Confessions from a Lavender Farm

one scout, two scouts, three or more...

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 05:11:00 +0000

As a girl, I was a Brownie, an Indian Princess and a Girl Scout. I learned how to be a good friend, set a table and make a cookbook; but none of these groups taught me how to survive in the wildness or survive a bad trip to the hair salon, for that matter. In retrospect, I probably should have joined the Boy Scouts. I could have gotten a badge in knot tying, something I think of every other time I'm roping down a load of hay in the truck. Or learned how to start a fire with two sticks... I haven't needed this yet, but ya never know.

But, you don't need a club or a badge to become a good boy scout - you just need to stick yourself on a farm for several years to deal with broken machinery, wood plies, critters and mother nature. You'll turn out to be a boy scout by necessity or by accident.

The week before Christmas we started getting snow. I loved it - a hushed blanket of white over the landscape. It snowed and snowed and I began to make the mental list... candles (check), flashlights and batteries (check), water (check). After a few days I filled some buckets with water for the toilet (no power, no well pump, no flushing) and enjoyed being trapped on the hill.

I was just beginning to think we'd weathered the storm with no major problems when the darn power finally went out. I set up the Coleman stove to cook dinner, stoked the fire and cuddled in with the dogs. 24 hours is fine, 48 is manageable, but after days without electricity things start to get un-fun. There hasn't been a shower (save the sponge bath over a pot of hot water); the days are extremely short and the nights drag on (you can only read by candle light for so long); and you find yourself sleeping in long johns, flannel pj's, a fleece and gloves in front of the fire (oh so not-sexy). And the dogs are shivering under blankets.

The boy scout in me called uncle and I decided to head for a cozier farm (which promised a hot bath and a glass of wine). The dogs were ready to go too, so we broke camp and headed down the hill. That was a boy scout four-wheeling adventure in itself, but we arrived to enjoy the creature comforts for a few days until the juice came back at our place on Christmas day.

The farm survived, I took the longest shower ever, began turning the pounds and pounds of tomatoes that had been in the freezer (and then snow bank) into pasta sauce and enjoyed the yummiest spaghetti for Christmas dinner.

It's nice to know you can become a good boy scout at any age ( and that if you need to abandon the wilderness there are friends waiting for you).

If you think about it, every experience is worth having.
- Henry Ford

Ben

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 06:42:00 +0000

Read the last post and now meet Ben, pre-shave...

Bogart

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 06:06:00 +0000

Ok, it's finally time I wrote this... Bogart died about 6 weeks ago. He was the perfect boy who lived a great life and had a good death. He never had as much as a hang nail and was only diagnosed with heart disease 2 days before he died. I scaled back our walks, but would have rather had him out in the fresh air than confined to the house. We were out on our morning walk when he and Eloise started chasing something in the woods. He collapsed and died peacefully in my lap shortly after. I miss him terribly, but I'm so thankful he died doing what he loved in our beautiful back yard.

After a search thru Aussie Rescue, Eloise and I brought Ben, an Aussie/Border Collie cross, home on Thanksgiving. He came from a not-so-good situation and has had some adjusting to do. Everything is so new to him... as in being fed regularly, getting to go on walks and living in a house... he's had a lot of learning to do. But he's really smart and sweet and improving by the day. Meal time is now just exciting rather than over-the-moon and his biggest success so far was to go to the groomer on Fri. I thought it would be traumatic as he'd had a poor experience before, but he loved the girls and they got him so clean that he's now naked and I hardly recognize him. Much calmer and happy as opposed to neurotic. However, since he has no fur, he's sporting a sexy black v-neck T-shirt. He doesn't seem to mind and since it isn't dog fashion week at the farm no one else cares either.

More updates as we progress. Wishing you snow flakes on your nose, hot cocoa and cozy toes...

Loggin' Days

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:28:00 +0000

Autumn here is fabulous. Its my favorite time of year and there are days I'm almost giddy. Each morning on our way home from our walk I look out over the valley, with the light softer than it was a few weeks before, and I know I live in the most beautiful spot in the world.

