SWEET REWARDS.

The other day I went to work on a project at a friend's house. It was early, the sun was starting to rise and I was rushing around the cabin trying to get things together to go. Further had just woken up––he sleeps pretty much all night, with milk breaks, naturally––and Hannah was bouncing him in his chair. I said bye to my wife, and then knelt down beside Further to say goodbye to him as well.When he saw me for the first time that morning he looked straight at me, smiled and laughed. And I swear to God, my heart melted right into my feet.Apologies for the cornball factor of this next paragraph, but I don't know how people survive this part of the parenting process. It's not the hard work, or the inconsolable moments. It's not the pee or poop on everything you own. It's the smiles. It's the odd little snoring noises they make. It's the tiny hands, and tiny feet and glimpses of recognition that bring a crippling amount of joy into our bodies. That, more than anything, is what's been hard about parenthood so far––surviving the sweetness.What's fascinating to me, though, is that babies don't try and trick you. Their needs and wants, as author Dr. Sears teaches us, are one and the same. He's not smiling to get something out of us. When he's smiling, it means he's happy, and our reactions to his cries and smiles are genuine. They're biological. If a baby is not happy, it cries and you can feel it––your body tells you to help him, he's in need. And if a baby is smiling, it means you're doing things right. That's why your body fills up with endorphins that tell you to keep doing whatever it is, because whatever it is, is working. I guess that's how parents survive these first few months. They get through the hard nights, the pee and poop, rewarded handsomely by nature with a dose of endorphins that keep you going––that keep you working for that next smile to tell you "Good work, Mama and Papa––you're on the right track." And that smile before I left the house, kept me going all day.- Jesse.

MAKING BEDS.

I've had this idea for a while, but something about Jean-Martin Fortier's excellent book The Market Gardener ––which I mentioned last week in a post––gave me the inspiration needed to try it.The idea is this: I wanted to make permanent raised beds, much like JM, but I wanted to place the fertility underneath those beds––Hugel bed style. Also, I wanted to do it by hand. I'll explain.How it works is that there will be seven beds in total, and following JM's lead, these beds will ultimately be 30" wide, 18" apart. First I pull back the mulch, loosen the beds with our broadfork, and shovel the dirt to one side––leaving an 18" trench, about 8-10" deep.I then take that mulch, pull it back into the trench and pack it full. Like full full. So full that if you walk on it, it's still above the soil surface. If I had small square bales, I might just make the trench large enough to put use those end on end.Then I use our grubbing hoe to pull the dirt back over the mulch. To finish the bed, I go back on each side and pull the dirt up from the pathway, creating a trench and putting that dirt onto the bed as well. This raises the height and depth of the bed. The trench will remain as the pathway.My last order of business is to lightly mulch the bed as to create shade for worms, then I put old high tunnel plastic overtop to create warmth. My hope is to get weed seeds to germinate before our last freezes of the year, then pull the plastic off and let them die naturally. Come spring, I'll work the beds with a rake and plant.Of course, ideally I would have done this in the fall, because the beds will be best after several months. So I'm going to have to start by using crops without large taproots. No tomatoes or carrots in these beds probably this year––maybe by fall. Next year, I'll rotate the crops, and pull the dirt back up. But I don't think I'll add fertility. I don't think I'll need to.I should add that this has been extremely hard work––maybe even unsustainably so––so please get help if you try this. One person can do one 100' bed in one long, hard day. I wouldn't recommend more. Ultimately, it's an experiment, but I have faith it will work. And if it doesn't, you'll hear about it.- Jesse.

WHAT A BEAR.

After Further was born, Hannah didn't leave the house for two solid weeks. She stayed in the bed, or walked around the cabin, but she didn't actually step outside for that whole time.And one morning about a week and a half in, I went out to feed Wendell who was standing patiently on the porch as he always does. But as I opened the door Wendell pushed by me and stepped into the house. This was unusual.Wendell hates the house unless it's boiling hot or raining outside and even then, it's iffy. To him the house is where we dose him with natural flea medicine, or clean his ears. On this morning, however, Wendell fearlessly let himself in and went straight into the living room where Hannah was laying with Further. He sniffed Further and sniffed Hannah, then went back outside on his own and ate his food.I can't pretend to know what was going on in his head, but I love to think that he got worried when he hadn't seen Hannah in a while and decided to figure it out for himself.And it's not just this moment that I'm in awe of this dog––I'm in awe of him in general. He had such a tumultuous first couple years, moving from house to house and farm to farm, most of which were not ideal situations for his breed. It's a wonder he turned out as well as he did. Because he is indeed an excellent animal. He guards the house, he walks with us to the mailbox every day, hunts predators with me when they attack, and he checks on us when things change.Because Wendell's extraordinarily gentle with children––as if aware of his size and how intimidating he can be––we look forward to Further getting older and growing up with him. We're proud that Wendell will be Further's first dog, and confident he'll watch over him. We're one lucky family, and Wendell is one very important member of it.- Jesse.

TORN.

This week I attended a seminar with Jean-Martin Fortier, the author of The Market Gardener. My impetus for going was that JM makes over $100,000 a year per acre growing organic veggies, and it piqued my curiosity. Because to put that in perspective, we thought we were killing it by making $25,000 per acre.But there are several differences between what JM does and what we do, not the least of which is the equipment he uses. In the garden behind our house, Hannah and I don't use equipment. We use mulch to do our tilling, and a combination of rakes, broad forks and shovels to work up the soil if need be. In the big gardens that we farm with our neighbors, we use two different tractors. All JM uses is a small, but specific walking tractor which he utilizes to prepare, weed, and cultivate 30" permanent beds, growing almost as much food on one acre as we do on three. It's pretty impressive how productive this small machine can be, and it left at least 150 farmers at that seminar wanting one of these walking tractors. Honestly, I was not immune.More than anything, though, this left me torn. I want desperately to farm like JM. It speaks to me on an ineffable level to be that productive. Then there's the closet prepper side of me who wants to prepare myself and my family and my farm for a post-petroleum world, and not invest in oil-based machinery. Even if it looks really, really fun and really, really profitable. I want to be spending my time one day soon learning to use draft animals. Or figuring out a version of his system that can be done by hand. I may be able to talk Eric and Cher into implementing some of his practices in the big gardens, but really, without the specific machinery, it doesn't work the same. And I feel I want to start working away from more machinery, not towards it.Truth be told, his book and that seminar has put me at a sort of crossroads. Because it's not just about the money. That dude feeds an unreal amount of people, and I want that, too. He builds soil. He increases organic matter and sequesters carbon, he doesn't honestly use very much fuel, but still. He does use fuel.So, what's the answer? Is the answer to stay the course, work ourselves to death making a quarter of the money, feeding a quarter of the amount of people per acre? Or is it to implement some of his methods and make it work, fossil fuel dependance be dammed? I honestly have no idea, but I do know this, my idealism has officially met it's match.- Jesse.