Line up for sweet slices of life!

When I was a little girl my grandma telephoned me and asked, “Hello, Sugar, what kind of cake would you like for your birthday?” Before, I could even answer her question, see added, “I’ll make a vanilla cake with vanilla frosting.”

My grandma was a baker extraordinaire, making certain that the lives near and dear to her were sweet. And by sweet, I mean extra sweet!

She invited me to experience slices of beauty.

“The camellia bush is in full bloom. The petals look heavenly. Come!”

“The carrots are ready to be pulled from the ground. Come!”

“The sunset is so lovely. Come!”

While my grandma seldom ventured from her Northern California home, beauty came to her. She showed me how to notice simple pleasures and how to savor simplicity.

Sometimes beauty finds us.

This sunflower popped up on its own. 

The other day I celebrated my birthday with cake, of course. My husband and daughter baked a vanilla cake from scratch, just like my grandma. Plus, they mixed up the batter in the same bowl that my mother once used. This birthday was extra special because, we had a bounty of fresh fruit.

Blueberry hands  

So we created a cake buffet. Along with a huge bowl of bite sized pieces of cake, we served blueberries picked from our backyard, cherries from a CSA farm, raspberry syrup made from berries picked from my parents’ yard, and fresh whipped cream. Let’s not forget the sprinkles!

The bites were extra sweet because they were shared with family and neighbors!

You’re all invited to line up for more slices of rural simplicity.

In the meantime, you’re welcome to share a favorite “simple” moment with the readers.

Happy summer,
Heather 

We thought about joining a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) for several years now, but just never actually did anything about it. Right now, we are transitioning to our little homestead and will start our first garden out there this spring. (Eeek! It’s time to start our seeds indoors already!!) Even once it’s growing, it will be summer before we really start harvesting our own foods. So in the meantime, I found an organization called Greenling here in central Texas. A little different from a typical CSA, they aren’t a single farm that delivers only what they can produce – they deliver foods from a group of local, organic and sustainable farms. 

One super convenient feature is that they will deliver to my office downtown at my job in the city, so we don’t even have to go to a specified location on a particular day to pick up our produce. There are numerous options for purchase, from individual items to meal kits to the local box. We chose the local box and started out with an every other week delivery since there’s just two of us. There’s also no  required contract/commitment – you can order weekly, bi-weekly or just occasionally. And the price per delivery works out to about the same amount as other CSAs we investigated here in central Texas and in Colorado.

The fun part is learning to “eat in season” just like our ancestors did; they only ate what they raised. It also helps us be a little more adventurous with trying new things that we’ve seen in the produce section at the grocery store, but never tried before. This past week we even received a live, potted parsley plant, which will join the other herbs in our garden.

Whatever options are available in your area, I encourage you to research and seriously consider joining a CSA. This helps farmers with cash flow (which helps smaller, local farms survive!) and creates a connection between them and the people who eat the foods they grow. For the consumer, you receive the freshest foods possible (which also means better tasting and full of the most vitamins and minerals) from a local source, and you know who and where your food is coming from.

When the UN’s Millennium Project released their State of the Future study in 2009—based on the input of 2,700 researchers, and backed by UNESCO, the World Bank, and the US Army—it set out an appallingly grim vision of what lies ahead. The study foresaw shortages of food and goods, a harsh reality that would incite widespread violence and potentially provoke much of civilization to collapse.

After reading that report I felt as if I'd just received an invitation to the dungeon of despair. But then, as if on cue, I met Joanne Shenandoah, the gifted Oneida singer and song writer. I heard her give voice to "Prophecy Song"—a musical empowerment for the ages which can be experienced at this link on youtube.com, as well as on her CDs.

We are now reminded
to be aware of our place upon this earth.
and to fulfill our obligations to ourselves,
our families, our nations,
the natural world, the Creator.
The words sing, we are to awaken.
Stand up, Be counted,
for you are being recognized in the Spirit world.

