The Chatelaine's Keys

Sharon July 24th, 2009

Sorry for the low-content site this week – got back from Pax Christi with a new project in mind, but I’ve not had time to even begin to write it up and organize my thoughts.  What’s keeping me so busy?

Well, I got back to my life on Monday, and Eric was closing down his summer course, which meant a fair bit of time online.  I taught Tuesday, and Tuesday afternoon, we got three new goats, Mina, Jessie and little Bast.  The new goats are sweeties (a two month old nigerian dwarf goat is just a little bigger than a cat, and about the cutest thing that ever walked the earth), and quite wonderful, but they’ve had the usual sorts of trouble adapting to the new place (ie, it isn’t home yet), and Jessie hadn’t been milked much yet, so it is taking them a while to settle in. 

They are wonderful and we’re enjoying ourselves a lot, though.  We’re in the process of drying Maia off, since we might be expecting kids from her (Selene is definitely pregnant, Maia I’m less certain of), so we’ve got really only 2.5 goats in milk right now, but more coming, when Selene kids.  We also had a lovely time with our friends Jamey and Carol, who have tirelessly put up with our constant calls upon them for new information about bits of goat care we haven’t yet experienced.

Wednesday, Eric’s grades were due, and Thursday my mother and step-mother arrived to spend a few days with us.  My step-mother, Sue, is a wonder – she runs about our home fixing things that need it desperately.  Does anyone remember the toilet I swore I was going to replace myself as part of my competence project?  Well, I still intended to, but let’s just say with the composting set up and two other flush toilets in the house, it didn’t really draw our attention.  Right now Susie and my Uncle David are replacing my toilet – I don’t think I win any prizes for competence.  We’re paying them back in chicken dinners, when we butcher the meat birds.  And after lunch, they are headed up to the barn to work on repairing the old barn, so we can move the chickens up there for the winter, as we will need the space in the barn near the house for the goats.  There’s also some yard saling planned.

They are departing after lunch tomorrow, while my honorary aunt and uncle are arriving – they’ve taken up gardening seriously and are coming to hang out and also get scything lessons, since they are part-owners of a horse stable (despite living on the edge of Spanish Harlem), and have planted millet and oats for the horses.  So they are coming here for some berrying and a chance to cut things down with pointy sharp death-blades .

 In the midst of all of this, Aaron was forced to withdraw from the AIP book project – he’s got a 40 person CSA in its first season, and the book is just too much for him.  I’m very sympathetic – when it came time for me to write books, I gave up the CSA, knowing I could never do both.  So now I’m going ahead and writing the book solo, which is leading me into all sorts of reconsiderations – we need a new proposal, new plan and new contract.  Oh, and I’m supposed to have proof-read _Independence Days_ gack!

 Oh, and there’s a half-bushel of peaches waiting not-very-patiently for me on the porch, the currants need picking, the giant mutant summer squash are trying to devour the planet and need to be taught a lesson in manners, and there’s a toilet on my front porch, waiting to be turned into a planter (raising the bar in the new “tackiest home decoration” contest, which we were probably winning anyway   – hey, I can’t throw it out!  Besides, the great thing about 27 acres and agricultural zoning is that you can have a toilet planter ;-).

All of which is a long way of my saying that I’m swamped, and things will probably be quiet through next week, as I attempt to get out from under the big whomping pile of stuff I need to deal with.  

I did want to add that I still have spots in the Adapting In Place Course that begins on August 6 (where did July go, I want to know?).  As I’ve said before, this is by far my favorite of the classes I offer – and the most fascinating.  The goal is to come out of it with a plan for adapting your home (owned, rented, whatever)  to the times that are coming, within your resources.  I have had a number of students say the class is genuinely life changing, and I learn new things with each class.

 The class, like all my courses, is online and asynchronous – that is, you don’t have to be online at any particular time of day or during the week.  Aaron and I put new material up on Thursdays, but otherwise, there’s no particular schedule.  The course will run for six weeks between August 6 and September 10.

