging out with the CAF crew to take classes, demonstration, and buy yarn! It'll be a weekend of music, farm animals, fiber, and fun and as if that wasn't enough it's in October!

Introducing Dulcimer Day Camp!
October 5th 2013
5 Spots left
10AM-4PM



Come up to the farm this April when the snows are gone and lambs are on my mind for a Saturday dedicated to learning the Mountain Duclimer. Everyone who signs up for the day gets an Apple Creek Dulcimer of their very own. We'll spend the morning learning about the history, tuning, and strumming patterns and the afternoon learning your first songs! You will also leave knowing how to read tabs (so you don't need to know how to read music to attend) and the basics of jamming by chord and ear. Come knowing nothing and leave with an instrument and a few tunes, and the ability to teach yourself more!

Just like fiddle camp you arrive knowing nothing and leave not only with your own instrument, but the knowledge to tune, play, and enjoy it. The dulcimer is a wonderful way for even the most skeptical of wannabe musicians to start with. It is tuned to itself and there isn't really a way to play a wrong note on it. As long as she's in tune, she'll make sweet music for you.

So if you ever wanted to add some music to your campfires, living rooms or farm front porches and and learn to bring home that beautiful music. Meet other beginner's, and enjoy Holy October on the farm. If you already have an older dulcimer then all you need to do is get it checked by a music shop and possibly get it restrung. If you own a newer dulcimer but never really learned, then sign on up and get inspired. You'll be strumming out Shady Grove in no time!

Please email me if you are interested, cost will be $225.00 for the whole day and the instrument, and include a farm tour. Please pack a lunch or plan to eat out in town. CAF Season Pass members just let me know if you want to come along, you only need to buy the book and dulc!

Season Passes On Sale!

To help raise the money for the mortgage, I am offering a HUGE discount on season passes. If you are interested in taking up the offer, you can email me at jenna@itsafarwalk.com and sign up for a full year (or a year tacked on to your current season pass) for just $250. That's the price of just two day-long workshops and it goes to help keep this place running. I have three spots to sell at this price. So consider it as a great gift, a treat for yourself, a resource for your own homestead, or just as a way to help keep this show on the road. Thanks for your time, and now back to your regularly scheduled programming!

Nature Loves Courage

This comic was sent to me by a kind and acute blog reader, Melissa. If you click here you can experience the whole thing (what I posted above is just a snapshot), but I can't emphasize enough that what this comic shares is the most important thing I have learned in my entire life. Following a dream may not be all puppies and kittens, and people are going to blame, scold, and sometimes despise you for it. But at the end of the day Nature does love courage and having the gumption to follow hope can not only lift you up, but let you land in some amazing places.

My Hero!

Goat Cats

My cats live by a maxim all goats know well, something I learned from Josh KP from the Beekman Farm, just south of here:

"If there is someplace to stand around and do nothing that is higher up than the current place you’re standing around doing nothing, it’s worth the effort to move."

My cats are always up in a tree, sitting on bales in the back of the pickup, or watching me enter the house from the top step. They are cavalier about heights, which I am very very afraid of and avoid at all costs. I consider this a rational fear. If I fall off Merlin at a full gallop I only fall 5 feet. But getting on a plane always feels like it could be the last time I leave the ground. At least with a horse fall I have a chance! But my cats, they would happily perch on jet wings if it gave them a better view of a mole 30,000 feet below the ground, fear be damned.

Wet Lawns

It has been a very wet spring around here. If it's not raining it's wicked humid and the sun is shining, making lawns look more like Jurassic Park sets than landscaping. I mowed the grass this morning and it felt like I should have had a machete and rope instead of my little push mower. The job got done and when I was through I raked up what I could of the fresh chop and handed it to the horses over their gate. In the mornings the sheep have free range on the back pasture's lush grass and the horses wait their turn. With little lambs I don't trust the excitable Jasper not to run one over. So While the two steeds were looking over their fence line like inmates at the herd of sheep ripping grass I gave them some take out. They accepted it but you knew it wasn't good as the real thing. They nibbled on it like I handed them a stale Hydrox when all they wanted was a double-stuffed Oreo field. First world horse problem. They'll make it.