—Joanne Shenandoah

Her message and her voice anchored me in a present tense of strength and possibility, and reminded me also of another respected friend from the Native American community, the late Leon Secatero. Formerly the Headman of the Canoncito Band of Navajo, To’Hajiilee, New Mexico, Leon had the gift of insight. Whenever he would hear pronouncements of doom, he would acknowledge the potential, then respond calmly.

"The journey we are beginning now is for the next 500 years," he told me one day. "What will be the sacred path that people will walk over the next 500 years? Even in the midst of all the changes taking place and all the things falling apart, we are building that foundation now. That’s something important for us to remember and to focus on. If we don’t do it, no one else will.

“We need to take a close look at this and then really come to terms with ourselves,” Grandfather Leon said. “To move ahead into the next 500 years we must leave some things behind or they will contaminate or even eliminate the future. We cannot go forward if we keep destroying the earth. But we must also ask, what is good and healthy and helpful? Those good things can be part of our foundation, part of our pathway into the next 500 years."

As the economic and natural worlds continue to mutate rapidly around us in 2010, I reflect on Leon's questions, and immediately what comes into focused response are the thousands of healthy initiatives arising in the realm of clean farms and clean food. They are good and healthy and helpful.

I have come to think of the people involved with these initiatives as the Millennial Agrarians. There is a burgeoning movement in which these agrarians—representing a wide range of ages, ethnicities, and backgrounds—are taking up one of the world’s oldest professions: organic farming. For these new farmers and gardeners, going to the land is not an escape from the conventional world, but an active embrace of plants, animals, people and the future.

In the face of the grim vision described by the State of the Future researchers, these Millennial Agrarians are a living embodiment of hope. They know their work is making a definite difference in the health of the planet, and in the physical and mental health of the people. We are going to need a lot of these new agrarians—millions more—to face what is happening in our world, and to respond intelligently and effectively to the urgent call of the land. But the potential is there, and the Millennial Agrarians are demonstrating the workable models and pathways that others can follow.

Starting in the late 1980s, Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) emerged as one of the initial agrarian waves of response to our sickening planet and our corrupted food supply. But many variations on CSA, and many related agrarian initiatives have come forward since then: urban agriculture, thousands of school gardens, hundreds of farm-to-school projects, municipal composting programs, and an increasingly popular amenity being offered to residents of new subdivisions: a working farm at the heart of the housing cluster, part of set-aside open space—several hundred projects like this are underway or being planned across the country. The positive, proactive initiatives just keep coming forward as more and more people grasp the reality of our environment and our economy, and as they awaken, stand up, and choose to become involved.

These agrarian initiatives are an authentic hope for the present and the future. They establish oases of radiant environmental health upon the land, they yield clean, fresh food for the health of our bodies and our minds, and they create opportunities for dignified and meaningful work in nature. Collectively, the Millennial Agrarians are establishing a foundation upon the land for the high-tech digital culture which is emerging so dynamically in our world.

Being the youngest boy of the youngest boy, my Mallory grandparents were quite old when I was born. I barely remember them, but years later talked with Aunt Mildred, "Aunt" Georgia Ruth, and others in the circle of elderly ladies who knew my grandparents. Like all rural women of that era, my grandma Della cooked practically all day. More than one person told me that Grandma could peel an apple faster and thinner than any woman in the county, and not only that, the peel was always one unbroken piece. I wish I had written down more of what I heard, because I know the family cooked all types of greens. One of them was "Sweet Potato Greens."

My Mallory grandparents Dave and Della with their kids:
a hardworking farm family in the midst of the Great Depression.
My dad is the littlest, the boy on the left in the front row.

For city folk, sweet potato greens can be found at the better farmers' markets and for country folk, they are right in your garden! Yes, these are the same sweet potatoes you've planted to dig up and eat later. The tender leaves are edible, and in fact, are widely eaten in Asia, Africa, and many other places in the world. They are a favorite dish in Liberia. In the Philippines, they are fondly referred to as "Camote Tops" because the word camote is Tagalog for sweet potato.