Here’s the syllabus – if you are interested in joining the class, please email me at jewishfarmer@gmail.com.  The cost of the class is $180, and we also will consider barter arrangements. 

Week 1  - How to evaluate what you have.  We’re going to concentrate on figuring out what the major concerns are for your place and your community.  We’ll talk about your region and its climate, culture and resources, your house itself, your community and neighborhood – the challenges you forsee and maybe ones you haven’t thought about yet, and your personal circumstances – how much money, time and energy you have to deal with it.  How does the definition of home change when we do this?  We’ll also talk about when adapting in place is not an option, or when you should consider relocating, and what your options are if you do need to leave or move.

Week 2 –  This week  will focus on your house itself – we’ll talk primarily about low energy infrastructure for heating, cooling, cooking, lighting, washing, etc…  About costs and options and choices for both private homes and for communities.  We will also cover some renewable, especially low cost options.

Week 3 – We’re going to go into the walls of your building and into other mysterious home infrastructure- water, plumbing and toileting, insulation, keeping warm and cool and all the other things that your shelter does or could do for you.   We’ll also talk a bit about what’s in your soil and on your property (this won’t get heavy emphasis in this class since we teach a whole class, garden design, on just this subject).

Week 4  We’ll focus on Family Issues – Sharing resources with both immediate and extended family (and chosen family), dealing with people who aren’t on board, Building collective infrastructure, cannibalizing what you have, dealing with the brother-in-law on the couch, helping kids adapt, disability, aging, college

Week 5  - We’ll talk about Finances, money, employment, making do, getting along on a shoestring, thrift, subsistence labor, starting cottage industries and businesses and community economics.  This is also when we’ll talk about transportation of all sorts. We’ll also begin discussing building a set of plans – 1 year, 5 year – to adapt to different scenarios.

Week 6 – We’ll talk about Community at every level, about how to build it, what to bring to it, how to get your neighbors to help, even if they are weird. How to get along with them even if you are weird , about models and ideas for bringing resilience and community to every level from the neighborhood to the state.  We’ll also talk about security, dealing with unrest or violence, and try and get those plans finished.

I hope some of you will consider joining us for the class – it is both fascinating and fun. 

As for the blog, I have tons of things I can’t wait to write about and expose to the useful scrutiny, advice and thought of my readership, but I’m afraid you’re stuck bearing with me for a week or so while I put it all together.   Thanks for your patience,

Sharon

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Sharon July 22nd, 2009

Check out _A Nation of Farmers_ on Voice of America!

 http://www.voanews.com/english/americanlife/2009-07-21-voa27.cfm?rss=health

 Sharon

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Sharon July 21st, 2009

I want a greenhouse.  No, I want a glasshouse, a true British style Orangerie and succession houses (and, of course, the extensive grounds to accompany it, and the private fortune,  as long as we’re dreaming).  I dream of wandering in winter into tropical glory, and plucking ripe grapefruit from the trees for my breakfast, while the scent of jasmine permeates my senses.

Ok, revisiting *this* planet, the one I actually live on, and the one that’s already suffering because crazy people want to live in the tropics when they don’t,  what I’d really like is an attached greenhouse on the cement slab that comes off my kitchen.  But the slab would have to be insulated and we’d have to find the money and the time to build it, which may happen eventually, but has not yet done so.  What I’d grow there would be cool season vegetables and seedlings in the spring.

Or I’d like a hoop house.  This is more viable, but requires some infrastructure work we haven’t gotten to yet.  My goal there would be to keep things over the winter in large beds, and maybe eventually go back into the CSA business, this time in winter.  But I don’t have that either.

I mention all these things I *don’t* have because I think it is important to realize how even in many quite cold climates, it is possible to use very simple, very low cost strategies to extend your season.  Despite all these things that I don’t have, let me tell you what I do have:

- I have fresh green vegetables grown by us from March to December or January, every single year.  This is in upstate NY, where our winter lows hit -30.  First frost is early October, last is usually late May.