The little twins are growing strong and no longer have long tails. They follow mom and can run like the wind when they want to. It's nice having them here, even if they are only staying till the holidays. Which reminds me, I need to call Greg Stratton about the two hogs in the barn. The girls, Whiskey and Rye are ready for their big day. They are large and eating me out of house and home, along with the chickens! I am spending (no joke) $180 a week deeming everyone fed here. Thats mostly going into bags of chicken feed (a fifty pound bag lasts two days) and three bags of pig grain a week. When all these chickens, pigs, and lambs are in the freezer I will be a lot less stressed out about grocery bills.

In contrast, my weekly grocery bill is somewhere around $35 bucks.

I am putting off a very important post about the future of Cold Antler Farm, and what it can manage to maintain. It's not bad news, just realistic news. A year into self-employment and things are rocky, to put it euphemistically. It's not so much an issue about money as it is about space, resources, and time. I would like to offer some of my American Bresse hens and Roosters to those interested in the famous farm bird of Europe, as well as expand the pork to a woodlot operation instead of the barn. I need to figure out new sources of income as well, mostly on the writing side of things. I have a big idea for a new book I am putting the proposal together for but like all "big ideas" in publishing it takes more magic to get it into a contact that it did to find this farm and move into it. But I am staying positive that its going places. I sure have been doing my research for it.

Tuesdays are slow around here, a day to clean and run into town for the Laundromat. I think I'm hosting some guests from Australia later for a game night with Tyler and Tara, so that should be fun. I love a game night and already have a crock pot full of pulled pork handy, so no one will be hungry while trading wood for sheep during Settlers. If that sentence confused you, it's just trading cards. On a blog where the writer actually trades real sheep for firewood it can get confusing, I know.

Sun is on his way back soon, soon as tomorrow. Thats something to look forward to. It'll make the mowing easier at least! And I'm meeting my dad for dinner in Bennington, which is a treat. He's up this way on a business trip and we are sneaking in some family time and a nice sit down dinner. Thursday is Ben Hewitt's talk here in town and after years of swapping emails and reading blogs I finally get to meet the fellow and his family! Very excited, and his book speaks volumes to me. It's called Saved, and it's about letting go of money as a way to happiness. Trust me Ben, I don't think money will make me happy but I do think it'll get the collection phone calls to stop. My goal is to pay off debt so I can find my way into the life this book talks about. It'll be inspiring for sure!

Ben's In Town Thursday! I'll Be There!

When Ben Hewitt met Erik Gillard, he was amazed. Here was a real-life rebel living happily and comfortably in small-town Vermont on less than $10,000 per year. Gillard’s no bum. He has a job, a girlfriend, good friends, and strong ties to the community. But how he lives his life–and why–launches Hewitt on a quest to understand the true role of money and mindless consumerism in our lives. By meeting and befriending people like Erik Gillard, Hewitt realized that their happiness was real. What was he–and the rest of a deeply unhappy population–missing?

Saved is the humorous, surprising, and ultimately life-changing result of Hewitt’s quest, a narrative that challenges everything we know about the meaning of money. Hewitt uses his sharp eye for story, exhaustive reporting, and his own experience living below his means to bring what he learned into an even larger context. How does money really work? How can a bankrupt society move forward? The answers are not what you think, and Hewitt has written an important book for our times.

Thursday, June 20th
7:00 pm
Battenkill Books
FREE!

Monday Nights Mean Possible Owlbears

Planning 100hr PiC Flight

Most people quote their total time (TT), however my first aviation goal was to get to 100hrs Pilot-in-Command (PiC) time whilst living here in the US. Progress has been slow over the last few weeks, but right now I sit at 95 hours PiC. It's time to start planning that 100 hour flight.

KBFI and KSEA

Where better place to go than Boeing Field (KBFI) in Washington State. To be honest it was a coin toss between KPAE and KBFI. I have already visited the Boeing Factory at KPAE (by car!) plus I wanted a more challenging arrival. KBFI is located on the approach path to KSEA. Yesterday SEA was landing on 16L and 16C. Aircraft on the approach were switched to SEA TWR right over the top of BFI at about 2000' MSL. I will enjoy the challenge flying into BFI below the traffic.

Transient parking is available at BFI. I plan to visit the Museum of Flight before heading south back to Oregon.

Hoping this flight will take place a week or two before Oshkosh 2013. Failing that, I will take the flight in early August. 

