Sunshine!

So "100 Days in the Garden" only lasted 50, but I think perhaps I'll attempt the other half some time in the future.  After vacation.  Vacation!  Chad and I are going to the South Island next week!  We're going to spend a week on the trail and then another week laying low, doing some sight seeing, and hanging out with some friends.  To add to the excitement, Matt and Kelly are visiting this week, finishing off their trip in New Zealand on Waiheke with us.  They've just finished a tour of the South Island and hearing them talk and seeing pictures is making me even more anxious.  But first it's a week of laying on the beach and vineyard tours (and fishing, of course) with the not so newly wed newlyweds.

The garden changes every day.  Because of the way that I plant (quite scattered and close together) no one seems to think there is much of anything edible in there.  But if you look under here there are cucumbers.  And back here are some ripe turnips, and you can't see them but there are beans behind the raspberries.  And, Chad, how dare you tell me that we don't have any beets in the garden.  There are plenty.  It just requires some Catherine Zeta-Jones 'Entrapment' moves to reach them. 

I wonder what will happen if I ever go back to row cropping?

Thanksgiving at Uma Rapiti

"The wind is in from Africa, last night I couldn't sleep...."

After much debate about whether we should celebrate Thanksgiving on Thursday or Friday (Thursday in the States) we settled on Thursday-mostly so we could rest our aching bodies for a day from the fencing job we're doing.

It's 11am.  The oven fire is going.  The three wwoofers went down to the water to catch fish for dinner.  Chad, not confident in their ability to catch us our main course, has gone into town to buy some variety of poultry.  That leaves me alone to start the breads.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  I've got Joni Mitchell playing on the stereo (a staple in the kitchen from when Matt and I used to cook together in Denver), two loaves rising in the greenhouse, and I'm about to start a third.

"I remember that time you told me-you said 'love is touching souls.'  Surely you touch mine 'cause part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time...."


9pm: Bellies are full of fish, chicken, kumara, veggies, bread and dessert (four of them).  Dishes are washed, garden is watered, and company's gone.  Time to sit around the campfire and digest, listening to guitar and watching the stars. 

TED Talks and 100 Days in the Garden

Last weekend I ventured "into town" (as Waihekians say) to attend TEDx Auckland and came away filled with awe and inspiration.  TED, which stands for Technology, Entertainment, Design, started in 1984 as a platform for sharing and spreading the ideas of the "world's most fascinating thinkers and doers".  Some speakers are world famous, some are well-known in their field, and others have never spoken in public before.  All of the talks are under 20 minutes, are recorded live, and available online.  If you've never watched any TED talks, or if you're in the need of some inspiration, no matter what field you're interested in, check them out at ted.com.  

The TEDx talks in Auckland were all by people either from or living in New Zealand.  There were 19 different speakers or performers, ranging from a documentary filmmaker to a dental surgeon to a physicist to a synchronized swimmer.  The group was incredibly diverse.  A couple of the ideas talked about I had heard of before, others were completely new to me.  Some of the speeches on technology were a bit beyond me, as was the fact that everyone and their brother had their iphone out and was tweeting throughout the entire event.  At one of the intermissions, while discussing the previous talk regarding soundtracks to accompany electronic books, I made the mistake of making the comment that I'd prefer to read a paperback.  I was promptly accused of being a Luddite.  It's true that I felt a bit out place seated between someone taking notes on their ipad and someone tip-tapping away on their macbook while I spent the intermissions knitting socks, but there's something to be said about leaving the house without phone or computer or gps.  It's very freeing.  And I knew that no matter what I wore, nothing in my wardrobe could match the classiness of Aucklanders, so I just wore all black with hopes that even with the stains I'd be classified and dismissed as "one of those creative types." 

