Springness

So its been almost a month since my last post. Its been a busy one, for sure, and I honestly just haven't had the energy to write anything at the end of the day the way I did during winter. But some good things are shaking down home and I want to spread the love!

Probably the most awesome thing that has happened in the past month is spring. Yes, I'm pretty sure we're not getting any more snow (although I've wishfully been saying that for two months now), and we've had some days in the 60s. The spring rains are in full force, and there are FLOWERS coming up. Yeah, remember flowers? This winter felt so long I almost forgot they existed. Things are waking up out there, can you feel it? Every morning it seems that I hear a different bird returning, and the past few nights I have actually heard some peepers partying on the back 40. Before you know it, we'll be running around barefoot catching fireflies!

But I shouldn't get ahead of myself. It is still below freezing at night after all, and what that has meant is a ton of seeds hanging out in random spots inside my house on those days and nights when it feels more like February. So far I've started kale, lettuce, stevia, cabbage, rosemary, thyme, parsley, chives, broccoli, brussels sprouts, artichokes, hot peppers, sweet peppers, tomatoes, tomatillos, and tatsoi. Whew! Here's a pic I took the first day I did any seed starting. Man, it felt good to put those seeds in the dirt -- it felt like the first tangible commitment I made to working this land.

So that big bag you see in the background is something called ProMix. I bought this strange substance in a moment of weakness at my local garden supply, in which I somehow forgot that all the seeds I started in California were in a mix of compost and garden soil. The folks are the garden store told me that I could not start seeds in a mix like that -- that I need a sterile soilless growing medium in which to do it. They recommended this one, which contains a blend of perlite and vermiculite (both volcanic rocks), peat moss from Canada, and something called a "wetting agent" that remained nameless. Sketchy.

I felt terrible about this purchase -- I don't live anywhere's near a volcano, peat moss takes hundreds of years to grow and is harvested unsustainably from fragile wetlands, and there was some sort of shady secret agent involved in the whole scene. But, because I second guessed my firsthand experience of just using plain 'ol dirt I was duped into buying something I didn't actually need. Maybe it would give those seeds a better chance at germination, but to me thats not worth it. I started the rest of my seeds in a mix of clay soil from the backyard, sand from the driveway, and compost made right across the Little River in Lisbon Falls, all from Maine-grown organic matter. They did just as well. And of course they did. After all, people living in Maine 100 years ago didn't have access to ProMix, but they somehow managed to grow food for themselves.

I'm now in the process of moving my babies out of these flats and into larger containers, since they were starting to get a little big and spindly. Today was the first of such transplants, starting with the artichokes and the kale! The 'chokes are in the background and the kale are in the front. Also, the new background is a whole tray of kale transplants. Nice rainy day job.

The plastic cup that baby kale is living in right now was free, incidentally -- I found a whole stack of them in a cupboard of my new little camper. Which is probably the second most exciting development after the coming of spring. Thats right folks, I am now the proud owner of a 1970 Commanche camper that has become my new home. Currently it lives in the driveway, but as soon as mud season lets up a little I'll be towing my house out back and living a little closer to the sound of peepers than the sound of traffic. Here's some pics of the new digs.

So life is good. Got me a home and some soon-to-be homegrown food to go with it. There's lots more going on down homestead these days -- last-ditch pruning efforts, more planting/transplanting, and pretty soon tree grafting and bed prep for the veggies. Come May things are gonna be kicked into high gear, so I'll try to enjoy the relative calm before the storm. In the meantime I'll leave you with one more picture makes me really happy -- my mother informed me yesterday that something of mine was exploding in the basement (not the first time I've heard that, honestly). I went down there to discover my oyster mushrooms bursting from the seams of the milk jug of straw that I had innoculated with some spore about a month ago. Check out the first crop of the season!

Feel Free

I was raised with a scavenger's ethic. My dad was a second generation antique dealer, which is to say that we made our living by digging through other people's old junk and selling it for money. I was raised to see the value in what others perceived as trash, and -- given that the antique business is not exactly a get-rich-quick scheme -- to be aware of ways to get things for cheaper or for free. My house and barn are to this day a testament to the incredible amount of stuff people give or throw away. My mom and her partner Terry keep the tradition by making art out of rusty old pieces of metal and other assorted "junk" to be found at the local dump. Those who know me will be well aware of my own fondness for dumpster diving, namely when perfectly good food is involved. We are a family of vultures, and I say that with the utmost respect for the usually-maligned creatures. Vultures and other scavenger animals fill a vital role in any ecosystem, and I'm happy as a clam to fill that niche in my own community.