Beyond being a lovely time of year, its also the mad scramble to get as much done outside as possible before the rains fly. My aunt Janet calls it "gathering nuts and berries" - preparing for winter. I have been picking up acorns on my walks (they fill a platter on my dining room table) and picking wild blackberries; but the real nuts and berries are mowing for the last time or two, getting firewood and propane (god that could break the bank this year), cleaning up the gardens, painting the outside of the house and freezing or canning local produce.

Firewood has been my thing lately. The guy who usually delivers for me is out and I'm having a hard time finding anyone with hardwood. My friend Charlie took down several cedar trees at his place, so last week we spent an afternoon cutting and splitting. It was my kind of afternoon - playing with chainsaws and the hydraulic splitter. I like getting in touch with my inner lumberjack every once in a while. Charlie was impressed with my chainsaw abilities and I was impressed with the splitter, which I have added to my list of favorite power equipment. Tomorrow we'll cut up the oak that fell last winter.

As much as I enjoy playing logger, these two excursions wont net me all the wood I need for winter. So I've been in touch with a guy who I think can deliver two more cords this weekend. He doesn't seem extremely dependable, but its not like I need him to show up for a date, just one delivery. Ok one delivery date - lets hope he can make it.

On a food storage note, I decided to oven dry some tomatoes to toss with pasta and put on pizza this winter. It seemed like a great idea. I quartered 10 pounds of Roma's, drizzled them with olive oil and a sprinkle of salt. I set them on a rack and put them in the oven on low and waited. And waited. 15 hours later I was left with one measly jar of dried tomatoes packed in olive oil. Can you believe it - ten pounds of tomatoes is reduced to one (really cute) 8 oz jar, not to mention the many hours of drying. I'm glad I did it once to get it out of my system, but the conclusion... one colossal waist of energy!

"Why not" is a slogan for an interesting life. - Mason Cooley

One Goat, Two Goats, Three or More

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 03:55:00 +0000

So... I suck at keeping this blog up to date. Lavender harvest came in with a swoosh - great crop and the barn is full. Keeping up with weeds, mowing and events has made the past two months fly by.

But things are getting back to a normal whirl and this weekend brought a new resident. In between a wedding and the farmers market, Tilly (named after my great grandmother, Matilda) moved into the pasture with the rest of the herd. Don't ask, don't say it... yep, this brings the count up to seven, which (I should keep reminding myself) is enough.

She's a cashmere mix (a bit fancy for the farm), all black with white markings on her hind legs. Living here is her first real experience with goats as she's only had a cow companion since the early age of 2 months. So she's trying to get her goat legs and find a friend among the crew.

I think she and Lucy may be pals, but we'll have to wait and see what shakes out. In the mean time, Blanche is making sure Tilly doesn't feel welcome at meal time. I'll give it a few days before I worry... I think Tilly is feisty enough to butt her way in when she's ready.

In the mean time, I'm plotting what projects will get started (or finished) before the rains arrive. Stay tuned...

January or June?

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 20:39:00 +0000

Yes, even though we're well into June, it feels like the middle of January here... rain, cold and more of the same. Seems Mother Nature isn't quite ready to open the sky and let the sun shine in.

So naturally we're a bit behind the curve. The lavender looks like it'll be a fabulous crop, but about 3 weeks behind schedule. It wont hurt anything for it to be late, but if you're planning to visit the farm to see a field of purple I would suggest the first 2 weeks in July. The website has been updated with hours and events, so check it out and come visit. The first Sunset event will be June 28th and should be a great night - bluegrass, wine, food, etc. See events page for details.

Even though the weather's still a bit cool, everything is beautiful out here in the country and we look forward to sharing the farm with you...

Sinful Spring Soup

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 01:01:00 +0000

Ok don't give me shit. I'm horrible about keeping up with the blog, but there's really no need to post about procrastinating taxes, muddling through office work and trying to keep the house clean (mud season, two dogs and me). The dead of winter doesn't leave a lot to write about. But the seasons are trying to change (we haven't quite made it yet) and I'm feeling a bit chipper.

This weekend the rains blew in with a flurry and it would have felt like winter again, but the tulips and daffodils are showing their shining faces and the produce department at my local grocer is displaying spring fare. Unfortunately asparagus and artichokes aren't in season here yet.

