Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

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Reviewing My New Manifesto

   Well, it happened again. I finished a book and am awash in mixed feelings. It reminds me of the last day of a school year when you loved your teacher so much, so deeply, that you can barely stand to say goodbye, yet the teaching is done and summer awaits. Tonight I am equal parts numb from the vigorous grooming and tingling with motivation to put this new knowledge into action.
   Studying Barbara Kingsolver’s memoir of her family’s twelve-month foray into strict locavorism has been a spiritual experience for me. No kidding. She offers us in her book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle a literary gumbo of earth science, animal husbandry, human cultural history, religion & morality (yep, I think those are different), politics, economics, and philosophy. With a hefty dash of humor. I read it on multiple high recommendations from trusted people, and now I suppose I’m offering my own:
   Buy this book. It is an inexpensive purchase (I spent less that seven bucks on my hardback copy, albeit second hand). Don’t check it out, because I predict you’ll be marking and dog-earing and highlighting yours a lot. I sure did. One way or another, if you love food, read this wonderful book. 
   If you have the gardening sickness or a penchant for raising your own edible animals, study these pages. I found them to be endlessly inspirational this week between monotonous chores. When I thought that the wheel-barrowing of dried manure would never end and the glorious day to plant my broccoli starts would never come, much less the clipping of fragrant basil, I just sat down with a glass of water and soaked up half a chapter of the book. And my bones found the energy they needed for a few more circuits of shoveling and  bed filling. Her words helped me to visualize my summer garden.
   Even if the mission of eating locally is not that appealing to you, it’s an incredible family story and raises a plethora of tantalizing debate topics for your smarmy dinner parties. 
   And yes, I know what a plethora is.
   There are so many things I could tell you about this book. Let me just try to tempt you a little rather than  rewrite her masterpiece:
Some of the Juicy Topics That Beg Further Discussion:
  • Environmental overdraft
  • Demand side management
  • Illusion of top soil
  • Realignment with the food chain
  • Food Culture, or lack thereof
  • Knowing the provenance of your food
  • Self sufficiency as an act of patriotism, pointing back to Thomas Jefferson
  • Amish values and the beauty of boundaries
  • Agricultural agnostic
  • Xantolo
  • Culture being the property of a species, not just of the wealthy
  • Growing pizza
  • Life as a zero-sum equation (time management comment)
  • The draw to garden again and again and again, despite hardship
  • Economics of growing it yourself and the intrinsic rewards that overshadow this
  • The differences between harvesting and killing
  • The religion of time saving
  • Food Security
…And so much more. I need to find a few other people who have read this book in order to bounce some things around. Julia assures me that contacting the author would not be stalker-ish, but I have my doubts. 

How about a few quotes that glowed most brightly to my eyes?
“A lifetime is what I’m after.” Me too. Enough with the instant gratification business. We’re missing so much by rushing.
“From the ground up, everything about nourishment steadies my soul.” She spoke at length here about everything from soil preparation to harvesting and cooking from scratch for your family and friends.
“I decided my poultry patient could use a mental health day.” Amen, sister! This was from a particularly excellent chapter about heirloom turkey reproduction.
“Perfect is not the currency of farming.” Perfect is much less beautiful anyway.
“Cooking is 80% confidence, a skill best acquired starting from when the apron strings wrap around you twice.” This made me cry. My girls started cooking when they could barely stand steady on a chair at the kitchen counter, and a half aprons looked like ball gowns on their beautiful, skinny little bodies.
“One of the best things gardens can teach students is respect: for themselves, for others, and the environment.” How exciting, by the way, that school systems around the country are adopting curricula that get their students dirty and happy! 
“Some things you learn by having to work around the word no.” Brilliant.
“For one thing, hogs are intelligent enough to become unharvestable.” Perhaps you have noticed a conspicuous absence of hogs at the Lazy W.
and finally…
“Nothing is more therapeutic than to walk up there 
and disappear into the yellow-green smell of the tomato rows 
for an hour to address the concerns of quieter, 
more manageable colleagues. Holding the soft, viny limbs 
as tender as babies’ wrists, I train them to their trellises, 
tidy the mulch at their feet, inhale the oxygen of their thanks.”