- I overwinter produce every single year, including both hardy root crops and greens like kale, spinach, leeks, etc…

- I have two lemon, one keffir lime and one orange tree, a fig and a pomegranete, along with many smaller tender plants.

- I have fresh things of high nutritional value to eat all year round, produced here.

 - I start virtually every single one of my seedlings here, in the house, and use only a couple of hanging lights.  I use no lights in overwintering my tender plants.

- I have nursery beds for starting hundreds of perennials, fruits trees and berries over the winter.

I mention all this to give people a sense of what is possible with very little effort or input.  My tools for doing this include:

- Two “pop up” greenhouses (ie, they can be set on top of a raised bed or flat crops, one little stand up greenhouse (ie, a plastic cover over a plant rack that sits on a porch.

- Self-watering containers on a poorly insulated sun porch

- some greenhouse plastic and old window frames and some floating row covers

- Lotsa mulch and bales of hay

- My unheated, uninsulated garage

- A couple of south facing windows

- Willingness to experiment

I’ll talk more next week about growing food indoors during the winter, and making use of your home – this week I want to talk about simple structures to extend the season outside the house.  Now obviously, this won’t work the same for everyone – someone, for example, who lives in a much colder climate may not be able to overwinter anything – but they might be able to use the same techniques to get a month or two more growing season.  In other places,  you could do most of what I do outside without any of these things.  But the techniques themselves should be available for you to consider and evaluate.

 So what are some of these?  Well, the first one I can think of is mulch – yes, plain old mulch.  If you live in a cold climate, where the ground freezes, insulating the ground so that it doesn’t freeze, or doesn’t freeze as deeply can keep plants going a surprisingly long time.  Deep mulch on dormant plants marginal or not usually perennial in your climate, for example, can allow you to grow many perennial plants you didn’t think you could grow.  Eric Toensmeier grows hardy bananas in Massachusetts with deep mulch (think a bale of straw or two).  Less extreme, I’ve overwintered rosemary outside in good years and maintained a Maypop.    Figs can be overwintered with deep enough mulch (ie, enough to cover the whole plant in dormancy, wrapped well to keep the mulch on in winter winds.  Mulch is often underrated – your carrots, your beets will survive, if not a whole winter, a surprisingly long time with enough mulch.  This only works with plants that are either perennial or root crops, generally – eventually lack of light will kill everything else, but that covers a surprisingly large number of items.

Next up – the crazy easy solutions – cut the bottom off a plastic milk jug (dug out of someone’s recycling bin, of course) and put it over a favored plant.  Add a few stakes and a piece of plastic sheeting or a floating row cover, and enjoy a month’s extra time with your greens.   Stuff will also do better in sheltered spots or microclimates – that place along the edge of the driveway that is too hot for much of anything in summer will be just the spot for the stuff you want to overwinter.

There are lots of products out there to help you, including regular and fleecy row covers, cloches, and there are plenty of little greenhousey things you can buy.  These can be helpful, but make sure you are getting good quality stuff – you want heavy duty plastics designed to tolerate sunlight and snowload (if that’s relevant), and not to wear out, or row covers with long term lifespans.  Using plastics and petroleum based solutions can be acceptable, if you are getting a decent return out of them and they are the best available option – but using cheap plastics and replacing them every year is worse in many cases than transporting food from warmer places, so choose wisely.  I like the stuff sold by Johnny’s Selected Seeds www.johnnyseeds.com for season extension.

The cold frame is a great tool, and my favorite model is the easiest to build – the hay bale cold frame.  TAke four or six or however many bales of last year’s hay or straw (that has been kept dry).  Lay out the bales in a rectangle around an existing bed, or fill them halfway up with soil and compost.  Take a window or old glass door (do not use anything that might have old lead paint on it, ever) that fits over the top, and cover it up.  Tah dah!  This kind of frame almost never overheats, because the bales don’t fit together tightly enough to prevent air from being vented, but the bales also insulate the soil well enough that things overwinter beautifully.  And in the spring, after a winter of sitting there, all the mulch is nicely decomposing and makes great organic material for your garden, and is already right where you want it.

