Fernwood Farm

Last week Stephen and I took the plunge, it’s something we’ve been talking about doing for a really long time, something that would cement our nearly 18 year long relationship and make it, well, official.

That’s right, happily and privately, we registered ourselves as an official farm business.  Wait, what did you think I was going to say?

Yes we are now conjoined forever and as one in the form of Fernwood Farm, so named for the ferns that grow in our forest every spring.  We are committed to producing healthy food for ourselves and for our community, giving people access to pasture raised meat and eggs as well as organically raised veggies, honey and eventually other goodies too.  It’s exciting stuff!

We even have a website now, which makes us doubly official, and we will be adding products and other farm info on it as time goes along.  Oh, we have so many ideas and so many things we’d like to do!  Our long term plans include creating an orchard, farming mushrooms, adding varied livestock onto our pastures, creating forest gardens and wildlife habitats, cultivating our bees and the wild bee populations, supporting rare and heritage breeds…I could go on (and on) but I won’t.

In order to make it easier for people to find out info about the farm, we’ve merged my blog with the farm website, it’s only a little change but if you want to find me you’ll need to go here from now on.  My blog has been shipped over so I’m not starting from scratch, just adding a little change to my address, I hope you’ll still come and visit me!

This is the beginning of a really exciting new chapter for us, something we’ve been dreaming of for a really, really long time.  It’s going to be a lot of work, a lot of learning and a lot of ups and downs, and hopefully ups again!  I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

See you at the farm!

Pathways

A thaw has arrived, bringing with it the illusion of spring and melting.  The crunchy, powdered flakes of snow have become slick, slippery ice that tricks our feet and trips us as we tumble into the warming sun.

We turn our faces to the beaming light, rejoicing in the lack of pinching and biting in the winter air.  But the ice beneath makes everything seem a little treacherous, a little unsure.

As I watched the chickens tuck into their treats of carrots and apple mush, I tore apart a hay bale to cover the slippery, shining pathways that our feet have made through the snow.  From our house to theirs we trudge each day, stamping down the fluffy coating that rain and sun have made hard and smooth.  The hay tears apart easily, releasing its bound shape and settling on the white ground, enhancing the illusion that spring has arrived.

The brown and green path cuts through the endless white and blue of snow and winter shadow.  It feels as though it sprung up from beneath, like a goddess of spring walked that way and brought life back to the earth with her magical toes.  The robust scent of summer blows up from the torn bale, the grass releasing its dusty fragrance and its memories.  I am transported to the field where it was cut, the sunset of that day and the gentle warmth of a dying summer evening.

The chickens watch my work with more than usual disapproval.  Their judgmental gaze amuses me as I move carefully around, trying to avoid the trap of becoming over confident and slipping.  I am not so young that I enjoy the sensation of suspension and the crash down, I’m fearful of it and so I go gently.  They look around the edge of their canopy and regard me with dinosaur eyes; the eyes of creatures far removed yet comfortingly domestic.

I walk to the house with surer footing, I turn back and watch the chickens investigate the path.  Like me they are freer outside, the warming sun inviting them to venture out beyond the confines of their shelter.  They walk along the path a little, enjoying the lack of icy pinch on their feet, they fluff and cluck their approval.  I laugh and feel pleased with myself, my plan has come to fruition and surprised them out of their grim, old lady frame of mind.

Suddenly the longing for spring is overwhelming in me, I feel it in my stomach and ache for the green that is momentarily resurrected in the cast down hay.  The longing hits my chest, contracting my heart with the desire to run my hand across soft green blades, to be assured the miracle will return this year as it has every other year.

I cast off the stillness and go about my work, throwing ice and water away on a shovel, listening to the patter of the dripping water returning to the ground.  But the longing for spring remains, it is always there a little.