   Are you sighing along with me? And I promise you that Kingsolver retains her sense of wonder and poetry in every single chapter. I have never read so many cold, hard facts written this lyrically.
   Speaking of chapters, there are twenty. The story begins with some background about the family’s motivation for this journey and ends just after their year of locavorism concludes. Every chapter is an adventure, and the author shares the papery stage with her husband and teenage daughter. 

   I have to admit a smidge of relief to understand that they viewed the year long experience as a singular one, but still one that would precipitate change in their lives. I personally am just not energetic or reliable enough to be a fanatical about anything, so it grooves me to approach the ideas herein gently, with slowness and a bit of caution. In other words, the Lazy W will be supplementing our groceries more heavily this year than ever before, but I do not predict we will place a buying freeze on all things non local or inorganic.
   
   Have you read this book? Do you want to chat it up with me? Do you want to borrow my copy? Do you need some manure for your compost heap? We have plenty, so bring your shovels.
We Have a Paradise at our Disposal.
xoxoxo


Mama's Losin' It
   

Launching Our Own Food Miracles

   So, this new book I’m gobbling up has me thinking a lot about the locality, seasonal freshness and nutrition, and carbon footprint of the food we eat here at the Lazy W. 

   Before I go any further, let me state firmly that we Lazies are unlikely to undergo any kind of food revolution or take up any new environmental banner worth flying. I mean, not exactly. All I’m trying to do is raise our global agricultural and economic awareness a few notches and improve the health of our bodies and our soil as we go. Noble enough for this house. Plus, there’s the small matter of pursuing a private edible Eden like this one…

Pinned Image
   This morning I took my notebook into the kitchen and made a quick inventory of everything we had stocked between the freezer, refrigerator, pantry, and fruit bowls. I also tried to write down as many of the things we buy throughout the year that happen to not be around right now. This list was staggering. We are just two people, you guys, and the volume and variety of foods we keep near us seems gluttonous when viewed as a whole. I mean, really. Beyond that, I was more than a little shocked to see how much processed junk still lingers within our walls even after so many attempts to clean up our diet. But the point of this exercise is not chastisement and guilt trips but rather growth and improvement, so onward we go!
   The next step of the exercise inspired by Barbara Kingsolver was to examine which of our food stuffs is or could be produced more or less locally. I skipped the “is” question because deep in the recesses of my cheap skate shopping mind I already knew the answer. Let’s just say that I gravitate toward off brand labels. Lots of bright yellow boxes in my pantry, folks, and I am not really ashamed of that. 
   
   But the “could be produced locally” question was exciting. This was yet another time when being a native Oklahoman filled me with pride and gratitude. My home state is rich with agricultural bounty, so even those items which I myself have not grown or produced, I felt sure I could find them (or most of them) in some way nearby. 
   I sat down with a cup of hot coffee and, trying to ignore the guinea fowl chirping noisily at the window, began marking which of the 115 items* on my list could be moved from the shopping list to the production plan. It was as much fun as circling items in the seed catalog! 
*Note: Many of the 115 items I listed are just categories of things we buy. 
So many product variations exist in our processed food culture 
that I found it counterproductive to list every single thing.
This in itself could serve as a wake up call 
to how much money and energy we waste
in pursuit of flavor or convenience or both.

   Okay. My specific personal lists and plans may be of little interest to you this early in the morning, but I will say that the list of 115 store bought items was easily whittled down to 51. I found 64 edible items that could be produced here at this hobby farm or sourced right here in Oklahoma! Still more that remains on the list of 51 could be eliminated for the sake of efficiency, but that’s a task for another day.
   I definitely encourage you to try this  exercise yourself. It is fascinating to realize how many wonderful edibles can be grown, produced, or culled right from your own back yard! Search out other local producers with whom you might do some old fashioned bartering. Visit your farmers’ markets when they’re in season. Find a local orchard. Examine the meat markets. 
   These are all steps we can take toward healthier diets, more stable growing environments, and economies that are ever so slightly less dependent on fossil fuels. Plus, the pleasure of growing your own food is a known stress reducer, and gardens are proven value boosters for homeowners.
   
