Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
kale is a vegetable. chicken is a bird.
Vermont sort of loves kale. Some wise man started making stickers and tshrits that say "Eat More Kale" (eatmorekale.com). And now Chick-Fil-A (who is already on my shit list) has decided that this little catch phrase encroaches on their brand and wants to sue this guy. Well, naturally good Vermonters everywhere including governor Peter Shumlin aren't gonna stand for this.
Read more about our dedication to our state vegetable here: http://www.vpr.net/news_detail/92656/shumlin-forms-team-kale-to-support-local-t-shirt-a/
Read more about our dedication to our state vegetable here: http://www.vpr.net/news_detail/92656/shumlin-forms-team-kale-to-support-local-t-shirt-a/
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Burned
I knew there was a difference before I started. I knew there was a difference between reading and planning and budgeting and, you know, the act of flinging yourself off a cliff that is starting something new. Lately it seems like a constant battle to keep positive. Even thought I knew that there would be things that I never thought of to contend with, I didn't really anticipate how many of them there would be.
Last week I came home to find that the goat had learned to climb the ladder to the hayloft, walked across the floor and onto the ceiling of the milk house. Then she fell through, knocking a 4x8 piece of plywood onto the water spigot breaking it off, flooding the milk house and 1/2 the barn. But don't worry, I got the plywood back up and the faucet fixed and the goat is fine, only because I cannot yet turn an animal into curry with the force of my rage.
And then there was the carpenter who after doing quite a bit of nice work for me decided to fuck me over to the tune of 800 bucks. Again, another person that has benefited from by inability to castrate things with the power of my ire.
I came home the other night and found that my aunt had posted the speech that my cousin gave at graduation on the internet. It's all about how we're pretty conditioned to try and avoid mistakes, but that really this is how we learn things. Well, trust me, my mistake to learning things ratio is in the 99th percentile.
But then I bring the cows in the barn and Paulina goes right in her pen and Moxie goes right into hers and they lay down with a sigh and chew their cud. Tiny calves come and nuzzle up against me for apple slices and people who come by to work on the barn say how nice the cows look. At the farm where work I give meds and pull a calf without incident and back the dump cart into the squirrely tiny garage opening on the second try.
"Chin up, tiger," my friend says and kisses me on the forehead. "You'll be on the road to prosperity soon. Either that or bankruptcy," he chides. "But no one will accuse you of being faint of heart."
Here's my cousin's graduation speech
Last week I came home to find that the goat had learned to climb the ladder to the hayloft, walked across the floor and onto the ceiling of the milk house. Then she fell through, knocking a 4x8 piece of plywood onto the water spigot breaking it off, flooding the milk house and 1/2 the barn. But don't worry, I got the plywood back up and the faucet fixed and the goat is fine, only because I cannot yet turn an animal into curry with the force of my rage.
And then there was the carpenter who after doing quite a bit of nice work for me decided to fuck me over to the tune of 800 bucks. Again, another person that has benefited from by inability to castrate things with the power of my ire.
I came home the other night and found that my aunt had posted the speech that my cousin gave at graduation on the internet. It's all about how we're pretty conditioned to try and avoid mistakes, but that really this is how we learn things. Well, trust me, my mistake to learning things ratio is in the 99th percentile.
But then I bring the cows in the barn and Paulina goes right in her pen and Moxie goes right into hers and they lay down with a sigh and chew their cud. Tiny calves come and nuzzle up against me for apple slices and people who come by to work on the barn say how nice the cows look. At the farm where work I give meds and pull a calf without incident and back the dump cart into the squirrely tiny garage opening on the second try.
"Chin up, tiger," my friend says and kisses me on the forehead. "You'll be on the road to prosperity soon. Either that or bankruptcy," he chides. "But no one will accuse you of being faint of heart."
Here's my cousin's graduation speech
Saturday, October 22, 2011
what? i have a blog?
