Living in the moment...a bunch of bullshit

I am living in the moment. It is the "in" thing to say if you are a new age, organic, homesteadie, semi spiritual person. As if some how we have successfully high jacked cultural buddhism for a long enough period of time, that we now get to claim that phrase as our own.
Bullshit. That phrase is for lost people. People raising kids and farming we know dam straight that there are only two moments to live in. It is impossible to live in any other moment. The two moments are: 1.) my kiddo needs me right now, and 2.) I don't need you right now but I will shortly. That is it.
As for the farm there are also two moments 1.) I need to work, and 2.) I need to rest.  Thats it. It is the construct for which our life is framed, without any more searching or heady self reflection. The process for accepting this is your life is short, deliberate,  and above all necessary.
That is the news from the Symphony, where all the notes are harmonies, the fiddles are tuned and the fingers are calloused.

We bought the farm...and it is still sinking in

It has been a long struggle to get where we are. Much like climbing mountains, and focusing on each and every step. Applying more focus, effort, and concentration when the steps are agonizing, painful and defeating.  Keeping your head straight when all you want to do is give up because it is never going to happen.
And like climbing mountains, when you start to reach the peak, the world has dropped away from you, your goal in sight, and the struggle melts away into an elated feeling of no longer craving a summit. Whilst standing on the summit, there is a balance of believing there is nothing left to achieve, and appreciating where you are.
     We bought the farm. The long journey of working for other farmers, leasing head aches, praying on your knees for god to give you strength to get up and keep doing what you are doing; that is over. A like reaching the summit, achieving that goal there is a balance appreciating what you have accomplished, and setting another goal. To keep going.
     We bought the farm. We can plant anywhere we want, build buildings, paint walls, tear out lights, put up new ones. In all honesty the goal we have reached is demanding us to make new goals, steps and accomplishments. In mountaineering there is a concept of a false peak. You see what appears to the precipice of accomplishment, and when you reach it, you can see clearly how far you actually have to go. It can be the most deflating experience. Buying the farm may be our false peak. Our true peak is five, ten, twenty years down the road. What a magnificent sight it will be.

What I hope farming has taught me about having kids.

Meg is pregnant. Which means in popular terms that I am pregnant too. The catch phrase is "we are pregnant" We use it all the time. And people give us their unsolicited  advice as to "How it its going to be."  We generally keep our mouth shut and accept the fact that humans want to help each other but have a generally misguided way of doing so.

In my head as a farmer I often think "how it has been". I hope that some of the spiritual, mental, and emotional seasoning from farming,  will carry over and cushion the landing of having a baby in our arms in May. I am writing this with a good chance that I will re read this post, and look back and laugh! I guess anyway you cut it, it makes for good reading.

So here we go, What I hope farming has taught me

1.) It is twenty four hours a day 7 days a week, 365 days a year, strong, weak happy or sad, sick or healthy- you will do it until the day you die. There is no day off, there are hardly any special days, it is just the way it is. It took forever to accept this one and make peace with it.

2.) Never challenge God to a duel. I did that once- screaming at the sky in the middle of the night in rage " Bring it on". God can bring it like you would not believe, and he never gets tired. God brought it for 10 years straight. God dropped my on my knees praying Hail Mary's and I didn't know I was Catholic.

3.) Do the work cheerfully when you can. It is always there, it will always need to be done, you are the chosen person to do it. There will be grumpy days.

4.) Moments in Heaven are usually juxtaposed with moments in Hell. The minuet you watch a magical sunset will be the same night you clean diarrhea out of your own bed.

5.) Plan. Only because you know all too well they will change. Shit will only go down on the days you have to be somewhere.

6.) "Some days you will run the farm, and some days the farm will run you." Insert child in place of farm to make this lesson carry over.

7.) "If I could farm half as well as I know how, I will be one hell of a farmer." Insert parent in the place of farmer to make this lesson carry over.

8.) Never take a pregnant cat in a Cattle deal, where a calf has to ride home in the cab of the truck. I don't know what that has to do with parenting it just seems like good advice from experience.