Eating local is a breeze at the peak of summer harvest and I can get myself through most of winter on produce I've frozen (tomatoes, berries, corn, etc) and those that keep well (onions and various squash), but I made the last of my tomatoes into sauce a few weeks ago and the last winter squash finally rotted. I was in serious need of a change in diet, so I caved when I saw the thin spears of California asparagus in the store. A little chat with produce manager, John, and I came up with this delicious soup - sinful, as it didn't come from a local farm, but hearty enough for a meal and brimming with sweet spring flavor:

Sinful Spring Soup
1 large baking potato
1 pound thin asparagus
2 large leeks, white and light green parts sliced thin
2 cloves garlic, minced
tarragon
vegetable broth
half and half
olive oil and/or butter
salt, pepper and ground nutmeg to season

Bake the potato and set aside to cool slightly. Toss the asparagus spears with olive oil, salt and pepper. Roast on a baking sheet at 450 degrees for about 10 minutes, turning every so often, until they begin to brown, but are still bright green. Meanwhile, saute leeks and garlic in olive oil or butter. Add a Tbsp of tarragon and 1 cups broth. Simmer on low.

Chop the cooked asparagus, reserving heads, and place in blender. Scoop cooked potato and add to blender with 1 cup broth and 1/4 cup half and half. Puree. Add to soup pan with reserved asparagus heads. Add more broth or half and half to desired constancy and season with salt, pepper and a bit of nutmeg. Enjoy!

If you're lucky enough to have asparagus in season now, eat all you can, any way you can. If you're like me, make this soup once to get a spring veggie fix and wait for the real deal from your local farm stand or market.

Minnie Pearl is Kicking My Ass

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Thu, 10 Jan 2008 23:21:00 +0000

My old farm truck, Minnie Pearl, seems to bring out my blondness (and frustrates the hell out of me). I needed to get a load of hay last week, but couldn't get the engine to turn over. It was bitter cold so I figured that was the problem and I'd try again in a few days. The second try, still nothing.

For some reason, I concluded the spark plugs needed to be changed (sounded like a good idea). But I've never changed a spark plug, so I got out my handy manual, read a bit and looked that the diagram. I found the distributor cap (which was pictured in the manual), good, but there were no spark plugs inside. Huh. It took me a few minutes to realize, the plugs were at the other end of the wire (geez). After a consult at the auto parts store I was armed with spark plugs and the ratchet to remove them.

I should mention, the truck is so high I need a ladder to get under the hood. I'm on the ladder and then I'm crawling around over the engine, trying to reach the plugs, which are not conveniently located by any means (in fact there hard as hell to get to). I managed to get five of the eight changed, before my body was bruised and battered from leaning against hard metal and twisting in every direction possible trying to reach the freakin' plugs. I couldn't take it any more, I wanted to cry. I didn't... I went inside for the evening, scrubbed my greasy finger nails and had a glass of wine.

I go thru this about every six months, the truck breaks and I think I can fix it. Maybe I can't or shouldn't, maybe I should call a mechanic. But I'm too stubborn, I like to do things for myself. I want to know how to fix my truck and I haven't given up hope (yet) that this time I will.

In the mean time, I schlepped a half a ton of hay, in three loads, in the back of my pathfinder. I think its time to vacuum.

No, you never get any fun out of things you haven't done.
- Oscar Wilde

Goats and Fuzzy Slippers

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 03:36:00 +0000

When it comes to love, I'm a bit cynical and jaded (my past experiences have left me wondering if its worth the effort). And when it comes to romance, I'm clueless. I don't do lingerie; I do fuzzy slippers and flannel... life on a farm doesn't require much lacy stuff, but a good pair of slippers (the kind you can go out to the wood pile in) and flannel PJ's come in handy on cold winter nights. My idea of a romantic date is a hike in the woods or running fence. And my idea of sexy is a strong guy in Carhardt's. I know what you're thinking... I'm hopeless, I should be happy having two dogs to cuddle with cuz it ain't gonna get any better than that. You're probably right.

So when a guy friend came to visit recently, I was lectured by girl friends on the importance of hotty wear, sexy shoes, etc. Shit, I was doomed. A guy pal stressed the importance of clean breath and a sense of humor (OK Bart, this I have down). Really, I don't have it in me to be anything but myself, take it or leave it.

