In and out of Ireland

The Second Day of Christmas

2011-12-26T06:26:00.000-08:00

For some it's not over.
Germany and many other European countries like France, Italy, Hungary, even the UK have a second Day of Christmas, with 'Boxing Day' being the better known name. In Serbia, Sweden, Croatia and Poland they celebrate it as St. Stephen's Day, the day of the first Christian martyr. In Ireland it's pronounced btw St.Stephense's Day). In the Republic of Ireland, the day is one of nine official public holidays. In Irish, it is called Lá Fhéile Stiofán or Lá an Dreoilín — the latter translates literally as another English name used, the Day of the Wren or Wren's Day. When used in this context, "wren" is often pronounced "ran". This name alludes to several legends, including those found in Ireland, linking episodes in the life of Jesus to the wren. Although now mostly a discontinued tradition, in certain parts of Ireland persons carrying either an effigy of a wren or an actual caged wren (live or dead), travel from house to house playing music, singing and dancing. Depending on which region of the country, they are called Wrenboys .

My son was born that day. I spent Christmas in labor and he was born on Christmas Day, if the second. We moved to Ireland when he was still very small. It was impossible to have a birthday party for the little boy. First of all, the Irish have big families and they all had to visit their relatives on that day. Second, Tipperary where we lived had the customary Wren boys doing the rounds on St.Stephene's day. Originally staging a fake wren shooting, tradition has it that a group of boys and young man dressed up and went from farm to farm singing and collecting goodies- sweets or pennies.
I once tried to give my son summer birthday celebration in lieu of his real birthday he missed out on every year. Unfortunately, that didn't work out better because on 26 June the summer holidays and with it haymaking and other farmer activities where in full swing.
Everybody whose birthday is close to Christmas can sympathize.

Happy 2nd Day of Christmas!

Recipes with Courgettes/Zucchinis

2011-11-08T13:06:00.000-08:00

Sorry, I neglected this blog for too long due to my other blogs and book promotion. Now the summer is over and everything I had planned to tell you about courgettes is out of seasonal synch. Let me sum it up in brief: Our 50 yards of zucchinis as they are called in Ireland, produced such a fine crop, abundance squared that I resorted to making zucchini relish (yum!) and sold it in jam jars in the local shops and on the farmers' market. They don't freeze very well but marinate wonderfully after grilling like bell peppers or eggplants in olive oil and vinegar, preferably balsamico. Just a dash of salt and pepper, store in a nice ceramic jar; they keep for weeks in the fridge--if you can stay away from them. I always used the small ones for this. Big zucchinis can best be turned into relish.
Have you tried zucchini fritters? Grate them like when making relish, add grated onions, a little salt and flour to bind and make fritters. Here in the US, they would be called patties. Flat like burgers. Fried in oil, the result is like Swiss Rosti. To make them totally delicious you can put a big slice of tomato on top plus grated cheese and put them under the grill until the cheese is nicely melted.
In the first years of growing zucchinis, I got totally excited when they became as big as a man's arm. Only to find out that they get mushy inside and you have to remove their big seeds. And their skin gets leathery tough. I never dried the seeds. Like pumpkin seeds, I suppose, one could have made use of them this way as well. Too much work!
But if the zucchini is not too big, let's say up to a foot long, cut them into halves, scrape out the seeds and fill with ground beef & onions (like filled bell peppers), sprinkle with grated cheese and bake in the oven until meat is cooked and cheese melted. My children called them zucchini boats.
St. Martin's day is approaching which was the death sentence for our first goose of the year.But that story has already been told. You'll find it by going into my archive and look for geese.

The traditional matchmaking festival for farmers

2011-09-25T11:14:00.001-07:00

With the days of summer ending, Irish farmers will have brought in their main crop. My trusted housekeeper one year while I was still married to my farmer told me about a tradition that is kept to this day in the farming community around this time of year. A bachelor farmer would ride on his tractor to the big matchmaking festival of the year in Lisdoonvarna...and come home with a bride next to him. Lacking other opportunities in the olden days, it oftentimes was a great outlet for merrymaking for rural folks who lived rather isolated and even to find a spouse. Clare's tourist website calls it the holy grail of romance and lonely souls.
After separating from Mac as I call him here and opening my marriage bureau I had to go and see for myself if this was true and how it worked. A nice weekend out in Co. Clare, the West of Ireland anyways and I needed to do research being in the business myself.
The festival takes place for almost 4 weeks from September to October. I went with one of my employees to check out the local scene and also met with the big name in the business, Bill Daly. He was THE matchmaker of some renown who claimed to be responsible for thousands of marriages. As the new kid on the block who was making an all year round professional business out of matchmaking, he didn't take me seriously. That year he was officially introducing his daughter as his successor-- but only for the time of the festival. No advanced dating service all over the country like mine was planned. They were merely upholding tradition.
People come from all over Ireland, Northern Ireland voices and American accents were also heard. The whole town was involved, mostly in the pubs, drinking and flirting. We attended the biggest event of them all: the election of the Bachelor of the year. After a few rounds of questions the candidates were asked to sing a song of their choice and show off their dancing skills with the lasses. After half an hour of suspended animation the room was presented with the winner. I forget his name, it's irrelevant. But what sticks in my memory is that he was found out to be a married man pulling out his ring and drawing his wife onto the dance floor, giving her a big smacker of a kiss. Nobody but my staffer and I was really outraged. Nobody but us had taken this charade seriously.A Brigadon gone terribly wrong,but the craig is mighty. You might still go for the horse racing and carousing. And the Irish are famous for having fun!