They are not bitter, like turnip greens or mustard greens can be, and have a slight sweetness. If you've ever eaten purslane you will see a similarity. Some suggest eating sweet potato greens raw, but I find they are too sharp that way. In fact, in my recipe I include a procedure to make the greens even milder. The nutritional content is similar to spinach.

Country-Style Sweet Potato Greens

• 1/4 cup vegetable or olive oil
• 1 quart, approximately, boiling water plus cold water (for blanching)
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1/2 onion, diced
• 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
• 1/4 pound sweet potato greens, thoroughly rinsed, stems removed

Rinse sweet potato greens and remove stems. Place in a strainer in the sink. Boil water and pour over greens in strainer. Let cool for 2 minutes, then pour on cool water. While that is draining, heat a heavy skillet over medium heat. Add oil. When warm, add garlic, onion and chili powder. Saute for about 3-5 minutes, till golden brown. Pat greens with paper towels to eliminate excess water. Add greens to skillet, toss all well, and allow to cook for 3-5 minutes. Greens will wilt and soften like spinach. Serve immediately.

This recipe was adapted from one sent by Terra Brockman, of Henry's Farms, a multi-generational small-scale farm using sustainable and environmentally-friendly practices. It's truly a family farm. She is also the author of The Seasons on Henry's Farm, a book I highly recommend (I read it twice!) and which is nominated for a 2010 James Beard award. I get most of my farmer's market veggies from them in Evanston, IL every Saturday in summer and fall.

Don't go wild and decide you can eat all leaves from edible plants. Some, like rhubarb leaves, are poisonous! If you get sweet potato greens from your garden, you can start harvesting the leaves about a month after you've planted them. However, don't take more than half the leaves from any particular plant, and though you can take part of the stem, don't eat the stem; discard it. Only the leaves have a good taste. It can be harvested more than once, though some old-timers say the leaves get more bitter close to the time of harvesting the potatoes.

And I'm a big believer in listening to old-timers.

Drought is igniting Russia, and floods of ‘mind-blowing’ proportion are drowning Pakistan. Dry or wet, unstable climate conditions are wreaking havoc on people’s lives and their crops – not just in those two locales, but in many places around the world as well.

Meanwhile, speculators – not just the usual commodity investors, but big money players – are driving up the cost of food by injecting money into national and international  markets in ways intended to make profits for themselves. But those monetary moves on the part of financiers are a major factor driving up the prices in supermarkets for people who just want to eat.

It is in this context that the Millennial Agrarians are coming forward with their solutions, producing clean food and healing the land. They are imbued with civic courage. In general, civic courage is a term characterizing the soul state of civilians who confront the problems of the world and advance solutions.

With their work on the land – in cities, suburbs and countryside, the Millennial Agrarians are demonstrating both foresight and civic courage. Many of these civic pioneers, and the models they are establishing, are profiled in my book The Call of the Land,  The book is for everyone who aspires to act wisely and courageously. It shows dozens and dozens of sensible, practical,  positive pathways forward in a time of profound uncertainty.

Among the many possibilities, CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) continues to prove itself as a particularly valuable form for these Millennial Agrarians to exercise their will, skill, and determination. Over the course of 2010, news stories  from around North America reported on steady growth and development in the CSA model and its variations. The Seattle Post Intelligencer ran one such story a few weeks back, and reported that there are by now well over 12,500 CSA farms spread across the country.

As the economy and the environment wobble precariously, these farms — and the hundreds of other new agrarian initiatives taking root — are demonstrating the foundation of a path to a clean and sustainable future.

Our field is one big grid. It is divided into rows and columns — into numbers, and letters, and more numbers. Organized. Mathematical. Necessary. The tomatoes are in C3 beds five through ten; the first planting of broccoli is in B5 bed nine while the second planting is in C2 beds three and four. If you were looking at our log book, you would know that you could find Shiraz beets, planted on June 17th, in the first 30 feet of the of the second bed of row three in section B. They will need to be harvested on July 31st, and they should all be out of the ground by August 14th. This is all good information ... if you need to weed, water, harvest, plant or prep.