9.) If you let the shit pile up, you will be working your ass off when you want to be out in the sun. Piled up shit is smelly, its hard to shovel, and you curse yourself every time you let it pile up, saying to yourself "you know better!" Bottom line?  You will have to shovel the shit, today tomorrow or the next day. It really doesn't matter. It will be the same job, on any of those days,  it will just be what you chose it to be.

10) Rest on Sundays. Work with your partner.  Give each other  time off . Graciously take what your partner has given you. Eat. Sleep when you can. 3:30am is a fucked up time of day. Coffee makes it better. Love will get you up every morning. Love is the only thing strong enough to keep you going.

-From Popa Falby to Baby Falby

Headed Towards Solstice

Its dark at 7:00 am. Thinking back in the near past of summer, I remember that by this time I had gone for a swim, put the cows in the barn, walked through the garden, weeded, and made my second cup of coffee.
This time the winter, we walk the 4ft to the wood shed, make up the fire, and manage to get the coffee made. Period.
At this time of year, we trudge towards that mark that is the Solstice. The 21st of December. The point in the year when we finish our trip into the darkness, and begin to walk outwards towards the growing season. Each year, we are convinced we can see the change in the light on January 3rd. When we have officially gained no more than a minuet and a half of daylight. But after 7 am darkness for weeks on end, we are sure we can see it. Placebo effect. Probably.

At the end of December we can digest the fact that we have finished 30 of the 60 coldest days of the year. We start to form an opinion about the winter. We have gathered 30 percent of our experiential evidence with which to pass judgment on the winter of 2012 -2013. We start to formulate the vocabulary to talk about the winter. Was it Icy? Cold? Harsh? Easy? Hard? Mild?

The Steel gray light of a weak sun starts to fill in the tree line on the ridge, and makes it bearable to go out and start the chores. The cows have been in the barn for the night, as they are for every night until March or April. The time when life starts earlier and brighter each day, with the walks on the land, the starts to smell of life again.

Hello Sandy. She hit our mountain side last night. All the cows were tucked in the barn with plenty of hay and bedding. Our cows Sally and Grace just made it home from summer camp. They spent the summer grazing over at our friends farm who has more pasture than she can shake a stick at! The cow population on the mountain side dropped to four this past summer. Two milkers. Two calves So Sally and Grace stuffed their faces for five months, arrived home last week, and have big round bellies to prove it.

      Shortly after arriving home, Grace had her baby. We found her at dusk, while bringing a bale out to the cows. I scooped babe up, and muma followed me to the barn, where I tucked the two of them in for the night. Graces milk is just clearing up from colostrum, and is ready to drink.  The challenges of farming remain the same as always. Heading out to work when its dark, being grumpy about this or that. These things don't change. What does change is the seasoning of attitudes you bring to the bumps, scratches, and itches that decorate farming life. What changes, is how you let yourself experience these part of owning a few cows, making milk for a few neighbors, and putting food derived from your own labor on a table for me and my wife..... did I mention I got married this summer? It was awesome.

Calving Season 2012

Silvi!

Meet the newest addition to Symphony Farm -- Silvi!  Siobhan freshened on May 21st. We were struggling on an "S" girl name -- as we like to keep the first letters the same as their mamas to help track lineage.  Because we both teach in schools and have had our share of students that are royal pains in the asses, that eliminates a bunch of names from the pool. Jinxing our cows would not be cool.   And since we plan on having our own family, we can't use up the good "S" names on the bovines. So...we turned to our dear ones near and far on Facebook.  Unfortunately, most folks completely skipped the "S" name request and asked that we name them after themselves.  Jonathan was pushing hard for "Sorcha," Gaelic for freedom and light and I was routing for good ol' Sinead. Both were denied by the other.  Four days later, Jonny came in and said, "I gave Silvi her two bottles." What a perfect name.

Mama Siobhan and Silvi

As I write this, we are turning to you, our readers, for "C" names, as Camille has (by the sounds of it) given birth to her first calf.   We're off to see if we have a bull or heifer calf.

Thanks to Siobhan (and Camille) the milk is aflowin' and ready to be picked up.  Give a ring to the farm if you are interested - 802-883-2269. Peace.