Le Ferme de Paris

2011-08-03T07:53:00.000-07:00

My home swap adventure took me to the outskirts of Paris. Nice home if a little neglected. My old farming skills come in handy. It was part of the deal to water plants. Normally easy, except most are half-dead from lack of irrigation, tomatoes and aubergines as well, however, are doing well. At the last minute, I also got the request to look after a pet rabbit and guinea pig. Cute little critters. I promise I won't set them free as I did our own bunny rabbit on the farm years ago. (see old post about Benny Bunny).
Trying to find trendy things to do in Paris, I stumbled across a few things that relate to this green blog quite unexpectedly. An article in Delta's Sky magazine recommends walking tours that start at Merciand Bonton on the Blvd. Beaumarchais."These two concept stores and restaurant will get you kitted out in the latest urban-farmer aesthetic, with profits all going to charitable causes."
And I was pleased to read about a 5-hectares working organic farm, the Ferme de Paris, allows young city dwellers to explore country life through the seasons with its meadow, stables and farmyard. You go Paris! Even I won't go there myself.

Grooming Sheep

2011-07-28T00:58:00.000-07:00

Well, you may have thought that chapter was tackled and done with! Not so. Besides the shearing and dipping, farmers have to trim their hooves and regularly. Otherwise they can catch some nasty foot and claw disease or lameness. Some people find it hard to do their own toe nailhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifs. It takes two people: one to hold the sheep that may weigh about 50 pounds already and the other one is wielding the clippers. I always volunteer.

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.gifed for the holding part, although it is a struggle as they don’t want to cooperate. So I had to hold on with my full body weight to prevent them from shirking away from Mac’s hands. As stupid as they often appear otherwise, these sheep are quite crafty at this. Lo and behold if a nail is cut to short or the animal is slightly cut, there is no continuing till another day. And then try to find that same sheep out of a herd of a hundred. If you're interested to learn more about the subject: Hoof trimming: A Day in the Life of a Farmer
When dosing them, it’s customary to mark their pelts with a colored marker in order to know which of them got their dosage already. I’m talking of Flagyl that cures the nasty fly infestation once they have occurred. The afflicted pelt also has to be brushed with some liquid generously if flies are visible and have laid eggs. If they develop into maggots, sheep often die. In this endeavor, I also opted for the struggling and holding part. I just stomach to push a big pill down a sheep’s throat which, inadvertently, it would try to regurgitate. So you want a firm hand to keep their mouths shut until they have swallowed it. Some are able to fool you. They seem to keep the pill in their cheeks until you think you‘re safe and can let go. That’s when they spit it out. Having mastered this, you give them a marking stroke with a different color.
Not every sheep makes it. I drove dead sheep –and calves for that matter- to the lab when a death had occurred. In family jeep; in the back which was carpet- lined, remember? It was a trip of about 20 miles. The stench became unbearable after five minutes. So I rolled down the windows. Then it as too cold in the car and I put the heat on. That didn’t help the aroma; mostly it rained in. I wasn’t really cut for farming. But who else would have done that errand? The lab would determine the reason why an animal died when it wasn’t obvious otherwise to the farmer.

Food for Thought

2011-07-24T07:12:00.000-07:00

In the line at the store, the cashier told an older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment.

The woman apologized to him and explained, "We didn't have the green thing back in my day."
The clerk responded, "That's our problem today Your generation did not care enough to save our environment."
He was right -- our generation didn't have the green thing in its day.
Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over.So they really were recycled.
But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.
We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.
But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.
Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters,not always brand-new clothing.
But that old lady is right; we didn't have the green thing back in our day.
Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana.
In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us.
When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.
Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.
But she's right; we didn't have the green thing back then.
We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water.
We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.
But we didn't have the green thing back then.
Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service.
We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.
But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?
Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smart ass young person.
One reader wrote me that we are the "old" generation that invented all these things, however, in the past 20-30 years So now for you….

Yummy berries

2011-07-16T02:13:00.000-07:00

The abundance of fresh fruit on German markets - strawberries, raspberries, red currants--reminds me of our labor of love on the farm. In the first years after planting, these fruit bushes provided a good crop already and it was a joy picking them. The children usually ate more than they brought home in their little baskets. In the following year, however, due to lack of proper cutting and pruning the shrubs after the harvest, we had a raspberry jungle out there. Remember, we had planted every vegetable and fruit bush in rows of 50 meters length. When they multiplied, the saplings grew all over the place and in between the rows. We had fruit in abundance. The season lasts for about four weeks in which they had to be picked every day, at the peak of the season for approx. 4 hours a day. After a couple of days, this activity loses its attraction for children. Adults- in this case me!- persevere out of a sense of obligation. Nothing should go to waste, as the motto goes. I remember one breezy day where the 5ft high raspberry canes where swaying in the wind. A picker then should have three hands: one to hold the basket, one to hold the cane and one to pick the fruit. I offered friends and neighbors to come and pick their own.I wasn't even charging for fruit like many a commercial grower these days advertises: Pick your own and pay by the pound.
The reaction I got was less than enthusiastic.Yes, they would love some fruit. Could I please drive by their house and deliver? Fat chance. So I kept going as much as I could, making jams or just freezing them for use at a later date.

The sheep or me....