When farming five acres, it’s good to have a plan. It’s good to be organized. It’s good to be a little bit anal retentive about it all. Grid. Map key. Logbook. This keeps a farm functioning. But, there is one important food that doesn’t grow well in these conditions, and that is food for the soul. Get rid of that map, we’ve got to keep the creative spirit alive.

This is where I believe the home gardener has one up on the production farmer. Inventiveness. Imagination. Artistry. A vision free from the constraints of yield and maximum efficiency. I’m not saying it’s a free-for-all out there in the home gardening world. I know many home gardeners who are highly organized and create their garden plans months ahead of time, taking in a complex variety of considerations from companion planting to water requirements. However, there is an element of originality and freedom that is difficult to duplicate on a larger scale.

Born out of the necessity to express ourselves as individuals and creative beings, it was decided to give each participant at the GFTC a one-hundred foot long by three and half foot wide bed to do whatever our hearts desired with. Yes, this was just one long and skinny bed, but suddenly we all had options. You could almost see the visions of sugarplums dancing in our heads.

Seed catalogues were obtained. Unique and obscure growing methods were researched. Extra transplants that had been thrown into the compost weeks ago were rescued. Our creative spirits began to manifest themselves. Our personalities popped like the poppies in bloom.

We all took different approaches. Joe (above) chose to be resourceful and sporadic, only planting things that otherwise would have been turned into compost and placing them in no predictable order whatsoever. Jordan and Kelly teamed up (below), turning their twin-sized beds into a queen-size, and they built large mounds to replicate the traditional growing methods of the three sisters crops.

Mary planted flax. Taryn planted miniature sunflowers and the same variety of fava beans that her father grew when she was a child. Alan (below) planted uncommon winter storage vegetables, such as salsify, scorzonera, and celeriac.

And although there are thousands of acres of it growing across the country, I planted corn. However, this was special corn — heritage varieties of popcorn and dent corn from all over the world. I have hopes that it will store well for the upcoming winter.

All eight participants at the Greenbank Farm Training Center are proud of the plants we grow together. The carrots of A4 bed eight are well weeded. If any one of us sees a runner on a strawberry plant sprinting for dear life, we will bend down to cut its race short. We all care for the thousands of heads of lettuce, and we are sure to water the kids in the cabbage patch when they need it. But I think it is safe to say that our true babies are tucked into the soil of our personal beds.

What we have grown in the one-hundred foot strips has somehow become an expression of ourselves. To plant a seed and see it germinate. To watch it grow its first true leaves. To take in the same sunshine as our plants each day. There is a deep pleasure that blooms within this relationship. Maybe this is why gardening is so loved. It gives us a chance to nurture our whole selves — body, mind, and spirit.

The main reason my husband and I joined this program is because we envision having a farm in our future. We needed to learn how to farm, so that when we do set out on our own land, we have the knowledge and work ethic needed to run an economically viable farm and farm business. That being said, I know there will be plenty of log books, maps, and spreadsheets in our future. However, when the time comes, it will be just as important to the survivability of our farm and family that we maintain time and space for creativity so that we can sow the seeds of healing and joy. We will need to keep the pleasure beds alive.

The beets are round and beautiful, the chard is stunning with its bright rainbow colored stems, and the carrots are magnificent — pulling one is like unearthing a gem.  There are hundreds of feet of lettuce ready to be picked, the cabbage and broccoli are starting to head up, and last week, our first snap peas snapped and we joyously tossed them into our mouths.  Our field is starting to look like a farm.

July 1^st marked the halfway point of the 2010 program at the Greenbank Farm Training Center (GFTC), and it is amazing to think back to four months ago when the field was barren — unfortunately, not even planted with a cover crop — and our infrastructure was limited.

