Vegetable farming in Alaska is fast and furious. From the cold, possibly snowy days of spring to the nearly 24 hour sunshine of the summer solstice to the cold, possibly snowy days of early fall, farmers are going, going, going. The face of a burnt out farmer is a familiar one around here come the end of September.
I recently realized that the vegetable farming season is structured much like a good Shakespearean drama Continue reading
“Here’s to strong women. May we know them. May we be them. May we raise them.” ~Anonymous
“For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.” ~Virginia Woolf
Fall! A time for root vegetables, sweaters, back-to-school and chopping wood. For me, it’s also a time for action! I find that as I struggle with balancing the end of summer fervor with the panic of preparing for the impending winter that my thoughts go into overdrive. My mind is keen to overthink and analyze, and lately I’ve been noticing debates about feminism all over the place. These thoughts have been swimming around in my head for a few weeks now, but they don’t seem to be getting any more organized. So, try to stick with me and share your thoughts, too!
Late season abundance!
It has been one year since Evan and I (with A LOT of help from our friends) erected our yurt. Although it seems like just yesterday I was waking up in a very cold tent with a giant hole in the ceiling to make a sad breakfast on a camp stove from food that had been stored in a cooler. We’ve, thankfully, come a long way since then.
So, how are we dealing with the yurt life? How have we done it? Of course there are good days and bad, just like there would be in any home, but I’ve come up with a fairly foolproof way to live in a yurt if you really want to… Continue reading
“We’re going to the farm.”
“I think it’s back at the farm!”
“When we were at the farm…”
The Farm. When in certain places and in certain company, “The Farm” means the same thing to everyone who is in the know. I work on one farm, but when I’m referring to “The Farm” around these parts, everyone knows it’s in reference to Spring Creek Farm. Even though these two farms are only about a mile away from each other, one is “The Farm” and one is “Sun Circle.” When in North Dakota, where there are hundreds of farms, “The Farm” is Evan’s parents’ farm. When in Minnesota, where there are also hundreds of farms,”The Farm” is my mom’s place in central Minnesota.
The old horse and cow barn at the Minnesota The Farm
Oh, Robin…I miss you! Isn’t it curious how we come to “know” and miss these famous people that never know of our existence? The passing of Robin Williams has been weighing over my creative mind (and many others’ minds, as well), so I’ve been mulling over how to come up with a tribute to him while also keeping to my intended writing. While he was never a huge part of my life by any means, I grew up watching and loving his movies. I grew up in the heyday of Williams’ films: Mrs. Doubtfire, Jumanji, Patch Adams, Hook, Aladdin, Jack…I’m in my childhood home, now, and feeling nostalgic for those carefree days of childhood. As a teenager and young adult, I came to appreciate his films for older audiences: The Dead Poets’ Society, The Birdcage, Death to Smoochie, Good Morning Vietnam, and Good Will Hunting. Then there is his infamously hilarious and raunchy stand up.
Future comedian?! Probably.
With this large and long catalogue of work, he left behind many wonderful quotes–quotes that are not only funny, but insightful, as well.
“Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what’s for lunch” ~Orson Wells
“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.” ~ Virginia Woolf
“We have to bring children into a new relationship to food that connects them to culture and agriculture.” ~Alice Waters
I have been on the road a lot in the last couple of weeks, first riding from Bozeman, MT to Valley City, ND and then from Valley City to Minnetonka, MN. On these long road trips, we partook in meals that my partner’s dad comically refers to as “gut bombs.” He is referring to the salt- and sugar-laden grease feasts that are so readily available from fast food joints along the interstate. That is exactly what they feel like after eating them: gut bombs.
At one of the stops, my attention was grabbed by the “Kids LiveWell Menu.” The meals weren’t exactly what I’d consider healthy, but they were definitely better than fries and chicken nuggets. It’s a program run by the National Restaurant Association to help parents find “healthy” options for their children at restaurants. I checked out the website, and one of the more notable goals of the program is to please children’s palates, and it alluded to the fact that this can be difficult to do.
So, why is it so hard?