Speaking of creative types, one of my favorite talks was by Emma Rogan, a designer who founded New Zealand's 100 Days Project.  She borrowed the idea from a Yale art professor who asked students to create something everyday for 100 days within the parameters of their choosing.  It could be any medium but had to be documented.  Rogan decided to try this out for herself and open up the project to creative and non creative people of all ages who wanted a unique challenge-one that would be both fun and agonizing, but easier if done as a group.  She gave examples of someone who designed a dress every day for 100 days, someone who wrote a haiku about her family, someone who learned a new word.  As she spoke, my mind raced with ideas.  What would I, could I do for 100 days?  Crochet an afghan square, cook a new dish, draw a still life, weave a basket?  On the ferry ride home from Auckland I was thinking about writing up a blog post about the event and the thought occurred to me that I should incorporate my own 100 days project into the blog.  And where do I spend most of my time each day?  In the garden, of course.  There are so many things about the garden that I want to share on this blog but somehow lack the motivation to sit down and write.  So, as a challenge, I am going to start "100 days in the garden."  Everyday I'll post something about the garden, whether it be a picture, an observation, a drawing, or the description of a new plant.  I know it's not going to be easy but I'm going to give it a try.   The link is on the right hand side of this page.   I was going to wait until next Thursday to start it (because every endeavor such as this should begin on a Thursday if it is to have any chance of being completed) but Chad says that this sounds like an excuse to procrastinate so I guess I'll begin today.  If I don't complete it I'm blaming it on the fact that I began on a Saturday.  Who starts a project like this on Saturday?  And a windy Saturday, nonetheless.  A windy, raining sideways, Saturday.  But, really, what have I got to lose? 

Finger-lickin' Good!

Years ago, when I first set foot on an organic veggie farm, I devised a theory that the pitiful income made in this business is completely disproportionate to the extravagant meals available each day to all those who dare enter into it.  Chad and I have tested this theory day in and day out, and we find no fault in it.  Tonight's dinner cemented that theory into fact.  Our bellies have warned us that if we ever trade the amazing food we eat for a higher paying job there will be trouble.

This evening's feast that began with perfectly steamed purple artichokes dipped in garlic butter is only one example of the many dishes people pay high prices for either in the store or a restaurant that we eat regularly.  Lately, asparagus has been growing so fast that it must be picked nearly every other day.  It's so tender and sweet that I can't bare to cook it.  We eat it fresh in salads or straight from the garden.  Today Chad yelled halfway across the farm to me, "I just ate a two-foot piece of asparagus and it was delicious!"  Sugar snap peas are coming in strong, as are the heritage lettuces, Detroit dark red beets, and spicy arugula.  Combine these simple veggies with oysters from the beach or a squash leftover from last fall, some freshly baked bread, and 'voila!' a five star meal.  At least by our standards.  We'll be testing out our theory a french chef who's wwoofing with us next month.  Something tells me he'll be quite happy with how we eat here at Uma Rapiti.

We have significantly lowered our butter intake since wwoofers Christina and Zach left a couple of weeks ago.  Until this meal, that is.  (See bowl of melted butter, left, complete with roasted garlic)

The Chicken Saga and Veggie Planting

chick·en·shit/ˈCHikənˌSHit/

Adjective:	vulgar. Worthless or contemptible (used as a general term of deprecation).
Noun:	vulgar. A worthless or contemptible person.

    I have developed quite an interesting relationship with the chickens we have here on the farm.  They (we) have come a long way since their arrival here the first week of August.  If you hark back to a previous post, they originally came to us on an adventure specifically engineered to acquire said chickens.  We picked them up in a small suburb south of Auckland called Drury.  We were actually assisted by the fine fellows who run this shop in our frustrating quest to locate a camping spot that would allow us to have Betty Blue.  We tried to pick out four birds that you would be able to tell apart on sight since they were all of the same breed.  Brown Shavers.  We lovingly packed them away in a dog crate, covered them with a sheet to keep them calm since they were also riding with the four-legged, furry death machine, and made our way back to the car ferry for their trip to their new home.

    Here we are now two months later and I now have four feathery, bird-brained buddies.  The ladies and I have developed quite a routine and they are loathe to deviate from it.  Every morning I get up and before Lizzy and I eat, or Betty is fed, I'm off to feed and water the chickens.  Then breakfast for Lizzy and I, then the mutt.  Around 9:30am I wander back over to the chicken shack, "Coop de Tille", check for eggs, and let the ladies out for the day.  This in itself is comedy.  The coop is located in our orchard on one side of the farm, and as soon as the chickens see me walking back toward the sleep-out or the garden beds, they make a mad dash to follow.  We're talking sprints assisted by wing flapping!  Hilarity ensues.