My home airport in Oregon is 7S3. There is a VOR (Newberg) a few miles south. My flight north will take be outbound on the VOR through the class delta of KHIO. I will then pick up flight following with PDX DEP.

7S3 -> SEA (initial routing)

Father's Day at the Boeing Factory

Went back to the Boeing factory today. This time I took my wife and kids for the first time. They loved it. Last month I saw the first three BA 787's. This time I saw the fourth one (BJD) outside the paint shop.

Unloading 787 Parts KPAE

Tried to get a look a the new 787-900 but it was out of sight. However I did enjoy viewing the 747-8, 767, 777 and 787 production lines. At the front of the 787 line was the fourth Aero Mexico order and the first Jetstar (Qantas) order.

Out on the ramp area I saw several finished 787's including two of the other BA's and one Thomson jet. 

Will probably head back again in another month or two to see what progress there has been. I would love to get up there for BA's first delivery flight but I doubt that will happen.

My Part Time Job

I spent today at the British School of Falconry in Manchester Vermont. It's about a thirty minute drive from Cold Antler. It's also the location of my summer part-time job teaching archery to beginners. Today I was there to instruct a family from New Hampshire in a two-hour course in traditional archery. We started with a safety lesson and instruction on stance, arms, draw, and aim and then spent 45 minutes learning to shoot targets in a beautiful open field. As we shot the occasional Harris Hawk swooped by to visit us and I couldn't hide my smile as I told the archers on the line to hold. I thought to myself, This is my JOB now. I work at a place where falconry and forest hikes are something I am paid to do. This never stops amazing me, even a few weeks into the gig.

We shot under cloudy skies but it didn't rain. The weather held off. When everyone felt confident with their mad skills we went for a walk through the forest. There's a trail that leads around curves and bends to 3D animal targets hidden in the foliage. My students got to really use what they learned out there on the target stretch, aiming at large bear and deer targets from platforms and behind posts. It was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I felt like I was on vacation, too!

I found this video online of the British School of Falconry. If you watch it you'll see my new place of work, meet Rob my boss (the English Gent) and get a feel for what my office life is like now! And if you are ever up in this area and want to learn what its like to hike with hawks on your arms, stop by for a lesson. This is the last season the School will be at this beautiful location connected with the Equinox Resort. So come and book a lesson and hawk walk, and you may see my truck parked there too. If you do I'll be out in the archery fields! Make sure you wave!

Announcing Bed, Book, and Bok Bok!

Two days of raised bed gardening, writing, and chickens! In this workshop we'll spend a weekend together making something out of nothing. We'll go through the entire process of turning a patch of lawn into a vegetable garden with nothing but a hoe, some boards, nails, a hammer, and the natural compost from this farm. We'll plant it too, and talk about what is being planted and why. We'll also cover basic ways to turn that hard-working patch of lawn into a three-season salad bar by adding a simple poly-tunnel cover to it. It'll be an outdoor workshop, rain or shine, and together we'll work a little piece of land into something fantastic; a backyard grocery. You can go home and do the same thing on your own turf and have a little backyard salad bar with a plastic cover that can extend the kale, spinach, and lettuce we'll plant right through frost! It's never too late to start a garden, even in late July!

That will be with the bulk of Saturday. The afternoon will involve a rest under the Maple tree to talk about writing, books, and I'll do some reading from stuff I am working on for the future. A little literary performance plus a long Q&A about blogging, publishing, and the genre of farm memoir. That night there will be a campfire (weather permitting) at the farm. No plans but to enjoy each other's company at that. It isn't part of the workshop as much as a private party to enjoy campfire light and fireflies and some fiddle tunes.

Sunday will be a day entirely about things that go Bok. A full day dedicated to backyard chickens! We'll cover everything you need to know from bringing home your first chicks or adult layers to nutrition, health, predators, and butchering. There won't be a live demo of an animal being butchered but there will be a discussion about it and explanation of how it is done and options for those not interested in gutting poultry. Growing your own food doesn't have to be all or nothing. You can pick apples and take them to a mill to be turned into cider. You can buy started six-packs of veggies from a greenhouse. You can pay for a professional to slaughter your fowl. More mindful and agricultural living isn't about doing it all yourself as much as it is knowing where your food comes from. Consider this a beginner's weekend on all fronts!