It seems like all I've done this summer is work for someone to make money to give to someone else. I bought my wood, my meat, my cows, my hay, my sawdust and of course supplies for the milkhouse. And always there is something else I want. A cast iron pot, a tiny yoke, a lantern chimney that isn't broken. But of course, this is nothing new. My friend lent me the lovely book Up in the Morning Early, a book of old photographs and recollections of Vermont in the 1930's. It begins with the poem "Farming It".
"FARMING IT" IN VERMONT
I've wondered all my life how 'tis
A farmer gets along so well;
He has so many things to buy
And such a precious few to sell!
His calling calls for such a snarl
Of tools, equipment, traps and gear,
I don t see how he saves enough
To go to Boston every year.
A legal gent can start in trade
With nothing but an office cat;
The town lot booster only needs
A little deskroom in his hat;
But Mr. Farmer has to have
An outfit, and that isn't all,
That outfit has to stand the strain
Of Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall.
He even can't slip into town
A day like this without a sleigh,
A harness, blanket, whip and lash,
A laprobe, horse and hank of hay;
While other "toys" that help him do
His work with neatness and despatch,
Are logging bobs, a traverse sled,
Some blasting powder and a match;
Two heavy harnesses, an axe,
A saw and sawbuck, adze and bar;
A hoghook and some candlesticks,
A tackle block and pot of tar;
A suction pump, a skein of chains,
Two kettles of capacious brass;
A barrel each for pork and beef
And soap and cider applesass;
Hoes, cultivator, weeder, cart,
A winnowing mill and Fairbanks scales;
A roller, cheesepress, pung and plow,
A hammer and a can of nails;
A 'vaperator, holder, tubs,
A sapyoke, pan and flail and churn;
A spreader, tedder, scythe and snath,
A grindstone and a boy to turn;
A sprayer, sprinkler, wagon-jack,
A canthook, shovels, stoneboat, sledge;
A nest of measures, baskets seven,
A beetle and an iron wedge;
A shotgun, fishpole, sickle, forks,
A government report on "Soil";
A harrow, barrow, sheepshears, vise,
Some Spavin Cure and harness oil;
Three kinds of rakes; horse, bull and hand,
A cradle, sheller, woodchuck traps;
A hayfork, planter, mower, drill,
An extry pole and holdback straps;
A ladder, lantern, saddle, dog,
An oxyoke and a yoke of stags;
A buggy, gig and lumber rig,
And last, a span of working nags.
No other business or profesh
Can come within a hunderd miles
Of such preparedness, and yet
The buying farmer buys and smiles;
He knows that when he fades away
The auction bill will spread his fame,
And show, although his name be Smith,
That he had something to his name.
"FARMING IT" IN VERMONT
I've wondered all my life how 'tis
A farmer gets along so well;
He has so many things to buy
And such a precious few to sell!
His calling calls for such a snarl
Of tools, equipment, traps and gear,
I don t see how he saves enough
To go to Boston every year.
A legal gent can start in trade
With nothing but an office cat;
The town lot booster only needs
A little deskroom in his hat;
But Mr. Farmer has to have
An outfit, and that isn't all,
That outfit has to stand the strain
Of Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall.
He even can't slip into town
A day like this without a sleigh,
A harness, blanket, whip and lash,
A laprobe, horse and hank of hay;
While other "toys" that help him do
His work with neatness and despatch,
Are logging bobs, a traverse sled,
Some blasting powder and a match;
Two heavy harnesses, an axe,
A saw and sawbuck, adze and bar;
A hoghook and some candlesticks,
A tackle block and pot of tar;
A suction pump, a skein of chains,
Two kettles of capacious brass;
A barrel each for pork and beef
And soap and cider applesass;
Hoes, cultivator, weeder, cart,
A winnowing mill and Fairbanks scales;
A roller, cheesepress, pung and plow,
A hammer and a can of nails;
A 'vaperator, holder, tubs,
A sapyoke, pan and flail and churn;
A spreader, tedder, scythe and snath,
A grindstone and a boy to turn;
A sprayer, sprinkler, wagon-jack,
A canthook, shovels, stoneboat, sledge;
A nest of measures, baskets seven,
A beetle and an iron wedge;
A shotgun, fishpole, sickle, forks,
A government report on "Soil";
A harrow, barrow, sheepshears, vise,
Some Spavin Cure and harness oil;
Three kinds of rakes; horse, bull and hand,
A cradle, sheller, woodchuck traps;
A hayfork, planter, mower, drill,
An extry pole and holdback straps;
A ladder, lantern, saddle, dog,
An oxyoke and a yoke of stags;
A buggy, gig and lumber rig,
And last, a span of working nags.
