Fungal Speed Progress

I did not intend to do a double post today, but after reading post-publishing my last post (say that 10 times fast) I noticed a recurring theme, and I dare say it appears that I am stuck in a single vein. This blog is my think tank, and I usually run to my computer with flour covered fingers to capture thoughts as they come. I noticed while reading through my posts that most of them touch on either hastily entering or slowing down my pace, leaning more heavily on learning to slow down. It seems somewhat contradictory to me as I feel I have made little progress thus far to have the constant theme of slowing down. These first few months though, are where I establish my pace. Much of this endeavor will be accomplished alone.

While everyone loves to track progress and I feel my posts reflect little of that, until the pace is established, little true progress can be made. Also, elimination of unnecessary endeavors are also progress. While I would hate to call one of my staple "B's" an unnecessary endeavor, I just posted on setting beekeeping aside for the time being.

An important part of this plan is to operate it within my means. Buying more bees to re-start my hives would cost me close to three hundred dollars. After the hundreds of dollars I spent last year to begin beekeeping again here on the farm, that price tag is too high. I haven't given beekeeping up for good, but I am setting it aside for a more opportune time. Perhaps I will encounter a swarm once the weather warms, and for the little effort of setting up a trap, that might be my avenue back into beekeeping. But for now, looking at my time and money budget, chickens are moving to the forefront, and bees are moving to the back burner. I'll still be starting numerous herbs and vegetables from seed to grow and sell, along with a few other small endeavors.

One is learning about growing shiitake mushrooms. I recently signed up for a three session, log growing mushroom class to the tune of forty dollars at my local Cooperative Extension. The first class was a classroom introduction to the overall operation from growing methods to mushroom marketing. The next class is a hands on instruction where we will learn to inoculate logs with shiitake spawn and be given a single inoculated log to take home. I'm excited by this possible endeavor, but I wont be out drilling for a 600 to 800 log operation, as our instructor recommends for viable income.

I'll raise the one log, look into working a log structure into my design layout, and then see about additions in a year's time. It takes a year for the initial flush of mushrooms to appear. Once that first crop comes, you can have two naturally occurring harvests (typically spring and fall) or force the logs for a harvest every six weeks through the summer. This operation requires repeated soaking of four foot, 4-8 inch diameter logs, and handling of these drenched logs for growth. This may be beyond my vertically challenged abilities, but we shall see. That is the stage I am at right now- slow, steady experimentation and re-adjustment of goals until the practices that are right for me come to light. So I might have little to show for progress, but there are multiple areas of growth set in motion, even if they are hard to see. Much like a fungus on a log, I suppose.

Waiting for Ladybugs to Land

These past two weeks have felt like a constant increasing pressure as a result of just a few decisions I  made in pursuit of this new life. Two online college classes, active participation in a seed exchange, saying yes to more chickens....

I consider the move to the farm one of my biggest leaps of faith so far in my life. It may not seem so to the outside observer, but for a single mother to answer an add on Craigslist, visit a farm over 50 miles away, and then decide- This is Home- was huge for me. I had limited support, and some rather hostile opposition, but my heart said yes. It has turned out to be the best decision ever for my son and me.

In the months after moving, the contentment I felt on the farm was rarely matched by any outside activity or destination. I began to dread engagements as painful obligations, and breathe a sigh of relief when I returned home. I realized that a long standing prayer I had sent up had been answered- but I kept straying from the answer. The prayer was a plea for contentment. I prayed that I would learn to be content unto myself, and inside whatever life would throw my way. Through my move I was given a sphere of contentment, yet I remained tied to outside people and events.

When I realized this, I set a goal to learn to say "no" when I felt the pull home was stronger than the pull to be anywhere or do anything else. I had developed the unfortunate habit of deriving my personal contentment by pleasing others. This was not only a false, fleeting, contentment, it also depended solely on others, and as we all know, to some extent- that dependency is wholly unreliable and often falls short of contrived expectations. Not to mention that the weight I put on those outside me for needing me was often much less than I imagined.

And so, to every event I felt I was only attending to satisfy a connection with another and did not return any connective satisfaction to myself, I learned to say no. It was hard the first few times, and also bittersweet to see how easily my "no" was received. But yet also, a relief. My contentment did not depend on others, and others' happiness did not depend on my presence.

Now I come to another form of saying no, that I just came to realize I have need of today. A big part of starting this life is the belief that I am on the right path, and as I become receptive, the steps will appear before me. In the excitement of discovery, I often try to achieve as much as possible towards the progress of this life. Note I do not call this a dream- for it is not; it is a slowly forming life, that sometimes lives only in my head and heart, but is and will continue to develop into my life. But often, dreams get mixed in, and I get carried away from the path. This is not to say I don't dream, but to distinguish what I will and can do from what is not in alignment with my path.