Since then, the crew of eight participants at the GFTC has built two greenhouses, installed a deer fence, added needed electric and irrigation systems to the field, started thousands vegetable starts from seed, and prepped and planted a over a hundred and twenty one-hundred foot-long beds with annual vegetables.

This is on top of starting a 45-member CSA, growing vegetables for three wholesale accounts, and selling at the Sunday farmer’s market.  Not to mention all of the marketing energy we put into building a positive relationship with our customers and community.

It has been a busy but gratifying last four months.  I am starting to understand the rewards that come to a person from working the land and growing your own food. The back of my neck has developed quite a nice tan, my arms are getting stronger, and my feet have become permanently caked with a layer of dirt.  Almost anytime of the day, I can look up to see herons or harriers flying in the sky.  Ladybugs hide out in the veggies and occasionally a snake slithers by reminding me that we humans share the earth with all.  The sweetness of a salad turnip, the crunch of a fresh pea — these are few of the simple pleasures of life.

One of the most fun changes that has happened as a result of my time in the garden has taken place in the kitchen.  As a farmers-in-training at the GFTC, I have access to all of the fresh produce a person could ask for. For the past few weeks, when my husband and I sit down to dinner we are in wonderment at the localness and freshness of our meals.

Fresh lettuce, radishes, Asian greens, arugula, salad turnips, and a few berries make a delicious fresh and healthy salad—only the ingredients for the dressing are outsourced.  As a side-dish, we often eat sautéed chard and kale or roasted beets and carrots.  One of my favorite sides is Alan’s specialty of candied carrots — sliced carrots simmered with honey and butter, two ingredients we can pick up at the farmer’s market.  And, speaking of the farmer’s market, we can get humanely raised beef or pork, line-caught salmon, free-range eggs, and fresh wheat all from farms within 30 miles of our house.  What else does one really need, besides coffee, of course.

A few years ago, the localvore movement was a hot topic. Barbara Kingsolver published Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and Alisa Smith and J.B. Mackinnon published Plenty, both excellent memoirs on a year of eating locally. “Farm fresh” and “local” became buzz words seeking a lot of attention in the media, and the idea of tracking a person’s “food miles” came to consumers’ attention.  You couldn’t turn on the radio or go into a natural food store without hearing mention of Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma. This issue is no longer in the spotlight; however, I strongly believe that supporting our nation’s farmers is critical to our country’s food security and to building healthy economies.  We need more farmers growing healthy food.

However, I am not here to push these ideas on anyone. Yes, eating locally supports a local economy, and yes, it often times uses less natural resources.  What I have found in eating locally has gone beyond the material.  Independence and freedom.  This is what I have gained.  To grow one’s own food, to eat the fruits of your neighbor’s labors, to become connected with one’s land and community — these are immeasurable.  This is why I want to continue to grow food for my family and community.

There are four more months of the program. Four more months to learn, to work the land, to grow in spirit and stature.  There is still so much work to be done.  In the next weeks we will sow our winter vegetables and till in the last of the cover crops we planted in March. We have tomatoes to trellis — the tiny green fruits will grow heavier by the day.  Any day the zukes will ripen and we will have to run out into the fields and pick them before they look like baseball bats.  The new potatoes are almost ready for digging. And always, there is still so much more to learn about becoming a farmer.

The first week of June marks a transition here at the Greenbank Farm school. We have officially started our CSA. This is what we have been working toward for the past three months. Our members are the reason we have planted one hundred hundred-foot beds (to date) filled with annual vegetables. They are the reason we have the pleasure of growing so much good food. It’s week one of twenty, and our excitement is bursting so much that if we don’t let it out we will swell up and crack like the radishes. The time for harvest is now.

What has made it into this week’s box? Asian greens, salad turnips, radishes, spinach, head lettuce, kale, and arugula. Spring is the time of leafy greens — nutritionally dense, delicious, and somewhat overwhelming. Even as a self-proclaimed vegetable lover, I admit that our first box has lot of greens in it. However, that is eating with the seasons, and, for the sake of our CSA members, let’s hope they like salad.