No other business or profesh
Can come within a hunderd miles
Of such preparedness, and yet
The buying farmer buys and smiles;
He knows that when he fades away
The auction bill will spread his fame,
And show, although his name be Smith,
That he had something to his name.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
look how tiny-dorable!
Rosemary's foster farmer took this picture of her. Is she not the most adorable calf you have ever seen? (Sorry, Lucky).
a better deal than a treasury bond!
My awesome farm property is really coming together. The pastures are getting fenced, the milk house plans were okayed by the carpenter and I even have a cow or two. But one of the biggest challenges for new farmers is obtaining lines of credit for capital expenses. Because you are a new farmer and because farming is inherently a risky endeavor (being dependent on weather and nature and all) banks and even the Farm Service Agency are reluctant to lend you money.
So I wanted to put it out into internet land that I'm accepting loans from the general public. They can be for any amount. I will repay all money lent to me in 3 years plus you get 10% of the value that you loan me each year in farm products. So, for example, if you lent me 100 dollars, you would get 10 dollars in farm products each year until I paid you back. Don't live in VT? I can send you goodies in the mail!
feel free to email me at ivy at smirx dot com to find out more about how you can earn my undying gratitude.
So I wanted to put it out into internet land that I'm accepting loans from the general public. They can be for any amount. I will repay all money lent to me in 3 years plus you get 10% of the value that you loan me each year in farm products. So, for example, if you lent me 100 dollars, you would get 10 dollars in farm products each year until I paid you back. Don't live in VT? I can send you goodies in the mail!
feel free to email me at ivy at smirx dot com to find out more about how you can earn my undying gratitude.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
how very meta
Today, as I was cleaning the mangers out, "The Splendid Table" came on the radio. I don't often listen to this show because I think it can be a little bit annoying and my co-worker thinks it's really annoying. But the host was going to interview Anthony Bourdain so I figured I'd hear what he had to say. Then, she had Gordon Edwards on to talk about being a punk turned cheese monger in San Francisco, and I am always interested in anyone who is a punk turned anything. So, I stayed tuned for that also. And he started talking about our farm! On the radio! While I was cleaning the barn! It was very exciting. You, too, can share in my fleeting self-referential-ness by listening here: http://splendidtable.publicradio.org/listings/110709/ (scroll down to the Gordon Edwards link if you don't want to hear the whole show, although they do talk about mint dressings and sausage).
Monday, July 4, 2011
second PSA of the day!
As I strike out into the world of farming for myself, I come up again and again against fucking sexist bullshit that makes me wanna puke. There are the people I am talking to about business matters who say, "So, you are a girl farmer, huh?" And I want to say something like "Well ... in the sense that most dairy cows are girls, um, yeah. Not human girls though, I think that's probably illegal." Or the very nice man from the extension office I was speaking to about land acquisition who, when I asked what advice he had for landless upstart farmers he said "Find someone with a farm and marry him." Been there. Done that.
*Sigh*
And then there are the truly clueless, like the young man I went to see on Friday. He had some heifers for sale and I drove entirely too far to go look at them. And the dude was a total jackass to me, sexually harassing me, asking me rude questions and telling me about his genitals. This only went on for as long as it took for me to walk back to my car and get in and say "Well, thank you, bye!" and he said "I hope I didn't offend you! did I?" And I said, "Well, would you have said those same things to a man who came to look at your heifers?" "No, that's gross," he said. "Exactly."