2011-07-08T03:24:00.000-07:00

As I'm currently traveling in Europe and writing about that experience, www.Intrepidhomeswappers.blogspot.com, it's hard to find the time to keep up my various blogs. We are staying in a German house whose owners have a sheep skin (fleece) in their bed. Since this story ties in nicely with my previous sheep related blog posts , I thought I'd throw in this anecdote. We bought our fleece when by son was born in the very cold winter of 85-86. We put it in his pram to keep him warm with day time temperatures well blow zero.Then the sheep skin found its way into my bed during cold winter nights.After a while Mac,(my Ex),protested. Why he hated it to be there I never found out. "It's either the sheep or me- one of us has to leave the bed!" I let the sheep go.
That's what a full fleece looks like. When we had our sheep shorn, we never went for that.You only get them, when a sheep is butchered.
As I'm currently traveling in Europe and writing about that experience, www.Intrepidhomeswappers.blogspot.com, it's hard to find the time to keep up my various blogs. We are staying in a German house whose owners have a sheep skin (fleece) in their bed. Since this story ties in nicely with my previous sheep related blog posts , I thought I'd throw in this anecdote. We bought our fleece when by son was born in the very cold winter of 85-86. We put it in his pram to keep him warm with day time temperatures well blow zero.Then the sheep skin found its way into my bed during cold winter nights.After a while Mac,(my Ex),protested. Why he hated it to be there I never found out. "It's either the sheep or me- one of us has to leave the bed!" I let the sheep go.
That's what a full fleece looks like. When we had our sheep shorn, we never went for that.You only get them, when a sheep is butchered.

Dipping Sheep

2011-06-30T10:37:00.000-07:00

Sheep require a bit more attention and "Personal hygiene" beyond the shearing I described in my last post. In order to avoid external parasites such as itch mite, blow-fly, ticks and scab that can easily kill a sheep, the farmer has to dip them in some preventive medicine. There are two broad classes of sheep dip: organophosphorus compounds, from which chemical warfare agents were later developed, and synthetic pyrethroids. If you read a British veterinary law issued by HSE (Health& Safety Executive) you understand the degree if toxicity and harmfulness involved, both to humans and animals: "Everyone who will be involved in the dipping operation must be properly trained and competent. This is just as important whether you use an organophosphorous (OP) sheep dip of a synthetic pyrethroid (SP) sheep dip.
Under the Veterinary Medicines Regulations 2006 it is an offense to use sheep dip unless this is done by, or under the supervision and in the presence of, a person who holds a Certificate of Competence in the Safe Use of Sheep Dips."
So that was out for us organic farmers!
An organic farmer has to use his husbandry skills to control pests: free range conditions, keep stocking rates low,rotate grazing sites. These measures also help decrease the need of deworming--another labor-some procedure. More care and inspection of the individual animal is required by the organic sheep farmer, e.g. by maintaining a closed flock (no bought-in stock) which also help prevent disease. In other words:Organic farming again is more labor intensive.

Hair cut for Sheep

2011-06-20T13:27:00.000-07:00

In late spring and early summer it's high time to get your sheep shorn.I'm afraid this year I left it almost too late! But then again, Klkenny still had a touch of snow last week; in June!
At first, the sheep don't seem to be too hot or look like they need a haircut but with the arrival of flies the thick winter fleece becomes a danger to the animals. Maggots easily infest a flock of sheep and that's trouble no farmer wants to deal with. We had a neighbor who offered his services. Mick always did his own and had experience. Shearing was done outside on the yard. The sheep have to be rounded up by an able dog first. Our Brandy had talent for this job. She clearly enjoyed nipping the sheep in their legs too while rounding them up and circling them all the time to keep them in check. Where she had learned it--we didn't know. It was in her blood, whereas later off spring of hers was useless.
The shearer holds a sheep between his legs while a second is needed to keep the struggling sheep still. Mostly they are not very cooperative in spite of the sense of relief afterwards.Zip, zip, zip and off flies the wool. To get the fleece in one piece is impossible. They must come from slaughtered sheep. In the olden days it was worth to collect the wool but at that time we were in the "business", prices were too low to bother. We still had to pick up the wool and stuff them into bags because the dogs would make a right mess and have way too much fun with it. Fertilizer bags are the bags of choice like for many other jobs, collecting windfall apples, even for sleighing down a hill which merely has a sprinkle of snow.
It's a smelly job. Sheep have a certain odor, their lanolin imbued wool does too and so do the men at work after a while. On a hot day, it can be quite overwhelming for the delicate nose of a city girl. After a while and typical hints from the shearers, drink is fetched. This type of work makes you hungry as well.
In the following years, when we had about 100 sheep we needed professional help if this social outing wasn't going to take all week.
I always felt sorry for the sheep afterwards when the weather was still on the chilly side. They looked like starved skeletons, naked and unappealing. But they usually frolicked shortly after the ordeal. After that they should receive a dip in a medicine infused bath to prevent the dreaded parasites. Which is an ordeal in itself.

Not neglecting you...

2011-06-11T10:34:00.000-07:00

I hope there were some responses to the request for help on this Clare smallholding! I'd love to hear about it.
Sorry for neglecting this blog for almost 3 weeks. I've been busy promoting my novel:Next Time Lucky. It is available on Amazon. both as a paperback now and an eBook. I wish I could publish my memories of our Irish farming life in a similar fashion. So far I made it into a coffee table book which is too expensive to produce and sell. $35 plus shipping $ 9.99 from the publisher. Even though there is a big interest in having it done. The idea behind it really was to keep the memory alive for my children.

