Woman Closest to the Soil

Hmm....that's the way I was introduced to a potential job candidate today.  I couldn't help myself;  I glanced at my fingernails, just to check there wasn't a pound of garden under there.  (They were clean, thank you.) 

In a similar ah-ha moment about me and my life, I checked my Diigo profile and found that I have bookmarked an eclectic mix of articles as evidenced by my tags: sustainability, reading, local, food, bias, Hawaii, transcendentalism, technology, education, pearltree, canning, agricultural, broody, hen, poetry, writing, research.  I wondered what the thousands of people enrolled in the same MOOC I am starting next week would think of my profile should they stumble across it.  The MOOC is taking place on Google +, Facebook, Twitter, Diigo, Pearltree, and various other platforms and, as I said, there are thousands of other participants, so I doubt many will stumble across me, but I am sure I rank up there with the most mixed-up life. 

It's an odd thing to be so immersed in technology at school, so involved with the kids and their learning and the amazing products being produced from that learning, and then to come home to a place where I am trying to learn how to do things in the most basic way possible - to learn how to garden without chemicals, to be involved in the raising of animals, birth, death, and all the in between, to produce my own food from as close to scratch as I can.  To learn things I think that maybe my grandmothers were pretty happy to leave behind, in a lot of ways. 

Sometimes it feels like a good thing to be able to switch roles like that - when I am at work, I am really at work.  I focus very hard on what I need to get done and, especially, on the kids.  I work through lunch, lots of times, because I know that papers, even if they should come home with me, aren't going to be looked at unless it is an emergency.  When I am at home, I am really at home.  I focus on the things that need to get done there - baking for the week, the animal care, the greenhouse and the garden and, definitely not least though last, my family.  Since I spend more waking hours at school, I feel less behind there, more accomplished, but I love being home, too.  I just wish I could get that lovely accomplished feeling around the farm, too, instead of always feeling like there is so much more I could do. 

Local Soup

I made a soup that, although for this batch I bought everything, I could potentially grow or raise everything.  It was simple and really good. 

I chopped a Maui onion and caramelized it, added diced chicken,  a chopped up kabocha pumpkin and 3 chopped Okinawan sweet potatoes, added some of that turkey broth I canned a few months ago and water and cooked it down.  It was really good - and healthy, too.  Everything in it was produced locally, although not by me (unfortunately).  Definitely adding this to the regular rotation! 

Dreaming Big but Living in the Middle

My dreams are bigger than the time I have to put into them - and bigger than my financial capability (although that just means more time, doesn't it?)    I once told my father-in-law that I wanted to produce 60% of our food. He grew up on a sugar plantation on this island, and he just looked at me with a little bit of pity and said, "Good luck." 

I do think my goal is doable to produce that 60% or even more - if I change some of the eating habits of my family, learn some new skills, build the structures, and put the time into it.  However, I do admit that it is fairly overwhelming to think about with work and keeping the house and managing the bills and activities.  Sometimes I feel like I am trying to balance suburban expectations (kids' sports, work outside the home, etc) with farm expectations and it gets tough.  Teaching is also a very intensive proposition when it is ongoing - you never leave it in the classroom and, at least, I never stop thinking about the kids and where they are and where I want them to be, and how I can tweak it. That's not an excuse, just points out that I need to find my own balance.  

My husband works on big projects around the house and barn and that has been frustrating me - how is dry-walling and painting the garage helping us produce food?! - until he explained that he can't finish his work room in the barn which would allow him to make things we need on the farm until the garage is painted and organized.  I have this urgent feeling of plant now, organize our grazing now, get a few dairy goats now, and he has a feeling of get everything in order, one step, next step, following in order.  I am sure my impatience is frustrating to him - we've OFTEN gotten animals we weren't ready for because of my enthusiasm - and I know the fact that we're barely one step closer to the big garden I planned a YEAR ago (we put quite a lot of aged manure in the area and covered it with plastic AGES ago) drives me wild.  We do have half of a lovely garage and my tack room is amazing - but no garden is going in, yet.  Half of my free labor force has moved out (one kid the day after he turned 18 - didn't let the barn door hit him on the hind end he was out of there so fast) and the other half is so busy with those suburban expectations - homework, sports, "regular chores, like our friends".  

I imagine that we'll need to meet in the middle.  Right now, meeting in the middle means him doing his thing and me attempting to keep up with what's already there - the kalo, the sweet potato, a few citrus, guava, and bananas.  I don't think that's middle enough, but it's a start.  I think our first middle will be a larger venture in chickens.  Although my middle-aged hens are picking up in laying, I want to buy a number of chicks and retire the ladies to the freezer when the putative new chicks start laying - so looking at about 5-6 months down the line.  That means, having a place to put feathered out and ready to go out chicks in about 3 months.  With the glacial pace of new farm ventures around the Hapless Stead - that's a blazing fast, indeed.  

Self-Sustainability

I have been musing on what it would mean to be self-sustainable on our property.  I think, compared to our old suburban lifestyle, that we've made great strides in providing for ourselves.  We still hook up to the utility, but our bills are a fraction of what others use on our island (we have the highest utility costs in the nation here on the Big Island) because we have a heat pump, photovoltaics, and solar water heating.  We could do more by turning off everything all the time, but we do okay there.  We are by no means able to chuck the electric company altogether - and the people we do know who have done so still buy gas to run generators, so that's not a solution.  More solar might work, but we don't get much sun, frank, in a rainforest. 

