Today's the day. The day I come clean.
You see, I've been hiding something from you. Something that I've been too ashamed to admit.
It's not that I've meant to decieve you in any way, it's just.....well, it's just that sometimes it's easier to say nothing than to come clean about things like this.
And anyways, it's not like any of you have asked. But still. You read this blog to learn about farmlife, to see how things are really done, to get a taste of rural life. You've helped me get through the many trials I face here on the farm, the difficult decisions and the many mistakes. But most importantly, you've helped me celebrate those rare triumphs, those few things that I've done and done well.
So I owe you. I owe you the truth.
OK. Here it is. Here goes nothing. Here's the deep, dark, shameful secret I've been hiding all this time:
I do morning chores in my PJ's.
I don't take the time to get dressed before doing chores. I just throw on my coat and boots and go tend the animals. I have been known, even, to duck into barns or the garage if someone is driving by so they don't see me in my blue-striped pajama pants or my grey sweats that are too short. I know! The shame of it has been killing me.
Think what you must, but that's the bare truth of it. That's how things get done here on my farm. Weird but true.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Get Comfortable....
because this Christmas letter is long. (Why aren't you surprised at that?)
So go grab yourself a cup of tea, sit back and enjoy...and have a happy New Year!!
As I sit down to write this, there’s a sign for our egg customers on the barn door that reads, “Skunk Attack! Eggs are in the House.”
A week ago, I tried to unhook the snow blade from the back of the tractor but had the support stand in the wrong place. The blade fell forward, got stuck on the tractor hitch and Mark Highland had to rescue me.
A few months ago, our grain-fed steers got loose and wandered over to a farm about a mile away. We’d never met these people before, but proceeded to spend 4 long days there trying to get the cows out of their soybean and corn fields.
Farming is an excellent lesson in humility!
We’ve made progress, that’s for sure, but our successes have occurred only after many spectacular failures, embarrassments or desperate pleas for help. If it weren’t for my inborn Irish stubbornness and my superbly capable husband, I would have thrown in the towel long ago. We have learned a lot in the past few years, though, and we’ve come a long way since that fateful spring when we found ourselves with a farm to run and no idea how to run it.
For instance, we have a solid base of egg customers and a long list of people waiting to buy our grass-fed beef. Selling directly to consumers keeps us from feeling too isolated out here in the sticks, gives us better price control for our products, and can also be pretty hilarious. Recently a woman called to say she was coming for 3 dozen eggs the next day. When I told her I didn’t have any saved and that the hens are only laying a dozen and a half per day, she replied, “Well, I’d like 3 dozen. I’ll be there in the morning.” I wondered if she thought I had a hotline to the barn, “Ladies, ramp it up in there. We’ve got a big order to fill!”
People’s desire to be more closely connected to their food source is real, though. We try to honor that desire by answering questions, welcoming people to the farm, and doing our best to ensure a high quality product. There is no doubt that we’ve benefited immensely from the renewed interest in local foods and we feel very fortunate that these people have decided to support us.
2009 was a good grazing year. The cattle herd was finally big enough to utilize our pasture and moving temporary fences every few days presented a good occasion to walk amongst the cows, check on pasture conditions, and test the strength of the electric charge (ouch!). Calving was challenging, to say the least. Of 17 pregnant cows, we had 10 first-time mothers, 4 of whom ended up needing birthing assistance. Scott Swanson was gracious enough to be “on call” for us, and Laura and Rob even got the opportunity to pull one (with Scott’s help) while we were in Eagle River for our annual Peace Corps reunion. By the 4th calf, though, Marcel and I felt confident enough to try it on our own. We were thrilled when we successfully pulled the calf and he survived.
Like most farms, we had a tough year for crops. High input costs, a cool, wet summer, and a very wet fall made for the perfect storm: lower yields, lower test weights, high moisture counts and a difficult harvest. I think the wet harvest hit the guys the hardest, though--Marcel, Rob and Matt were all disappointed that they didn’t get to load the grain bin this year. The harvest wasn’t the same without the hustle and bustle of moving wagons.
Finally, 2009 brought one more addition to the farm--Mom’s new husband Gordy. We understand why Gordy fell in love with Mom (she is wonderful after all), but we do wonder if he had his head on straight when he agreed to move out to the farm. In the past year he has been roped into more cattle round-ups, fence moves, childcare ventures and boring farm discussions than he probably ever thought possible. And being the Flynn’s that we are, we aren’t prone to pass up the opportunity to put an able-bodied individual to work! So we welcome him to the fold and apologize in advance.