If anybody has connections to a producer of coffee table books, I'd appreciate if you could let me know. Until then it remains a blog and gets put into print for family and special friends. I will continue this blog with a story about our bonhams (pronounced bonnefs =Irish for piglets). A charming vignette and of big importance, especially to my son, Patrick.
In the meantime, here in Florida the summer heat progresses. Unimaginable steam-room conditions that people in Ireland can only imagine in their wildest dreams.

Aspiring farmer wanted!

2011-05-19T19:44:00.000-07:00

Check this out if you have farming aspirations yourself. I was contacted by a fellow farmer in Co. Clare with this request:"Offer of a chance to smallhold in Co Clare rent free." It looks just beautiful!They did a great job to what looks like a typical farmhouse in that area judging from the pictures. I know the area well and pass on this request.http://irishfarmhouseandsmallholding.yolasite.com/. It brings back sweet memories... Let me know what happens. Good luck!

"We women could run the country!"

2011-05-08T13:05:00.000-07:00

My husband's removal of sod that died in the winter and dirt in the last few weeks, pushing a squeaking old wheelbarrow around, reminds me of a little anecdote on the farm.
Irish families like to go "for a drive" on a Sunday afternoon. Usually, the yparked the car by the lake or a beauty spot, mother got out and entertained the children while father would sit behind the wheel and listen to hurling and Gaelic football results. We found our house and what we were doing to it became a similar curiosity attraction in the second year. Regularly after lunch and thoughout the whole afternoon, a car would park outside our main entrance gate where one had a good look over the gardens and back of the house. They pointed at things. It became quite intrusive. Waving at the nosey-parkers didn't deter them. That gate provided a spot to pull in the car without becoming a traffic obstacle whereas the yard gate didn't offer that. And it might have been just of equal interest to them. So we decided to block that gate and view by planting fast growing bushes, my favorite laurels, and only have a little hand gate to get access at an angle where they couldn't peep in.
Mac and a strapping farm hand took out some of the concrete pathway with a jackhammer. Now the soil was ours, Pauline's and mine, to dig and plant. We went about 3 ft deep and 6 yards wide, shoveling the earth until every bone in our bodies hurt. I remember just having over 50 wheelbarrows full of soil which was wheeled around the house onto the compost heap or filled in other places where needed in the garden. Pauline never objected to any kind of work, however hard it was. Hard work had been her life after all. My tea brakes with her and friendship more than compensated for the hardship of all the jobs like plucking chickens, cleaning ashes out of fireplaces, washing floorboards, windows, than anything. I still see us in front of me after filling the last wheelbarrow, planting ca. 20 laurels into the ground. Pauline wiped her brow and said,"We women could run the country."

Got soil?

2011-05-05T05:55:00.000-07:00

This week is Compost Awareness Week. Did you know? What does it matter? With all the hype around certain political events we easily forget the most elementary basics of life that surround us: our food and how it is grown, the soil it takes to grow it (or rather what we do to it) and water. An excellent article on this caught my eye this morning. See on the right. I've been struggling to get my compost heap going here in FL. Whereas it never was a problem in a colder and wetter climate, in the dryness of a Florida winter and the scorching sun that we had since March it was almost impossible. By wrapping plastic foil around the container and watering it regularly, the necessary wanted micro-climate is starting to develop eventually. I had even carried worms over from other parts of the garden by hand and given them a new home, speaking to do them encouragingly to go to work.

Eerily Familiar

2011-03-26T12:53:00.000-07:00

It's been 2 weeks now since disaster struck Japan. Every day, American news media report in their typical over the top sensational manner about what might happen, could have happened...and do we really know what happened? Is nuclear technology any safer now than 25 years ago. How can it ever be?
The beginning of my blog www.Ioncehadafarminireland.blogspot.com takes me right back and is eerily familiar:
"It was the environmental disaster of Chernobyl in 1986, and the overall nuclear threat that motivated us enough to opt out of the rat race and start afresh in Ireland. After Chernobyl, in Germany fall out levels were dangerously high. The government discouraged people to feed milk to their children, not to eat fresh vegetables --and this was early summer- and our new Geiger counter measured excessive radiation levels in our children’s sandbox. Ireland had escaped almost unscathed due to the prevailing weather pattern in the 2 weeks after the disaster in Ukraine."
Radiation was measured yesterday in Hawaii, the West coast, even in Colorado. Depending on prevailing weather patterns - that merry-go-round of thermodynamics and the big unknown that weathermen never seem to get right- the whole world might be in for a few u-turns and imponderables, unforeseeables, and God forbid the unexpected. Imports from Japan have been banned widely. But what do the poor Japanese do?
After Chernobyl,we went to a country that was minimally affected to grow our own healthy food. Twenty-five years later, a massive new scare. BTW, do you know the half-life of Plutonium or Cesium? Surprise, surprise, remnants are still lingering in Ukraine. Regions unfit to live in for thousands of years--except for those unfortunate who cannot leave the area and have to stay put. They still suffer the horrible consequences. European Journal, a show broadcast from Germany on PBS -thank God for public radio and TV- reported about big nuclear accident before Chernobyl, an event even I had never heard about: MAYAK, 50 years ago. Guess what: People there and their children and children's children are still exposed to the radiation caused then and suffer from horrific congenital diseases. Because the half-life of Plutonium 239 is 24,000 years! Geiger counters still go crazy in that area. If the Mayak area has a hot summer again, people will swim in the Techa River yet again and soak it right in.
So what can a single person do who wants to let his species survive? Or an organic farmer? "Even if I knew the world came to an end tomorrow, I would still plant an apple tree today." (Martin Luther)