Late March

March came in like a lion smearing snow everywhere, and then folded like a creature with no spine, into a summer tease, which was revoked from us like an angry parent taking the sweetest candy away from their child.
In the middle of this roller coaster which we call New England weather, I try to stay focused. Seeds need to be started. One step. Watch them to be sure they germinate. Two steps. Get the cows sleeping outside of the barn. Quit doing so many barn chores. Three steps.
The strides lengthen: adding compost to the garden, digging a new bed design, thinking about flowers, transplanting lilac, and frost seeding new pasture during prime conditions.
Life by the seasons can both slow time and accelerate time. The beauty of cows is they are a like a the steady consistent beat of a bass drum. Keeping time, even though we humans experience time faster on some days and slower on others.
Thats the news from the symphony were we are adding notes to the composition as the weather gets warmer

Ramona

Ramona hails from the Charlie Carrier farm in Williamstown, VT She is part Ayshire and part Jersey. Her grandmother is named Red. Charlie isn't into raising half breeds, so I took this little bugger home in the trunk of Corrolla, and plopped her down on a fresh bed of hay. Fed her a bottle of milk, and put her to bed. She will raise up to be a fine family cow for some one who wants to hand milk, or do a little raw milk. For now, it is just a good feeling to divert a small critter from the production line of  dairy to the artisian line of small farm land stewards, and crafted care. It is very interesting the difference between going to work milking cows for a pay check, and coming home to cows that don't make much money at all, but give us a sense of life and purpose on the planet. A truth, that our food we eat is crafted by our own hands, and the footprint of the food is only 50 yds from the house. That the soil, air and water are positively impacted by the bites we take in our mouth. No pay check, or gross profit analysis can take truth from the physical evidence of your place on earth.

Warning Shots

Its the time of year that mother nature fires warning shots across the bow of your tranquil farm skiff. She tests you for battle with winter. Usually during the first warning shot we run around frustrated and kicking ourselves for not having certain projects done, and cursing when something freezes, doesn't work, or that you ate sh#t while walking to your car. You curse when your feet are cold, and your boots are wet, or that your clothing is sub par, or your barn is not ready for your animals. Mother nature has a tendency to back off after the first warning shot. Which leaves us hustling around in better weather trying to get things in order. Buy boots, stack hay, insulate milk house, cut and stack wood, buy extra wood, get new socks, switch fencing, and re locate chickens and the bull calves. By the second warning shot, you feel a bit better, and by the third it could be winter.
Snap shots run though my head of horrific winters, and not so bad winters, some that were memorable, and some that sucked. As I use my mental farm check list of lessons learned to access our preparedness for the coming winter, I come up with a favorable two thumbs up. The wood is in the shed, the barn is stuffed with hay, functional boots on our feet, a freezer full of beef, a basement with barrels of kraut and kim chi, and an easy way to feed and keep our animals clean. However, on the list of lessons learned is this one: you are never totally ready, and it may suck like it or not. There is no getting around that one, except with a resignation letter to the small farm gods, an "I quit" to the current bosses, and a plane ticket with no return to a far away country near the equator.

Autumn Equinox

The Equinox is a the astrological event when we experience the same amount of daylight as nightfall. The pagans celebrated it as a time of balance. Equally as important as the two other astrological events; summer solstice and winter solstice. The summer being the peak amount of daylight experience, and the winter being the deprivation of daylight experience.  As humans we revel in the celebration of highs and lows, and overlook the mundane experience of balance. Balance sits as an ideal embrace by fringe spiritual pedagogues, and the new age aimless. Balance and harmony get used as buzz words that seem nice like flowers in the spring, but rarely do we take seed, and develop some sort of consumable, sustainable, nurturing food from a garden of existence.

Ironically during the Autumn we in the North East, experience a visual display by the deciduous forest unparallelled by any arbor event on the planet. The colors of the leaves changing have been described as natures orgasm prior to falling into a deep sleep through the winter night. We experience a peak of color during an astrological time of balance. On the farm we search for comfort in the fact that the barn is full of hay, and the woodshed ends up pack full of fire wood. A promise that this winter during the snow and cold we won't have to venture far to feel warm, feed ourselves and our animals. A feat each farmer strives for every year.

