New friends

What can I say, really, about these wonderful Wwoofers that come through our house? This week, we bid goodbye to Isa, who seems like she's been here forever. Isa has been a wonderful force in our family - playing amazing pieces of music on Liam's piano, painting pictures with the kids (and on the kids, sometimes), making compost piles and something with cabbage that I'm afraid I'm afraid of, but others rave about, and generally enhancing our summer greatly. I came home one day to find Isa, Olive, Théa and Liam in the middle of a "dance party." Not only did I feel completely comfortable leaving my kids with them, I often felt they might well be better off. Harried single mom or two energy-packed women willing to dance with you to loud music? I think the choice is obvious. These two really just made my summer work - I've been working three jobs at times and it has been tricky to balance it all without plopping my children in front of endless movies. Isa also had the honor of helping me with the last major chicken slaughter - a job she did with grace.
The best part about these two women, and many of the others who have come through the house over the past two years, is that they give me hope for future generations and in so, my own children. They are not glued to the computer or their cell phone or consumerism or any of what I consider to be the fast foods of life. They are interested in art and writing and music and good food and growing organically and wonderful things. I'm hopefully that their energy and enthusiasm will add another layer to Théa and Liam's experience of growing up in this extraordinary place with these extraordinary opportunities.
It's hard to say good bye to great friends. Isa and I were both pun-masters - what a joy to have such company to laugh with! I never could have imagined that this would be the way my life and my kids' life would turn out. Théa absolutely adored Isa - in fact, part of me imagines (hopes?) Théa might be quite a bit like Isa when she grows up. Funny, cheerful, bright and opinionated, a little mischievous.
So our flock has been reduced this week, but we are so glad to have Olive staying around for the next few months. I've talked to a lot of people who have said how they don't think they could handle having another person or two in the house all the time. For me, it enhances my life. It just works. For all of us. Yay Wwoofers!

Abundance

I went out to the garden tonight to collect some stuff for a last-minute omelet and found... abundance. This morning I had gone to the farmer's market for carrots and a few other yummies that didn't propagate for some reason this year. Beets. And we are in the inbetweens with lettuce - some more coming up, and more to follow that, but right now, pickings (literally) are slim. At the farmer's market, there was a buzz. Each stand was stocked to the gills with all sorts of things - potatoes, carrots, salad greens, celery - it is the height of the Alaska growing season. So I don't know why I was surprised to find my own gardens overflowing tonight, but I was.

The bush beans are heavy with beans, the squash has finally started to produce with some degree of enthusiasm, there is cauliflower and broccoli and the tomatoes are ripening. Even the basil looked somewhat enthusiastic today. In the outside garden, those cabbages that haven't been ravaged by slugs are forming wonderfully. The turnips should be thinned, the broccoli and cauliflower are growing well, and even a little chard and spinach is coming in. A little, but what can you do. For the first time this year, it looks like time to start putting some things up! YES! Pickles. Blanching. Bring it on. The hoop houses themselves have all but disappeared in a sea of pink - the fireweed is in full bloom and very tall this year - over six feet in many places. I couldn't help shooting some images.

It's been busy here - we are starting to work on the great siding project. Gack. First board goes on tomorrow, come hell or high water. And there have been chicken butchering days - using a borrowed chicken plucker - wowweee - that thing was fantastic. We butchered 13 chickens in 2.5 hours, from pen to fridge. Yowza.

Wwoofers Olive and Isa have become part of the family - Isa leaves on Tuesday and I don't know what to do about that - I'll be so sad to see her go. The two of them have been wonderful with the kids - Théa is in heaven at being let into their "clubhouse" where they have body paint - her very favorite thing. For Liam, the girls play piano and sing constantly and listen to his long, long stories, so patiently. Olive is planning to stay on - she just got a job at Fritz Creek baking bread in the early morning hours, and I'm thrilled to have her here as long as possible. Elsewhere in the world, Mike's daughter Ella finally returned after a summer in Colorado, and that makes everything seem a little brighter.

It's time to pick blueberries and soon raspberries, and make jam, and fill the $20 garage sale freezer I picked up yesterday with the final round of chickens. There is so much to do, but it's a good busy. There were a couple of cold days last week where I lit the wood stove and started to think about winter's fast approach. Then it got hot and sunny and all that was pushed back into the corner again - but not really. It's dark as I type this - I saw stars the other night. Change is in the air. On one hand, I wish I could hang on to the long days, warm weather and fullness of summer. On the other hand, it will be good to nestle down to a softer paced life soon. An abundance of a different sort.