I had been keeping bees for seven years at my old home. It began as a curious hobby, and it was an easy side activity that fit with my gardens there. When I moved to the farm, I gave my hives away. The following spring on the farm, I purchased all new equipment and bees to begin the hobby again. It did not have the same feeling, yet I felt I must continue with the bees. It turned out to be a labor intensive year, with many mishaps and ultimately ended with both of my hives dying this winter.
It was not the time to have bees here on the farm- perhaps it will never be the time again. I had lost my reason for having them, yet I continued to pour time, effort and money into them, yet not my heart. After this realization I decided that I will collect the honey this winter, clean out the hives, and set them aside until such a time that is right to begin with them again.

Here, in essence is the new no I must learn to say. This life will be a slow progression, and many may be on parallel paths ahead of me, yet it is not time for me to take on what they can so easily handle- or how they make it appear easy to my outside eyes. There are so many things I foolishly "want" that ultimately have no true value to me or this life I am journeying to build. More activity does not necessarily equate to more progress.

I very much identify with the main character of Under the Tuscan Sun, who on seeming happenstance, finds her new life by buying and renovating a decrepit villa in Tuscany. Her biggest moments of progress were when she did as things appeared, and enjoyed the love she spontaneously attracted, rather than chased. In one scene, she bemoans losing a lover that, after many failed attempts to connect, had left her for a more accessible woman. Throughout the movie, it shows her in glorious everyday moments with friends and family, and he would whisk through her villa, only to miss her. After a few attempts, he moved on, showing his true worth, in my opinion. She was crushed, however. Feeling she had finally "got it" and to lose it so easily, she cried, when would it be her turn?

Her friend then recounted a story of a little girl, spending all day in a meadow chasing ladybugs, constantly jumping, swinging a net, and failing to catch even one. After exhaustive lack of progress, the girl fell asleep in the meadow, and when she awoke, was covered in ladybugs. Her efforts were fruitless, although in the right place. When she finally became still- in the right place, what she sought came to her without effort.

This week I'm dropping one of my two classes I started. I do not have the time to devote enough focus to both classes, and I am quickly losing ground in both as a result. Permaculture Design stays, as it has proven to be part of the path. Plant Propagation will be dropped. I have the textbook, and like the bees, the tools can be picked up in such a time that I have the hands to hold them. The painful twinge of saying no is soothed by the knowledge that my hands are full with what I have, and when I rest, the ladybugs will land.

Planted Plans

In the past few months, I have had so many different plans and thoughts surrounding this life change. I've envisioned different scenarios: some feel so natural and attainable, others overwhelm me with the amount of work and change they will require. I am taking two college courses this semester that I picked specifically with my life change in mind: Permaculture Design and Plant Propagation. I have a fair handle on the science for both courses, but the subject matter in these courses are both new areas of knowledge. I'm still getting my study rhythms in place with life as it is now, and having taken this past year to slow down, I find life ramping back up again.

This weekend I had planned to bake three different recipes, sort and compile my seed lists, clean my seed sorting table, and finish up any school assignments I had not finished in the week. Oh, and my weekly logging and reviewing of my budget and cash spending from the past pay period. What did I accomplish? One loaf of bread, half the schoolwork, and a giant headache. Momentum will ebb and flow, but this weekend bled me dry. I also found my two beehives dead, lost my lemon tree seedlings, and just had an overall feeling of no forward motion at all.

As I write this, I think- were my aspirations more than my abilities? Surely not, but at times it can feel that way. One small victory- I maintained the first pay period of my rather stringent cash budget with $22.00 "extra" to go into the farm fund. I was so preoccupied with other missed goals I'm only just doing a little dance in my head for that as I type this post.

I am an elaborate planner. I have at least three half filled notebooks all at different stages of development of life plans, dreams, designs, and just general thoughts as to what I hope all this will amount to. I have a hard time with baby steps. I look for leaps and am disappointed in myself when I only maintain ground. But that kind of expectation of oneself is not only impractical, its a sure fire dream killer. The cliche of learning from failure seems so hollow to me- even though I have indeed grown from my biggest missteps in life.

So, incremental progress. Holding ground is still growth. Not giving up is continuing on towards the dream. Lowering expectations for myself is essential to reaching benchmarks. Setting realistic goals.
In that vein, my goals for the next two months:
1. Pass both classes with at least a B.
2. Sort and categorize all my seeds for planting.
3. Stop setting so many goals
One loaf is better than none. And slowing down might just make for a stronger start than rushing towards big dreams. Next post, we will talk about seed list 2017!

To small steps of progress....

Is Your Soil Warm?