We know there will be more farm adventures in the New Year, surely more mistakes and hopefully more successes as well. We thank you for your love, support, and especially if you’re a local farmer, patience over the past year.
All of us at Irish Grove Farms wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Jackie & Marcel, Laura & Rob, Matt, Marcia & Gordy,
the kids, dogs, cats, horses, goats, chickens, and cows. (Phew!)
So go grab yourself a cup of tea, sit back and enjoy...and have a happy New Year!!
As I sit down to write this, there’s a sign for our egg customers on the barn door that reads, “Skunk Attack! Eggs are in the House.”
A week ago, I tried to unhook the snow blade from the back of the tractor but had the support stand in the wrong place. The blade fell forward, got stuck on the tractor hitch and Mark Highland had to rescue me.
A few months ago, our grain-fed steers got loose and wandered over to a farm about a mile away. We’d never met these people before, but proceeded to spend 4 long days there trying to get the cows out of their soybean and corn fields.
Farming is an excellent lesson in humility!
We’ve made progress, that’s for sure, but our successes have occurred only after many spectacular failures, embarrassments or desperate pleas for help. If it weren’t for my inborn Irish stubbornness and my superbly capable husband, I would have thrown in the towel long ago. We have learned a lot in the past few years, though, and we’ve come a long way since that fateful spring when we found ourselves with a farm to run and no idea how to run it.
For instance, we have a solid base of egg customers and a long list of people waiting to buy our grass-fed beef. Selling directly to consumers keeps us from feeling too isolated out here in the sticks, gives us better price control for our products, and can also be pretty hilarious. Recently a woman called to say she was coming for 3 dozen eggs the next day. When I told her I didn’t have any saved and that the hens are only laying a dozen and a half per day, she replied, “Well, I’d like 3 dozen. I’ll be there in the morning.” I wondered if she thought I had a hotline to the barn, “Ladies, ramp it up in there. We’ve got a big order to fill!”
People’s desire to be more closely connected to their food source is real, though. We try to honor that desire by answering questions, welcoming people to the farm, and doing our best to ensure a high quality product. There is no doubt that we’ve benefited immensely from the renewed interest in local foods and we feel very fortunate that these people have decided to support us.
2009 was a good grazing year. The cattle herd was finally big enough to utilize our pasture and moving temporary fences every few days presented a good occasion to walk amongst the cows, check on pasture conditions, and test the strength of the electric charge (ouch!). Calving was challenging, to say the least. Of 17 pregnant cows, we had 10 first-time mothers, 4 of whom ended up needing birthing assistance. Scott Swanson was gracious enough to be “on call” for us, and Laura and Rob even got the opportunity to pull one (with Scott’s help) while we were in Eagle River for our annual Peace Corps reunion. By the 4th calf, though, Marcel and I felt confident enough to try it on our own. We were thrilled when we successfully pulled the calf and he survived.
Like most farms, we had a tough year for crops. High input costs, a cool, wet summer, and a very wet fall made for the perfect storm: lower yields, lower test weights, high moisture counts and a difficult harvest. I think the wet harvest hit the guys the hardest, though--Marcel, Rob and Matt were all disappointed that they didn’t get to load the grain bin this year. The harvest wasn’t the same without the hustle and bustle of moving wagons.
Finally, 2009 brought one more addition to the farm--Mom’s new husband Gordy. We understand why Gordy fell in love with Mom (she is wonderful after all), but we do wonder if he had his head on straight when he agreed to move out to the farm. In the past year he has been roped into more cattle round-ups, fence moves, childcare ventures and boring farm discussions than he probably ever thought possible. And being the Flynn’s that we are, we aren’t prone to pass up the opportunity to put an able-bodied individual to work! So we welcome him to the fold and apologize in advance.
We know there will be more farm adventures in the New Year, surely more mistakes and hopefully more successes as well. We thank you for your love, support, and especially if you’re a local farmer, patience over the past year.
All of us at Irish Grove Farms wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Jackie & Marcel, Laura & Rob, Matt, Marcia & Gordy,
the kids, dogs, cats, horses, goats, chickens, and cows. (Phew!)
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Moving
We decided we couldn't take it anymore.
The hassles.....
the trials, the tribulations of maintaining two homes.
I was tired of cleaning two places,
Marcel was tired of supporting both households......
it was just too much.
So we did it.
We moved.
We actually moved.
The chickens.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tremors
We are all colored by our personal experiences. So when your house starts to tremor, what immediately comes to mind?
If you're a Californian, you may think: earthquake!!
If you live near a highway, you may think: semi-truck!!