More fish

OK, so Théa and I can't eat salmon, but I just spent the whole weekend slaying these incredible fish for the benefit of Mike's freezer as well as my friends and guests, etc., and what an amazing thing! The fish are so incredibly beautiful and strong and it is unbelievable that one can just traipse out into the water and pick them out with a net. I'm sore, and tired, and really done with processing fish, but I'll probably be back for more soon, this time with everyone in tow for a family experience. Onward.

way too long - again

It's been way too long since I posted - the past month has been so jammed with great stuff as well as busy stuff (read: work) that it's been hard to find time to sit down and write for pleasure. But here I am and I've got to play catch-up a bit because we did some very cool stuff in the past few weeks that should not be forgotten.
Among the things we did was the much-begged for return to camping at Diamond Creek. It was only slightly less arduous packing up for a camping trip this time - equally as heavy, but since Judy and Oskar were on deck, they dealt with some of the logistics - kinda. We, of course, had a great time. Kids ran and played in the sunshine, again. The wind miraculously avoided our camping area, again. There was great fun collecting firewood, again. And the kids crashed out early enough for Judy and I to enjoy a bit of campfire time post-parenting. Excellent. A few things were missing - we managed to forget a fork of any kind, or a knife, or - most importantly, a bottle opener. Yoikes. But, there was one, lone, aluminum tent peg. After some frustration trying to effect the open-your-beer-bottle-with-a-lighter technique, which apparently we have the wrong stuff to perfect, I managed to force the cap off by simply fighting it off with the peg. Nicely done. And that tent peg also came in handy for other purposes - it was a hot-dog holding fork, a tool for removing and positioning hot pots of water and oatmeal, and endless other purposes for which a tent peg was never intended. Moral of the story? You really don't have to have everything perfectly planned to have fun camping - but a knife really is a good idea.
Another wonderful thing that has happened this month is that Olive, and her friend Isa, who arrived the second week in August, have pretty much joined our clan. The kids adore them - they play piano and sing together and are all together fabulous. I like the company and the help, and it all has worked out so well that right now they are tootling around Alaska with my car so they can see some of the state and return to the farm. Isa has to go back to school, but Olive will be with us as long as she wants. I'm thrilled. It's fabulous to have their energy, enthusiasm and humor around. I really have lucked out this year on the Wwoofer front, and frankly, I don't know how I'd deal with it all otherwise.
Last week I had lots going on work-wise, but on Sunday, Mike snuck me out on a halibut boat for the day. We caught oodles off fish and it was so fantastic getting out on the water - I can't even tell you. I'm baffled at how I can go from being so fearful of the water to wanting nothing more than to have as much access to it as I can. Happy. And fresh halibut! Yum!
This weekend, after cramming a bunch of stories out for the Anchorage Daily News, Mike and I set off to go dipnetting. In Alaska, if you are a resident, you can go pluck salmon out of the rivers for free with a very large net. It requires that you wear chest waders and carry a really large stick - with a net attached to it. We started off Thursday night at the Kasilof River. That was a bust, but it was a nice drive. On Friday, after another full day of working, we headed for Kenai. I'd never been before and was worried about the whole party atmosphere, combat fishing thing. But, there we were and it was great. The only thing that wasn't great was the wet wader factor. My waders (borrowed) had serious issues. But after the water warmed up a bit in there, it was fine. For a while. But at one point after about 2 hours, I was done. I was cold and grumpy and I wanted to be done. But I hung in there after a little Mike pep-talk and went back out. And then? Bammm. We caught 20 in about an hour. Amazing. I couldn't even put the net down in the water without catching another fish. Wow.
We spent the night at Kenai and got up in the morning to catch the next tide, but this time I tried a different set of waiders and they were worse by far. You are way out in the water with this net, getting hit by waves as they come in. Water goes down your front, your back, everything. When I caught one fish in the morning, I dragged it out only to find that my pantlegs were so full of water I was practically unable to walk. Nonetheless, I'm hooked. I would go back tomorrow if I can. I bought waders. I yearn for a longer pole. Oh yeah. Perhaps the biggest surprise came when we got home and had to process all that food. Wow. 25 fish (or so) is 50 fillets and that's 100 packages of fish to vacuum seal and freeze. Zoikes. Three hours later.
And about the same time as we got back to beautiful Kachemak Bay, the weather shifted to crazy. That was very worrisome because the hoop house II has been experiencing some structural issues. The plastic I put on it is inferior to the plastic on the other hoop house and thus, has started to fail. I found a couple of tears in it last week. Mike put fishnet over it for me, which saved the day today because it would have been gonzo otherwise. When we got back, it had split in several places and was on its way off, for sure. We put tarps over it and hoped for the best tonight. I sure wish it would stop blowing now, though. Otherwise the garden is doing well - zucchini came in this week, second coming of the broccoli - yuumm, cucumbers growing well, peas in (snap) chickens going through two red buckets of feed a day now, at least. 30 birds eat a lot. And poop a lot. Hmmm.
Busy weekend, busy week, but fulfilling and enriching and freezer-filling.