This weekend, after I could finally put the busy holiday times behind me, I was itching to see some growing progress, even if it was just sowing some seeds in a bag. And that's just what I did.
I started five different types of native flowers on their cold start towards germination: Lilium philadelphicum, Passiflora incarnata, Phlox divaricata, Liatrus scariosa, and Liatrus aspera. These seeds require sixty days of cold stratification before planting. My goal in all the projects I start is to use what I have on hand unless a product is absolutely necessary. So, foregoing the more popular

starting medium (that I did not have on hand) I placed the seeds between wet, wrung out paper towels, and sealed them in in sandwich bags to be placed in the refrigerator. I've never grown seeds requiring this extra step for germination, so I reached out to a propagation group I joined for advice. Two bad habits that have historically hindered my growth in any endeavor are procrastination due to uncertainty of failure and reluctance to ask for help from those more experienced. Written together like that, they are the most asinine hindrances ever, and acting on the latter can usually clear up the former!
In reaching out to the propagation group, I received some valuable feedback on my chosen method, and a better alternative. Taking action alone, despite the possibility of not successfully germinating my seeds was a good start, but getting input from those more knowledgeable was the real step of progress. It turns out the baggie method I chose will work, but it requires monitoring for seed rot and mold, attention to timing, and replanting of the seedlings once cold stratification is complete. They then shared a much simpler method: winter sowing. At first I thought they meant scattering seed outside, as nature would take care of all the processes, but this is a container method that you can still monitor and easily transport once the seeds germinate.
Using a milk jug or other plastic container that light can penetrate, you cut the jug about half way up, not quite all the way around, to create a hinged top. Make slices in the bottom for drainage, and a few holes on top for precipitation. Then, fill with at least 4 inches of potting soil, sow seeds at required depth, and place in a southerly location. Duct tape the milk jug closed for the cold months. It is important to check to ensure there is a decent greenhouse effect, as well as condensation. As the days get warmer, you can remove the duct tape and prop the lid open, much like a cold frame. The seedlings will emerge when conditions are right, and hardening off can take place right in the container, with the lid removed. I'm planning on taking my refrigerated baggie seeds and converting them to the winter sow this weekend. They'll get the cold treatment, moisture, gradual warmth, and sunshine all without too much worry and interference on my part.

Seeds are amazing little treasure boxes: all the beginnings of a magnificent oak within an acorn, the fragrant, climbing vine in a small dried pod, just waiting to burst forth in growth. Seeds can sit in envelopes for years, as if time is paused, until such a time, and just as importantly, place, that they can grow.

Without getting too philosophical, whenever I need to think about where I am in life, I think in terms of plants. This past year has felt at times like being a seed in one of those envelopes- full of potential, but not quite placed for growth.

Now there's nothing wrong with a seed that's not planted. In fact, if conditions aren't right, it's for the best! No one wants to see a moldy seed in cold, overly soggy soil, or a seed that quickly sprouted and died due to getting wet, with no soil in which to establish itself. I think that is why growing seedlings is my favorite part of all things plant related. Giving that seed just the right conditions for the best start ever, to set the tone for the rest of its lovely green life. In a few weeks this blog will be filled with seedlings of various stages of growth!

But back to this year spent in an envelope. As I think more on it, perhaps this year was more the cold stratification year, breaking the dormancy, waiting for the soil to warm. Isn't that an interesting mechanism in a seed? This need for an extended cold period prevents seeds from prematurely sprouting in fall or early winter. Without this dormancy factor, a few warm days could cause germination. But a few warm days is not enough to provide conditions for sustained growth. The soil needs to warm for the growth to be continuous, and the light hours longer for the plants to bear fruit. But only after the cold, dormant season. Maybe it seems as if the seed is doing nothing, but the season is performing on the seed. The soil warms, the seed coat has been worn or broken, and the growing can now begin.  

Where I find myself today, on the farm, is the ideal location to begin to grow my business. Where I find myself in life, comfortable with the assurance that I myself am enough to begin, grow, and succeed with this plan, truly feels like the warming soil that will spur healthy growth. To put it plainly, I am comfortable enough to grow. The cold period was less than comfortable, but necessary, to wear the hard shell that inhibited my growth. The seed is broken, so the plant may grow.

If this were just a business plan I suppose all this talk would seem a bit much. But this journey is much more than a business, much more than a career change. It is a matter of life establishment. It is setting roots for who I will be for the remainder of my time here on earth. It's not a job to retire on, but a lifestyle that will provide for me and my loved ones, so every evening we can retire, and every day we can take actions that give us life. This life will not be two separate halves- one to make money to survive and the other to capture remaining moments for enjoyment, but the joining of pursuits of love that provide a life right as we are living it. To watch this life grow will truly be the treasure, and I can feel the warmth penetrating to initiate germination.