All of this is to introduce two incredible websites that I encountered this week, both of which involve getting fantastic stuff for completely, 100% free. I thought I'd share these findings with you here since they concern two really important things every homesteader needs: food (that is, plants) and shelter.

The first is a government website, but despite this affiliation, I think they're up to something good. Its called the the Germplasm Resources Information Network, operated through the USDA, and it appears that their sole purpose is to collect seeds, scions (budding branches from trees) and other plant matter used for propagation, and give them away for free. 100% free. They even cover the shipping. I read somewhere that they do it mostly for rare plants, but I found all manner of plants on their site. The only catch is that you're supposed to use it for research or educational purposes, which I suppose means if you're a market farm they don't really want you to take advantage of it to make a profit. I figured that I qualified for it, so I went ahead and placed an order. In about a month I can expect to get a nice package full of strawberry plants, asparagus, radishes, shallots, and various varieties of scions for peach, pear, and apple trees. All free of charge courtesy of the great U.S. of A. I should tell you, there website is a little hard to navigate, particularly since they use latin binomial plant names almost exclusively (e.g. peach trees are listed as prunus persica), so if you're interested and need a little help deciphering things, feel free to send me a message.

The second is one I'm really jazzed about, and I'm sure I'll be writing more about it later. Its actually a collection of websites all about how to build yourself a tiny little house for free. I first stumbled upon this youtube channel called Tiny Yellow House, this video in particular -- "Gypsy Junker" -- catching my eye.

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This fellow, Deek Diedricksen based out of Massachusetts, builds a ton of small living structures almost entirely out of salvaged material. I am in love with his portable gypsy wagon built out of trash, and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna go that route rather than spending a pretty penny on some run-down old camper. My friends Billy and Grace, who were artists-in-residence on the farm in Utah where I WWOOFed, lived in one such gypsy wagon, which you can see here on their website.

Following his work led me to this other blog called Tiny Free House, in which a fellow alternative builder chronicles his work building a shelter for free out of used shipping pallets. He says, "It will cost nothing. Any money I spend on building materials will be recouped by selling discarded things I find and most of the wood will come from old shipping pallets. Why Pallets? It just seems like poetic justice for a house that questions consumerism to be made from the very things that carried so many products to market." Love it. Seeing this reminded me of an intentional community I visited in northern Washington last February called Porcupine Palace, since they had built ALL of their living structures out of scrap wood and discarded palettes from the shipyards in Seattle. He's also building on wheels -- I believe a utility trailer -- the benefits to this, as I see them, being thats its incredibly portable and doesn't necessitate pouring a foundation.

So add one more thing to the list of projects. I don't know how far I'll get into it this year, but I'm going to try and simplify it to the point that it costs me less than $500 (obviously trying to get as close to free as possible) and only takes a few months to build. Based on what I've seen so far, I think thats totally reasonable. And totally fun, since it involves a goodly amount of dump pickin'.

I've got another post coming this week about seed starting, a how-to as well as some talk about the trouble with seed starting mediums and the resource use involved. As a teaser I'll tell you that it involves me doing something quite unsustainable. But until I sort out some picture uploading issues, you'll have to stay in suspense as to what that might be.

In the meantime, folks, feel free.

Through the Grapevine

So although I've tried to keep busy throughout the winter with my vermicompost project, learning how to grow mushrooms, and various ferments bubbling away on the countertop (all of which I promise to show you soon), I felt like this week really inaugurated things here on the 'stead. Glorious March finally brought weather warm enough to work outside without freezing. And that meant I better get my butt out there quick and do some pruning before all those little buds started popping open. So I did. For first ever by-myself pruning project I decided to do the grapevines.

Yeah, thats right. I said grapevines.

Turns out there are some pretty hardy grape varieties that grow well up in these northern parts. Grow really well. Almost too well. On the land here are at least two (I'll probably find more after the snow melts down) really old concord grapevines that have not been pruned in probably over 30 years. The vines are so long and thick that they've started taking down trees in their wake -- huge willow branches, and entire birch and pine trees have surrendered to the brute force of these vines. So I decided this would be a perfect first project -- not only would I be improving the quality of the grapes, but I'd also be lending a hand to these innocent bystanders. And turns out grapes like to be pruned really heavily, so I couldn't really mess up. I could theoretically cut it down to a stump and it would all grow back in one season.