So look, by the time you are on the receiving end of that sort of crap, I feel like the chances of changing anyone's perception are pretty slim. But if, maybe, your friend is telling you a story that you recognize as sexist and offensive, you could, you know, mention that to him (or her I guess should the case arise). Or if you notice your teenage child exhibiting behaviour that is way out of line, people he's gonna interact with when he's a grownup would totally appreciate you smacking him now so that we don't have to spend our entire trip home fantasizing about running him over with a tractor later.
*Sigh*
And then there are the truly clueless, like the young man I went to see on Friday. He had some heifers for sale and I drove entirely too far to go look at them. And the dude was a total jackass to me, sexually harassing me, asking me rude questions and telling me about his genitals. This only went on for as long as it took for me to walk back to my car and get in and say "Well, thank you, bye!" and he said "I hope I didn't offend you! did I?" And I said, "Well, would you have said those same things to a man who came to look at your heifers?" "No, that's gross," he said. "Exactly."
So look, by the time you are on the receiving end of that sort of crap, I feel like the chances of changing anyone's perception are pretty slim. But if, maybe, your friend is telling you a story that you recognize as sexist and offensive, you could, you know, mention that to him (or her I guess should the case arise). Or if you notice your teenage child exhibiting behaviour that is way out of line, people he's gonna interact with when he's a grownup would totally appreciate you smacking him now so that we don't have to spend our entire trip home fantasizing about running him over with a tractor later.
today's farming PSA
While I have, in my opinion, a fairly standard body, one without any missing parts or things that work differently than most bodies do, I have dealt with body image issues for almost my whole life. When I was a teenager I decided my hobby would be seeing how little I could eat without dying. And then, once I decided that had gotten old and I resumed eating, I still felt that I was just stuck in this body that was not very attractive or capable. I seldom looked at myself in the mirror and usually felt amazed when anyone thought I was attractive.
I never consciously felt the need to acquiesce to cultural beauty standards, but somehow I had absorbed them anyway and they shaped how I felt about myself for the first 25 years of my life.
But when I started farming I started to appreciate my body for it's capabilities, rather than to dislike it for the fact that my thighs touched each other and that my boobs don't look like Miley Cyrus'. I was amazed when I found my body to be capable of lifting 80 pounds, capable of convincing a giant animal to take some medicine, capable of driving a tractor or a team of horses (and seldom knocking the mirrors off my car), and capable of working for 11 hours straight.
Farming has really helped me to see my body as beautiful and as something I can be proud of, a feeling that has been so elusive to me my whole life. So thanks, cows, I think you are all beautiful as well!
I never consciously felt the need to acquiesce to cultural beauty standards, but somehow I had absorbed them anyway and they shaped how I felt about myself for the first 25 years of my life.
But when I started farming I started to appreciate my body for it's capabilities, rather than to dislike it for the fact that my thighs touched each other and that my boobs don't look like Miley Cyrus'. I was amazed when I found my body to be capable of lifting 80 pounds, capable of convincing a giant animal to take some medicine, capable of driving a tractor or a team of horses (and seldom knocking the mirrors off my car), and capable of working for 11 hours straight.
Farming has really helped me to see my body as beautiful and as something I can be proud of, a feeling that has been so elusive to me my whole life. So thanks, cows, I think you are all beautiful as well!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
when are we ever going to use this?
When are we ever going to use this?
Do kids in school still say that? Well, here's an example. Let's say that you have a little first calf heifer and she is calving and you realize that the calving ease bull that you bred her to has given her a calf the size of a shetland pony and that that thing (pony calf) is never coming out of this thing (cow vagina) without your help.
So you put your calving chains on the calf's legs. And you could (either) pull with all your might. This might work okay if you are 6'3" and 210 pounds. But if you're 5'2" and 120 pounds, you're not going to do anything but exhaust yourself. So (or) get your 7th physics book out and make yourself a second class lever like you learned about. Attach a rope from the calving chains to a post behind the cow. Now you can lean on the rope with all your weight (effort). The rope will go down some with your force. But by the time that force is applied to the calf (resistance), which is a much shorter distance from the cow (fulcrum) than you are, the force applied will be much greater. You will help the cow get the calf out and be awesome.