   Wow, I have no trouble at all finding a soapbox in the morning! Sheesh.
   In Zone 7 we are fast approaching the first of many planting dates, friends, so these are the scheming weeks. This is when we still have time to decide to fully maximize our dirt patches and become contributors rather than just consumers. This is when we drive to our local horse-chicken-and-buffalo-keepers and relieve them of a bucket or two of manure for our compost. (hint-hint)
  Urbanhomestead.org 
    We have snow on the ground as I write this morning. It is perfectly beautiful, and it is providing some much needed moisture to the pastures. But it also means I won’t be scooping manure or filling raised beds today, which is where my heart kind of sits. Perhaps this will allow some extra time to catch up on other worthy pursuits. All good things are seasonal, after all. 
Have a great day, you guys!
Whatever Your Passion, Dream Big!
xoxoxo

My Garden’s Pseudo Manifesto?

   I had already devoted myself to a more serious gardening effort this year, a deeper, more consistent approach to growing something as close to organic as possible, when I laid my dirty, badly manicured hands on this little book.
   Do you know that feeling when something big and meaningful suddenly clicks with a personal yearning you’ve felt for a while, largely unable to articulate it until that unpredictable moment? This happened to me today. My craving for seasonal, from-the-ground-up, healthy life and garden reconstruction has found a voice in Barbara Kingsolver’s 2007 book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Or at least, this books speaks for a large part of my heart. 
   Earlier today while waiting for a cup of coffee to brew so I could warm up before heading back to the cold chores waiting for me outside, I picked up this book expecting to just skim a few lines. It had come highly recommended, after all, so I nabbed it at a book store recently but then just let it sit around in a pile of good intentions. Working with compost and animals all day had me more in the mood for garden talk and less in the mood for politicians (I have been reading Game Change, that 2008 election story), though, so I branched out. I ended up plowing through the first chapter without breaking a sweat, and with every page my agri-excitement built.
   Kingsolver was an accomplished novelist by the time she wrote this book, a non-fiction account of her family’s year-long experiment to become true localvores. So I sank happily into her style of expression which is mercifully free of pretension but rife with poetry. It’s just a lovely first chapter. Kingsolver makes a strong case for examining our food sources. She inspires fresh thinking about the nature of culture of any kind, in particular North American food culture or lack thereof. I am now even more fascinated  by the notions of environmental overdraft, the illusion of topsoil, food provenance, and being an agricultural agnostic. (Say whaa???)
   “Live each season as it passes; 
breathe the air, drink the drink, 
taste the fruit, and resign yourself 
to the influence of each.”
~Henry David Thoreau

   This has been a favorite quote of mine for a long time, but I usually groove toward it when the weather turns cold, reminding myself to notice the leaves’ color change, enjoy the fireplace, etc. But in terms of growing food and working more in cooperation with our environment than in competition with it (demanding for the sake of our mammoth appetites that we beat the elements into submission), Thoreau quickly reminds me to watch what grows here and when. Pretty simple.
   
   “Isn’t ignorance of our food sources
causing problems as diverse as
over-dependence on petroleum,
and an epidemic of diet-related diseases?”
~Barbara Kingsolver

   This isn’t meant as a book review tonight. I barely read two chapters today anyway. But I do feel more than a little bit magical for having thrust myself into this family’s story just as the Lazy W gardens begin to finish their winter dreaming. As I finish up my waning moon chores and wait for seeds and seedlings to arrive, I will be reading alongside the Kingsolver family’s monthly gardening tales and hope you guys don’t mind me sharing the comparisons.
   
This is really beautiful in every way.
I might need to have this framed in my kitchen, seriously.
   I was not exaggerating to call this stuff a meaningful yearning. Beyond the fun of gardening, beyond the superiority of organic produce, even beyond the arguable benefits to our global health by growing and eating locally, there is intrinsic joy to be found in this “hobby,” although I think that word is terribly weak. One last quote, then bedtime:
“Food is the rare moral arena 
in which the ethical choice
is generally the one more likely 
to make you groan with pleasure.
Why resist that?”
~Barbara Kingsolver

Why resist it, indeed?
xoxoxo