Happy St. Patricks Day

2011-03-17T08:39:00.000-07:00

Even if you don't dye rivers green in Ireland- you might just be painting the town red- happy Paddy's day on both sides of the Atlantic. Seize the Day! Nil Se'n La! Wishing you lots of luck!
The world needs it and can do with it big time. All our joint organic efforts may become null when our environment ceases to exist the way we know it. It reminds me of our Chernobyl experience that I describe at the beginning of this blog www.Ioncehadafarminireland.blogspot.com. It was the reason for us to take our family to a safer country. But where is safe, ultimately.
Here is the link to the well-informed article of a German scientist friend, Stefan Thiesen, (earth and sea)
http://www.opednews.com/articles/Michio-Kaku--We-live-in-a-by-Stefan-Thiesen-110317-693.html. We all live in a bubble. Think about it!
Or go to the Celtic Women and enjoy their music: http://www.somemusicecards.com/celtic-woman/share/?ec=a6e77217d803b881f2b6ee3d316f5869
Beannachtam na Feile Padraig! May you be poor in misfortune, and rich in blessings, slow to make enemies and quick to make friends. And may you know nothing but happiness from this from this day to life's end. Sl'n agus beannach!

A typical day

2011-03-15T14:05:00.000-07:00

Get up at 6 a.m. Make breakfast. Let out the geese and chickens as soon as the sun is out. Wake children. Grind wheat into flower in the pantry. 1kg takes about 45 minutes. Have breakfast. Start baking bread or cake while children get dressed and pack their bags. Prepare lunch boxes. Let bread rise and put in the hot AGA for an hour. (Mac would take it out when finished; usually during 'elevenses'- his coffee break in the morning).Mac would go out and check on animals if there were any in the stables. Together with the children, he would feed horses and muck out. Children feed dogs and cats. I shower and get dressed. Pack my books and get ready, equipped with shopping list. Get kids in the car. In the first years, drive kids to local school, later to the one in Limerick (45 min). Go to work: teach a few hours at the University while Mac ran the farm; pick up children, grab some groceries with tired children in the car. Time for coffee and cake break while kids do their homework. Mac would go to do his errands as car was back or all three would exercise the horses and I cook dinner. Prepare classes for next day or do some gardening. Then the stables had to be mucked out again, animals fed and put to bed. Time for a book or paper. Then crash exhausted.

Never a dull moment

2011-03-02T15:34:00.001-08:00

Early in the year, Mac revealed that he wanted to take over more of the acres which so far had been rented out to two neighbors. "What for?" "More sheep, some cattle, and then we need grass for them, of course. Grazing ground". Instead of self-sufficiency, which had been our only goal so far, he had decided to extend his farming and husbandry activities. I had been quite contented with the extent of our gardening activities , i.e. grow our own and maybe sell some surplus. But being the economist that he was, Mac was hatching plans in his head of how to make the enterprise commercially viable. We were a long away from it, however. I had learned the term "gentleman farming" and it had appealed to me. The rent from the land secured a steady income and left time for what we originally had also planned, i.e., playing golf,fishing or go sailing occasionally. With 20 new ewes and ca. the same amount of young heifers the chances of that seemed to dwindle.
In the meantime, before more sowing and planting could be done because of inclement weather, these new fields had to be prepared: The removal of weeds, (with the tractor or manually of course the old fashioned way without Roundup); fertilizing the land with manure and overall a fair amount of fencing needed to be done. Winter time is the preferred time for fencing, unless there is an urgent necessity. Then fencing always takes priority over other things, particularly plans one had been looking for. The Farmers' Journal was the source for finding livestock unless the neighbor knew somebody who wanted to sell certain things we were looking for. Also the place to advertise hay or the AGA (see previous stories).
A farmer must have coined the saying which became our mantra: never a dull moment. But for Mac it was all play, his hobby. He loved every minute of it.

There is a stretch in the evenings

2011-02-21T09:45:00.001-08:00

Spring has definitely sprung --at least here. Planting my zucchinis, chives and onions as well as sowing radishes and hollyhocks in the warm Florida sun takes me back to our sowing and planting in Irish "spring" conditions. In the same way we had to learn about the right season for every vegetable and fruit in Ireland, I have to get used to the right timing here.I couldn't get broccoli plants last week. Apparently it's a winter vegetable here.
The Irish weather changes rapidly, not just in spring which officially starts on 1 February. Sometimes you have four seasons in one day...well, at least three, maybe not the snow. In all those years I spent in Hibernia, it never really felt like spring on that day. There may have been a bit of sunshine quickly wiped out by dark clouds and ensuing hail. Most St. Patrick Days (March 17) more smacked of winter and prohibited us watching parades standing in one spot for too long. Every year by the end of January, my housekeeper would declare: "There is a stretch in the evenings...Still freezing cold but thank God for little mercies."
Early potatoes could be put in the ground already although in the following years we preferred to have these in our greenhouse too--just to be sure, to be sure! A greenhouse is very useful, even the poly-tunnels that most professional growers and some of our friends used. We were planning to get a green house up later that year which we had brought over in our gigantic move (16 x 8 meters). For now we sowed most vegetables like carrots, beans, peas, cauliflower, zucchinis etc. on little 1-2 inch deep trays which we kept in part of the house that was coolish but warmer than the outside world. We had built this extension or "lean-to" on the north side of the house facing the yard. It served multiple functions: here we took off our dirty boots and jackets; it housed the washer and dryer as well as two huge tub sized basins useful for cleaning vegetables (and sometimes very dirty kids)as well as plucking chickens and geese. Since the extension ran the full length of the house, there was ample of space for the kids to play on a rainy day and also to store the plant trays. And later an apple press for making cider.

