Market Night Dinner

We arrived home after selling produce and baked goods at Weirton Market tonight with a zucchini, a giant beet, and a box of onions leftover from market sales.  Also a collection of fresh herbs and two quarts of French filet beans.  Tired from the day's labors, and wanting something healthy for dinner, I shredded the beet, zuke and an onion, chopped basil, oregano and cutting celery leaves, and mixed it all with 6 fresh eggs and a cup of whole wheat flour to make veggie pancakes.  While the pancakes fried in an iron skillet, I sat down to snap green beans.

 Dinner was sweet, herb-y vegetable pancakes alongside green beans sauteed in olive oil with a few squirts of soy sauce for flavor.  A delicious, satisfying and quick meal that didn't take a lot of thinking or waiting.

Try your own mixture of vegetables.  This time of year, it's a good idea to have some go-to recipes that work well for a variety of vegetables.

Vegetable Pancakes

6-8 cups mixed veggies: summer squash, beets, carrots, onions, potatoes and/or fresh corn sliced off the cob
5-6 eggs, scrambled
1-2 cups white whole wheat flour
1 tsp salt
3 Tbsp chopped fresh herbs
oil to fry (I used pan coating spray)

1. Shred the vegetables, and mix in a medium sized bowl with chopped herbs.
2. Scramble eggs, and add to bowl.
3. Mix flour and salt into the bowl, stirring quickly to incorporate into dry ingredients.
4. Heat an iron skillet or griddle to medium heat; add oil, and ladle batter onto hot pan.  Cook pancake about 2 minutes per side, then remove to a plate and cover with a tea towel to keep warm while you cook the remaining pancakes.
Serve hot.  Makes about 8 large pancakes.  Enjoy with fresh fruit, or a salad.


Here are a few photos of a last Saturday's market in Beaver

Wishing you lots of fresh veggies and inspiration to put them to good use!
Betsy

Stories for a Rainy Day

Monsoon season seems to have visited Hawk's Hill Farm.  With the changing weather, I joke that our farm is like the floating island of Hugh Lofting's imagining in The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle.  Now we find ourselves floating in the Pacific Northwest.  Where will this weather ship go next?

One rainy Saturday at market, I stopped at the neighboring booth to chat with David, a septuagenarian  farmer who has been at the market for years. Probably longer than anyone else.  A woman farmer friend had told me that David outlined for her how to grow potatoes that would last through the winter in storage.  My potatoes never make it through February before softening and growing gangly white sprouts.

 "You have to plant your potatoes on June 20th." David instructed intently in his soft, hoarse voice, dark eyes peering through the thick, dusty lenses of his glasses.  "And when the tops die back, you have to leave them in the grahnd until the soil temperature drops to 50 degrees."  Every word was carefully considered and enunciated in his aged and whispery voice.  As he talked, his eyes glittered, and I could tell he was revisiting his childhood, farming with his father.
"What if I have potatoes that I started in May?  Can I leave them in the ground until the soil cools to 50 degrees?"
"You'd have to leave them in the grahnd too long.  You shutn't leave potatoes in the grahnd longer 'n abot 3 weeks."

We talked a little about growing fall broccoli, and he said that for spring broccoli and cauliflower, his dad had started the seeds in a cold frame outdoors, and when the seedlings had grown big enough, he and his dad would carefully pull the seedlings from the soil, dip the roots in a wet clay mixture and then plant them in the field. He smiled up at me as he described this method, delighting in its cleverness, and I smiled back, the recipient of a great secret.

 The clay slip protected the roots from drying out while they were being handled.  I relished the ingenuity and simplicity practiced by these farmers from back in the day.  They didn't buy soil mix, they didn't heat a greenhouse with propane, they simply used the earth's and sun's heat to start their Cole crops.

In just a few words, David had outlined for me the way that farming used to be done before the proliferation of consumer culture, before one large corporation dominated the seedling business.

