Indoor Day on Zig Zag Mountain Farm

Working at Zig Zag Mountain Farm entails quite a bit of heavy lifting, but it also requires that each of us spend at least one day a week taking care of the indoor chores. Each morning AJ asks, "Who wants to be in the kitchen today?" and he is usually answered by all of us looking at one another with eyes that are just begging the person next to us to raise their hand and report for kitchen duty. Even though no one ever wants to be in the kitchen, it is a necessary role to keep the farm running smoothly. Kitchen personnel are responsible for making lunch and dinner for the group, preserving any abundance of vegetables, and general cleaning around the house. Today was Chase's lucky day to be stuck indoors on a crisp, sunny day on the farm. As any loving girlfriend would do, I volunteered to keep him company, and preserve the radishes and carrots that we had recently harvested. 

He began his kitchen duty with a rush, as he attempted to come up with a lunch menu that would keep the workers full until dinner time. At this time of the year, we do not have many vegetables to harvest from the garden so we must make do with what we have. His crafty concoction was vegetarian enchiladas with a side of rice and beans. He stuffed the tortillas with black beans, rice, green pepper, jalapeño, freshly foraged mushrooms, and onion. His enchilada sauce was a self creation that used up a bit of canned tomato sauce from earlier in the season. We served this with homemade green tomato salsa that was made last week. 

After lunch, he washed all the dishes and set about making a sweet carrot bread for an afternoon snack. I had been working on prepping the radishes and carrots in the morning, so I had some extra shredded carrot with his name on it. As he was making the bread, I started on a Vietnamese Carrot and Daikon Radish Pickle. I had never singlehandedly canned a vegetable in my life until coming to Zig Zag Mountain Farm - Mom, I know we used to always make jelly, but I am pretty sure I just watched you do all of the work. Since being here, I have pickled radishes and carrots, canned salsa, and preserved stewed green tomatoes. Each time I try a new recipe it seems to get easier and more enjoyable. 

While I was canning my mind away, Chase came up with a plan for dinner. We had lots of basil that needed to be used, so he made a tasty pesto. He mixed the pesto into pasta with fresh tomatoes and topped it with parmesan cheese. Not to be outdone by our professional chef fellow workers, we also made fresh breadsticks and a kale salad. These "professional chefs" are Mick and Marisa, they recently moved here from Chicago and are planning to live in Portland for the near future. Mick last cooked at RIA in Chicago and his talented girlfriend Marisa has mad skills in the kitchen. They are great friends and have even been known to break couples up due to their perfect kind of love. It's the truth. Their good friend in Chicago spent a weekend with them and the next week broke up with his girlfriend because he wanted to find the same kind of relationship. Yes, they are the perfect couple and incredible cooks. Together, they have prepared stunning meals that will forever standout in my mind. It's not even fair to try and describe the flavors of Mick's biscuits and mushroom gravy or his spiced brittle with pumpkin seeds atop yogurt, curried apples, pumpkin butter and pie crumbles - which is now lovingly know as the "pie-fait." Mick and Marisa's ingenuity in the kitchen has inspired Chase and I to spend more time making things from scratch for our own meals. Baking bread, rolling our own breadsticks, and making our own corn muffins are no longer too complex for our amateur cooking abilities, we now just tackle them because, really, what is the worst thing that could happen?  

From left to right: apple tart with roasted pumpkin seed and caramel, apple and pumpkin cinnamon rolls, spiced brittle apple pie-fait

It always seems like kitchen duty is the most exhausting of days and once dinner has been set on the table, it is the greatest feeling to know that your day is finally over. We have gained much respect for the stereotypical farmwife during our days of kitchen duty. I cannot imagine being stuck inside a kitchen all day, everyday, while my partner works outdoors and wanders to the table when hunger strikes. If I had been born in any other generation I would likely have been deemed a deviant and shunned from the family. Luckily, I was born in a generation where Chase and I, together, share any and all kitchen duties. 

Zig Zag Mountain Farm

I am exhausted. Our first week at Zig Zag Mountain Farm has ended and it wore me out. The month long hiatus we took in Minnesota did nothing for my endurance. I am now sitting in the kitchen, with a blazing fire at my back, sipping tea and reminiscing about our latest road trip. We planned on camping each night on our way out West, just as we did this summer, but this time the weather did not cooperate. Bismarck, North Dakota was our first overnight stop and Chase had picked out a sentimental campsite for us, located along the Missouri River, the same river we camped on earlier this summer when we set out on the road. However, the tornado warnings and torrential rain prohibited us from any outdoor sleeping and we settled on the cheapest hotel.