The weekend was lovely... dinner out, long hikes, cooking together, etc. But my goats were in desperate need of a little maintenance (hoof trimming and shots) and its nice to have an extra body to help. Its not a horrible chore, but it isn't pretty either. The goats behaved themselves for the most part, but as I was sitting in the mud giving Blanche her pedicure she tried to deposit a few turds on my head. Men, when the woman you're considering dating is sitting in the mud with goat shit in her hair its your chance to run, no questions asked. The guy didn't run, he may even come back.

Open your mind, open your heart, open your arms, take it all in.

- Kobi Yamada

This Ain't Kansas, Baby

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 04:36:00 +0000

Winter brings rain and wind storms to our part of the valley, and we expect it. However, I usually pay attention to the news and weather to know when we might be slammed. My dad, who's my handiest and most cost effective (free) farm labor, has been here the past week and we'd been busy getting the last of the fall clean up done, not paying attention to the news.

So, yesterday I awoke at 4 am to 40 mph winds. I thought of the goats, who would be hunkered down in their shed, and of what might be blowing around outside; but there's not much you can do at the wee hours so I cuddled back in to sleep. At dawn we still had power (yippee), but no water (the power to the barn and well pump was out). I took the dogs out for a blustery run and to check on damage... lots of tree limbs down (expected), a huge oak fallen on one of the pasture fences (a good excuse to play with the chainsaw) and some damage to the roof of the cold shed (also expected and repairable). Luckily I had my handy farm labor (aka, dad) available and the clean-up was complete by days end. Thanks dad!

This morning we picked up the last of the branches on the drive and spotted an odd sight at the edge of the woods - a huge (15 ft in diameter) root ball on its side... a 100 ft fir had been uprooted and crashed into some oaks. It was amazing to see a tree with a 2-3 ft trunk flipped on its side and to realize the root ball was only about a ft deep... how did it stay standing for so many years? And, how will I get it cleaned up... a bit more than my chainsaw and I can manage.

Round Two, Clothing Optional

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 01:56:00 +0000

Some days are just a bit more interesting than others and last Monday qualified. The day started with a walk at sunrise with the dogs and ended with a buck naked man swimming in my pond. My friend Shawn is a fabulous craftsman... he built my barn for the previous owners and has helped me with various projects including the pergola across the front of the house (we designed it as we built it from 2 fir trees he milled with a chainsaw in my woods) and a 20 foot outdoor dining table. He's a jack-of-all-trades (and the most eccentric person I know) - someone I call when I have a project I can't figure out on my own. This particular project was the damn pond pump/fountain (see 'Still Blonde'). I had written it off until next May, but Shawn had some time to look at it.

We retrieved the boat from the barn (I had just put it in storage the day before), rowed out to the darn thing, disconnected it from the anchors (used the same detergent bottles to keep the anchor ropes in place), and towed it in. Our best efforts to heave it onto the dock were thwarted by the bottom heavy weight, so we pulled it to the bank. Turns out the fountain weighs about 300 lbs and no way to get it out but to wade into the chilly water. I had my Muck boots which work just fine, but Shawn didn't have the proper footwear and didn't want to get his pant legs wet as he'd arrived on his motorcycle. He announced he would undress to pull the freakin' fountain from the pond... I decided it was best to retrieve a towel from the house while he meddled with the monstrosity. He got it onto shore enough to determine I needed a new motor, and while in the process dressed and undressed at least 4 times (and took a lap around the pond in between). This is my life? A man stripping naked in the November chill to check out the mechanics of a fountain? Had it been anyone else it would have been creepy, but it was Shawn and his straight forward, get it done way. Of course he made reference to getting naked together, but I've learned to be straight forward with Shawn too... not gonna happen.

In the end, and much to Shawn's dismay, we rowed the fountain back out into the pond so I wouldn't have to look at Tide bottles floating on the anchor ropes all winter - we'll get back to it when the weather warms.

Fernando

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 19:44:00 +0000

After the last post, I thought I should add something light-hearted. I have a new hot-tubing buddy named Fernando. Ah, not what you think... he's a little tree frog who's taken up residence under the hot tub cover. I first discovered him a few weeks ago and had fun watching him skittle along the edge. Although I was a bit worried - he's a reddish color instead of bright green (from the heat of the tub).