Let’s bring kids into the agricultural process early!
It is fitting that I am sitting down to write this post with a long to-do list at my side, a bored baby to the other side and oatmeal slow-cooking on the stove. I feel like I’ve been chugging along alright since Ava was born. We have fun, I work a little bit here and there, the dog goes on regular walks or hikes, we generally have good home made food, and the house is clean sometimes. However, a few weeks ago I was feeling VERY overwhelmed by things to do, even though it seemed like I had heaps of time and I wasn’t really doing that much. The unfortunate thing about this was that I had many things that I should have been doing, not that I had to do. My solution? (This is a confession, of sorts) Do as close to nothing as possible while watching too many rerun episodes of cooking competition shows… This is not a good solution, and I don’t suggest it. I enjoy bouts of laziness, but it had gone too far.
My happy, friendly, little weeding buddy! She mostly eats soil and gnaws on brassica leaves.
This all started with turnips–the small, white, sweet, perfect-to-eat-like-popcorn Hakurei salad turnips. They are one of the delicious early summer treats, and they are so good in salads made of early greens like arugula and spinach. We first harvested these precious roots about four weeks ago from the glass green house. At first glance they were glorious! They were a promise of summer all wrapped up in a beautiful white package.
And then we started picking.
Minimal damage on these tasty treats! As farm workers, we sometimes get the uglies…but we know it’s what’s on the inside that counts!
For those of you who are rudely reminded of traumatic childhood gym classes by the title of this post, I apologize. I’ve been having a good time the last week and half reading up on this previously forgotten song. And it comes the same week that I: 1) officially donated my remaining chickens to Louise’s Farm School and 2) consumed a fair amount of chicken broth while battling a stomach virus. So I got rid of some chicken fat while being nourished by some other chicken fat. I am a bit sad about the officialness of no longer being a chicken owner…those were some good chickens. I will have to visit them. But at least I have broth stocked up in the freezer and reliable local egg suppliers.
I have always been interested in my parents’ lifestyles while growing up in the fifties and sixties. My mom lived in rural north central Minnesota on a lake about six miles out of the nearest small town. She would tell me about her horses and all of the chickens they would get every year for laying and meat. She shared the music she listened to, games she and sisters played, foods they would eat and what school was like. I love these stories of days gone by, days that I could never really know.
Portrait of a Rooster
Every once in awhile I question my inherent ruralness. I am MaryJane’s RURAL farmgirl, right? But, what really makes me, my experiences and my blog rural…? I live in a yurt, but I also live in a neighborhood that feels like a suburban subdivision. I enjoy driving trucks and tractors, but own neither. I have to run to the big city to get exotic foods or to find a mall, but I can get nearly everything else in the nearby towns…so what is it, what makes this whole time in my life rural?
After much thought and re-reading USDA census reports and Webster’s definitions of rurality, I figured it out. For me, as I’m sure it is and equally is not for others, the rural life rests in its simplicity.
The historic Palmer Train Depot. No trains come through here anymore, but the depot holds a weekly farmers market as well as seasonal and special events.
is a certified farmgirl at heart. She’s happily married to her beach bum Yankee husband of 20 years. She went from career gal to being a creative homeschooling mom for two of her biggest blessings and hasn’t looked back since. Debbie left her lifelong home in the high desert of Northern Nevada 10 years ago and washed up on the shore of America’s hometown, Plymouth, MA, where she and her family are now firmly planted. They spend part of each summer in a tiny, off–grid beach cottage named “The Sea Horse.”
“I found a piece of my farmgirl heart when I discovered MaryJanesFarm. Suddenly, everything I loved just made more sense! I enjoy unwinding at the beach, writing, gardening, and turning yard-sale furniture into ‘Painted Ladies’ I’m passionate about living a creative life and encouraging others to ‘make each day their masterpiece.’”
is a “MaryJane Farmgirl” who lives in a large metropolitan area. She is a lawyer who has worked in both criminal defense and prosecution. She has been a judge, a business woman and a stay-at-home mom. In addition to her law degree, she has a Masters of Theological Studies.