Taryn proudly displays the contents of our first CSA share

Tuesday morning was the first harvest. My job was to pick Asian greens and salad turnips. Kelly and I used the salad knives that we had purchased from Johnny’s Seed catalogue to cut the greens right below the soil at the roots. We artfully bunched the home-mix of komatsuna, Tokyo bekana, and turnip tops, then twist-tied them together.  After picking and bunching the greens, we brought them to the washing station (a used sink with a hose attached to it) and hydro-cooled and washed the veggies in potable water before putting them in a box kept in the shade. I had never put too much thought into the need to keep vegetables cool and fresh until this experience, but man, fresh greens don’t look too good if they are left in the sun.

Then, it was off the pick the salad turnips. Until this summer, I had never had a salad turnip in my life. Unlike the turnips we are all used to, these are a spring treat and eaten fresh like a radish. These are delicious. The turnips are white and golf ball size, they are so sweet I almost think of them as a fruit rather than a root. The greens, although not as sweet as the root, are also edible. I enjoy the greens lightly pickled or sautéed with oil and garlic. For the past few weeks I had been sneaking undersized turnips from the field when others had their backs turned. They are so good that they have brought me to thievery.

I can only describe my feelings as heartbreaking when we began to harvest the turnips on Tuesday.  Each beautiful round globe we pulled from the earth had been munched on the bottom and destroyed to a point that we could no longer salvage them for our members. On average, five out of six turnips and been spoiled. The culprit was the cabbage-root maggot. Another terrible reality about farming hit me: Pests can destroy entire crops. Fortunately, we were able to find good enough turnips to give our members a (small) share of this delicious veggie. Fortunately, the cabbage-root maggot has only had the chance to destroy our first fully mature crop of turnips. We plant twenty feet of salad turnips every week, and, in hopes the cabbage-root maggot does not strike again, we will be covering our crop with row cover. Hopefully, our members understand. It’s a difficult crop to only get a teaser taste from.

Joe and Jordan harvest spinach.

In March, we set a goal of finding fifty members. In mid-April, we decided to shoot for forty-five. (We had taken on a few more wholesale accounts to make our financial goals.) June 1st we had thirty-six members, and by Friday we were up two more. Hopefully a few more will roll in throughout the coming weeks, but, for now, we have decided to focus on the members we have and be content with thirty-eight.

Our members live all over the island. The Greenbank Farm Training Center is located roughly in the middle region of Whidbey Island. We have two drop off points for our CSA shares in the north end of the island, three sites in the south end, and, of course, a drop site right here at the farm. So as not to overload ourselves with a massive harvest day, we have chosen to harvest shares twice a week. And this is where we are going to have to make our biggest adjustment. Time management.

Picking, washing, and packing take most of the morning on a harvest day. Then someone has to drive the shares to the drop points in the afternoon. We are including a newsletter each week with recipes and information about the farm. Some of us have to write the content while others of us edit and take photos. All of this takes time--one of the most precious resources of all.

Participants of the Greenbank Farm Training Center excited for first CSA harvest.

Somewhere in the day we still have to take care of all of the tasks we were doing before we started our CSA. We are still starting seeds in greenhouse. Other plants need to be transplanted into the fields. And, being a training center, we still need to have our time in the classroom so we can learn all things farm related. There is weeding, of course. Not to mention having to balance the books and making sure our members are getting their produce boxes while the arugula still looks good. And we still want to look good too, so we need to make a few minutes for stretching, and maybe even some time to drink some herbal tea. As I write this, the to-do list is getting longer. Oh no ... it’s almost going off the page!

Farming is starting to be a little more work than I first expected. I think it’s time to get my beauty sleep and get ready to go back into the fields. Week two of our CSA shares is only two days away.