So, to back up a bit, a quick mini-lesson on pruning. Pruning fruit trees and vines is done for four main reasons: to improve air flow between the branches so that pollination can occur and to prevent common diseases, to increase the amount of sunlight that penetrates the plant, allowing flower development and fruit ripening, to create a sturdy framework on which fruit can develop (getting rid of dead, diseased or otherwise weak limbs), and to allow for ease of harvesting (if your grapes are fruiting thirty feet up a willow tree its not exactly easy to go pick a bunch). All of this makes for a healthier tree or vine that will live longer and produce larger, better quality fruit. There's definitely an art to knowing which limbs to take down, and how many, and its different for every plant. I'd never pruned a grapevine before, let alone an extremely overgrown one, so I did a bit of research online and learned -- as I said before -- that I could be pretty brutal.

So on Tuesday I tromped out back to the vine closest to the house, shears, loppers and saws in hand and transformed this:

into this:
Thats me on the bottom trying to demonstrate how most grapevines are usually trellised; that is, how they're supported above ground to make it easier to pick -- there's usually one main trunk with two cordons (branches) tied onto the trellis in a "T" shape and the rest of the growth is continuously cut back. Here's a before/after view from the gully that shows how I tried to get rid of everything except this one main trunk. As you can see, there were at least 8 or 10 trunks growing out of the same root system.

Before:
and after:
I don't know if it comes through in the pictures, but this was a lot of freakin' work. It was so amazing to watch the vine transform and know I was doing it all on my own. I almost gave up a few times, not feeling confident in my ability to do the job right, but I pushed through and was so amazed and gratified at what I was able to do for that part of the land. I was still pretty conservative with what I cut -- I think there's still too many branches and as you can see some of them are crossed. But after all that sawing and lopping and pulling vines out of trees and dragging limbs out of the gully into a pile (in that second picture you can see the massive brush pile to the left), I was beyond exhausted. I'll have to come back to this one, and soon, because I already saw a few buds that has opened up. Pruning, it turns out, mostly needs to happen while the plant is dormant because that is when it has stored energy to expend on wound closure. During the summer its drawing its energy from photosynthesis -- any pruning you do will therefore remove leaves and reduce the amount of energy it has to work with. Also, at that point it needs to focus on growing leaves, flowers and fruit and any other work you ask it to do would lessen the quantity and quality of those things.

So I hope Mama Nature is kind and gives me a little more "dormant" time to work with. Mostly because on my second pruning venture today, I stupidly tried to use a pole saw on a limb that wasn't really right for that sort of tool. The saw slipped, and instead of pruning the tree limb I almost pruned my pointer finger off. I was extremely lucky -- didn't sever any tendons, nerves or arteries -- but it looked freakin' gnarly. Was rushed to the ER and got five stitches -- first stitches of my life -- and a ridiculously large bandage that I have to keep on my finger for the next two days. I feel like I'm wearing one of those "We're #1!" foam hands, because I also can't really bend it with the bandage on. So although I'm ready to go full bore into this thing, I guess this is the universe's way of telling me to slow down and make sure I take care of my body -- its really the most important tool I have.

After I get this little slip-up taken care of, you can look forward to more pictures of tree pruning -- pear, apple, plum, huckleberry and blueberry are all on the list -- as well as pictures of my sweet new scar. :) I can look forward to typing with all 10 fingers and getting my hands dirty again (seed starting next week!). Stay tuned!

Welcome Home(stead)

Outside my window the snow is coming down heavy now, piling even higher on top of tired white pine branches, some of which are now touching the ground. The silence is punctuated by the occasional car or scraping of snow plow, a falling icicle here and there, a chickadee call, the sound of the furnace humming in the basement.

Yep. I'm back in Maine, alright. And its still winter.

Which always leads me to daydreaming about springtime. About mud and sunshine and green things. But this year, the dream is just a little bit bigger.

Welcome to the homestead. This year, I'm gonna make a go of it on my own. Here on this old turn-of-the-century farmland with its overgrown apple trees, dilapidated red barn, and thirty-year-old preserves in the cellar; with its marshy pine forest and foxdens; I'm going to try my darndest to return to an older way of life so as to create the best possible future for myself and this land. It's gonna be an adventure, folks. I hope you'll come along for the ride.