This past spring, the mercurial weather wreaked havoc on our onion starts.  As we planted -- one day wearing parkas against the cold, another day in the same week more comfortable in Daisy Dukes and a tank top -- we cheered on our little green buddies, and watered the bejjeebers out of them against the heat.  All our care couldn't keep about 30% of the onion starts from keeling over in the sudden heat.  I considered ordering replacements, but our vendor was sold out.  The only other source was a larger farm that had sent us onion plants complete with several fat onion maggots that fell out of the plant bundles once several years ago.  I didn't order replacements.

As we attempt to move into a more self-sufficient cycle on our farm, I keep asking how to make the big picture work out.  How to provide for our own seed and plant needs when the weather gets increasingly squirrely.  We just keep putting our best effort out there, and listening to the voices of the past, like old David's, and hoping to be a fraction as clever as they were back in the day.

May your floating island drift into a gentle weather cycle,
Betsy

A Quick Independence Day DIY

What is it about the US Mail that fascinates me?  I've had a pen pal for over 20 years, so I delight in checking the mail for a new letter or card. For mere pocket change, I can send my dear friend a hand-written letter and tuck in a four-leaf clover, a pressed flower, or an herbal tea bag. She and I have found myriad ways to make creative stationery from wallpaper sample books, old maps, cereal boxes, and our children's artwork.  And the postage stamps we stick to our creations are miniature artworks in themselves.  Whenever I pop down to our country post office, our postman knows to ask "Do you need any stamps?"

"Have you got any pretty ones?" I inquire, leaning in to see what he's got to offer, glancing over the plain ones to find the unusual, colorful and artful stamps.

Here's a postage stamp upcycling idea from my daughter, who found a collection of postage stamps when cleaning her room.  She carefully peeled them off of their envelopes and tape-encrusted packages.  Using a glue stick and the stamps' original stickiness, she applied them to the back of her Otterbox, making a very American collage.  Total project cost=$0.00.

Happy Independence Day!

Betsy

The new pond

About a month ago, our bean plants withered for lack of rain, newly tilled soil was dust dry and we lost a fifth of our onion starts in spite of our best watering efforts.  We began to worry about our well water running low, though we use drip tape to conserve water.  Our good friend Rich Rogers of Rogers Haul -n-Hoe came to the rescue with his backhoe, and dug us a 10,000 gallon pond -- a project we had planned for years.  Rich trucked in sand, with which we lined the rocky depression he carefully crafted, so that the jagged points wouldn't puncture our pond liner.  David and I raked out the sand in the afternoon heat, and we rolled out the recycled vinyl billboard pond liner we had bought online (https://billboardtarps.com/).  We prayed for a direct hit as thunderstorms moved through the area.

As you can see, the pond has filled up -- with water and with life.  In the evenings, Gray Treefrogs call from the trees overlooking the water, and their tadpoles wriggle along the shallow water at the edges.  Blackberry bushes hanging over the water hold ripening fruit, and predacious diving beetles patrol the waters.  We added rosy red minnows and goldfish to eat the mosquito larvae, and sometimes, when David and I stand, mesmerized by the abundant water, we are surprised by the silent flight of a Tree Swallow that dips over our shoulders, down to the still water's surface to scoop a mouthful of refreshment, disappearing with the quickness of thought, and leaving nothing but ripples to mark its visit.

Another friend, Myron Elliot, brought his trencher over to lay a water line from our spring development down the hill up to the pond.  Now, a single solar panel powers a pump to trickle water from the spring development into the pond -- that is when we aren't receiving monsoon rains as we have of late.

David has developed a watering system for the next time the rains stop and we need to irrigate the beans.  Below is a short movie about his gravity watering system.

Thanks to the work of friends, we move forward with new capabilities.  I know we don't need the watering capacity now, but I sense it may save future bean crops, and that feels like money in the bank.

Wishing you abundance in your life,

Betsy

The Most Beautiful Day of 2015 on Hawk's Hill

April 14, 2015 (posted late)

This morning, my body feels slow and stiff after a day of potato planting -- David tilled and furrowed the earth, and I cut seed potatoes, dipped them in wood ashes and planted them down the long rows.  We had fine planting weather.  Sunny and nearly 80 degrees, it was the warmest and most beautiful day of 2015 on Hawk's Hill. The song of the mockingbird in the hedgerow cherry trees cheered me as I dropped potato pieces from my basket into the soft, black earth.  Bare toes wriggling in the delectably soft spring earth, hair blowing in the breezy winds, skin relishing the kiss of the sun's warmth and the breath of the whisking winds, soul rejoicing in the mockingbird's varying tunes.  After winter's cold kept me locked away from the earth, immersing my entire being in nature felt like renewal, rejuvenation, a celebration of living.  