I do not have a single good reason for why we slept in a hotel on night two, only that we arrived in Missoula around 9:00pm, hungry and tired. We could not imagine searching for a campsite and setting up in the frigid darkness. Finally, on night three, in the middle of wheat country Washington, we camped. Our drive to Palouse Falls State Park was slightly confusing. We knew that we were camping next to a rushing waterfall that drops a sudden 200 feet, but we imagined it would be set within a lush, wooded area, since we had been told that the state of Washington was full of rain. Yet, once we crossed into Washington, it felt like we were back in North Dakota - only flatter. Fields of wheat ran off in all directions for as far as I could see. The road looked like it had been only recently paved and was so narrow that we held our breath whenever another car would pass. It was the type of road just meant for a car commercial. We snaked between farms and never once saw any kind of forest or wetland. Within a couple of hours, the GPS told us that we would be approaching our destination in one mile. Confusing, there was no water in site. We set up camp and could hear rushing water, but we still couldn't see this supposed waterfall. After walking a mere 100 feet, we set our eyes upon the beauty of Palouse Falls.

The falls are 198 feet in height and drop straight down into a 400 foot canyon. Tectonic forces and Ice Age floods over millions of years all contributed to the creation of such a spectacular sight. We climbed all around the waterfall for hours and never stopped being amazed. The canyon that contains the waterfall continues it's winding ways for miles. The best view is from atop the falls, standing slightly behind the drop. I could feel the power in the water that raged over the rock and I could sense the force that it took to form such a creation. There was no doubt in my mind that the energy in this location was palpable. The air felt like it was waiting for a single spark to unleash it's energy. Standing as close to the edge as I dared, I felt faint when I realized how much trust I was putting in Mother Earth. I was trusting that a cliff of rock and sand would hold my weight. I trusted that the ledge I was relying upon wouldn't crumble and become part of the pile of fallen rock below. What is it about nature that allows me to trust without question, when I can barely trust my doctor to read an X-ray?

Our night was a cold one. The temperature dropped to 35 degrees, but we were toasty warm in our sleeping bags and sweaters. The next morning we took one last hike around the waterfall and started towards our final destination - Zig Zag Mountain Farm. Along the way we watched the countryside turn from fields to forests. We drove parallel to the lovely Columbia River from east to west, until we reached our turn toward Mount Hood. Our home for the next month is located at the base of one of the largest mountains on the west coast. They say everything here is larger because of all the rainf they receive each year, but it has yet to shed a drop since our arrival. Each day, we work surrounded by Fir trees that rise 100 feet above the ground. The leaves on the Maple trees are massive and each time they tumble to the ground I mistaken them for an approaching animal. They don't just delicately drop to the ground like Minnesota leaves, it's as though they are trying to let the whole world know that this is their last moment of life by making as much noise as possible.

Zig Zag Mountain Farm is different from the other farms we have visited this year. They offer a mountain retreat for workshops and classes throughout the summer. The farm manager, A.J., makes sure that the garden is producing and that the land is in pristine condition. Part of his taking care of the land this summer has been completing a massive forestry project. He and the other volunteers have worked to thin 33 acres of temperate forest to promote tree health and prevent forest fires. I hope you realize what an undertaking like this entails, but in the case that you do not, it means taking a thick forest and removing trees until there is on average 10 feet between each tree. This way enough light can filter through to the trees and keep them growing strong. The process began with sawing down all of the unwanted trees. Once these trees were scattered across the forest floor they had to be responsibly removed. The felled trees had to be limbed, bucked and stacked into organized piles. This meant climbing up and down the mountain, carrying insanely heavy pieces of trees and placing them into organized piles. These piles of wood could now be used for firewood, building materials and woodchips. Chase and I worked on the tail end of this project for the first week and I am proud to say that together we can lift most any fallen tree in the woods - once it has been bucked up of course. My muscles are still getting used to this lumberjack lifestyle, but luckily we have a wood-heated hot tub to ease my pain.

Sacks to Success

A lot can change in one generation. A family living below the poverty line in Northern Minnesota has the chance to change their destiny and become defined as middle class in a single lifetime. With hard work and the luck of being raised in America, my family accomplished this mighty feat. But, such a change is social status does not come without toil and the history of my family's plight to live in Minnesota is one that begins in Norway.

My great-great maternal grandparents moved from Norway to the United States of America as children. My great-great grandmother Aletta Anderson traveled alone when she was only 16 to reach relatives already living in Minnesota. My great-great grandfather Sievert Anderson arrived with his mother as a newborn, in an attempt to escape a life of indentured servitude in Norway. In the late 19th century, Norway's agricultural economy suffered and many families were forced into servitude as the only means of survival. Sievert's mother became pregnant after she was raped by the farmer who owned her in Norway. With very little money, but a strong will, she managed to cross the Atlantic ocean with a newborn and begin a new life in America.