    Through-out the day the girls are left to roam where they will.  They seem quite keen to try and assist you with what ever task you are trying to accomplish.be it working in tool shop trying to fabricate something with a squawking bird under your feet, or attempting to plant veggie starts and having the fool birds scratch them right out. (Note: If you are digging in the dirt or moving mulch around, the girls HAVE to be right there scratching right along side you.  No ifs, ands, or buts about it.  Much to Lizzy's, and the veggie starts' chagrin.)  At the end of the evening I usually have to uproot Pirate from her makeshift roost in the woolshed, then you can see me marching across the farm with one chicken under my arm, dutifully being followed by the other three back to the safety and warmth of the coop.  Let me introduce you to the flock...

 "Hen"rietta
The first named bird and the second-most easily recognized chicken.  She has a short-cropped upper beak giving her a severe under-bite look, and is darker in color then the rest.   She is also at the top of the pecking order.  Funny, since she is the smallest of the chickens.

 Pirate
About two weeks ago something happened to her left eye causing it to become discolored and swollen.  We believe she is now blind in it and keeps it closed most of the time.  Hence: Pirate!  She is also our only bird not laying as of yet, and might have a short stay here on the farm.  Neither Lizzy or myself has the heart to dispatch her and we are in discussion as to what to do.

"Chicken" Noodle
Noodle and Henrietta are very seldom seen apart.  She seems to be the most friendly of the girls so far and will follow me all over the place.  Mainly to see what I'm scratching up in the dirt, but she tolerates me playing with her and picking her up all the time.  You can tell her by the single black tail feather she has.

 Charlotte

This lady is the most individually-minded and strong-willed of all the chickens.  Friendly and amiable to humans, tolerant of Betty, but doesn't like to be picked up, pet, or messed with in general.  She is also the most vocal of all the birds, making a wide range of calls and sounds through-out the day.  Also named for my grandma.  I did it out of love!  I swear!

    When I was in Montana, I couldn't stand the chickens on the farm.  There were over 100 of the damnable birds everywhere, in everything, pooping on anything.  The porch, the skidsteer seat, in my shoe.  They were the epitome of my arch-nemesis.  If I could kick one firmly in her feathered backside, I felt just and righteous.  I never wanted a single bird on my future farm.  I have to say, I have changed my tune.  I can't imagine a farm without a couple of these girls running around.  I think all it took was a reduction in numbers and full injection of personality.  The funny bit is that Lizzy's patience with the birds is wearing thin since they get into everything, but she still manages to find compassion for the damn dog.  Myself, give me chickens any day and ship Betty Blue off to the nearest sheep farm. As for the chickenshit, well, we're finding out it's not so worthless or contemptible after all!

Before the "Makeover" and sans fence and grape trellis

Lizzy updating the veggie board

Finished fence, clean beds, chicken helpers, and what's "In Season"

I thought I would also include a little snippet about the veggie beds as well.  Lizzy has been working her rear off in the greenhouse and the upper beds over the past month and it is really paying off!  A few weeks ago we had couple with us from New York Wwoofing and we spent two days going to town weeding, cleaning, and rebuilding the raised beds in the upper garden.  Accompanied by a new fence to keep out the chickens, dog, and rabbits, this has rapidly become the heart of the farm.  Our greenhouse is located here as well and anytime I want to know where my better half is, I don't have far to look.  We are now eating about 2/3 or more of our veggies fresh from the garden.  Click on the picture with the chalkboard for a more detailed view of whats "In Season".  

Here's to your health and till next time!

-Chad

The Many Ways to Cook a Snapper

I buried a fish in the future corn bed today.  I do hope that it's corn that you're supposed to bury a fish with.  If it's not, we have enough to bury in all of the garden beds!  Ever since Chad discovered how much he loves fishing a couple of months ago we've had an abundant supply of fresh fish.  While Chad's out getting his hunter gatherer on, I come up with different ways to cook snapper.  So far we've had fried snapper fillets, grilled snapper, baked snapper, smoked snapper, snapper soup, snapper curry, snapper tacos, and multiple variations of fried fish cakes.