This trick is tough if you have to put it in the front yard of your suburban neighborhood, so you might want to build a cold frame that looks prettier, like this: http://www.doityourself.com/stry/oldwindowuses

You can also use a hotbed – this is a cold frame, filled with uncomposted manure, mixed with high carbon material, where the heat of composting keeps a cold frame or open bed warmer than it would be otherwise.  The composting material is covered with a layer of soil to keep the plants from being cooked, and the hotbed provides warm soil in cold times.  Because the heat of decomposition gradually declines, you will want to use this for short term, rather than long term warmth, to keep something going longer or to get a fast maturing crop ready.

There are lots of cheap greenhouse plans out there – I’ve not enough experience to know which are good, but I do have some concern with many of them in places that experience heavy snow loads – I’ve seen too many collapsed hoophouses and plastic greenhouses around here, and all are too expensive and resource intensive to be used for only one season.  This design  http://www.kountrylife.com/articles/art1.htm seems sturdier than some of the cheap options I’ve seen (note, I am *not* advocating that you use their resource intensive strategy of electric heat (ugh!) and lights, just that I think the design is a bit better than some cheap options I’ve seen) but again, make sure you are doing something that will last, unless you are using all used and scavenged materials that would otherwise be landfilled.  I don’t want to see a lot of people investing time and money in new 6 mil plastic and concrete, only to waste them and their embodied energy.

If you can afford a serious greenhouse, well, I’m jealous .  There are a lot of options out there, from simple hoophouses to serious glasshouses that really do look like the Restoration era glasshouses of my dreams .  I’ll cover greenhouse options next week in a separate post.  This is about the cheap and dirty options – ones that get you a lot of food.

 Sharon

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Sharon July 21st, 2009

You’ve got to read the whole thing, but Joe Bageant’s essay on our society’s shifting class status, and the pain and suffering that accompany it is stunning, and utterly, appallingly accurate. 

 If in my travels and experience in American life I see that tens of millions of Americans being screwed silly by a handful of chiselers at the top, or if I see one percent of Americans earning as much annually as the bottom 45 percent of Americans, then that 45 percent is an underclass. When I see a 70 year old man on his second pacemaker limping through Wal-mart as a “greeter” so he can pay at least something on last winter’s heating bill this month, then he is part of an underclass. When I see the humiliated single mom waitress tugging downward on the ridiculously short red plastic skirt she must wear at the Hooter’s type joint so her crotch won’t show, she’s part of an underclass of humiliated and socially oppressed people. Screw the hairsplitting about who qualifies as underclass and what color they are. Just fix it. Or reap the consequences.

We’re finally starting to hear a little discussion about the white underclass in this country. Mainly because so many middle class folks are terrified of falling into it. Frankly, I hope they do. We’ve got room for them. All the lousy, humiliating jobs have not yet been outsourced. The Devil still has plenty for them to do down here.

Call all of this anecdotal evidence. You won’t be the first. I was on a National Public Radio show last year with a couple of political consultants, demographers as I remember. One, a lady, was obviously part of the Democratic political syndicate, the other was part of the Republican political mob. The Democratic expert said dismissively of my remarks, “Well! Some people here seem to believe anecdotal evidence is relevant.” Meaning me. I held my tongue. But what I wanted to say was this:

Sister, most of us live anecdotal lives in an anecdotal world. We survive by our wits and observations, some casual, others vital to our sustenance. That plus daily experience, be it good bad or ugly as the ass end of a razorback hog. And what we see happening to us and others around us is what we know as life, the on-the-ground stuff we must deal with or be dealt out of the game. There’s no time for rigorous scientific analysis. Nor need. We can see the guy next door who’s drinking himself to death because, “I never did have a good job, just heavy labor, but now I’m all busted up, got no insurance and no job and it looks like I’ll never have another one and I’ve got four more years to go before Social Security.” He doesn’t need scientific proof. He doesn’t need another job either. He needs a cold beer, a soft armchair, some Tylenol PM and a modest guarantee of security for the rest of his life. Freedom from fear and toil and illness.