Open Farm Day at Symphony Farm

In July we had a house/farmwarming gathering.  Thank you to all who made the day special...and a huge thanks to farm photographer, Kat!

Baby Stewie

w

The Labyrinth Garden

The farmers

Johnny & Glenn

Levirgne & Shirley in action!!

Kat and Nimi

Bitsy & Nimi

Bits, Nimi, Kat

Sully love the camera

Ellia, Mathilda, Hanna, Eric, Malia & Zane

Eric, Kat, Jonathan, Leelee and Sully

Ma' boys

Mike and Ella

Kitchen craziness with Meg and Hanna.  Note the farm warming signature drink in the blender - watermelon mojitos!!

My newest favorite summer brew.  Beet beer.  Does it get any better?

Sweden and Holland represent!

Summer

It is summer. The part of the year we all wait for and find that it goes too quickly. The snows of last winter disappear with our own version of seasonal amnesia. The garden has grown into its teenage phase. Large, lanky, a little uncoordinated, but filled with energy. A critical time for us to parent the garden, or to let it go out on its own and accept it "as is".

The cows have calved, and we are milking in a new barn.(Post move) We enjoy our hot water with a groovy on demand hot water heater, and a milk house that has a view of the farm.

Scything has come into our lives as a remedy to lack of pasture, and apprehensive land owners who have a bad taste in their mouths left from irresponsible grazers. We apply the scythe voiding our lives from fossil fuel in the summer months. We apply the scythe to build trust with our neighboring land owners in hope that we can show them that grazing can be done in a neat, clean, and enhancing way. The photo below is a hand rolled bale stuffed into the newly transformed "farm car" we call the 'Rolla.

Breads rising

We are part of the Barre City Farmers market again this year.  Despite the damn near 9 hours it takes to prep the greens and veggies, bake the breads and pretzels, make the pesto...we truly enjoy connecting with our community and feel proud of the Symphony Farm spread.  It's summer -- time of abundance and plenty of vodka tonics (with extra lime, of course).  Cheers!

Drying Off and Moving up the road

Dearest all milk customers, friends, family, and supporters,

Little red house and garage

Meg and I are drying the cows off on the 1st of April. This is one of those things we have to do. The cows need a chance to recharge, rest up, and work a bit less. Hmmm sounds like the farmers need this shot of R&R as well! They mend their udders, put on some body fat, and grow a calf in their uterus. The sixty to sixty days off helps ensure a healthy delivery of the calf, and a healthy lactation for the next year. So there you have it!

view of the white mountains

post and beam

Also we are moving. These rumors have been flying. They are true. We did not have this planned at all, but it is just the cards we have been dealt and so we are rolling with it. We have a bunch of work to do, but believe this move is leading us in a positive direction. We look forward to a better barn, cheeper rent, a three year lease deal, and an easier house to heat. Other positives are the amazing views of the white mountains, and a pond to take a dip in. Our new landlord has also built a sauna just out the back of the house, and is excited about developing a grazing landscape.

The Barn

Sauna

We will notify all when we are going to have our grand re-opeing/open house. We think this will be some time in early July. Until then we can only take it one day at a time and do the work we have to do.  So the parting quote is one Meg and I hope to live by. "First do the work that is necessary, then do what is possible, and before you know it you have achieve the impossible."

Old Friends are Like Onions

Old friends are like onions. Many of us have cut open onions and marveled at the layers. The thin skin. Its not really possible to have thick skin with old friends, that is something we try to pretend to have with the people we recently meet.  Sometimes a green shoot is forming in the middle starting to re grow, or keep growing. 
Old friends are like the land stewards who grow onions. Old friends know that an onion starts as a tiny seed, and shoots up green. They understand "you" as a being, that started growing and adding layers to yourself. They understand having the green parts of  your life clipped off, and used periodically through out your growing season as sustenance.
The best part of old friends is that they are able to see all the layers that have grown on the outside, but they know what the core of "you" looks like. Old friend speak to the part of you that is beyond all the layers. They know that skin is really thin.
Onions add flavor to everything. They are spicy and tangy in salad. When the winter is over and the first salads come out of the garden,  onions are chopped up raw, often resulting in tears. The onion salad refreshes weariness, opens your eyes, invigorates, and charges the spirit. Like running into old friends on the street or in your home town.
Onions make the base for slow cooked stew. Slow cooking takes time, drawing the subtle juices out of the meat, and veggies. The flavor is one that whole is greater than the sum of its parts, like sound harmonics of different frequencies vibrating, to give us sweet music and symphony. The carrots, potatoes, and onions each play their part to perfection with old friend onion holding down the root note.
Onions speak for them selves. And the words we use for old friends fall short because we cant really explain them. They speak for themselves.