The AGA saga continues

2011-02-01T13:39:00.000-08:00

New friends of ours had a different cooker, a Stanley, that ran on timber.Our AGA could be converted, they said. The idea intrigued Mac as we had a lot of wood on the farm and more so in the future when the 1000 trees we had planted would mature. I had my reservations, however,since I had seen our friends stuff the oven several times a day with timber. Twice a day like with our anthracite seemed work enough. It wouldn't solve the problem of soot, dust and asthma either.Then Mac learned that antique AGAs were quite valuable and decided to sell it. He advertised and one night an elderly couple came to view it. I had gone upstairs to put the children to bed. Feeling tired myself, I lay down. Our bedroom was right above the kitchen. I heard voices below and laughter, but couldn't make out what was said. I wondered what was going on.
Two hours later Mac came upstairs and reported. Over several whiskeys and jovial banter, the prospective buyers had finally convinced Mac to hold on to this beauty of an AGA. That the new ones were nothing like them, that it was a real gem. Mac was in a good mood. He had made friends and gotten sound advice: The AGA could also be converted to kerosene reducing the soot emissions.
"That can only happen in Ireland", he said." These guys could have easily taken advantage of me and made a cheap bargain. But they gave advice and left as friends. Only in Ireland...." Shortly afterwards we had the AGA converted.It worked like a dream. No more early morning coal carrying. We could even stay away for a night if needs be, and I had less cleaning to do.

The good old AGA

2011-01-23T16:36:00.000-08:00

The old farmhouse had a coal (anthracite) fired hearth called AGA, the Rolls Royce under the ranges in the British Isles. Our model was a 4 door oven in light beige, with the hottest oven top right, the next hot bottom right, the coolest top left and bottom left somewhere in between temperature-wise. On top sat an iron range with two big rings. On the left ring, I would do my cooking and frying and then shove the pan to the right ring that offered a little less heat.It probably dated back to the 30s whereas the house itself had been built around 1890.The AGA had to be refilled with coals twice a day,first thing you got up and last thing at night. For that you had to lift the left ring on the surface and pour the coal in. Also did one have to empty the ashes first thing, i.e. before breakfast and then again late at night. The middle door at the bottom opens up for that. With a poker you rattle in the bowels of the AGA and the ashes start falling out. A dusty affair, too.Letting it go out ensued in a major cleaning and relighting operation that you didn't wish on anyone. Going away overnight was not on, even a late night at a party was dodgy or you would risk a lot of cold ashes. The coals were store across the yard in one of the sheds and had to be carried over once a day. The ashes were emptied behind the boiler room, a mere ten feet outside from the door. Later they would be used for composting or thrown on muddy paths and farm tracks that were notoriously squishy wet to soak up the water in the soil, i.e. for paving purposes.In my previous life, I had only been used to an electric range. It took a while to get used to it because it was much slower in getting things to the boil and would also burn more easily because the temperature was not adjustable. The previous owner used to simmer his porridge in the slowest oven over night (top left).It also came in handy to keep little premature and sickly lambs cozy and warm in a cardboard box over night on top of the stove. Again on the left as much as you could corner it or they would roast. When we did it the first time, I was afraid they might jump out of the box over night and fall onto the kitchen floor. They didn't, but usually looked perkier in the morning. The AGA was the centerpiece of the kitchen which also gave a lot of warmth. In fact, before we installed a central heating system into the old house, the previous owners had only relied on the AGA's efficiency , also for heating up the water and their bathroom. But that was done from another smaller one situated in the dining room which became part of our extended kitchen when we knocked the diving wall. I adorned it cottage-style with copper pans, lace and dried flowers. A sight to behold if it hadn't been for the soot that it also produced on a daily basis. Not ideal for the household members who suffered from asthma.

The Land is asleep but not the Farmer

2011-01-10T11:44:00.000-08:00

Life on the farm is relatively quiet at the beginning of the new year. Animals still have to be fed and watered but there is a calm before the lambing and calving season gets under way and land has to be plowed. Now is the time to fix fences and do repair jobs around the farm - and the house if there is time left. Also time for planning what to plant, which seeds to sow shortly when the sun feels a little warmer and "there is a stretch in the evenings", as Pauline would say. You can feel the evenings get that little bit longer by the end of January in spite of cold weather. The first snowdrops may show at the bottom of the orchard, followed by some crocuses, and a month later by early daffodils. This is my favorite time of the year with hope of a new growing season in the air - even if everything may still be frozen and blown to smithereens well into April.Our neighbors were having their first early lambs in the cold and dark of mid winter. A joy to see them frolicking in the fields but a lot of hard work to make them survive. Mac decided he would wait till later into spring so that the lambs had an easier start. You have to check on pregnant ewes at night, especially on first timers who had no more idea of what they were doing than we had.