Last week I startled him. He dove into the water and was swimming around, as I screamed, "get out, get out, you're gonna die" (because of course, frogs understand English and would respond to such cries), before scooping him to safety. Now before I relax in the hot tub, I have to search for him and place him well away from the edge so we don't have a repeat performance. I have a feeling he's found his spot for the winter... as long as he keeps out of the water, he's welcome to stay.

Kwanzaa

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 19:29:00 +0000

Last week was a difficult and sad one for me. Kwanzaa, one of the goats, had been sick for a few weeks. I was nursing him back to health with extra food and electrolytes. He seemed to be improving and I thought we'd be out of the woods in another couple of weeks. But in the middle of the week he took a turn for the worse. Knowing there was nothing left to do, I called the vet to put him down. Sadly, between the call and when the vet arrived, Kwanzaa went down. I spent his last few hours with him on the floor of the goat shed stroking his neck and talking him through it. For me this is the hard part of country life and having animals, but it is part of life. His sweet demeanour will be missed and I'm grateful for the pleasure he brought me.

Oh Yeah, Still Blonde

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Thu, 13 Sep 2007 02:55:00 +0000

When you buy a house in town, it takes 6 months to a year and you know how everything works... furnace, hot water heater, sprinkler system, etc. I've lived here six years now and still don't know how some things work - they work, that's all ya need to know.

Well, I'm getting a frustrating lesson in how the pond aerator/fountain works this week. The pond's about a half acre around and15 ft deep in the middle with a fountain on a timer that keeps the water clean. I know where the timer is and how to set it, but nothing beyond that. It stopped working this week, so now I get to fix it. I fished out the owners manual and read that I should be doing routine maintenance every two years... really, it's anchored to the bottom somehow and weighs at least 150 lbs.

I'm thinking this will all require a bit of diving and swimming with the trout and bull frogs - mostly I'm worried how scummy it will be under that fountain. Yuck! I row out in my little boat to see what I can see from the surface, which is nothing. So, I go back to the manual and try to get into the right frame of mind to swim around in the murky depths. The diagram shows two anchors holding the fountain in place and I think I can reach them from the boat. Of course once you remove the chains holding the fountain to the anchor they'll sink, so I bring along two empty laundry detergent bottles (this is where recycling really pays off). I disconnect the fountain from the anchors and tie the ropes to the Tide bottles (a nice red-neck look on the pond), tie the fountain to the boat and begin to row ashore. Except I'm not going ashore, just in circles. For god sakes, why? Well shit, it has to be attached to electricity somewhere and that would be under water and require the diving I was trying to avoid.

So I remove the red-neck float devices, re-anchor the fountain and go back to the manual for help. Three days and several calls to the manufacture later, all I've learned is there should be a filter box on shore that needs cleaning. I've found two electric boxes and a few routers for the irrigation (that I didn't know existed), but no filters.

Another look at the manual and I think I really will be diving the chilly waters with the fish. I love living in the country because it forces you to figure out things you normally wouldn't think about, but some days it's freakin' brain damage!

Goats in the Living Room

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Fri, 10 Aug 2007 18:03:00 +0000

It was a white trash, farm chick day all around. I was getting a couple new goats which is always exciting, but I didn't have a proper way to transport them. Tying them up in the back of Minnie Pearl, my old farm truck, didn't seem like the best idea, so I decided to use an old '77 Suburban that's been sitting around here for the past two years (don't ask why - don't most farms have some old vehicle hanging about?).

Of course the battery was completely dead, so I monkeyed around changing it out for Minnie Pearl's and it started right up. I had never actually driven the Suburban and it felt like I was sitting on a sofa, driving a living room down the road - kind of floating along, as I watched the gas gauge move quickly toward empty.

When I got to Tiffany's, it turned out she had not two, but three goats for me - Boots, the third, was a 6 month old and she didn't want to separate her from mama. So, we loaded up the girls and off I went - me and three goats floating in a living room down the road and thru town. It turns out goats travel rather well in a Suburban and we made it back to the farm just fine. Of course once we got to the pasture no one wanted to disembark from the vehicle. I lifted Boots out and she climbed back in (there's really no telling a goat what to do). We played that game for a while until the girls decided the pasture did have more to offer than the Suburban as far as snacking and leg room go.