The tempo of summer living is so incredibly different than the other seasons around here. It's not just the daylight, which stretches impossibly from one end of the day to the other. But that's not the biggest shift between the seasons. It's really the mornings. In the fall, winter and spring, we are up and out the door in record time, rushing to get to school on time. There is little time to ease into the day. But not in the summer. In the summer, morning stretches on and on.

This spring, Mike bestowed upon me the virtue of the porch couch. Sitting on his, gazing at the wonder of Kachemak Bay, I decided that any latent stigma that might be attached to having a couch on your porch was foolish. I wanted one. And, low and behold, he had extras. What a guy.

So now my mornings involve easily an hour on the couch, sipping coffee and listening to the bird calls, both native and those of my ever-growing flock of poultry. This heavy dose of nature to start my day has really defined my summer. Cuddling the children while watching the squirrels skitter nervously up and down the spruce trees is soul food. I can remember many years thinking that the number of times I actually sat on my deck and enjoyed the space were so limited. This year, it seems to have reversed. If last year was the year of reconnecting with Alaska, this summer is all about reconnecting with my own piece of land. That's a great thing.

Last night, as he was climbing into bed after another full night with a cluster of friends, Liam asked me, "Mom, are we really farmers?" "Yup, I guess so," I responded. "Well, if we are really farmers, there are just a few things missing." "Oh?" "Yes, I think we need a goat, or two or three." Oh, dear. What a slippery slope.

A new day

I changed the blog today. It started years ago as a place to record the developments of my final journey into motherhood. It evolved with my life, and has become a journal not only of my children, but of our farm, our sometimes haphazard movement toward a more wholesome life, and a celebration of the successes we have rejoiced in along the way.

Liam and Théa and their impact on my life are still at the heart of it all, though. It's really all about them. In their lifetime, the world is going to change. We aren't going to be able to ship strawberries from South America to the Last Frontier because the cost will be too high, both to our environment and our pocket book. So it's perhaps not a bad idea to know how to grow one's own, or at least have a general appreciation for what a strawberry plant looks like. It's also time to leave behind the model of food production that we were born into and taste a tomato that tastes like a tomato again, without pesticides or modifications that make it store-perfect but nutritionally inferior.

It's also about building a life that puts family dinners ahead of a bulging pocket book, that puts music and art in their proper lofty place, and relishes the simple pleasures of sitting around a campfire and enjoying the company of others, friends new and old. It's about the joy on my daughter's face when she returns from the hen house clutching a freshly-laid egg in her hand. It's about living a wholesome life, living whole.

I believe it matters now, and it will matter a whole lot more in coming years. This is my gift to my children, passed on to me by my own parents, who were pioneers of sorts in their own generation. When they left behind the opportunities presented to them in exchange for a more wholesome life, they shaped mine forever. It took a long time to understand why, but I get it now. This is my chapter in the story I inherited. And I'm pretty excited about it all.

Oh Canada

Today was Canada Day - and we had a big ol party at my friend and fellow Canadian Andrea's house. It was really the first time I'd seen everyone in a while since the routine of school ceased. That was great, but Canada Day is a bit bitter-sweet for me. I wish I could somehow gather up my plot of earth and move it across the border, sometimes. Part of that is political - I've never been a fan of the way the United States impacts the world. Part of that is about my children and their identity and what they value. I think Canadian values are different. And a big part is just that my own self-identity will always be that of a Canadian. I have a sweatshirt that has a canadian flag and (proud) in parenthesis below it. It's perfect. Subtle, yet poignant. I love it there. I miss it. Especially on Canada Day.