While I think Chad's a little tired of eating fish, I can't get enough of it.  And of course I always love a good kitchen challenge.  I think next we're going to have it sushi style!  Unfortunately, the freezer can't handle anymore fish stock, but even so, nothing goes to waste around here.  The chickens are given first choice on the carcases and the rest go into the compost pile.  Chad and I have debated whether or not this is a good idea, given the rats, the dog, the smell, but I just can't pass up an opportunity to add all of that good stuff to the garden once it breaks down.


In addition to catching fish to liven up our meals, we've also been taking advantage of the oysters and mussels that inhabit the beach nearby.  I love handing a hammer and  a bucket to our wwoofers and saying "It's low tide.  Let's go collect lunch!"

Luffas

The vegetable garden is coming along.  We've been munching on plenty of salad greens, sugar snap peas, kale, chard, radishes, broccoli, spring onions, leeks, carrots, and asparagus.  The tomatoes and peppers are sprouting in the greenhouse and I think I even saw an okra sprout today!  At least I think it's okra.  I've never seen okra growing before.  Even more exciting than the okra, though, is the luffa that is sprouting.  Luffa, as in the bath sponge.  I'm growing bath sponges.  It's going to be a hit.  Too bad that by the time they're ready to use we won't have enough water to actually take baths.

The plum trees are beginning to blossom and as long as the wind isn't blowing rotting fish smell your direction the orchard is heavenly to walk through.  Chad and I, with help from our wwoofers, recently added two almonds, two pistachios, four macadamia nuts, a walnut, two pears, a peach, an apricot, and a plum to the orchard.  We also planted two grape vines along the garden fence.  We've been so happy to see that the sad looking twigs we put in the ground last month are now beginning to show signs of life.  The grapes, especially, show visible growth each day.

When we're not working in the garden we entertain ourselves by...





   trimming Chad's beard,

Jumping off big rocks,



And watching monks create pictures with tiny bits of colored sand.  

Never a dull moment....

A Note on Rain

Rain, Rain, go away...

    Come again another day.

Upper Uma Rapiti River flowing toward Rabbit Lake.

 This is just a short blog post for all of you whom are "Dying" in the heat of wherever you are.

Since about the first week of June we have had maybe three days straight of sun.

End of swale before extending. Emptying into fire pit and flax.

 The rest of our time here has been rather grey and rainy with punctuations of torrential downpour and extreme wind.  How extreme you ask?  Well, up to 40kph (25mph) sustained winds and 60kph (37mph gusts).  Doesn't sound like much you say?  I regularly find dishes blown off our counter and landed 30 feet away in our garden beds.

Our fire pit turned flowing pool.  Complete with iron feature!

 Three weeks ago it rained so much that the relief swale that was dug along the side our property to relieve water issues turned from a small stream to a mild river.  It overfilled and proceeded to turn our fire pit into a swimming pool.

Mysterious Pit a.k.a Rabbit Lake

 At the bottom corner of the property we found this random pit about 15 feet across and 5 feet deep when we first arrived.  It was bone dry with a couple of 2x4 ends and 2x6 pieces in it.  We now have a well-crafted duck pond.  Complete with floating detritus for the pukkekos and rabbits to sunbathe on.

Makeshift rain catchment system

Yes, that is correct.  7cm.  70mm.  2.7in.  A lot.

For those of you who might be in disbelief and thinking I'm leaning toward the exaggeration aspect of story-telling, I present exhibit A.  This is a tote that was left outside for about 18 hours before I realized it was there.  What you are seeing is proof in the pudding folks!  Approximately 70mm of rain in 18 hours!  Yes, 7cm (2.7 inches) of the wet stuff.  Please realize I come from Portland, Oregon where I'm used to it being wet for 6-8 months out of the year.  I will never complain again!  Lizzy stepped outside to use the restroom the other day which is about 50 feet away.  She ran there and ran back.  Upon her return she was literally soaked through front and back.

In parting I would just like to say, enjoy you 80, 90, even 100 degree weather.  I'm jealous.  And trying to find a decent pair of water wings!