It'll take a few days for everyone to get friendly and establish the pecking order, but I think Emma, Boots and Lucy will fit right in. They are darling and sweet Nubian/Bore crosses and having baby Boots is a fun little bonus. Now, what to do with that darn Suburban?

Getting there isn't half the fun, it's all the fun. - Robert Townsend

Lavender Season

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 22:33:00 +0000

Lavender season is in full swing at Havenhill. We had some unseasonably cool weather in June that slowed things down a bit, but as always temps heated up and pushed the lavender along.

Harvest started Saturday morning and went until early afternoon when we closed for a wedding. Back at it all day Sunday and it went well - we cleared more from the field in one day than ever before. The hay loft is full - a good thing as the weather's quite hot and we don't have much more time. We'll reach the 100's today, but the guys are willing to cut this evening so with any luck we'll finish the field tonight or tomorrow.

We cut the lavender by hand with a big curved blade called a bull hook (Italian machete). it's laid back across the plant to begin drying and then bundled with rubber bands. The hay loft is fitted with slats of wood with screw hooks where the lavender is hung, 2 bundles per hook, to dry for 10-14 days. Then its removed and carefully boxed with tissue between layers and stored in the dark until its ready to become product.

The lavender we pull from the field in the next few days will dry on flat mesh racks and is then sent to a local seed cleaner where it's stripped from the stems and cleaned for our culinary and loose lavender products. It's an expensive process, but our lavender is the cleanest I've ever seen and we're proud to be able to offer such high quality to our customers.

Summer is also berry season in the Pacific NW, so we gorge ourselves silly... raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, etc. There does come a point when you don't think you can eat another berry and then we freeze for the winter, but we're no where near that point yet. Eat on.

Hope you're enjoying the bounty of harvest in your area. If you don't check out your farmers market on a regular basis, I highly recommend it. Great, fresh-from-the -field produce and you're helping support agriculture in your area. Can't go wrong anyway you slice it.

Unexplainable Mishap

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Mon, 02 Jul 2007 17:35:00 +0000

For once, I'm not responsible for a mishap around the farm. It was one of those things that's almost unexplainable. A client was moving her car in the parking lot when he foot slipped and hit the gas. The car went over a concrete parking block and somehow up over a retaining wall of railroad ties before it high centered on the wall and a few shrubs.

Thankfully no one was hurt. The women were rattled, but they handled it well. A couple of guys who were here helping me weed and a gentleman who was here with his wife spent a few hours jacking the car in three places and disassembling the retaining wall so that we could dislodge the car. And the women were on their way again. I'm sure they were exhausted by the event, but hopefully have recovered their sense of humor.

On a lavender note. The field is in full bloom. We were behind in weeding, but got it finished this weekend... while the yellow dandelions contrast the lavender nicely, it makes me cringe to see their yellow heads poking through. We'll start harvest next weekend and with any luck will have the hayloft full within a few days.

Go Girl

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Mon, 25 Jun 2007 18:25:00 +0000

I got a call from friend and photographer, Gretchen Mashkuri, on Saturday afternoon. She was returning from FL after doing an exclusive photo shoot for Tiger Woods and his family - the first photos to be publicly release of Tiger, Elin and their new babe Sam Alexis!

Gretchen is one of the kindest and most unassuming people I know. She's happiest mucking around her farm in her Carhardt's and rubber boots - feeding goats, llamas and cows; driving the tractor or wielding a chainsaw. She's salt of the earth and and the easiest of friends.

We know Gretchen's a fabulous photographer, she's responsible for all the lovely images you see on Havehill's website, and now the rest of the world does too. You go girl!

Plan B

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 18:35:00 +0000

This past weekend was our first Saturday Night Sunset - wine, food, music and lovely views. I spent Friday mowing, setting tents and looking forward to sharing the farm.

