7 reasons I love my CSA

This growing season marks the fourth year my family has participated in a Community-Supported Agriculture (CSA) program.  It's been an incredible experience, and I am so glad we decided to try it out.   In a nutshell, when you are part of a CSA program, you commit to purchase produce through a local farmer throughout the growing season.  Ours generally runs from July through October.  Here are a few reasons why I love doing this.

1)  It pushes me outside my comfort zone.  Before a few years ago, I had never purchased an eggplant, let alone tasted one.  And kale?  Forget about it.  Although this picky eater had begun to try new things by the time we discovered CSAs, I still tended to buy the same kinds of vegetables over and over.  Getting a basket of season veg every week (these days it's positively overflowing!) has encouraged me to try new things on a regular basis.

2)  My kids get to learn about where their food originates.  I love that my children get the farm-food connection.  They do not believe that edibles originate in the grocery store.  When they're exposed to rural areas, to see fields and gardens, they can appreciate the effort which goes into the food on their table.  Real food at that.

3)  Choices galore.  As I've mentioned before, we have some picky eaters in our family.  (Yes, I deserve that.)  When my kitchen is overflowing with produce, I love serving at least two or three vegetable "dishes" at dinner every night - as well as offering some at other meals as well.  Last night last leftovers night, and between the re-warmed items and a few new items I put out, we had a record seven veg items to chose from!  Chard sauteed with onions in plenty of butter, steamed cauliflower, roasted beets with balsamic vinegar, Parmesan-roasted green beans, kale chips, cucumber slices, and pink coleslaw.  If a member of my family didn't walk away from that meal with a full stomach, it certainly wasn't from a lack of choices.

4)  Extra to "put by."  I'm still fairly new to this concept, but I sure am working on it.  This week I blanched and froze two big bags of green beans.  Last year I popped batch after batch of Roasted Summer Tomatoes into my freezer, and we enjoyed them all through the cold months.  I don't can, but fermenting summer produce in mason jars is a  fabulous way to preserve summer produce!

5)  They're just such nice people.  This may be a lame reason, but it's certainly a nice perk.  The pleasant lady who presents our basket every week, she was one of the only people who didn't bat an eyelash last summer when we told her we were expecting our 5th child.  Interacting with lovely folks may not have much to do with seasonal food, but it sure is nice.

6)  Supporting local farmers.  It's no secret that I love to shop local.  In supporting my area's economy, I am helping the people that I interact with as well as limiting the distance "from farm to table."

7)  Fresh, nutritious food!  Last but not least, I love the wonderfully fresh foods the CSA program gives us.  Delicious and crisp, tender and packed with flavor, this is seriously good stuff.  The lettuce is unbelievable, the cucumbers are divine, and the sweet corn is out of this world.  Superb quality, stellar flavor, it's a definite win-win situation if you ask me.

homeschooling: a little lost

Lately when I think I about homeschooling, I've been feeling a little lost.  I feel that something needs to change, but it's difficult to say just what.  Is it the schedule?  The curriculum?  Our attitudes?  Possibly all of the above?

I spent a fair amount of last week in tears.  What to do?  Keep up the curriculum we have been doing?       Make the frightening move of choosing something new?  Three and a half years into this journey, the places where we are weak haunted me. Was it a matter of a child's individual pace?  Or was I failing my son?

For a while my husband and I discussed trying some kind of web academy.  There was a moment when we had pretty much decided to up pursue it for a year - and see.  I won't lie; it sounded heavenly to me.  But with a little more time and thought, it has become apparent that this is not where our path lies.

After much agonizing, we decided to make a bit of a change.  I will still be using the Charlotte Mason method, but with a different curriculum: one which offers me, as the teacher, a bit more guidance and structure.  Today I took the plunge and made my first step in this direction...I ordered a teacher's guide.

I feel trembly, but more secure in my footing.  God has not released me from this thing, and I have no way of knowing if He ever will.  So I'll keep on...stepping out in faith.  Trusting that He will walk through it with us, praying that He will give me wisdom - and pick up the pieces when I do fail.

Pray for me in this.  Teaching does not come easy to me, not even with the kids I love dearest in the world.  Fitting in different learning styles, different paces and ages...I am still working it out as I go.

Scary?  Yes.  But it will be, I have to believe, so worth it in the end.

So...obedience.  That's my plan.  Obedience, and a lot of prayer.

crying fowl

Tuesday was a kind of crazy day.