Winter State of the Farm Address

"The summer is worth every bad day in the winter." We quote ourselves all the time this time of year. We remind ourselves what is coming. After the new year I end up certain that the afternoons are lighter. I try to enjoy our extra two minutes of daylight and convince myself its actually more than two extra minuets of our beloved sun.

 We have too many animals. That is becoming painfully evident. We are wrestling ourselves into different situations to deal with this. Some situations are more expensive than others, and some more humane that others. On the bad days I want to call up the live stock dealers and put all excess animals on the way to the auction. On the good days I think about allotting certain cows a probation period and making gourmet food out of other aging cows.  This wrestling leaves us indecisive. At some point action just needs to me taken. No pun intended; "pull the trigger."

The chickens are sure that it is summer year round in the hoop house. It kind of is. We turn the lights on in the coop early, and leave them on until our bed time in the evening. Much like the photo periods of June and July. They are laying eggs for us! On Christmas Eve, when my loving partner Meg headed south to Braintree for the night, I decided that drinking a few Jameson's for the afternoon was a good idea. Given that the day was sunny, I was buzzed up.....I used the hoop house as a seasonal extension and do some mid winter clothing optional sunbathing. MERRY CHRISTMAS HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The winter wardrobe requirements is the driving force behind the clothing optional dress code that is adopted in the summer. For five months getting ready to do just the chores involves a regiment that is like putting on a suit of armor. 1.) wake up: be sure to put socks on your feet to guard against the freezing floor, which will crucify your feet. 2.) Dawn layer number one: long underwear, fluff your leg hair that may be matted from the entire day in long underwear the day prior. It will start to hurt if you opt not to fluff  3.) If you are having coffee before chores a bathrobe is a good idea. Often time I choose my primary layer for coffee. Long jonhs and a full length cotton shirt are common. On the best day the Under Armor has had the horrific smell of arm pit and cow barn/chicken poo smell washed from it, and it is dry and able to be worn for at least three days straight before it is eliminated from the options due to smell factors.  And then time to get serious. 4.) The Secondary Main Layer. Choose wisely. Wool is good, fleece is another option, quilted flannel shirt? All of these options require fore thought into the ultimate shell layer.  If you are shooting for bib overalls, the hoodie is yet another option that comes into play, or you could go wool. It all depends on the day. If it is a hayday, wool bites because the hay chaff sticks to wool and then gets tracked back into the house. However, if it is freezing and you are opting for the full insulated coveralls as the ultimate outer shell, long johns and wool is a brilliant option because the hay slides off of the canvas outer layer.

5.) After the shell layer and the main layer; boots. Leather or rubber? Did you dry the boots last night? Are your sock damp? Rubber is usually the common choice. Hopefully you have dried them out the night before, because if you didn't,  a wrestling match to get them on your feet is on for round one.  Be sure to tuck your  pant cuffs into the boots, otherwise they will end up coated in manure. Pull those boot laces tight because hay chaff will get in your boots, and it will pour out onto the floor.

6.) You're not done yet; Hat. Wool or fleece? Depends on the hay situation. And how cold it actually is. Hay seems to be the constant variable that leads you to manipulate your wardrobe. The deal with hats is that when your head sweats from working, wool will get itchy. Adding hay to the equation is the double deadly threat. Fleece hats and hay are not bad, but you never can avoid hay sticking to your hat. It's like vel-kro.<(not in the spell check dictionary)
7.) Gloves: there are three options depending on the day. The synthetic ski type gloves. They work good for the super cold days, and if there are no dry gloves available they are the choicest. Usually Meg lays claim to the ski gloves. That leaves the fleece gloves as next option. Long as its not windy they are OK. If they are wet and you didn't dry them, you can dry them out on the kerosene heater in the milk house. If the wind blows, they do nothing for you. The last option is the former ever so stylish, ever so thin,  knit purple ladies glove. They are not warm, the wind goes right through them - However, they offer the best fine motor skill mobility without taking a glove off. They can be essential if you are doing carpentry, mechanical work, or some other project that demands fine motor capacity.