Left: Aletta and Sievert with their 11 children. Right: Aletta and Sievert on their wedding day.

After meeting and marrying in Minnesota, Aletta and Sievert raised 11 children on their farm in Pelican Rapids, Minnesota. My great aunt JoAnne remembers summers spent on her grandparent's farm, flying airplanes off the sun porch and getting perms at the local salon with her sister, my grandma Betty. They always felt like their grandparents had really made it in life because they could afford to purchase their home from the Sears Roebuck catalog for $2,000. 

The Sears Roebuck home

Visiting their grandparent's house was a treat and they often stayed for weeks at a time, while their parents earned money cutting lumber. Betty and Joanne's parents, Aaron and Agnes, raised five children in Pony Lake, MN. Their life was anything but easy, but always filled with joy. Aaron and Agnes' relationship began in utter rebellion. Each came from a strict Lutheran family, where dancing was forbidden and men and women sat on separate sides of the church each Sunday. On Saturday nights, Aaron and Agnes would sneak away and meet at the local schoolhouse dance for a taboo night of spinning and slow dancing. When Agnes' father, Sievert, was eventually introduced to Aaron he was appalled to see that Aaron's family was eating fish. He thought, god forbid, they were Catholic. Once it was cleared up that they were simply eating fish, not a member of a different religion, Sievert blessed the union and allowed Agnes and Aaron to wed. 

Aaron and Agnes Lewis raised a family of seven in a tar paper home that barely protected them from the harsh winters. The three boys would squeeze into one bed and the two girls slept in the bed with their parents. Winter mornings would welcome them with a snow covered floor. After Agnes washed the floors in the morning, the kids would have to be careful, because it would become an ice rink in a matter of minutes. The warmest place in the house all winter was sitting on the door to the open oven. Aaron would attempt to keep the family frost-free by filling the cracks in the walls with manure and newspaper, but the home never did seem to heat up until April. 

The Lewis family

Once it began to warm up, it became Betty and Joanne's favorite time of the year. They would accompany their parents to the local store and pick out the pig, cow, and horse feed with intense interest. Once the animals had emptied the sack, they would get to sew a new dress. Feed sacks came in a wide variety of patterns and were an economical alternative to buying fabric. Flour sacks were the next best thing to feed sacks, because they could be reused as dish towels and sheets. The labels affixed to the sacks were difficult to remove, but that didn't stop women across the country from using a combination of lye, lard, bleach, and elbow grease to get their new fabric clean. Eventually, manufactures wised up to the resourceful American woman and made it easier for the labels to be removed. They even went as far as stamping the bags with stitching lines for dresses and towels. Manufactures knew ambitious women could persuade their husbands to buy the best looking patterns, so they would increase profits if they appealed to the American woman. A typical woman's dress took three feed sacks; being able to boast that you were a two-feed sack girl was the equivalent of being a size two today. I am certain that Joanne and Betty's ingenuity with their dress creations has factored into their lives today. They both have an uncanny ability of creating something from nothing and seamlessly blending into our every day life. 

Left: Two women in feed sack dresses, National Geographic, 1947. Right: Instructions from a chicken feed sack.

As the five Lewis children grew into adults, there lives began to diverge from one another but they never forgot their roots. The three brothers still live in and around Pony Lake and have all found success in farming. Joanne and Betty's paths came together when they each moved to Staples. Joanne and I traveled to Pony Lake in August to spend time with her brothers and hear the tales of their childhood. As adults, they can now recognize the poverty in which they raised, but never once did I hear a tale about the difficulty of their life. The times they remember are when they were laughing so hard as they watched Betty get her front tooth knocked out while boxing with her brother - even though the cost of a dentist meant she went without a tooth until she was in her late teens. Joanne remembers how she was the lucky child, because she got to eat every meal on her dad's knee - it didn't matter that they only owned six chairs in a family of seven. 

Listening to such stories as a young adult who grew up complaining if the temperature in our home dipped below 72 degrees in the winter, I feel thankful and proud. Thankful my family persevered when life handed them hardships. Proud that they worked hard for happiness. I only hope I can continue the family tradition. 

The Lewis family

Happiness

My hands are dry; the skin is cracking and hardening. Multiple layers of soil live beneath my fingernails. The muscles in my back ache from bending down each day, reaching to the Earth for weeds and produce. The skin on my arms and legs has never looked this brown.I am probably perpetually dehydrated from the sweltering, Montana sun. Yet, I have never been happier.