This is a great workshop for people in towns, urban, and suburban areas. It shows you how to take those very first steps towards a more self-sufficient life. The skills to create a raised bed garden transcend many levels of growing food, and the basics of solid chicken care are the foundation for any future dreams of dairy goats or draft horses. Make this the first step in getting your hands dirty and face smiling. And absolute country living newbies are welcome! You don't have to know a single thing about gardens or poultry to attend, and you may even get the most out of it! So come visit the farm, spend two days working and laughing with amazing people from all over the Northeast (and sometimes farther!) and stay for a hard cider and fiddle tune by the campfire.

Date: July 27-28th 2013 in Jackson
10AM-4PM both days
Cost: $200
Class Limit: 15

photo by jon katz

Falconry Update! Welcome to the New Age!

For those of you following along in my Falconry Journey, here is an update on all things hawk in my life. Back in April I took the state's written exam for prospective Falconer's. I needed to score an 80 or higher to be allowed to move forward with the process. I studied and studied, and studied some more and I ended up scoring a solid 91 on the test! A few weeks later I got a packet of "next steps" which includes all the requirements I need to prepare to trap, train, and own a bird of prey. I have the summer to build a MEWS (hawk house), weathering area, gather supplies, and get a state game official to come and inspect my property, supplies, and the hawk house. If I have this all collected, built, and signed off on by the state I am allowed to get some paperwork signed by my mentor Ed Hepp and mail in my official license application. Whew. I'm getting winded just writing about it!

It's overwhelming to me, too. But I am just setting it into little steps. My next step is to have Ed come to the farm and exam my property and find the best place to build the MEWS. Once I have his advice in my head, I will save money up and gather the help of friends to build the little 8x8 house for the redtail (or kestrel). That is where my head is at right now. Get Ed to the farm, listen to him very, very, very hard and write down everything he says. He knows more about this sport than any book or exam paper ever could teach me. Once I have his opinion/blessing I will plan the building of the structure.

Once I have the house made I will need to build the weathering area next, which is an outdoor chain link area that sun, wind, and rain can get on the hawk. It needs a special bath tub and perches, but it should be easy enough to create thanks to a dog run at Tractor Supply. When both the MEWS and weathering area are up I need to order some hawk gear like hoods, jesses, a travel box, and a digital perch scale from some outfitters and I'll gather them by and by. I already have some of the gear I need like my left hand gauntlet and a creance. If you have no idea what I'm talking about don't worry. All I'm saying is I need hawk tackle and so far I have a glove and a leash. I already have all the state's hunter's safety requirements and a small game license so that huge part of the process is already done.

I hope to have everything here and ready for State Inspection by early August. Then I can gather my approved paperwork and have Ed fill out the stuff that lets the state know he is taking responsibility for me as his apprentice and will be joining me on our first hunting trips. When all this is done, all of it, I am allpowed to send it all to the capital with a check for $40 and they will return to me a bone fide Falconer's Apprentice State License. It legally allows me to trap and train a wild juvenile red tail hawk and be its keeper while we learn to hunt together.

After a few hunting trips I am free to take my hawk on my arm, saddle up my horse, and ride into the autumn mountains with my black highland pony while a hawk flies overhead! Can you imagine it? I can. And when I do imagine it the Pentatonix and Lindsey Stirling are covering radioactive as the soundtrack. (Thank you, Grace Helbig for the link.) That is one badass version of that song, created with only two stringed instruments, a human beat box, and a few voices. Every time I hear it I want to be cantering Merlin up a hillside in October with my own hawk alongside us, swooping ahead on the trail as as hunt pheasants, rabbits, quail, and squirrels. I shake just thinking about it. I mean, if you're going to be excited about one life, might as well be your own...

And That, boys and girls, is Living Like Fiction!

It's This Kind of Afternoon in the WC!

Poor Checklist Execution

Short video showing a non sterile cockpit and then me missing checklist items due to distractions.

Back Flying! (no 6 week break!!)

I'm over my disappointment from last week. Should of, could of, would of. 

Going to go flying again next week! Lesson learnt? Sterile cockpit! It's quite clear from the video that I was not focused during the taxi out. I was talking with the CFI and had cable issues with the MP3 recorder.

In the mean time, I am heading to Seattle this weekend for another Boeing tour. First time taking my wife and kids. Quite excited about spending an aviation day with them on Fathers Day.

Flying above thin layers in OR

Hello, Harto!