Meat – A Backstory

I think if I asked most people where their meat comes from they’d say ‘the supermarket’.  That’s fair enough and when people lead such busy lives with so many demands on them, sourcing food any other way can feel like a huge hurdle.  But raising our own meat has driven home something that we already ‘knew’ but didn’t know, deep down.  Our meat comes from a living animal.

When we eat that meat we eat what has been a living being, a creature who walked the earth.  For some that realisation leads to a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle, for others it means sourcing ethically raised meat from their local area; for us it meant creating a farm and raising animals to feed ourselves and others.

These days when I cook or preserve our meat I’m aware of a very different feeling within myself.  I no longer see this simply as ‘food’, I approach it with a much greater sense of reverence and thrift.  When I rub in the curing mix that turns our pork magically into bacon I feel almost meditative.  I’m reminded of the animals we cared for and loved over the spring and summer months, I look forward to raising pigs again and bask in the memories of green pastures and hot summer days.

When I cook a chicken I am committed to using the animal fully, wasting as little as is possible.  If we roast the bird (giving us 2 days of meat for 4 people) we then strip the darker meat and use it for a stew or a stir fry/curry (another 2/3 meals for adults or more for children).  Then I use the carcass to make a stock, this is something of a 2-3 day event as I aim to draw as much goodness out of the bones as possible making the broth deep in nourishment.

When the stock is suitably thick and rich I often then cook it down again to make a thick jelly that can be used as a concentrate and has the added advantage of taking up less space in the fridge!  This can be added to green beans, rice, stews, soups, gravy…anywhere that you’d use a stock cube really.  Then the bones are stripped again (including bits we don’t eat like the neck and wings) and Winnie benefits from a good dose of meat and bone in her diet.

This kind of thrift used to be taken for granted and not just on farms or in rural settings.  All kitchens, big and small, were units of production and economy. What we now throw in our recycling bin would once have been sold to the rag and bone man generating income for the family, nothing would have been wasted.

While I can never lay claim to producing no waste (we still buy things from the store and they come in packages) we have dramatically reduced our food waste since we moved onto the farm.  Our animals take up quite a lot of the slack, with veggies going to the chickens and grateful dogs receiving meat scraps and bones!  But we also endeavour to create a menu that uses all of the meat thriftily and with as much respect as we can give it.

It may seem cruel or heartless to some people that we raise up animals, know and care for them, then send them to slaughter.  And I admit it is not always an easy process, I’ve shed a few tears as we’ve sent animals to be ‘finished’ at the slaughter house.  But the truth is I’d rather have it this way, I’d rather know the life my animals, and my family lead.  I’d rather know where each piece of meat has come from, what’s gone into the processing and know that there has been as little waste as possible, honouring the life that created our food.

Each meal, each piece of an animal that we consume has a life attached to it, has a story.   That’s the bare truth that many ignore or would simply rather not think about. But it is crucial for the health of our food chain, our children and for the animals themselves that we don’t turn a blind eye to the conditions most animals are raised and slaughtered in.  When we make a conscious choice buy as ethically as we can, use the meat as thriftily as we can and treat the meat with the respect and care it deserves we are active participants in making our homes, our diets and our nation’s farms better, healthier and more nourishing than ever before.  That is the story I want to be a part of.

Catching Up

Well it’s been a crazy busy week here, it feels like all we’ve done is dash from one appointment to another.  Dentist, science club, naturopath, and of course the children’s hospital.  A 3 1/2 hour session at the children’s hospital was needed to sort out Neirin’s cast (it might not be a fracture, yay!), which can come off for baths to let him move it and get some mobility back.  I arrived at Wednesday night feeling pretty exhausted and very grateful to have a full day at home to look forward to.  

It’s nice to be out and about but I love the feeling of not having to rush, no shoes and coats to get on, no hustling to the car, no worrying about portable snacks.  Being home today has given me the chance to catch up a bit on regular chores and some processing work that needed attendance.  After about a week in it’s cure our side bacon is looking rather fabulous, it has firmed up and has made that magical transition from pork to bacon.   I’m looking forward to adding it to all sorts of foods and of course eating it as is.  