And that, dear children, is when you are going to use this.
You can use "pull a calf" in the "give your own example" section on this page:
http://www.schools.utah.gov/curr/science/sciber00/8th/machines/sciber/lever2.htm
Do kids in school still say that? Well, here's an example. Let's say that you have a little first calf heifer and she is calving and you realize that the calving ease bull that you bred her to has given her a calf the size of a shetland pony and that that thing (pony calf) is never coming out of this thing (cow vagina) without your help.
So you put your calving chains on the calf's legs. And you could (either) pull with all your might. This might work okay if you are 6'3" and 210 pounds. But if you're 5'2" and 120 pounds, you're not going to do anything but exhaust yourself. So (or) get your 7th physics book out and make yourself a second class lever like you learned about. Attach a rope from the calving chains to a post behind the cow. Now you can lean on the rope with all your weight (effort). The rope will go down some with your force. But by the time that force is applied to the calf (resistance), which is a much shorter distance from the cow (fulcrum) than you are, the force applied will be much greater. You will help the cow get the calf out and be awesome.
And that, dear children, is when you are going to use this.
You can use "pull a calf" in the "give your own example" section on this page:
http://www.schools.utah.gov/curr/science/sciber00/8th/machines/sciber/lever2.htm
Saturday, June 4, 2011
it's a start.
Gentle readers, I got a farm! Well, I got to rent a farm! It is small and sweet just up the hill from town. With a huge barn and a small cabin. No running water in the cabin yet, but there is in the barn, so at least the place has the right priorities. "This is God's own country," says the old man who has driven 2 hours to deliver my wood stove.
I have a calf. She is tiny. Her mom was tiny. She was born with her head bent around backwards but ended up okay anyway, so it seemed a shame to put her on the beef truck. One day next week I will put her on a blanket in the back of my Ford Focus and take her home.
I try to imagine cows in the barn. Hay stacks in the fields. Me in the house doing a crossword puzzle after chores. I almost can.
I have a calf. She is tiny. Her mom was tiny. She was born with her head bent around backwards but ended up okay anyway, so it seemed a shame to put her on the beef truck. One day next week I will put her on a blanket in the back of my Ford Focus and take her home.
I try to imagine cows in the barn. Hay stacks in the fields. Me in the house doing a crossword puzzle after chores. I almost can.
did i post this same picture last year? it's like that movie with the kid who wants a bb gun - it never get's old.
Driving home I see men making hay.
Long windrows stretch out behind tractors.
Undulating stripes of light green and dark green.
Snaking and circling to the horizon.
And of course, I think of my husband.
The smell of silage and diesel and the roar of the mower stretching over the hills at dusk will always remind me of him.
That's why,
With my money from the divorce,
I'm buying a team of horses and putting up all my hay by hand.
It's national dairy month!
Since it's national dairy month, I figured I should post something. Here's some news that's almost a month old!
In early May the National Conference on Interstate Milk Shipments declined to lower the national standard on somatic cell counts in US milk to the EU standard of 400,000 cells per mL. The US secretary of ag - Vilsack supported the lower limit. The vote was 26 to 25. I do not understand why the US dairy industry keeps shooting itself in the foot this way. Where to they think they're gonna sell all the milk they make? *sigh* Fuck commodity agriculture.
In early May the National Conference on Interstate Milk Shipments declined to lower the national standard on somatic cell counts in US milk to the EU standard of 400,000 cells per mL. The US secretary of ag - Vilsack supported the lower limit. The vote was 26 to 25. I do not understand why the US dairy industry keeps shooting itself in the foot this way. Where to they think they're gonna sell all the milk they make? *sigh* Fuck commodity agriculture.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Typical Jersey behaviour
In honor of it being almost time to put the cows out on pasture, here is a picture from stock photo company shutterstock (that i found courtesy of awkwardstockphotos.com).
Friday, April 15, 2011
dairy farmers to the front! oi! oi! oi!