It's always a little tricky getting my brood off to women's Bible study, though it's easier now than it used to be.  After we finish with that we climb back into our Suburban and drive south.  Every Tuesday we head out to a farm where we buy raw milk.  I often stop at a certain house to get farm fresh eggs, and that's what I needed to do on this day.

It is a beautiful drive, especially when the sun is shining.  We get to see various animals: horse, cows, goats, pigs, sheep, chickens, turkeys, and sometimes even ostrich.  We often see deer, especially if it's a cool morning.  I believe it's good for my kids to see where their food comes from.   They know our milk farmers, and they know Mr. E., where we often stop to get eggs.  (There's also a lovely lady who brings eggs to my house - and I much prefer to buy from her - but oftentimes I supplement with eggs from Mr. E.  We eat a lot of eggs at my house.)

Anyway, we get to see a lot.  And although I sometimes wish we didn't make the trip every week, there's something about it that's good for my rural-born soul.  Besides: the milk is so, so worth it, and the eggs are fantastic.

As I mentioned, we see a lot of animals.  But before this week, I had never come face to face with a goose.  Or, several geese.  I suppose that'd be a gaggle?

Here's what happened:  I put the truck in park and made my way up to Mr. E.'s porch.  He always has a lot of animals around.  Chickens, of course, and lately there have been turkeys too - my kids find these very amusing.  He has cats and several very loud dogs.  In fact, before we learned his name, the boys and I used to refer to Mr. E. as "the man with the angry dogs."  My feelings aren't hurt by their incessant barking; I know they're only doing their job.  Nonetheless, I'm very glad they're always behind a fence.

Mr. E. is a sweet, genial older man.  He reminds me terrifically of Jed Clampett.  We've had several interesting conversations about food sourcing, and I believe we see eye to eye on many things.  I like Mr. E. very much, and I've been buying eggs from him for several years now.

But I wish I had known about his geese.

Barks ringing in my ears, I got three dozen eggs from the outside refrigerator, left some empty cartons and my payment.  Mr. E. poked his head out to holler at the dogs, as he often does.  As usual, they didn't quiet down a bit.  I am clearly a dangerous intruder as far as their canine brains are concerned.

Mr. E. went back inside and I descended the porch steps.  As I traipsed down the dirt path, I slowly became conscious of another sound, nearly lost in the cacophony of doggy noise.  Honking.  Definitely honking.  I glanced over my shoulder and was mildly alarmed at what I saw.  Geese.  A bundle of geese, approaching me...fast.

I tend to be a little freaked out about birds.  And these were big birds, their beady eyes intent on me, mere feet away.  They were following me.  They were chasing me.

My mild alarm ramped up a bit and I took to flight.  Egg cartons clutched under my arm, I shrieked and ran.  As I rounded the front of the truck, seeing that I had put distance between myself and my pursuers, I began to giggle.  It was probably a tad hysterical.  Just as I opened the driver's side door, Mr. E. called from his window, "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about that.  They'll sneak up on you..."

It's possible I responded to his words, but I couldn't really tell you.  All I know if that I flung myself into that truck as fast as I could, praying I hadn't crushed any eggs in the process.  (I hadn't.)   As I buckled my seatbelt  I heard a wry voice from the back seat.  "Did you get chased by some geese, Mama?"

Yes, son.  I sure did.

Later that evening I did a little digging.  Evidently shrieking and running was not the way to go.  And so as a service to you, I'd like to share the proper way to handle yourself if you ever find yourself threatened by a goose.  Or geese.  These tips are taken from the article "How to Stop a Goose Attack" from eHow.com.

Stop a Goose Attack

 -Pay attention to the actions of the male goose when you enter his territory. If he sounds a warning, that is your signal to leave the area. 

-Show no fear. Geese are particularly attuned to body language and a show of fear may increase the intensity of the attack. 

-Maintain eye contact. Geese have excellent vision and interpret loss of eye contact as an act of fear. 

-Stay calm. Don't yell or try to hit the male goose. The female may join the attack and then you will be in real trouble. 

-Keep your body facing directly toward the goose. Never turn your back on an attacking goose.

-Walk slowly backwards if the goose hisses at you or spreads its wings. Use your peripheral vision to avoid tripping over obstacles.

-Continue facing the goose and back slowly away at a 90-degree angle from the goose if he flies up at your face. 

-Make your escape and exit the area through a gate if possible. Geese rarely fly over a fence.

There you have it; you are now officially better informed than I was.  And if I again face birds which are, at the least, curious and at the worst, preparing to tear my eyes out, I'll know a little better what to do.