After curing I soaked the bacon overnight to get out some of the salty water, it is sitting on the sunny counter drying out a bit before I bag it and freeze it.  We have some ideas about a mini smoker this winter but until then the freezer it is.  Next to it on the counter is one of our lovely chickens.  The last batch went to slaughter last week, filling our freezer with yet more goodness.  I’m cooking one up for our dinner, smeared in the rendered lard from our own pigs and just a nice dash of  seasoning.  It really needs nothing else.  

 

Sorry if that is a bit of a raw meat overload for anyone, I know that’s not to everyone’s taste!  But honestly, I don’t see it like that.  To me this is the bounty of a year of hard work (and a decade of dreaming, planning, reading and searching), it represents security, warmth, nourishment and independence.  To know that we have a year’s worth of meat in our freezer and that it all came from right here on our farm gives me a feeling of such accomplishment I really can’t help bragging.  

There have been many times when I’ve doubted our course, I’ve wondered if it is just too hard, too lonely, too exhausting.  I’ve wondered if we should have opted for an easier existence where we had leisure time each weekend to do just as we wished.  But those moments are far out balanced by the ones of joy and pride.  When I can roast a chicken we raised on our own pasture, when I can have the fun of curing our own bacon and the satisfaction of eating a truly home made meal, why would I want to do anything else?

 

It may seem terribly priggish of me to even question my good fortune, but I lay no claim to an excess of virtue or any great spiritual purity.  When it is too hot or too cold or too lonely, I feel grouchy and sorry for myself.  But then I have those moments of boxing up the eggs we sell, washing them carefully and nestling them in their cardboard crowns.  I have a Saturday afternoon shredding cabbage for our very first batch of Sauerkraut, washing, cutting, salting and jarring up; pushing the jewelled shreds into the glass so that it looks like a little garden all smooshed up.  

On days like this, catching up with the loveliness of just being at home, I know I would never trade this life.  I am grateful for a day with no schedule but the one we set ourselves, for the abundance of food, for the chance to just be here.  

Being: Still

I’m sharing another guest post over at Rhythm of the Home today, pop over if you have a moment!

 

Have a beautiful day.

Monday Morning

 

 

 

Wishing you a beautiful Monday, where ever you are.

Friday Morning

Would you like to take a walk with me?  There’s some chores to do but we won’t notice that, it’s such a beautiful day.

After checking on the animals (feeding, watering, cuddling) it’s time for a little walk around, taking in the view.  Everything is bathed in red gold light, the air is fresh but not cold.  The perfect day for a wander before breakfast.

The bees are being wrapped up for the cold season, despite the warm days we are still having.  We know the cold weather is coming so we bask in every mild day we get.  It is the golden season and we are loving it.  Now our walk is done we can head in for a cup of tea before the busy day begins; looking out of the windows at the evolving day, knowing there is nowhere better to be.

Wood Fired

Just shy of two weeks ago we had a very special delivery.  It was large, it came on the back of a truck and it’s going to keep us cosy and warm for a very long time.

On an appropriately cold and frosty morning the wood arrived, bathed in the glow of autumnal morning light.  Large logs (or more accurately small trees) were piled up in less time than it takes to brew tea; there they are in all their glory.

This weekend Stephen made a start on chainsawing and splitting the wood, with the aid of his birthday chainsaw and a splitter loaned to us by a lovely neighbour.  The work was pleasant in the afternoon sunshine and I even had a try with the splitter which was nearly as much fun as a kitchenaid appliance with the added bonus of firewood at the end instead of, you know, cake.