I'm calling it Fiddlehead Homestead. Its a working title. I feel like a better name for this project is lurking among the aspens and milkweed, but I won't know what that is until the snow melts and the land wakes up and I can ask it. In the meantime, Fiddlehead speaks to me -- something about that plant being a native to this bioregion, much like myself, and it being supremely tasty, nutritious, wild and perennial. All attributes that I want my homestead to embody. Also, it is an ephemeral creature, prompting one to not only be aware of seasonality, but more generally with the impermanent nature of all things. Plus it makes me think about fiddles, which are pretty wonderful. So for now, a fiddlehead seems to be an apt namesake to describe what I'm going for with this thing.

I also consciously use the word homestead rather than farm, as to me they signify very different scales and purposes. I am not aspiring to be a market farm by any means, and while I hope to feed as many people as I can, that's not my sole aim. Farm to me suggests multiple acres in cultivation, annual crops arranged in straight rows, and the export much of the produce. While I have worked on farms such as this, and don't have anything necessarily against them, its not what I want my project to look like. A homestead, in contrast, is much smaller in scale ("go big or go homestead" as a friend of mine is fond of saying) and to me conjures up images of food production more integrated with the landscape, grown with subsistence as the goal, surplus as a bonus. This seems to me a good place to start -- to see if I'm able to grow enough to feed myself and my family, and hopefully have enough left over to barter with, gift to friends and neighbors, and occasionally sell to help financially support the project.

So with that prelude, here, simplified and somewhat artificially separated from each other, are the five main intentions and goals I am setting to give shape and direction to Fiddlehead -- a mission statement of sorts:

1) SELF-SUFFICIENCY: Raise as much food as possible to feed myself, my family, and my friends. Limit the amount of materials being imported onto the land, including food, medicine, fuel, soil amendments, and building materials, using (wisely) what is here first and locating salvaged materials if I have to import. Similarly, ensure that "waste" products are able to be reintegrated into the land (i.e. no toxic byproducts) and that I don't have to export anything. In short, attempt to "close the loop" and have greater control over the source and destination of the resources I use.

2) SUSTAINABILITY: Even more important than growing food is growing soil. Make sure my practices are regenerative, making the land more fertile, not less as is usually the case in agriculture. Don't use any resource in a way that depletes it faster than it can regrow. This includes human resources: energy, compassion, etc. The use of permaculture principles is key here, introducing and supporting perennial plants and diverse polycultures that largely self-maintain and build the fertility and resilience of the ecosystem.

3) BIO-CENTRISM: Learn about the land and local ecology, and have the health of the overall biotic community be primary in any decision or action I make. Support and build habitat for a variety of plants and animals, and leave the majority of the land wild. Better yet, blur the distinction between wild and cultivated in order to reintegrate human life into the biotic community of which it is a part, avoiding the human/nature dichotomy.

4) COMMUNITY: Use the homestead as a tool to involve, and get involved in, the local community, both human and non-human. Invite neighbors to be involved in the project, and offer to help out on their projects, becoming a part of and enriching the local economy and allowing us all a "way out" of current systems dominated by money, isolationism, disempowerment, and scarcity mentalities.

5) EDUCATION: Use the space to further my own education (learning from others and learning-by-doing) as well as to pass along my knowledge to anyone interested in learning. This includes new, innovative discoveries and technologies when appropriate, but places primacy on older, tried-and-true ways of living in this world. We are a society that -- due to changes that took place throughout the twentieth century -- has lost touch with a lot of traditional knowledge and skills. I feel that its the calling of my generation to relearn what has been forgotten before it is lost forever, and figure out how to apply that knowledge and those skills to our current circumstances. I see this as not only necessary for the health of the planet, our communities and ourselves, but also a hell of a lot of fun. :)

Its a tall order, I know. But I think its possible. I invite you all to follow me this year as I try my darndest to live up to all this, and better yet, to come on down to the homestead if you're able. Or start your own, however small. I'll be posting about my projects to try and give you enough information to do it on your own, so you can learn from my failures and my successes -- I've already got some in the works that I'll be posting about soon, including a vermicompost bin, adventures in kombucha and sauerkraut, and home mushroom cultivation. Yip!

So keep your eyes, ears, minds and hearts open, folks; roll up your sleeves and hold on to your hats. We're going down home.