Ringing in the New Year

2010-12-30T14:19:00.001-08:00

New Year’s Eve in Germany normally is a noisy affair since people set off fireworks everywhere. That was not the case in Ireland, neither on the farm nor in our village. Fireworks were and still are illegal in Ireland unless you have a license- e.g. for a public, official display.Living in the countryside, the most light we would see on a clear night were the stars—unless cloud coverage left us in the dark. City lights never offer such a spectacular view above your head.
After a long day of work around the yard and tending to the animals, a farmer wants an early night. Days have the tendency to be of a similar structure and work schedule because of the critters you take care of. Being early birds and having two small children, our night life suffered. The only sound on New Year’s Eve that I heard while lying awake and thinking of what life in Germany would be like was the ringing of the bells of the Killaloe Cathedral. Our trusted housekeeper had earned the privilege of ringing in the New Year. For her it was the highlight of the season. Mac, already asleep, would be disturbed by the sound of the bells and mumble something like: ”Can’t they keep it down a bit? I want to sleep.”
Happy New Year, everyone, noisy or otherwise…

Plucking the Xmas Dinner

2010-12-20T11:10:00.001-08:00

In previous postings I told you about the parent pair of geese we acquired in our first year to provide us with Christmas roasts for years to come. The first was slaughtered for St. Martin's day, a tradition in Germany. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, word spread in the village and at the farmer's market in the parochial hall, that we had geese for sale - if only 4. Though not a traditional Irish Christmas dish, there were more people interested in getting these rare birds than we could provide.
What you need: a goose, buckets of scorching but not boiling water to dip the goose in head down and some stamina, ie not too delicate a nose. I had practiced before in Germany on our annual birds. But to do 4 was a a challenge. Each takes at least 90 minutes to pluck.
So my trusted helper and housekeeper put the kettle on to bring the water to a high temperature, on an AGA that can take an hour, while Mac and I chose and caught the poor first victim straight from the goose hut. Lifting the roof of the hut carefully, Father Goose became extremely aggressive, hissing and nipping at Mac's hands and jeans-clad legs. Their nips hurt! You have to grab the goose by its neck which pretty much renders it defenseless. On the yard, near the compost heap on the wall, we had a timber block for splitting kindling. Mac carried the goose over there speaking in soothing tones to it and caressing it with his second hand. He then put it on the block, I held its neck and Mac grabbed the axe. I didn't really dare to watch but necessity made me blink and double check that my arm was outstretched far away enough out of the danger zone.With one swift swing, the goose was in goose heaven. In contrast to chickens, you can't really wring their necks.They are too strong . But they don't flutter headless around the yard either. You have to let the blood drip out of the animal before you can proceed to plucking. Dip it into the hot water and the plucking can begin. We had a big double basin originating from a youth hostel so that my helper and I could stand comfortably over a basin and bucket with a goose each. Goose feathers are stubborn. Harder to pluck than chickens'. They were everywhere.Worst are the pin feathers. And geese do smell. Raised on a diet of pure grass, it's funny how much their intestines stink.After about an hour, your hands, legs, and feet have gone properly cold and numb, the feathers are done. At this stage, the chicken in me opted out due to a hypersensitive nose, and volunteered to put the kettle on for a tea brake. Pauline didn't mind. She finished the job cutting up the animals and pulling out the entrails, a very messy and malodorous job. Then she washed them many times with cold water and neatly presented them on a plate. Grateful, I had the tea and refreshments ready. Most times we had to remove little hairs that stubbornly stuck to the skin with tweezers without tearing the skin. After a while, Mac had the idea to use a little flame torch like restaurants use for making Creme Brule now, and just singe them off. Again, be careful not to burn or singe the skin. I think our reward was about 30 Irish Pounds per animal($70 today)of which I had to pay Pauline 10 for her work. Every year I toyed with the idea that we could collect the eiderdown and feathers to fill pillow cases. Somehow we never got round to it. The idea of washing these mountains of feathers was too much to undertake.Today I prefer to buy a goose, if I can find them organically grown. Thank goodness, my plucking days are over.
I was asked for a recipe: Stuffed with a mixture of bread, apples and onions, the bird requires slow roasting at 180C/375 F under continuous basting with water, its own juices, and occasional turning.2-3 hours as I recall. Delicious accompaniments are potatoes and red cabbage and apple sauce. Go for a lean bird; geese can be fatty.Ours never were because they were grass-fed, free-range--the sporty, muscular type.
Happy Holidays!

At the end of year one

2010-12-09T11:23:00.000-08:00

Our first year was drawing to a close. Autumn storms that shook the buildings and the new slates that had been put on the piggery. "That'll put everything to the test" our handyman would say. We had found this gem, Martin, over the summer to give Mac a hand in doing up outbuildings and repairs in general. Farmer Mac had decided to go bigger next year and buy more sheep and cattle. Surprise, surprise he loved what he did, had gotten the hang of it and was ready to take our attempts at self-sufficiency to a higher level.
I had started teaching at the University of Limerick with the beginning of the Michaelmas term in September. Between baking, wine making, weeding, pickling, teaching, and driving kids to school I was occupied. No rest for the wicked-as they say.
Our first Christmas from home was going to be different. Real firs for Christmas trees were hard to come by. I usually made my own decorations over the mantelpiece, down the banister and various wheel size wreaths. For that I used evergreens like ilex, spruce or,twigs of an evergreen hedge plus ivy. What I missed most were German Christmas markets. But we would have the traditional goose for Christmas: one of our own.
Being German we would celebrate Christmas eve instead of having Santa Claus come and bring the gifts in the early morning of dawn on Christmas day. So much more civilized I always find. At least the parents can sleep in. The new year surprised us with lots of snow. Like Ireland is seeing now.