But why all the wood?  I hear you question curiously.  Well, as well as keeping the house cosy with our wood stove, we are going to add a wood fired water gasification unit to heat radiant floor heating through the deepest parts of winter.  While the stove keeps us very cosy it is a secondary source of heat and doesn’t fully heat upstairs or right through the house on those -40C days we get here in the frozen north.  With the unit we have our eye on we’ll be extremely cosy and warm throughout the snowy season and the wood pile that sits happily next to the hay should keep our house heated for about 3 years.

Yes years.  For half the price of a season of propane we hope to stay cosy and warm with the added advantage of using a renewable resource that exists in abundance here in Canada.  It also exists in abundance on our land, so in the long run we’ll be taking wood from our own woodlands and forests to heat our house with only the cost of our own labour attached to it.  By clearing dead wood from the forest and managing our wood lot we will improve it’s health and support new, healthy growth.  Our current store of wood will last us for a good long while giving us time to collect and season the wood from our own land.

Knowing that we can heat our house from the resources we have right here is an extremely cosy feeling.  The less we have to bring in from the outside world the happier we are, especially when that thing is the economic equivalent of grinding up diamonds and ferraris and shoving them in your boiler. It will be a bit more work, adding wood each day, cleaning out each week, checking creosote levels, wood moisture content, dials and readouts.  But it is the right kind of work, like making bread or growing food, the kind that fills you up and makes you satisfied at the end.

 

It’s been a busy season and I think we are all ready for some restful hours by the fireside.  Though I’m in no rush I admit I’ll welcome quiet afternoons of falling flakes and flickering flames.

Moving Along

Is it me or are the months spinning by?  Already it’s October (my favourite month of the year) but I’m not sure where September went.  Perhaps it’s hiding in the boxes (and boxes) of tomatoes that are waiting to be processed?  Who knows.

 

 

 

Huwyl spent his first night away from home since his brother was born this weekend.  He attended a camp in the woods and came back utterly exhausted.  Monday saw him wake with a temperature and a head cold that’s leaving him feeling a bit tired and in need of TLC.  To add to that Daddy is away so we’re managing the farm by ourselves.  Luckily there is a lot less to do than even a month ago but it’s still enough to keep us busy.

And then there are the tomatoes, we currently have boxes of them in the garage waiting for my attendance.  Stephen stripped the plants in the rain on Sunday, the frosts are now regular at night so we wanted to claim as many as we can.  Yesterday I made 4 quarts of passatta, another 6 quarts that I turned into tomato ketchup and then 5 quarts of crushed tomatoes were canned.  It barely made a dent.

I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that we wont’ get through them all, but we’ll certainly have many happy chickens as they love dining on the extras.  I’m having a morning of just spending time with the boys and tidying round, then this afternoon I’ll be making some green tomato chutney, Stephen’s favourite.  Now I’m off to bring the fire back to life, it is keeping us company as the days turn colder and the damp clings long past the early hours of morning.

October is here!  What will you be doing with it?

Walking Circle

Tuesday dawned bright and crisp, inviting us out to play in the way only an Autumn day can.  Usually we begin our homeschool with a circle, song and a bit of yoga movement.  Instead I decided that we would take our circle outside and make the most of the cold, refreshing air.

 

 

We held hands in the sunshine and sang our morning song, then we took some deep Prana breaths and swung our arms and legs around, our feet becoming soaked with the dew clinging to the grass in shining droplets.  We warmed ourselves with our movements and energized our lungs with the frosty air.  Any pretence at structure was quickly abandoned as we made off into the morning, investigating the changes that Autumn have brought with her.

 

 

 

 

We chatted with our neighbour cows and their guard donkey investigated us, making sure that we were friendly.  Those curious creatures, so much larger than us, with grass hanging from their steadily chewing mouths, held our attention for quite some time.  Then we headed back to the house, our heads clear, our bodies refreshed.

Every day does not start as well as this, with so much to do and errands to run around town these moments of quite wandering feel like a real luxury.  But on those mornings when the stars align and we make it outside, all cosy and ready for the freshness of the day, we all return renewed and happier.  This season really is a blessing.