I could grow more, but with the exception of apples which don't grow prolifically here (although they do grow at higher altitudes) and which my kids adore, I could grow everything I buy in the way of produce (I shop the Farmer's Market pretty exclusively for veggies and fruits).  This is an an area I could be more self-sustainable. Dry beans would need to be under some kind of rain cover - a very large greenhouse, but definitely doable.  Black beans do well outside here, but soybeans and garbanzos would need some shelter. 

Meat wouldn't be a problem, although I am not to that point. 

I don't think we can grow wheat or, really, any grain. Sweet corn grows well in some areas, but not here - and the lack of sun would hinder corn for flour.  I am going to give oats a try, but I have my doubts.  Some wheat grew from undigested chicken scratch, but it didn't make it to maturity - much, much too wet, I suppose.  I would be very sad without flour, so not self-sustaining there.  I have thought about trying potato flour - potatoes grow here - but bread with only potato flour isn't so good.  Or at least, I haven't found a recipe, yet. 

Dairy is another thing that ends up in my basket when I do head for a store - I could fix that, if I had a dairy animal or two - but that's going to take some planning for fencing and housing and such.  Not to mention time to milk and make the cheese/yogurt/butter. 

I can't sew at all, and given my lack of fine motor skills, I doubt I could weave or spin, so clothing is NEVER going to be something I am self-sustainable with. 

Ethanol fuel might be possible on a limited scale - engineer husband.  

It's interesting to think about, but sometimes I feel like I am banging my head against the wall.  For a variety of reasons, we're trying to produce more for ourselves, but it just seems to be so overwhelming, sometimes. 

Puttering Around

Today, after my favorite six mile walk, I puttered on the internet, looking for the most broody hen breeds.  I know Buff Orpington's are up there on the maternal meter, but my gals must have missed the boat on broodiness.  I want to build a large flock of chickens that will perpetuate themselves - and lay a lot of eggs.  I was considering mixing it up some - buying a few hens that go broody easily and buying a larger number of hens who lay like gangbusters - plus a few roosters. 

Once I was done with my internet ramblings, I baked a batch of experiment muffins - boosted with protein powder and fiber one cereal (there was this big sale on Fiber One... and there's a large tub of cookies and cream flavored protein powder in the pantry - which my protein powder drinking son does not like).  They taste okay, actually, even if they're oddly shiny and I forget to turn on the timer and they are a little overdone (maybe a minute or two overdone - not burnt, but a bit crispy). 

Then I tried to save taro plants from grass suffocation - turns out they aren't actually doing that bad under there, even if they are pint sized rather than large - and it turns out that an hour of hacking at steel hawser grass is my upper limit.  It's a mix of delicate operation - separating the ha from the surrounding grass - and brute force- hacking at grass with a sickle.  That hour only got me through half a row, but at least I did something. 

I pulled some old lettuce, planted new.  Planted broccoli seeds, pinched some tomato suckers and replanted those, and planted a few cucumber seeds.  Weeded around the sweet potato vines to give the patch room to expand.  Picked a papaya which looked ready, picked a few poha berries, and inspected the new fruits that are setting.  Briefly considered the work it would take to make beds for the lilikoi around the lava rock wall near the greenhouse and put it off for another day when my husband feels like using the tractor.  Played with the horse for 10 minutes.  Looked for eggs (no luck). 

I guess the puttering was fairly productive - not as much as some days, but something, at least. 

Makahiki Celebrations

Today at school we are celebrating the new year.  In the Hawaiian culture, there was a three month moratorium on work and the people took part in games and celebrations (and women were prohibited from cooking all the time - something that on some days sounds good to me).  Today, we're taking a day to follow that tradition. 

There will be classes and games all day, and I hear that the food was at least partially made by the community around us and not just our already hardworking food service.  I am looking forward to some kalua pig without cabbage - as bad for me as it is!  And haupia! And poi! 

Since we have had some strange weather - alternating sun and pounding, pouring rain - well, let's hope for sun.  Huki huki (tug of war) won't be fun in pouring rain. 

I am sitting at my desk feeling weird as I am in work out clothes - my shorts and the 10th grade class t-shirt - instead of work clothes.  It will make sense later, but right now it feels odd. 

Volcano Hike

 These aren't actually in order, but here goes.  This is from the Crater Rim trail at Kilauea Iki - in the distance, you can see the eruption in Halemaumau Crater.  It just looks like steam. 

This is the view into the crater - that lighter path is the trail across Kilaue Iki Crater.  You can just barely see people the size of ants to the right of picture.  When I took this picture, we'd just come up the crater wall.  

 This is a picture of Thurston Lava Tube with my family walking away - I wanted to test the camera in low light. 

 My sister's younger daughter at the beginning of our trek across the crater floor. 

 This is my youngest in front of a cinder slide. 

The kids and my sister walking in the forest near the Lava Tube.  

My favorite flower - the Lehua blossom on an Ohia tree.  

These kids aren't hearing, speaking, or seeing Evil.  

Ohelo Berry bush.  

Teeny tiny people on the crater floor - and this is with zoom!  

A zoomed picture of the eruption in the next crater over.