I would just like to send this update out to the punk rock licensure committee and let them know that although I have not been to a concert where anyone has vomited on the dance floor in several years, I am still doing my best to represent myself as a respectable member of the punk rock community and respectfully ask for my license to be renewed for the following reasons:
1) So, gentle readers, for those of you who didn't know me "back in the day" as the kids like to say, I will tell you that I used to have look that some might call eccentric. Indeed, I was stopped on one occasion by tourists in downtown San Francisco and asked to pose for a picture to show the folks back home in some town in Oklahoma where only teenagers whose parents didn't love them enough looked like I did. At the time I spiked my blue or pink or purple hair with a mixture of Elmer's glue and the cheapest hair gel they had at Walgreens. But since I need to save my money now to buy a reconditioned sickle bar mower, I don't have 30 dollars a month to spend on dying my hair. However, I have discovered a way to get it spiked just the same - let a cow lick the back of your head while you milk her. Punk as fuck and delightfully frugal.
2) Also, I stopped in the co-op this morning after I did morning chores for my co-worker since he was up half the night untwisting a poor cow's uterus by rolling her the length of the barn. While I was reading a story in the Hardwick Gazette that mentions me! without buying the newspaper (also a very punk thing to do) one of the people who works there said "what is that smell?" As I was sniffing, she looked at me and said "oh, my gosh, I am so sorry." And I totally realized the smell was cow shit. I spent a minute trying to decide whether feel embarrassed while she apologized profusely and said that the smell was really similar to something burning and not like manure at all. Finally I said that she shouldn't worry about it and concluded that many punks would consider it pretty damn awesome to have someone comment on your odor in public.
3) I am making randall lineback back patches.
1) So, gentle readers, for those of you who didn't know me "back in the day" as the kids like to say, I will tell you that I used to have look that some might call eccentric. Indeed, I was stopped on one occasion by tourists in downtown San Francisco and asked to pose for a picture to show the folks back home in some town in Oklahoma where only teenagers whose parents didn't love them enough looked like I did. At the time I spiked my blue or pink or purple hair with a mixture of Elmer's glue and the cheapest hair gel they had at Walgreens. But since I need to save my money now to buy a reconditioned sickle bar mower, I don't have 30 dollars a month to spend on dying my hair. However, I have discovered a way to get it spiked just the same - let a cow lick the back of your head while you milk her. Punk as fuck and delightfully frugal.
2) Also, I stopped in the co-op this morning after I did morning chores for my co-worker since he was up half the night untwisting a poor cow's uterus by rolling her the length of the barn. While I was reading a story in the Hardwick Gazette that mentions me! without buying the newspaper (also a very punk thing to do) one of the people who works there said "what is that smell?" As I was sniffing, she looked at me and said "oh, my gosh, I am so sorry." And I totally realized the smell was cow shit. I spent a minute trying to decide whether feel embarrassed while she apologized profusely and said that the smell was really similar to something burning and not like manure at all. Finally I said that she shouldn't worry about it and concluded that many punks would consider it pretty damn awesome to have someone comment on your odor in public.
3) I am making randall lineback back patches.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
dreams i have had involving farming
1) I was working on a farm situated on a fairly busy road. I was always worried that the cows would break out of their fence and end up in the road and get hit by a car. I dreamed that I am in the middle of the busy road with a cow that will not go back in the pasture. Cars keep wizzing past us (because obviously that is Connecticut people's reaction to a cow on the road) and I am terrified that one of us will be hit by a car. I hear brakes screech I wake up. A cow never got in the road while I was there. We did have one get on the runway of the municipal airport though.
2) While I was constantly having overly emotional discussions with my (not anymore) husband about having kids I dreamed that my doctor discovered I was pregnant with a set of twin calves. I decided I would carry them to term, and then realized that Holstein calves weigh like 90 pounds when they are born, and I wake up. I'm sure this is some sort of metaphor for my non farming life at the time.