If you're from an oil-rich nation, you may think: gas explosion!!
If you're from New York, you may think: another terrorist attack!! (God forbid.)
If you live next to a gravel pit, you may think: ho hum.
But if you live on a farm, you think: animal escape!!
'Cause we didn't miss a beat last night, at 9:30 PM, as we were watching a heart-wrenching story on Frontline (PBS) about the Iranian elections, when our house started to shake and tremble.
Instead of grabbing the kids and getting into the doorway, or running to the basement, or grabbing the gas masks, or saying "ho hum", we ran to our windows to witness:
Two horses and two goats running circles around the house, kicking up their heels and having a fine old time.
Once in awhile, I'd just like a dull moment. Is that so wrong?
If you're a Californian, you may think: earthquake!!
If you live near a highway, you may think: semi-truck!!
If you're from an oil-rich nation, you may think: gas explosion!!
If you're from New York, you may think: another terrorist attack!! (God forbid.)
If you live next to a gravel pit, you may think: ho hum.
But if you live on a farm, you think: animal escape!!
'Cause we didn't miss a beat last night, at 9:30 PM, as we were watching a heart-wrenching story on Frontline (PBS) about the Iranian elections, when our house started to shake and tremble.
Instead of grabbing the kids and getting into the doorway, or running to the basement, or grabbing the gas masks, or saying "ho hum", we ran to our windows to witness:
Two horses and two goats running circles around the house, kicking up their heels and having a fine old time.
Once in awhile, I'd just like a dull moment. Is that so wrong?
Saturday, October 31, 2009
A Teacher For Once
It's not often that I get to write a post about teaching a farmer skill to someone else. Most of the time I'm learning. And screwing up. And learning from my screw-ups.
But looky here. I'm teaching my friend Andy how to kill, pluck (or skin, as in this photo--she wanted to keep the feathers) and gut a chicken.
But looky here. I'm teaching my friend Andy how to kill, pluck (or skin, as in this photo--she wanted to keep the feathers) and gut a chicken.
Processing chickens is a skill that is being lost as we slowly lose our grandparents. It's also a skill that in suprising-high demand. Who knew?
I like passing on a bit of knowledge once in awhile. It makes me feel like a real farmer for once.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Finally! A Small Farm Advantage
"Rain, rain go away. Come again another day."
It's been THE rainiest growing season I can ever recall. A wet spring made it difficult to plant the crops. A wet summer meant it was difficult to make hay. And a wet fall has the harvest at a complete standstill.
If you recall, I was a fall-weather-whiner last year as well, with rain delaying harvest, corn moisture levels extremely high, etc. etc. I should have saved my breath, because last year was a walk in the park compared to this year. With the weather forecasted to continue in this wet and cold pattern, I don't foresee getting the corn out of the field until December. Which means we might be fighting snowy field conditions.
I have to admit that being a farmer has made me a little cranky. (My family may argue I've always been cranky--don't listen to them.) But my crankiness really comes out when in company with a person that starts to wax rhapsodic about "farmers (said with a negative tone) who are making money! hand over fist! as they farm fencerow to fencerow! with no consideration of the environment! in pursuit of the almighty dollar!" People eat this line up, man. They are all over it. If you want your own popularity to soar sky-high, try that line out. I guarantee you'll have people murmuring in agreement, possibly a small applause, and definitely an increase in groupies. (Hey, everyone needs a few groupies.)
What these people don't realize is that our livelihoods are mostly out of our control. Grain prices soared last year to record levels. So did trucking fees, basis levels (what elevators charge for handling our grain), fertilizer and input costs, diesel prices, drying charges, etc. Don't blame a farmer for trying to squeeze a few hundred extra bushels out of his or her land, is what I'm trying to say here. The survival of their farm depends upon it.
This year is even tougher. Grain prices have come down a bit, but we were forced to pay for much of the aforementioned input fees during last year's highs. Add to that our wet year, and we're talking near disaster.
Wet grain means thousands, yes thousands, of dollars in drying charges. Wet grain also means that even if you're able to harvest your crops, the grain elevators won't take them because the moisture counts are too high. What does one do with thousands of bushels of grain and nowhere to go? Wet fields increase the likelihood of soil compaction at harvest, which causes a myriad of problems in future years. And wet weather means low quality hay and fewer cuttings (read lost income).
While we're on the subject of hay, I have to point out one distinct advantage Irish Grove has over other farms: we have livestock. Most people, including us, have given up on their 4th cutting of hay. The alfalfa and grass hay fields sit there, unharvested, taunting us with the lost opportunity and lost income. Except, wait! We have cows. And hay fields with fences.