I wake up each morning and watch the sun rise over the mountains as I begin my work. I no longer watch the sun rise and fall from inside a tall, glass building. This time, I get to participate in the nature of the day. I feel the sun begin to warm up the air as I am finishing up the morning chicken chores. I take off a layer of clothing before I begin to weed a row of lettuce. By mid-morning, the sun is scorching. It’s time to put on my dorky, green farming hat, which may not win any fashion awards, but does protect me from the sun’s dangerous rays. The winds blow steadily in Montana and I thank God for them at this time each day. Sometimes, I am lucky and the wind blows clouds across the sun. Such seemingly small moments are only appreciated when you are outside, working in the elements. In my previous, cubicle-living, work environment I never even noticed the clouds or the wind. I only cursed the sun when it created a glare on my computer screen and slowed my work pace. 

Not a day passes when I am not thankful for the life changing decision I made to step off the rungs of the corporate ladder and climb into the rich soil of farming. Working outdoors gives me energy like I have never known. I am constantly weeding, harvesting, hoeing, or chasing chickens, but at the end of the day I still feel alive. I spend my evenings reading books, writing, cooking, or laughing with friends. I think this is what people would call a balanced lifestyle. And this is exactly why I changed careers. I used to come home at the end of the day and feel like a zombie, like my brain had used every last bit of juice focusing during meetings and working on spreadsheets. It was all I could do to muster up the energy to prepare and eat dinner. I never want to return to such a state of living, because it wasn’t living, it was simply existing. My life had no balance because my life did not revolve around me. My life revolved around my clients, employees and superiors. I was living to make them happy. I am now focusing on living to make myself happy. Thus far, it is working. I have never been happier.  

"Just living is not enough," said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower." - Hans Christian Andersen

Happy Dana 

Playing Farmer with Chase and Dana

Our third week on New Morning Farm has come to an end. This week, Lorne increased our level of responsibility on the farm and allowed us to take over the morning and afternoon chores with the animals. It was a win-win situation; we loved playing Farmer and he was able to take care of other responsibilities he had outside of the farm. Here is what our typical day consisted of this week:

7:30 Wake up

8:00 Chickens (feed, water, collect eggs)

8:45 Pigs (feed, water, fresh straw, pet snouts)

9:15 Meat Birds (feed, water, fresh straw)

9:30 Cows (water)

9:45 Re-fill empty feed bins for next feeding

10:00 Breakfast and Coffee/Tea

10:45 Weed garlic

11:45 Place fresh straw around garlic to prevent future weeds

12:30 Lunch

1:15 Cows (water)

1:30 Weed garlic

2:30 Place fresh straw around garlic

3:00 Chickens (feed, water, collect eggs)

3:30 Pigs (feed, water)

3:45 Meat Birds (feed, water)

4:00 Cows (water)

4:15 Read books, work on art, make movies, take pictures, go to the beach

6:00 Dinner

We woke up each morning this week knowing that there were hundreds of little, living beings waiting on us to feed their hungry bellies. With this motivation, we stretched, yawned and made feeding them our first priority of the day. As we were wandering over to the chicken coop one morning, I looked at Chase's curly locks of hair and screeched, "Chase, I think a bird pooped in your hair!" He noticed the white liquid dripping from the ends, touched it with his finger and then licked it. Yes, he licked it. Luckily, he informed me that it was just sunscreen and to this day, I am still unsure whether he knew it all along or if he was prepared to taste bird poop. 

Chase and I became more efficient with the daily chores as the week progressed. Chase mixed the morning feed for the chickens as I gave them fresh water. Once the chickens were distracted with the morning meal, I collected eggs. The chickens provide us with about 10 dozen eggs per day - which equates to 840 eggs per week! Nancy sells these eggs to eager customers in Winnipeg every two weeks for $4.00/dozen.

Chase and I look forward to saying good morning to the little piggies. They are always squealing around and trying to say hello to us as we feed them breakfast. The pigs have grown so much since we arrived on the farm and they are getting a little too pig for their current pen - they have been tearing holes under the fence, moving their feeders all around, and pushing against the walls. Lorne has a whole field fenced off for them, but before we can let them run around, we had to teach them to "fear the wire." Training camp started this week, when we hooked an electric wire up to a post in the center of the pen. For the first few pigs who begin to sniff around this new device, they get quite the surprise when they hit the wire. Squeal! Squeal! Although it is never fun to hear an animal in pain, I know it is for their benefit because tomorrow we will be able to let them run free for the rest of the summer. 

Our week ended with a celebration of the Summer Solstice at Geoff and Theresa's inspiring Boundary Creek Farm. Geoff and Theresa have been farming for 11 years now and are committed to trying any and all sustainable farming methods that they read about. This has resulted in a dynamic, successful farm that provides their customers with eggs, chicken, pork, garlic, honey and a bounty of vegetables. We saw, first-hand, how much their customers respect their famers by the sheer number of them that traveled 50 miles from Winnipeg to spend the evening on the farm. The potluck dinner was incredible, Theresa's mint tea was heavenly and the bonfire, spectacular.