3) Last night I went to sleep thinking about all the stuff I have to do at the farm this week and I dreamed that I get to work and start doing things and totally forget to milk the cows until the vet shows up for the health check at 11:30 and I tell him "oh shit! I forgot to milk the cows! I feel worried that my boss will find out I forgot to milk the cows. Then I wake up. Spring is surely coming.
2) While I was constantly having overly emotional discussions with my (not anymore) husband about having kids I dreamed that my doctor discovered I was pregnant with a set of twin calves. I decided I would carry them to term, and then realized that Holstein calves weigh like 90 pounds when they are born, and I wake up. I'm sure this is some sort of metaphor for my non farming life at the time.
3) Last night I went to sleep thinking about all the stuff I have to do at the farm this week and I dreamed that I get to work and start doing things and totally forget to milk the cows until the vet shows up for the health check at 11:30 and I tell him "oh shit! I forgot to milk the cows! I feel worried that my boss will find out I forgot to milk the cows. Then I wake up. Spring is surely coming.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Lucky in the news!
The Seven Days (VT's indie weekly) has a very nice but rather pedestrian story about raw dairy products. BUT! the story features the good folks at Tamarack Hollow Farm who adopted Lucky. And they even mention him in the article!
The next day, I visited Amanda Andrews at Tamarack Hollow Farm in Burlington. Here, along Route 127, she and her partner, Mike Betit, keep pigs, grow vegetables, and tend to four cows, an ox and a new calf. One cow was freshening, and another was at the end of her lactation; the outdoor farm refrigerator was filled with jugs of fresh, raw milk.
The next day, I visited Amanda Andrews at Tamarack Hollow Farm in Burlington. Here, along Route 127, she and her partner, Mike Betit, keep pigs, grow vegetables, and tend to four cows, an ox and a new calf. One cow was freshening, and another was at the end of her lactation; the outdoor farm refrigerator was filled with jugs of fresh, raw milk.
beware greeks bearing gifts ... and the iowa department of ag, apparently
I meant to blog about this last week, but I was busy dealing with the fact that I knocked the remaining side view mirror off my car (I knocked the first one off 2 months ago with the tractor) with a horse. In spite of my best MacGyver repair attempts, I just have to accept that getting them fixed means 160 dollars that won't be going into the farm fund. But at least I'm not these people:
There was a story on Marketplace last week about a project in Iowa called the "New Farm Family Project" which encouraged dairy farmers from other countries to come to America a try to make money where American farmers have been failing for a generation. The project required the new farmers to invest 500k in the farm (and subsequently the dairy economy) and create jobs (to benefit the rural economy). The farms would get (fee based) help from Iowa State and a Dutch company called Atlantic Business Development.
Guess how that worked out for them.
If you guessed that a quarter of the farmers and counting have returned home broke and broken, you win a packet of Roundup Ready corn seed.
Trust me, Iowa State, the problem is not that American farmers are too lazy to make a profit. It's that a generation of farm policies have favored chemical soaked production methods over natural ones and unsustainable economies of scale over farms that benefit the land instead of hurt it.
You can read or listen to the original story here http://marketplace.publicradio.org/display/web/2011/03/23/pm-program-to-lure-dutch-dairy-farmers-to-us-turns-sour/
And here's a 2006 story from Iowa Farmer Today about a Dutch family that moved to Iowa. http://iowafarmertoday.com/articles/2006/10/12/top_stories/13dutchdairy.txt The story mentions the horrors of the quota system and the strict environmental regulations in the Netherlands. I wonder how they're doing today.
There was a story on Marketplace last week about a project in Iowa called the "New Farm Family Project" which encouraged dairy farmers from other countries to come to America a try to make money where American farmers have been failing for a generation. The project required the new farmers to invest 500k in the farm (and subsequently the dairy economy) and create jobs (to benefit the rural economy). The farms would get (fee based) help from Iowa State and a Dutch company called Atlantic Business Development.
Guess how that worked out for them.
If you guessed that a quarter of the farmers and counting have returned home broke and broken, you win a packet of Roundup Ready corn seed.