Cattle prices are too low to make sense for most smaller farms, so cows are usually relegated to large feedlots that can take advantage of bulk pricing discounts, etc. etc. Ignoring the drawbacks that come with large feedlots, the results are that farm fences have been torn down. I don't blame anyone for this: fencing is extremely expensive to maintain, not to mention a royal pain in the arse--they easily become overgrown with weeds and brush. (Anyways, one may be able to fit a few more corn rows where that fence used to sit. Don't hate.)
But we graze our cows and fences have gone back up. So while we may not be able to take that 4th cutting of hay, we can run the cattle through the field and they will eat it green instead! After some heavy frosts, the plants don't have the same nutrient availability as they did during the summer months, but it's nutritionally equivalent to dry hay.
So, the cows harvest the hay on their own and save us time and money spent on harvesting a hay crop. They keep greenhouse gases out of the atmosphere (no tractor driving), fertilize the land by pooping and peeing, which in turns keeps greenhouse gases out of the atmosphere (no need to mine for and truck fertilizer in). Oh, and we won't have to feed them as much dry hay this winter, leaving more to sell to our neighbors. Brilliant!
Small farms like ours have few advantages over large farms, so it's nice to finally find one. Maybe it'll help a bit with my crankiness! If so, my family will be thanking the cows on a daily basis.
It's been THE rainiest growing season I can ever recall. A wet spring made it difficult to plant the crops. A wet summer meant it was difficult to make hay. And a wet fall has the harvest at a complete standstill.
If you recall, I was a fall-weather-whiner last year as well, with rain delaying harvest, corn moisture levels extremely high, etc. etc. I should have saved my breath, because last year was a walk in the park compared to this year. With the weather forecasted to continue in this wet and cold pattern, I don't foresee getting the corn out of the field until December. Which means we might be fighting snowy field conditions.
I have to admit that being a farmer has made me a little cranky. (My family may argue I've always been cranky--don't listen to them.) But my crankiness really comes out when in company with a person that starts to wax rhapsodic about "farmers (said with a negative tone) who are making money! hand over fist! as they farm fencerow to fencerow! with no consideration of the environment! in pursuit of the almighty dollar!" People eat this line up, man. They are all over it. If you want your own popularity to soar sky-high, try that line out. I guarantee you'll have people murmuring in agreement, possibly a small applause, and definitely an increase in groupies. (Hey, everyone needs a few groupies.)
What these people don't realize is that our livelihoods are mostly out of our control. Grain prices soared last year to record levels. So did trucking fees, basis levels (what elevators charge for handling our grain), fertilizer and input costs, diesel prices, drying charges, etc. Don't blame a farmer for trying to squeeze a few hundred extra bushels out of his or her land, is what I'm trying to say here. The survival of their farm depends upon it.
This year is even tougher. Grain prices have come down a bit, but we were forced to pay for much of the aforementioned input fees during last year's highs. Add to that our wet year, and we're talking near disaster.
Wet grain means thousands, yes thousands, of dollars in drying charges. Wet grain also means that even if you're able to harvest your crops, the grain elevators won't take them because the moisture counts are too high. What does one do with thousands of bushels of grain and nowhere to go? Wet fields increase the likelihood of soil compaction at harvest, which causes a myriad of problems in future years. And wet weather means low quality hay and fewer cuttings (read lost income).
While we're on the subject of hay, I have to point out one distinct advantage Irish Grove has over other farms: we have livestock. Most people, including us, have given up on their 4th cutting of hay. The alfalfa and grass hay fields sit there, unharvested, taunting us with the lost opportunity and lost income. Except, wait! We have cows. And hay fields with fences.
Cattle prices are too low to make sense for most smaller farms, so cows are usually relegated to large feedlots that can take advantage of bulk pricing discounts, etc. etc. Ignoring the drawbacks that come with large feedlots, the results are that farm fences have been torn down. I don't blame anyone for this: fencing is extremely expensive to maintain, not to mention a royal pain in the arse--they easily become overgrown with weeds and brush. (Anyways, one may be able to fit a few more corn rows where that fence used to sit. Don't hate.)
But we graze our cows and fences have gone back up. So while we may not be able to take that 4th cutting of hay, we can run the cattle through the field and they will eat it green instead! After some heavy frosts, the plants don't have the same nutrient availability as they did during the summer months, but it's nutritionally equivalent to dry hay.