And furthermore, Sister, we cannot see much evidence that other, more elite people’s scientific analysis of our lives has ever benefited us much. When you’re fucked, you know it. You don’t need scientific verification.

I wanted to say that on the radio. But I didn’t. The little white guy mojo voice in my head told me not to. So I just laughed good naturedly. Like any other good American.

May God forgive me.

This is precisely what is at stake for many of us – getting to know the kind of degrading poverty that leaves you isolated, miserable and afraid (and I can say this because I know exactly what it feels like to have someone deal you an eviction notice, or to take a job that involves humiliation and shame as part of the work description) – or finding something better, not just for us, but for the people who are already living this way.

It isn’t a small or easy thing to deal with.  But there are ways of making it better than this.  We have failed to do so out of the goodness of our hearts.  It is my hope we may do so out of fear of joining the underclass.

Sharon

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Sharon July 20th, 2009

Given that I was gone for almost four days this week, much of what’s listed here actually was done by my husband or children, but of course, I get to take credit for it .  After all, there’s no box here for admitting what you didn’t do yourself.  Still, not bad given the chaos – profuse gratitude to my Mother In Law for coming and making everything go smoothly with the kids.

The boys finished their camp week, and Eric and I discovered we’re not nearly as slobby as we thought, our children are simply greater forces of entropy than we’d remembered.  It was amazing what we were able to do with 3+ hours per day with no children.  But it did mean that taking full advantage of it meant pushing our other work to the side and working full out, which was tiring, if productive.

I’ll be writing more about my trip to Chicago shortly – I actually had an epiphany (where better for a nice Jewish mother to have an epiphany than among Catholic Activists ) about what my next step should be, and where I might actually be able to make more change. More about this soon!

We finished off cherry season mostly, which is my new favorite , and are moving solidly into currants, raspberries and blueberries – yay more fruit!  I started my first attempt at black currant wine.  Many of the medicinals that get harvested in flower are now ready for attention as well, and of course, the summer squash and zucchini are in full attack mode.  I’m having a bad cucumber year, which is ok, since last year was a great one, and I made way too many pickles.  It all evens out, I guess.

The coming week should be eventful as well – my Mom and Step-mother are coming, and I’m hoping to get the barn on the hillside ready for the laying hens to occupy it over the winter – we’ll need the space for our expanding goat herd.  And the goat herd expansion will occur tomorrow, when Bast, Mina and Jessie arrive (along with our friends).  This is good, because Maia and Selene are definitely pregnant, and Selene is dry and Maia on her way.  So we’ve missed having milk.  In the fall, when all four adult does are milking, we’ll be flooded – yay, cheese!

Ok – onwards!

Planted something: kale, fall peas, arugula, lettuce, more nasturtiums, more sorrel.

Harvested something: Blueberries, raspberries, cherries, carrots, beets, zucchini, summer squash, green beans, tomatoes, apricots, meadowsweet, marshmallow, chamomile, mint, currants (black, red), gooseberries, cucumbers, various greens.

Preserved something: Blueberry cobbler/pie filling, strawberry rhubarb jam, cherry pie filling, black currant wine, dried zucchini, made meadowsweet and marshmallow tinctures, dried chamomile and peppermint, eggs and milk (not much milk).

Waste Not: Attempted not to waste cherry pits by making cherry pit vinegar.  Did not proceed well.  Otherwise, just the usual, plus not allowing the housekeeping staff to touch my hotel room until I left, so that they wouldn’t waste time and resources cleaning something that was already far cleaner than anything I normally live with .

Want Not/Prep: Acquired new down jackets for Eric and Eli, thanks to generous family member getting rid of stuff.  Otherwise, too busy. 

Build community food systems: Got some great ideas for local community models in Chicago from Michelle, talked about the importance of food growing to lots of people at Pax Christi.

Eat the Food: Lots and lots and lots of fruit. Boy did I miss it while stuck in a hotel . 

 How about you?

 Sharon

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