After five months, 150 days, three hundred sock changes, 600 changes of coveralls, 300 wet gloves, 600 oz. of hay chaff spilling on the floor; Is it any wonder when spring comes, and the temperature rises above 60 degrees, putting on a pair of garden clogs, a cowboy hat and your birthday suit is an act of freedom from winter clothing bondage?

The Work Party

Between running around New England attending weddings, working full time, and the seasonal work piling up, Meg and I found ourselves trying to keep our heads above the workload water level. The tried and true Symphony cure for drowning in your own work load is to throw a work party. Sometimes the internet works like a wand from Harry Potter, a few post here and there and the event is launched. Thanks Facebook, thanks Email.
Mother nature graced us with sun and good friends showing up around noon. We learned that: Kids are good at harvesting. No carrot or daikon went un-dug. Dogs love you up even while you work. Beer makes work easier. Burgers taste good after hauling compost, tiling up weeds, and mulching walkways.
All said and done: Put up eighty pounds of purple-nurpple kim chi( purple cabbage, carrots, daikons, red onions), turned over 400 feet of garden space, hauled a 1/2 ton of compost, failed at fixing a shovel, pulled all hoses, laughed, 20 people came together and connected over the spirit of stewardship.
The taste of community savored sweetly as the sun went down. It was just a bit too cold to flop over in a hammock and let out a breath of accomplishment, but sun pouring on a couch worked as a solid substitute. The day is a thumbnail sketch of how food, farming and families will be. It stands one of our favorite sayings upright: "Farming; its not poverty, its a party"

We have put away enough gratitude for the winter, and hope to provide the taste of some of it this winter to all that showed up and helped. We are counting down the weeks to the winter solstice, and dreaming to the sweet smells of fermenting kim chi of next years growing season.

Having Family at the Farm

Uncle Joe and Aunt Rosemary visited for the night. How wonderful to have them embrace the farm with open arms. Dinner plans were quickly abandoned for bliss on the front porch. Sun. Music. Drink. And thawed burger. To top things off, our friend Glen stopped by for some drinks and food. Bed time called and the Red Sox game escorted us to bed.  Joe and Rosemary awoke and came to milking. The appreciation of horses carried over enough to enjoy the cows. They were treated to a feeding fest on a new salt block.

Sunday wouldn't be complete with out going out to breakfast. Dixie's II in Chelsea kicked their cooking up a notch. Our sleep bank is all filled up and ready for the week. Thanks Joe and Rosemary.

Calves of 2010

Captain Sigg and Maggie enthralled by something...probably food!

I know this post is long overdue...but let me tell you, it has been quite a busy summer!  The birth of 5 new calves was pretty much the easiest part, and took little to no work from us.  As Jonathan says, "prenatal care is the most important thing we can do, as the mama usually takes care of the rest herself."

The Barre Farmers market has been wonderful to be part of on Wednesdays, and has certainly solidified my love for baking breads, pickling, and processing pestos.  The two of us have really done a 180* in terms of schedules.  Here I am doing morning chores, after Jonathan finishes milking, puttering around finding this and that to keep me occupied while he heads off to Barre City School to teach kiddos how to garden, harvest and cook up some sweet meals.  It's these slow mornings, where a third cup of coffee is a must, some yoga outside on the porch is an option and eating breakfast doesn't really have to happen until 11, that I will miss dearly once "back to school" graces us.

Camille

Here are some photos of our newest additions to the family.  We have successfully halter-trained Captain Sigg and are in the process of working with Greta.  Our most recent calf, Camille is enjoying a few weeks with mama Cafe in the pasture.  

L-->R Maggie, Camille, Gretta, Captain Sigg

The Admiral and Camille

A bull calf with a lot of love to give!