So, the cows harvest the hay on their own and save us time and money spent on harvesting a hay crop. They keep greenhouse gases out of the atmosphere (no tractor driving), fertilize the land by pooping and peeing, which in turns keeps greenhouse gases out of the atmosphere (no need to mine for and truck fertilizer in). Oh, and we won't have to feed them as much dry hay this winter, leaving more to sell to our neighbors. Brilliant!
Small farms like ours have few advantages over large farms, so it's nice to finally find one. Maybe it'll help a bit with my crankiness! If so, my family will be thanking the cows on a daily basis.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Found and Lost
We found the cows: four white Charolais steers bedded down in a waterway in the middle of a farmer's beanfield.
The same four white steers that farmer Tom's fieldhand has seen while mowing a waterway. The ones he had called Tom about, the ones Tom had called Stewart about, the ones that Stewart had called Mr. Palmer about, and yes, the ones that had caused the hired hand to be the butt of some good-natured jokes. Those cows.
Turns out the family at that pretty Campbell Road farmstead we had visited 5 hours earlier had known that there were white cattle sightings on their land, but had forgotten about it when they determined Tom's hired hand was a dope.
A lesson for us all: hired hands aren't dopes.
Well, news of finding the lost cattle traveled quickly and by this time we had a small posse of locals rounded up to help us....maybe 10 people or so. We decided to move the cattle back up that long farm lane and divert them into a 5 acre pasture. From there we could get them into a corral, load them up into our trailer, and have them outta there.
The first part of the plan went rather smoothly. It took only 45 minutes or so to get the cattle moving up the lane and into the pasture. Marcel quickly went home to get our trailer, which he backed into position at the end of their corral. We shifted our positions around and had a nice three-point-corral system laid out. Marcel and the other guys would herd the cattle into the corral and Laura would shut the first gate behind them. Then Mary (a neighbor) would push them into a second area of the corral and shut another gate. Monica (Stewart's wife) and I would keep them moving straight up and into the trailer, finishing the show of pure herding talent with a slam of the trailer door.
What a plan! We were so confident of success, even, that we ordered a few pizza's.
The cows, however, had a different plan. They weren't returning to the captive life without a fight and wouldn't go into the corral. After a long and painful hour, we had another stroke of bad luck. One steer broke away from the group and leapt right up and over the pasture fence as if he were an albino deer. *ahem* He ran back down that long lane and returned to the beautiful beanfield with the stream and cottonwood tree. NOoooo!!!
Well, we chased him for a bit but decided to call it a night. We collapsed upon Stewart and Monica's chairs, ate some pizza, drank some beer, and made friends with our neighbors on Campbell Road.
To be continued........
And I promise the next time will be the last. This suffering must end soon.
The same four white steers that farmer Tom's fieldhand has seen while mowing a waterway. The ones he had called Tom about, the ones Tom had called Stewart about, the ones that Stewart had called Mr. Palmer about, and yes, the ones that had caused the hired hand to be the butt of some good-natured jokes. Those cows.
Turns out the family at that pretty Campbell Road farmstead we had visited 5 hours earlier had known that there were white cattle sightings on their land, but had forgotten about it when they determined Tom's hired hand was a dope.
A lesson for us all: hired hands aren't dopes.
Well, news of finding the lost cattle traveled quickly and by this time we had a small posse of locals rounded up to help us....maybe 10 people or so. We decided to move the cattle back up that long farm lane and divert them into a 5 acre pasture. From there we could get them into a corral, load them up into our trailer, and have them outta there.
The first part of the plan went rather smoothly. It took only 45 minutes or so to get the cattle moving up the lane and into the pasture. Marcel quickly went home to get our trailer, which he backed into position at the end of their corral. We shifted our positions around and had a nice three-point-corral system laid out. Marcel and the other guys would herd the cattle into the corral and Laura would shut the first gate behind them. Then Mary (a neighbor) would push them into a second area of the corral and shut another gate. Monica (Stewart's wife) and I would keep them moving straight up and into the trailer, finishing the show of pure herding talent with a slam of the trailer door.
What a plan! We were so confident of success, even, that we ordered a few pizza's.
The cows, however, had a different plan. They weren't returning to the captive life without a fight and wouldn't go into the corral. After a long and painful hour, we had another stroke of bad luck. One steer broke away from the group and leapt right up and over the pasture fence as if he were an albino deer. *ahem* He ran back down that long lane and returned to the beautiful beanfield with the stream and cottonwood tree. NOoooo!!!
Well, we chased him for a bit but decided to call it a night. We collapsed upon Stewart and Monica's chairs, ate some pizza, drank some beer, and made friends with our neighbors on Campbell Road.
To be continued........
And I promise the next time will be the last. This suffering must end soon.
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