You all must be getting so bored with chicken talk, but it's so exciting for us. This is our first real enterprise on the farm and God has been blessing it in so many ways. As Andy mentioned before, we have a used job site trailer coming to us for virtually free that will be winter housing for the birds. We have a deal set up for two garbage cans full of bread each week in exchange for four dozen eggs. That cuts down on our feed costs about 25%. We have little advertising besides our roadside Free Range Eggs sign, and yet we can't keep up with demand! We have only lost one hen so far, and she was the unlucky chicken that decided to cross the road (I still don't know the answer to that riddle, because she never made it to the other side). We have been able to give dozens of eggs away to people as barter, gifts or thank yous. I think we have traded about 12 dozen eggs for babysitting time so far! Andy's parents are building a market in their area (about an hour or two away), and we have been able to help out a fellow farmer with his eggs sales. Below, Andy's mother, Julie and I stand behind our egg demo counter at her Curves™ open house. We gave a photo slideshow on computer and had info pamphlets about our farm and the benefits of free range eggs. We even cooked up a bunch and served them to the health-conscious ladies as a little taste of what could be in their own kitchens! We sold out of 23 dozen that day and had orders for 21 dozen more the following week. It was amazing!

As word has spread, people have offered us their left-over meal scraps and egg cartons and all sorts of random food items for our chickens. We accept most things. (We do not feed our chickens eggs or any sort of chicken meat, but most other things are fair game; if they don't eat it, they scratch it into the ground. Chickens are excellent composters!) I think people like getting involved in something local like this. They are happy to take the drive to our farm rather than the store in order to be a part of this happening.

And that's just what we wanted. We want our farm to become our customers' farm. We don't even want to think of them as customers; they are becoming family. It creates a great atmosphere to be able to show them just where their eggs are coming from. Families will park their van and step outside to see chicken-rakes hard at work in the lawn. It's that connection, that sense of what's supposed to be on a farm that makes the experience so rewarding.

But we aren't doing it for that purpose. It is a wonderful by-product and certainly one that we hoped would happen. However, we work hard at our farm appearance and our animals' comfort because we have a sense of God's plan for creatures of the earth. We have accountability for our products and our overall farm health. The open door policy ensures that.

Every egg that leaves our property has been hand-picked by Andy and hand-washed and inspected by me. We eat the cracked ones and the eggs shaped too weird to be sent out. They taste just fine, but we don't want to scare off our customers – I mean family – with odds and ends. I take pride in cleaning and counting each and every egg. I love packing them in the cartons and "delivering" them to the garage. We have our egg business set up in our garage with our produce-traded refrigerator humming quietly.

Knowing that at anytime of day, someone could be here for a dozen or so eggs keeps us on our toes. But more than that, it's the accountability we feel from God himself that spurs us to have such high standards. We want to honor his creation in all that we do, in all that we produce and in all that we send off of this farm. As our business expands and our products diversify, we will strive to uphold the same level of animal husbandry and even raise the bar whenever we can.

This afternoon, Andy came home with another 117 laying hens from an Amish egg farmer in Dalton, Wisconsin. They are mostly Rhode Island Reds, and they are less than two years old. (That is still young for a laying hen.) They have lived in a certified organic, cage-free building their whole lives. This means that while they weren't caged and de-beaked, they had no access to the outdoors, have never free-ranged and did not have roosts on which to perch at night. This evening, when Andy went in the barn to check on them (they are seperated from the current flock), they were all cowering in one corner. He had to physically pick them up and place them on the roosts! He said as soon as they settled onto the bar, they tucked in their little heads and closed their eyes. How precious and sad all at once! We have a lot to teach these little birds about how they were supposed to be living; it's going to be an interesting road. But the point of doubling our flock is to meet demand and exceed it. We haven't been telling many people about our eggs because we don't have enough to go around! Hopefully with these new birds, we can really expand our family and bring the farm-to-consumer mentality to ever more people.

We've had a lot of changes this week and a lot of cold, rainy weather. Photos will be forthcoming when we get a break in the precipitation...

For now, have a great night and think of at least five things you are thankful for. I know I can! – Becky