Saturday morning was cloudy and cold. It'll burn off, I told myself as I headed into town. My Saturday morning ritual includes hauling in the recycling and a stop at Rolling Hills for a latte and my favorite bagel concoction - one of Molly's sorta bagels (no holes and no boiling, but yummy), toasted and smothered in After Burn cream cheese spread (hot and spicy perfection). Molly and Jessica were doing the catering for the Sunset event and wanted to know if I had a plan B if it rained. Ah no, I just wanted my breakfast and I'd think of something.

I headed for the farmers market and my little piece of concrete at the back of Kate's booth. It's where I perch, on the edge of the sidewalk, to savor my breakfast while we try to catch up in between customers. There another friend wanted to know if I had a plan B - no, I'm not sure I ever have a plan B (or consciously think of it that way). The barn was a possibility, but it was piled high with boxes and antiques Jacquie would be staging next week. It was starting to rain hard... OK, how about the house. It would be cozy, warm and dry.

I raced home to open the gift shop and madly clean (house keeping's not my strong suite). The rain continued and when the evening got under way, I had a jazz quartet in the living room and 12 guests I'd never met lounging in front of the fire. Molly and Jessica did a beautiful job with the food and Suzi from Christopher Bridge Vineyard was a delight.

There was no sunset, just dark skies, but everyone enjoyed themselves and made new friends. I went to bed exhausted but happy, knowing we'd done what we could and made our guests feel welcome.

One Fish Two Fish

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Sat, 26 May 2007 04:58:00 +0000

During the summer, my friends with children think of the farm as their personal playground. Bart and Heather will show up unannounced on a Sunday morning, kids in tow as if I've been sitting around waiting to entertain them. I find this annoying, Heather thinks it's amusing - hey guys, I do have phone service up here on the hill.

Well, the boys know how to use the phone and arranged to bring Henry & Elliot up to fish in the pond. I wondered how much fishing two 3 year-olds could do, but no matter the dad's were gonna teach the boys to fish. Have ya ever seen two grown men casting Spiderman fishing poles with fish flavored marshmallows as bait and a plastic shopping bag for a tackle box? Anything you can imagine, the real deal is funnier. Not only two guys with cartoon poles (one came with a fake gold fish attached), but the seriousness in which they instructed the kids on the finer points of fishing - this is real man stuff, now pay attention. The boys were afraid of the fish when they came flopping out of the water and just wanted them to go back into the pond where they belonged. It hardly mattered, Bart and Jason kept casting until the many marshmallows were gone. I'm pretty sure this little adventure was more for the dads than the boys. In their defense, Jason is an expert fly fisherman and wouldn't be caught dead with a shopping bag tackle box on the river, and although I didn't know Bart fished he's got a swift cast with the Spidey pole.

Note to any anglers or would be anglers - we can't allow public fishing on the pond (friends & family only). Sorry for the tease.

Between the wish and the fish, life lies waiting.

Blonde Moment

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Mon, 14 May 2007 21:16:00 +0000

Now I'm getting phone calls from friends, concerned I may harm myself working on the truck. Pleeease don't worry... Kristine, there's no chance of cutting a gas line while changing an ignition switch (or if there is, I didn't do it). The biggest chance of injury would be bumping my head on the steering column, which I also managed to avoid. And to alleviate any further concerns... I wear steel toed boots and face protection when I run a chainsaw, same boots for splitting wood and I know how to grab a goat by the horns. I'm not careless, just stubborn.

And blonde... the tow guy was just here, I finally caved and decided to send it to Matthew. As I was taking it out of 4-wheel drive and getting ready to put it in neutral for him, I realized it was in gear, not park. Oh, the blonde moment! Guess what... she fired right up! So, now I know how to change out a solenoid and an ignition switch, neither of which I needed to do. Lets just say I'll be laughing at myself all week.

Enjoy the days, they only come once.

Bull Headed Blonde

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Fri, 11 May 2007 17:08:00 +0000

Earlier this week I mentioned to a friend that I was kind of bull headed, as if it was something he might not know. Nick probably fell off his chair laughing - who would have guessed!