Hold my head high, stare those birds down, and desperately hope that, for just a minute really, I can transform into The Flash.

pickle me too

fermenting dilly beans

Coming soon: how fermenting foods at home is easy, traditional, and a hugely beneficial to one's health!

you might be a blogger if...

Bloggers can have some strange habits.  Bizarre, really, to the unaccustomed.  But the astute observer will note certain characteristics in a true blogger.  To help clarify things, here's a little list.

You might be a blogger if...

...after your kids say something hilarious, you race to write it down before you forget exactly how it went.

...you take random photos of scenes around the house, just in case you might want to use it later.

...you have tons of random photos, which probably confuse your husband.  "Honey, why is there a picture of the ______ on the computer?"

...you once took a photo of a certain kind of kombucha while standing in a store, just to have it in your arsenal of pics.

...you get excited about actually being ready before the kids are in the morning, because you positively relish even ten minutes to write while the house is still quiet.

...it's not unusual to forfeit your precious exercise time if you find the inspiration to write.

...you notice that a post is waaaaaaaay more likely to be read if you post it on Facebook.

...you often photograph kitchen exploits.

...you find yourself muttering through a (mental) post outline as you clean up from lunch.

...you've told your kids, "Hey guys, could you keep it down?  Kinda trying to write in here..."

growing a kombucha SCOBY: what to buy

When I wrote this post, I mentioned that one way to acquire a SCOBY is to grow one yourself at home.  Here are instructions on how to do so.  But I wanted to share a photo of the kind you want to use.

Raw. Unflavored. Organic kombucha.  Do not use pasteurized kombucha.  It's got to be a living SCOBY to brew kombucha.

I just thought you might want to know.

flowers in the water

It was five years ago this week.

 My husband and I dropped off our two young boys at a friend's house.  Quietly we got back in our vehicle and drove away.  After making a short stop, we headed toward our destination.  Parked.  Our feet trudged over pavement, a dirt trail lined by tall grasses, and finally sand.

It had been nearly seven months since our loss.  Since our little one had slipped away in the night.  The memory was fresh, as were the questions.  Why?  Why like that? When we had so much love to give?  I'd wrestled with God and His will as never before.   I had wept, prayed, searched the Scriptures, shared about my experience with other women.  I hadn't found any answers - but I had something that tasted like peace.

Hand in hand, we walked along the water.  It was crowded that day - it was the weekend, after all.  There were voices, people laughing, talking, splashing.  We walked on, seeking what privacy we could find.  After a while we settled on a spot by a bend in the river.

We did not think to bring a camera, but in my mind's eye I can see the sunshine, warm and bright that afternoon.  I can see the glimmer of the water, I can almost hear a slight breeze rustling the grass.

Arms around each other's waists, we stood.  Quiet in our thoughts.  Everything we'd needed to say to one another had already been said, several times over.

We had come to say goodbye.  To honor the day when we'd been expecting...not an arrival, but the mysterious countdown to begin.  The questions:  "How much longer?"  "How are you feeling?"  "Are you all ready?"  The wondering and waiting, the watching and hoping.

August, we had thought.  In August we would have a new little baby.

But it was not to be.

Instead, heaven had gained a precious new soul, a sweet one to sing with the angels, hang with the Apostles, sit at Jesus' feet.  We were sure, and yet we ached.  We ached for the love we'd lost - at least for this life. For the little love who had flown away.

We stood by the river, holding each other.  I am sure we prayed.  And then gently, reverently, we placed a small bouquet of flowers in the water.  An assortment of beauty and color.  Delicate petals, each stalk with a cell structure crafted by the One whose ways are higher.

We held each other as we watched them float away.  Tears slipped down my cheeks as I whispered goodbye.

And trembling a little, we sang.

How lovely is Your dwelling place O'Lord Almighty
My soul longs and even faints for You
For here my heart is satisfied within Your presence
I sing beneath the shadow of Your wings

Better is one day in Your courts
Better is one day in Your house
Better is one day in Your courts
Than thousands elsewhere

One thing I ask and I would seek to see Your beauty
To find You in the place Your glory dwells 
One thing I ask and I would seek to see Your beauty
To find You in the place Your glory dwells
My heart and flesh cry out for You the living God
Your spirits water to my soul
I've tasted and I've seen come once again to me
I will draw near to You, I will draw near to You

Better is one day in Your courts
Better is one day in Your house
Better is one day in Your courts
Than thousands elsewhere

We knew, and in our gladness we gave thanks.

"Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted."
(Jesus, Matthew 5:4)