Trust me, Iowa State, the problem is not that American farmers are too lazy to make a profit. It's that a generation of farm policies have favored chemical soaked production methods over natural ones and unsustainable economies of scale over farms that benefit the land instead of hurt it.
You can read or listen to the original story here http://marketplace.publicradio.org/display/web/2011/03/23/pm-program-to-lure-dutch-dairy-farmers-to-us-turns-sour/
And here's a 2006 story from Iowa Farmer Today about a Dutch family that moved to Iowa. http://iowafarmertoday.com/articles/2006/10/12/top_stories/13dutchdairy.txt The story mentions the horrors of the quota system and the strict environmental regulations in the Netherlands. I wonder how they're doing today.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
reading rainbow meets ms magazine
As Long as There Are Mountains is a young adult fiction book about all the horrible things that can happen to you as a farmer, and why you would want to farm anyway. The main character is Iris, who is probably 13. She lives on a dairy farm in Vermont with her parents and her older brother, Lucas, although he is away at college when the book starts.
1) Grandpa gets crushed when the tractor rolls over (this actually happens before the book starts, but there are some references to it).
2) Barn burns down, most of the cows die.
3) While out cutting trees to build a new barn, one kicks back and injures Pa's leg. Iris and Lucas save him but the leg has to be amputated.
Aiya.
All Iris wants is to be a farmer and feels jealous that it's assumed that Lucas will take over the farm. Her narration describes her love for the cows and for the work, despite the lack of huge financial gains. She also describes her desire to be seen as worthy to farm, even though she is a girl. Lucas, however, wants to be a writer. His description of the frustration he feels at getting slapped in the face with a shitty tail while milking is so right on.
I thought the family in this book was really well written and I especially identified with Iris' frustrations at being overlooked because she's a female. (Happening in real life at about that time: My husband's grandmother wasn't allowed to watch cows being bred when they started doing AI breedings at the farm. It was thought that women were too delicate to watch that. My husband's grandmother is a bad ass, FYI.) I feel like that still happens some now, too, in a time 50 years after this book takes place. Aside from people who come to the farm where I work and ask for my husband (he's at home making dinner) there is also the example of the otherwise great book The Town that Food Saved which profiles the work of a new group of agricultural entrepreneurs who are all men.
I wonder if there are writings or interviews with women out there from that time who were farmers, not just farmers' wives (not to say that they didn't do just as much work) and what their experiences were.
1) Grandpa gets crushed when the tractor rolls over (this actually happens before the book starts, but there are some references to it).
2) Barn burns down, most of the cows die.
3) While out cutting trees to build a new barn, one kicks back and injures Pa's leg. Iris and Lucas save him but the leg has to be amputated.
Aiya.
All Iris wants is to be a farmer and feels jealous that it's assumed that Lucas will take over the farm. Her narration describes her love for the cows and for the work, despite the lack of huge financial gains. She also describes her desire to be seen as worthy to farm, even though she is a girl. Lucas, however, wants to be a writer. His description of the frustration he feels at getting slapped in the face with a shitty tail while milking is so right on.
I thought the family in this book was really well written and I especially identified with Iris' frustrations at being overlooked because she's a female. (Happening in real life at about that time: My husband's grandmother wasn't allowed to watch cows being bred when they started doing AI breedings at the farm. It was thought that women were too delicate to watch that. My husband's grandmother is a bad ass, FYI.) I feel like that still happens some now, too, in a time 50 years after this book takes place. Aside from people who come to the farm where I work and ask for my husband (he's at home making dinner) there is also the example of the otherwise great book The Town that Food Saved which profiles the work of a new group of agricultural entrepreneurs who are all men.
I wonder if there are writings or interviews with women out there from that time who were farmers, not just farmers' wives (not to say that they didn't do just as much work) and what their experiences were.
get your hydrometers ready
The weather has been perfect for making the sap run. Warm sunny days and clear freezing nights. Steam is billowing out of every sugar house I pass. Even though I'm not sugaring this year, I hope the season is great for those who are.
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