And as if I need to prove this, I'm giving myself brain damage trying to fix my farm truck. Minnie Pearl is a '72 Jeep J-10 and she has a few issues. This week, namely that she wont start. I think its the ignition switch so off I go to the auto parts store. The guy there tells me it could be the solenoid and I should check that first. Who knows what a solenoid is... he tells me where to find it, how to check it and sells me some light rod tester. No problem. But the picture in the manual looks differnt than what's in my truck - I test what I think is the solenoid, which upon further discussion with the auto parts guy turns out to be the coil and I'm testing it backward. He's getting a good laugh and suggests I may need some help. Really, I don't think so. I finally test the right part and it doesn't seem to be working, so I replace it.

The darn truck still doesn't start. So I call my uncle in CO for some advice. Yes, it definitely could be the ignition switch and he tells me how to check it. I have no idea if I'm checking it correctly - by the time I'm under the dash, I've muddled his instructions in my head. And, there are a heck of a lot of wires running into that switch. We'll give it another go this afternoon... now it seems to be a personal challenge to figure it out. Or, I'll get it towed to Matthew who could fix it in an hour. But why do that when I should be able to do it myself.

I have a feeling the Chilton's manual is about to become bedtime reading and that I'll be signing up for auto shop at the high school (do ya think they'll let me?).

Goat Kids

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Thu, 03 May 2007 23:55:00 +0000

I am a total animal geek... the kind of gal who could wind up with a dozen dogs if she wasn't careful. Tom used to keep me in check by setting the limit at 2 dogs and and a couple barn yard critters, but last night I realize ooh la la there are no limits anymore.

Friend Deena is dog sitting/farm sitting friend Gretchen's place this week. I stopped by last night for a glass of wine and when I arrived, Mary & David where there and they announce we had some farm work to do first. Well lets go, what is it... bottle feeding some brand new baby goats whose mama's having a hard time nursing. Stick me in a goat shed with a pile of kid goats any time! There were five - three had been born a few days earlier and two that morning. Sweetest little things with their spots and speckles and their wobbly legs... like a pile of puppies.

The down side was, I wanted to take them home. Why not... I could keep them in the bath tub (which could make showering a bit difficult) and bottle feed them 'til they were old enough to live with Blanche and the crew. Yes, on the way home I actually considered this... as well as thinking about getting Blanche and Lula Belle knocked up and having my own pile of goat babes. Fortunately reality set in... I do need that bath tub to bath in, and as much as I'd like to play with goats all day I don't have the time. Besides if they grew up in the bath tub, who knows, maybe I'd let them on the couch one day and it'd be all down hill from there... lavender lady turns crazy goat lady (not the kind of headlines we're looking for).

Blooms and Blades of Grass

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 18:47:00 +0000

So, the response from Sunset has been interesting. Emails from all over... other Coloradoans who have relocated to Oregon, folks wanting to visit or grow lavender (from Texas & South Dakota to Puerto Rico), all kinds of things. Thanks for the notes - your enthusiasm is wonderful and appreciated.

The farm is perking up... peaches have bloomed and the cherries too. Right now the apples and pears are in blossom and the weeping cherries along the drive are still flowering. Of course the weeds have started and the grass is growing faster than I can mow. When I'm outside working I get carried away with all kinds of thoughts on projects I want to start (or finish)... finish the front patio once and for all, kill off the grass on a steep slope in the back yard and put in some natural landscaping with a path leading to the pond, raised flower beds in another garden, the list goes on. But right now I need to mow, mow, mow prune and get the weeds under control. The other projects will fit in somehow and there will always be ones that will carry over to next year (like the front patio has for the past two years). This is the time of year when all things are possible and it's exciting to dream about what will take shape this season.

Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers 'Grow,grow'
- The Talmud

I just wish those angels weren't whispering quite so much right now.

Sunset

noreply@blogger.com (trina) — Fri, 20 Apr 2007 18:17:00 +0000

OK, run out and pick up the May issue of Sunset... Havenhill is featured in a six page photo spread! We'll have it posted on the website in a few day. The best part... Bogart made two shots. He was so proud of himself when the photographer was shooting his mug last summer (good boy).

And, looks like the goats will be pushed into more service this summer. I'm working with Marion County Soil & Water to get a grant to clear the brambles in a five acre oak stand, and they've determined the goats will do the best job. We'll know by July if I get the grant to pay for the fencing... start munching.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all. - Emily Dickinson