Hannah Hart's travel show (which is a show about people trying to film a travel show more than a travel show) is amazing. The My Drunk Kitchen Web Series star has created something you should not be missing out on. Why? Not only is it funny as hell, but every city this woman and her crew visits to make a funny video also corresponds with a food drive. This youtuber has collected over 70,000 pounds of food for charity and has been involved in every aspect of food in foodbanks across America. Check out her show and see if you can help out at a local event. It kicks off in San Francisco and is currently, I think, in New Orleans? Here's the first city and mini documentary (just 7 minutes long) about what the show is doing to fight hunger.

A Year Since

It's been one year since I left my corporate job.

Every Day!

You know that saying, Do something every day that scares you? Well, when you run a small farm that isn't always a choice as much as a demand. I'm scared of heights but not as much as my livestock is hungry for hay. Since my pasture space is small I need to feed hay all year round, at least to some of the stock. This late in the season/early in the new season hay is scarce. I find myself crawling up into lofts and ancient barn spaces to find it, like a quest from the old storybooks. This is a photo looking down the handmade wall ladder to a second story loft in an old barn in Cambridge. I climbed it in cowboy boots. I didn't look down. It scared the crap out of me!

You Alone Up There?

I was driving down my mountain road when I saw a neighbor out for a walk. I knew her by sight as a local but had never introduced myself to her. She was a retiree, out for a mid-morning stroll and enjoying the daylight I was racing to burn. I pulled over and said hello and explained where I lived and made smalltalk. She was polite, of course. Then she asked a question a lot of folks around here ask me. "Is it just you at that place?" and I nod and smile and say yes it is, and without fail the response is negative. Folks look either overwhelmed -eyes rolling up into their heads, or piteous, or some even get concerned. It's the opposite reaction I get from people online. You guys see Cold Antler as something heroic, a dream come true. Around here people see it as a lot of work, and one person at the wheel. It isn't heroic to them at all. It's lonely.

No one ever means anything offensive by their looks or response and I never take it that way. I think the idea of a small farm is so rooted in family and, well, roots, that a single person homesteading seems incorrect, especially to rural people a few decades older than me. I am asked if I am lonely a lot, or rather told this about myself. "Must be lonely up there, Eh?!" and I make some sort of joke or smile. I usually tell them the truth, that I'm too busy most of the time to be lonely. And I am.

I was thinking about this a lot today. If everyone around here is worried about my singleness, should I be? Does it make me an outcast? Do people in town think I'm odd, or broken, or an object to shake your head at while you take off your cap? I don't know. I do know that a love life isn't a part of who I currently am. I'm far too gun shy and suspicious of men and their motives, a self-inflicted wound that's festered through bad decisions and poor judgement . I am smart about some things but when it comes to men I am a fucking idiot.

So am I lonely? I don't think so. I'm anxious and scared a lot, but not lonely. When I get stressed out it isn't people I turn to - animals or writing is where I crave sanctuary.  I was always that way. If I am lonely it is such a part of me it isn't effecting me or considered. I'm lonely the way I'm 5'3" and have green eyes. I don't spend any time thinking about it - I just am those things. It isn't a sad thing at all, though I guess it may sound that way. I'll put it like this. When I am around couples I do not envy them or think about being in their place with someone I love. It never even crosses my mind. It would be like going on a hike and wondering what I am missing out on by not being a tree. I'm not a tree. I don't take part in tree things or tree business. Those things are for trees.

Damn am I happy the comments aren't live anymore.

If being lonely is any sort of hindrance I don't realize it. It's like a backpack I always carry around and just assume that the extra weight was always there. I'm sure when it gets taken off at some point (and it will) I'll understand how it feels to be instantly lighter. Or maybe this will always be a One Woman Farm? Either way is fine with me. Too much can happen in a week, much less a lifetime, to have any sort of plans or made-up-minds. I am grateful to be authentically alone. I'd rather be here than in a relationship I feel trapped in, which I am terrified of and wouldn't wish on anybody.

I guess the neighborhood will continue to feel bad for me for being alone here, or whatever it is they feel. Honestly, it's none of my business what other people think about me. That is their work, not mine. I do know anyone who thinks this much about a three-second response from a neighbor probably isn't in the headspace for dinner and a movie. She's probably in the headspace for a long jog and a bourbon. In that order.