The day had begun with preparation of a new bed for potatoes.  David removed an old phone wire, and added compost to the bare earth while I ran errands to the post office and feed and seed, washed a load of laundry, and hung it out on the line.  Clean clothes flapping in the breeze, flats of broccoli and onion starts set out in the sunshine, tomato seedlings watered, chickens fed, eggs gathered, we finished our morning work and then snuck out to the state park for a picnic lunch and some sun-gathering.  Spring hits in a rush with long lists of projects to complete -- like replacing 700 feet of rabbit fence on the garden this year while completing the spring planting.  But, we have learned that stealing a few hours for fun makes the day more fun and the workers more productive.  

The day unfurled like a dream, lush grass, perfect earth for tilling, animals out and enjoying the sun.

After I finished planting, I sat in the verdant grass with Max flopped at my side, and admired the workings of nature.  A few notes in my garden journal, a few notations added to my garden map, a prayer of gratitude for the day and a prayer of hope for a good harvest.

David came along to ask help in catching a hen who had fluttered out of confinement.  Startled by the tiller ignition, she had flown over the electric fence and was now plucking fresh spring grass nearby.  I laced up my boots and after a few failed attempts, we caught her up between us, her wings battering our bodies.  Happily returned with her sisters, she melded back into the flock.  I admired the work David had done to soften the bottoms of the furrows with the Mantis tiller, and found a couple more Japanese beetle grubs to toss to the hens.  We talked about potato planting plans, about our lunch at the state park beach, about the cranky tiller motor, and called it a day.

As I put away my hoe in the garden shed, my ears picked up the sound of buzzing from a patch of blooming Heal-All in an un-tilled bed.  The lavender haze of blossoms amidst the mint green mounds of foliage had drawn a half dozen queen bumblebees.  Racing the setting sun to gather nectar from the diminutive flowers, the bumblers captured my attention with their hurried, rolling, blundering dance.  Pressing on as quickly as possible, they answered the need to gather, gather, faster, faster,  to feed their larval children back in an earth-sheltered home.  Smiling in gratitude for the connection with wild denizens of Hawk's Hill, I pushed on to get back to my earth-sheltered home to feed my hungry child and man.

Tugging my garden cart back up the hill to the barn, tired as the sun gilded the white clouds, I could feel my legs had strengthened over the past few weeks of outdoor work.  What a boon!  We ate a simple dinner of freeze-dried pinto beans and home-grown salad at 9:30 pm, the glow of sunshine still on our faces.

Today, I will plant more potatoes in furrows David pulled yesterday in a new potato patch.  The hens worked on the patch for several weeks at the dawn of spring, tearing up the grass and fertilizing the soil, but still, what a shock to see the thinness of the untended earth.  It had grown lush grass for years, but had not built up the thick layer of organic material that comes from manuring a garden for years.  Working in the old garden bed in my bare feet was pure delight.  The new bed still has rocks, Japanese beetle grubs, and quite a lot of clay.  I feel like I am looking back in time at our inauspicious beginnings, but back then, not only did I have poorer soil, but I knew less.  Still, the struggles built something worthy in me, taught me about pride and humility, and the power of daily labor organized and compounded over 6 years.

May you be graced with beautiful days and the kiss of sunshine this spring!
Betsy

A Peeping Spring Tonic

My friend, Faith, came out from the city to have lunch today, bringing along the six baby chicks she had just purchased at our local feed and seed. We had a heat lamp set up over a galvanized tub to keep her little pullets warm while we visited, but soon cuddled up with the fuzzy little 5 day-old chicks, tucking them in our shirts to keep them warm, delighting in nosing their fuzzy down, their pipping voices, their tiny scrambling feet. How invigorating new life is, in celebration of the end of winter!

