HOMEGROWN FOOD.
"You from around here?" she asked, as I put my laundry into the dryer (a popular question for us really, as the answer is so obviously no). I proceeded to tell the older woman on the bench we lived in Bugtussle, that we'd just recently bought some land, and we were working on starting a farm. She told me she had grown up on a farm herself, right here in Monroe County, and I all but begged her to tell me more.Something Hannah and I rarely pass up is the opportunity to connect with old-timers like my friend on the bench––people who grew up raising their own gardens, milking their own cows, making butter, tending chickens and hauling water; people who grew up living the way we hope our future children will grow up living. And we find it important to chat with them whenever we can, as they're ripe with perspective and love to talk. This woman was in her seventies. She told me her father was a farmer and raised cash crops like corn or tobacco. Her mother raised the children and the garden. As we spoke, I noticed how fondly she looked back on what must have been hard times––the food especially.She told me she could rarely find food like she grew up on, "The milk you get at the market just ain't the same. Homegrown food," she went on to say, "can't nothing compare." Since I first started farming, I've learned to admire and appreciate this word, "homegrown." People don't use it lightly around here. It's as precious as "organic," but regulated by a certain kind of sincerity, nostalgia and trust. Anytime an old-timer happens by the farmer's market in Nashville, that's the what they want to know, "are these carrots homegrown?" The word "natural" turns them off. "Organic" sounds highfalutin. "Homegrown" is their staple of quality. I tell them we don't spray, we're local, and we planted and picked the produce ourselves. So essentially, yes. Many then tell me our produce looks and tastes like what they remember. That's what they're looking for, tomatoes like momma's tomatoes, and we're honored when that's how they describe ours.I enjoyed my conversation with the lady, and was sad when it had to end. I've definitely learned that few people know good food quite like people who were raised on nothing but. They know what it takes to grow it, and what a good tomato should taste like. They want it to taste fresh. They want it to taste like what they can't find in super markets. They don't necessarily care if it comes from your home, however, as the name suggests. They just want it to come from your garden. Fresh, local food––like all their food used to be––that's what they want: food like we strive to grow, and food like they grew up on. If we can grow vegetables the locals would call "homegrown," then I'll consider our operation a success."I'll be on the lookout for your produce," she said sweetly as she left, "We need more good, homegrown food around here."- Jesse.
THE POISON IVY BLUES.
Last year, while still working as an intern, I had my first experience with poison ivy. What started as a few small bumps on my arm grew quickly to giant rashes, covering my arms, my belly, my legs. Different people react to the plant in different ways, and it became apparent that I was one of those people who "got it bad."Poison ivy is a plant that produces urushiol - a clear liquid that is found in the sap of the plant. Urushiol is what causes the itching and burning, and it is the most common allergy in the country - affecting over half the population. Even if you think you aren't allergic, reaction to poison ivy can begin at any time. Continued exposure to the plant builds up over time and can suddenly cause a rash. Oh and ALSO - urushiol is pretty powerful stuff. It lingers - staying on your skin or clothes or dog or cat or whatever - unless you completely remove the oil. This is why it is so easy to get one tiny spot that grows into more and more and more. Urushiol can even remain active on a completely dead poison ivy plant - for ONE TO FIVE YEARS. Fun!So basically, I hate poison ivy. I detest it. It has truly become an actual problem for me - because our farm has a lot of poison ivy. Especially poison ivy VINES, which are even more potent. With all of the clearing and cutting and digging around we are doing in the old barns around the cabin site, it seems that every time we go to Bugtussle, no matter how careful I am, I get some. And that some grows to lots. The last round lasted almost a month from miserable start to finish, bubbling into blisters and leaving some hideous scars on my wrist. My current round hasn't even reached the blistering peak yet - I have it in between my fingers on both hands, covering my entire left arm, and in some other terribly unmentionable places. It consumes my every waking moment, taking all my concentration not to scratch it, not to rub it, not to run outside screaming from the insanity of it. And just when I seem to find myself in a zen state of tranquility, accepting the pain and pushing it from my mind, I find a BRAND NEW PATCH popping up on some bizarre part of my body and I become enraged. Last night, I was lying in bed crying while I hysterically told Jesse that maybe I'm just not supposed to be farmer. A tad dramatic, perhaps, but seriously. IT IS THE WORST AND I WANT TO DIE.I have tried several different cures and remedies over the past year. We always wash with TECNU first, to remove any remaining oil and stop potential spreading. While helpful, it doesn't provide any real relief from the pain or speed up the healing process. Plus, with my current round of poison ivy, the Tecnu has seemed to further irritate and spread everything around. I have used both Calagel and Aveeno 1% Hydrocortisone Cream. I have tried apple cider vinegar. I have used the homeopathic remedy - actually ingesting a microscopic amount of rhus toxicodendron (which is poison ivy). All of these sorta kinda work, and I have found that the homeopathic remedy speeds up the healing process...but nothing really helps relieve the soul-crushing itch.ALL OF THIS TO SAY - most likely due to my delirious outburst last night, Jesse decided that was enough of that, and we needed to find a solution. He ran out to the store and came back with a few products that, at least so far, have been a GODSEND. Calendula salve (a plant we grew earler this year!) and Burt's Bees Poison Ivy soap. HALLELUJAH the soap has saved my life. It contains jewelweed, which is a natural remedy for poison ivy, and I only had to wash with the soap once to have almost 8 hours of no itching, and the calendula is so soothing. You JUST have no idea how wonderful that is.
Sorry for the long, complain-y post, but I am hoping to perhaps share some of these tips with others who might suffer as I do. I feel like the jewelweed and calendula are the ticket. I am not a huge fan of Burt's Bees as a company (Clorox owned, imports all beeswax from Ethiopia, etc), so I am going to stock up on this homemade jewelweed, olive oil, and calendula soap and hopefully try to plant some jewelweed of my own when we are back on the farm!What about you? What products and remedies have worked for you?- Hannah.
EASTER, NATURALLY.
As seen in the previous post, Jesse and I are taking today off. So, we decided to dye some Easter eggs! We wanted to try a more natural approach, as we are a very Anti-Food Coloring (it is gross...plus I am allergic, so we are enemies). For the how-to, you can find endless resources online (especially Pinterest these days), but I used instructions from the first issue of taproot magazine. It is the most lovely and wonderful of all magazines, full of inspiration for homesteaders, homemakers, homeschoolers, and the like. Amanda Soule of SouleMama is the editor, and I have a major lady crush on her. Anyway, the magazine suggests many different ideas for dyes: beets, tumeric, onion skins, blueberries, cranberries, coffee grinds, etc. I used curry and paprika as well. For each color, use one quart of cold water, two tablespoons of white vinegar, and a small amount of whatever you want to use for color.
Bring the mixture to a boil and let it simmer for twenty minutes. Add the eggs and let simmer for another half an hour. Remove the eggs with a slotted spoon to let them dry on a paper towel.
I personally love the way the eggs look, very soft and earthy. But if you wanted to achieve a bright color, I would suggest making a heavily concentrated mixture. Blueberries and curry worked great, coffee was alright, the paprika was bleh. It was fun experimenting, though...switching the eggs from one bath to another while they cooked to try to create new colors.
Do you have any tips for dying eggs? What spices or foods do you use for color? I am eager to keep trying, playing with different ingredients...but I'm not sure how many hard boiled eggs we are prepared to eat this week!
- Hannah.