“Mustering up the courage to do the things you dream about,” she says, “is the essence of being a MaryJane Farmgirl.” Learning to live more organically and closer to nature is Rebekah’s current pursuit. She finds strength and encouragement through MaryJane’s writings, life, and products. And MaryJane’s Farmgirl Connection provides her a wealth of knowledge from true-blue farmgirls.
an old-fashioned farmgirl with a pioneer spirit, lives in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. As a “lifelong learner” in the “Live-Free-or-Die” state, she fiercely values self-reliance, independence, freedom, and fresh mountain air. Married to her childhood sweetheart of 40+ years (a few of them “uphill climbs”), she’s had plenty of time to reinvent herself. From museum curator, restaurant owner, homeschool mom/conference speaker, to post-and-beam house builder and entrepreneur, she’s also a multi-media artist, with an obsession for off-grid living and alternative housing. Cathi owns and operates a 32-room mountain lodge. Her specialty has evolved to include “hermit hospitality” at her rustic cabin in the mountains, where she offers weekend workshops of special interest to women.
“Mountains speak to my soul, and farming is an important part of my heritage. I want to pass on my love of these things to others through my writing. Living in the mountains has its own particular challenges, but I delight in turning them into opportunities from which we can all learn and grow.”
Dori Troutman is the daughter of second generation cattle ranchers in New Mexico. She grew up working and playing on the ranch that her grandparents homesteaded in 1928. That ranch, with the old adobe home, is still in the family today. Dori and her husband always yearned for a ranch of their own. That dream came true when they retired to the beautiful green rolling hills of Tennessee. Truly a cattleman’s paradise!
Dori loves all things farmgirl and actually has known no other life but that. She loves to cook, craft, garden, and help with any and all things on their cattle farm.
describes herself as a goat charmer, chicken whisperer, bee maven, and farmers’ market baker renovating an 1864 farmhouse on an Ohio farm. With a degree in Design, Mary says small-town auctions and country road barn sales "always make my heart skip a beat thinking about what I could create or design out of what I’ve seen.”
Rooted in the countryside, she likes simple things and old ways … gardening, preserving the harvest, cooking, baking, and all things home. While you might find her selling baked goods from the farm’s milkhouse, teaching herself to play the fiddle, or sprucing up a vintage camper named Maizy, you will always find her in an apron!
Mary says, “I’m happiest with the simple country pleasures … an old farmhouse, too many animals, a crackling fire, books to read, and the sound of laughter … these make life just perfect.”
is a budding rural farmgirl living in Palmer, the agricultural seat of Alaska. Alex is a graduate student at Alaska Pacific University pursuing an M.S. in Outdoor and Environmental Education. She lives and works on the university’s 700 acre environmental education center, Spring Creek Farm. When Alex has time outside of school, she loves to rock climb, repurpose found objects, cross-country ski on the hay fields, travel, practice yoga, and cook with new-fangled ingredients.
Alex grew up near the Twin Cities and went to college in Madison, Wisconsin—both places where perfectly painted barns and rolling green farmland are just a short drive away. After college, she taught at a rural middle school in South Korea where she biked past verdant rice paddies and old women selling home-grown produce from sidewalk stoops. She was introduced to MaryJanesFarm after returning, and found in it what she’d been searching for—a group of incredible women living their lives in ways that benefit their families, their communities, and the greater environment. What an amazing group of farmgirls to be a part of!
Suburban Farmgirl Nicole Christensen calls herself a “vintage enthusiast”. Born and raised in Texas, she has lived most of her life in the picturesque New England suburbs of Connecticut, just a stone’s throw from New York State. An Advanced Master Gardener, she has gardened since childhood, in several states and across numerous planting zones. In addition, she teaches knitting classes, loves to preserve, and raises backyard chickens.
Married over thirty years to her Danish-born sweetheart, Nicole has worked in various fields, been a world-traveler, an entrepreneur and a homemaker, but considers being mom to her now-adult daughter her greatest accomplishment. Loving all things creative, Nicole considers her life’s motto to be “Bloom where you are planted”.
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