 Just the sound of spring chicks peeping is a natural tonic to the winter-pressed soul.  Right now is the time to visit your local feed and seed or Tractor Supply Center to simply listen to the sounds of peeping, whistling, chirrupping chicks.  Immediately, the sound triggers a sense of joy at the new life thrumming and thriving in springtime.

Though some days still feel raw and blustery, spring has begun, if you know where to look for it!

If you can't get out to a feed and seed to see baby chicks, here's a link to a Hawk's Hill Farm video of our chicks growing up https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HDpiJuqS7U

Hoping you are cozy as this little chick, and enjoying the harbingers of spring!
Betsy

A Late March Foraging Walk

Snowflakes have danced over the greening grass all day long.  At dusk, just after David and I came in from our venturing, a wall of white swept in over the neighbor's pasture from the southwest, making me glad for indoors and warmth.  Muddy knees.  A mug of tea.  A soft seat where I can watch the bread bake in the hot oven.  Simple pleasures work their magic on my soul.

The tail end of winter is the time of year that seems the hardest to eat locally, but I love to defy such rules of thumb. I took a basket and a trowel along when David and I went out to pull the taps on the Sugar Maples.  After we removed the spiles and thanked the trees, we stopped down to visit the hens and give them some stale bread.

Down by the chicken tractor, outside of the electric fence is a bed of Jerusalem Artichokes, also known as sunchokes.  A native to North America, the wild sunflower produces knobbly tubers that Native Americans cultivated and ate.  In just a few minutes, I had dug an easy handful of the roots, which I now munch on.  Crunchy, earthy and a little sweet, the tubers are surprisingly mild-flavored for a wild food.  Like most wild foods, the J-chokes are high in nutrients including iron, potassium, thiamine and fiber.  They are high in inulin, a carbohydrate that is considered diabetic-friendly (though consuming a lot of inulin leads to flatulence), and are a crunchy addition to salads, or may be cooked like potatoes.  I've even seen recipes for fried sunchoke chips.  As with all wild foods, positive identification is critical.  I had planted the Jerusalem artichokes in that spot and watched them bloom, so I knew what I was digging, but if you go hunting J-chokes, make absolutely certain you've got the right plant. This time of year, without flowers or leaves present, identification is much more difficult.  (My favorite field guide is the Peterson Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants.)

The tops of the tall sunflowers still bear seed heads.

Digging at the base of the old stalks yields golden nuggets of wild food.

 

The product of 5 minutes of scratching the earth.

I suppose I could add the collection of some icy cold and delicious Sugar Maple sap to the wild and local food collection, as I kept some of the last sap to drink.  I pulled the taps because the red maples' buds are beginning to swell, which will make the sap taste bitter when boiled down.  And because with the thaw, my attention must go to the garden now.

The last of the maple sap.

I also collected 14 eggs from the hens.  Back inside Soulstice, lettuce greens growing under lights have sprung back from the last picking.  Maybe I'll make up a salad of lettuce, leftover carrots dug on my last foraging walk, hard-boiled eggs, and a maple syrup-based dressing!

Even if you don't have J-chokes to dig or hens on the yard, you can eat local food treats right now.  I'll leave you with an easy dessert recipe you can try this weekend:

Baked Custard

2 cups Brunton's milk
2 eggs from Shepler's Farm (if you don't have your own flock)
1/4 cup local honey or maple syrup
1/2 tsp vanilla
pinch salt

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F.  Beat all ingredients together with a wire whisk.  Place four ramekins, small mugs or heavy teacups in a lasagna pan or other baking dish.  Fill ramekins/cups with sweetened milk-egg mixture and pour boiling water into pan to surround the cups.  Bake for 30-45 minutes or until a knife inserted near the edge of a custard cup comes out clean.  Remove from oven and let cool completely before covering and refrigerating.  Best served cold, and delicious plain or with fresh fruit.

In the end, eating wild and food you've collected from the land or purchased from a farmer produces a feeling of connection to the land, a sense of groundedness and gratitude.

May you find ways to connect with the land even on snowy, cold, blustery days like today.
Betsy