Blackberry Wine

2010-11-21T11:41:00.001-08:00

Wine from blackberries tastes best! This is a recipe from a good friend and expert winemaker. My own was left behind on the farm thinking I would never make wine again.
You need:
6 kg of fruit, a 25 l plastic bucket, 2 x 375 g sultanas
4 Campden tablets
2 sachets of Vinvik
4 spoons full of Pactolase (enzyme for making wine)
2-3 teabags of black tea
Demi Johns and sterilized wine bottles.
Pour fruit in a 25l plastic bucket. Crush fruit and slowly pour boiling water onto 6 kg of sugar until sugar has dissolved –this accelerates the fermentation process. Pour over fruit. Take 2 packets of sultanas (375g each), clean fruit and discard the water. Crush sultanas and add to fruit. Let 2-3 teabags steep in 1 cup of water. It adds tannin to wine. Fill up bucket with warm water until ¾ full. Dissolve 4 Campden tablets, available at homebrew stores. Add to mixture. It prevents wine turning into vinegar.
Cover well with muslin cloth and store in a warm place. Add wine yeast the next day. In Ireland, it was called Vinvik. You can take any other Bordeaux yeast but no beer yeast. 2 sachets suffice. Prepare according to instructions on sachets and add to fruit mixture. Add 4 table spoons of Pactolase. Stir every day if you find the time. Keep at warm temperature (25C). After a week or two, fill into Demi-Johns (gallon sized bottles with airlocks).
Remove Demi-Johns after 6-8 weeks, strain and fill into bottles. What you see in the picture below under "Homebrew" are a number of Demi-Johns bubbling away on kitchen table, making weird noises. Actually, you needn’t chop the fruit too finely. That way it just takes longer until wine is ready. If you don’t want to wait for you yummy wine, crush the fruit well.

Homebrew

2010-11-08T14:21:00.000-08:00

Our local Whole Food Shop offers an organic beer and wine tasting and is making it a monthly recurring event. How times have changed!
Before we emigrated to Ireland, all we drank were organic wines due to the bad press conventional wines had received in Germany. The idea of having vineyards sprayed with pesticides from the air by planes put us off. Then an article in the London Times, Nov. 2001, confirmed my wildest fears about Chilean wines. Laborers in Chilean vineyards were suffering congenital neurological and respiratory defects in the second generation then due to the lavish, carefree application of pesticides and insecticides from the air.
In Ireland at the time, no organic wines were available, only came onto the market at horrendous prices years later. What is an organic farmer supposed to do if not make his own wine? We made strawberry, blackberry, elderberry and red currant wines in our kitchen the old fashioned way not using wine making kits that were available in the local homebrew store. Those and also organic cider.
The containers adorned the kitchen table and made interesting noises while fermenting away. Recipe to follow. Need to translate it first.

A Story about Baby Cut Carrots

2010-11-02T08:06:00.000-07:00

Distracted as I am easily, I found this info worthwhile to include here.
From the Department of Life Education:

Baby Carrots:The following is information from a farmer who grows and packages carrots for IGA, METRO, LOBLAWS, etc.

The small cocktail (baby) carrots you buy in small plastic bags are made using the larger crooked or deformed carrots which are put through a machine which cuts and shapes them into cocktail carrots - most people probably know this already.
What you may not know and should know is the following:
Once the carrots are cut and shaped into cocktail carrots they are dipped in a solution of water and chlorine in order to preserve them (this is the same chlorine used in your pool).
Since they do not have their skin or natural protective covering, they give them a higher dose of chlorine.
You will notice that once you keep these carrots in your refrigerator for a few days, a white covering will form on the carrots. This is the chlorine which resurfaces. At what cost do we put our health at risk to have esthetically pleasing vegetables?
Chlorine is a very well-known carcinogen, which causes Cancer. I thought this was worth passing on. Pass it on to as many people as possible in hopes of informing them where these carrots come from and how they are processed.
I used to buy those baby carrots for vegetable dips. I know that I will never buy them again!!!!

Confirmed by Snopes in part. Could anybody help investigate if that is true for organic ones true? Since they wash organic eggs in chlorine solution I wouldn't put it past them!
In my next blog I'll yell you how we coped with an abundance of carrots on our organic farm.

Yes, we can!

2010-10-17T05:45:00.000-07:00

Our local grocery store how has a Green wise magazine and an online one called Go Green. 4 years I first started blogging under the title GOING GREEN. (One article:Superbowl Goes Green and The Full Flush:Toilets are Going Green ) I was the only one who brought reusable bags and got some looks!
Publix now recommends bringing a bag!What a change! My pharmacist there admits she is not as green as I must be -since I bring the bags.She has no idea of this blog. Must give her my card of this blog.
Guess what their tip # 3 is: Grow a compost heap! Yes, we can.It feels like going full circle.
Happy gardening!

Gardener's Gold

2010-10-14T14:41:00.001-07:00

You needn’t be an alchemist to turn your kitchen scraps into compost. Your healthy compost will be ready after several months depending on your location and prevailing weather conditions. Not only is it beneficial to the vegetables that you grow but it overall improves the quality of your soil. (In Europe we don’t call it dirt).
The best place to build your compost heap close is close to where you want to use it in the garden and close to your water source. Compost should resemble crumbly dark soil, smelling like earth. If it gets too wet, it gets slimy; a roof or tarp over it. A too dry pile is too compact for use. Don’t be shocked to find a wiggling worm on your hands.
In winter, before the new planting season starts, the compost needs to be dug into your existing soil. About 2 inches of this precious garden gold is advisable for soil improvement and better plant performance in the next season. It’s essential in order to simply replenish whatever nutrients have been taken out by growing your plants.
So get all these little critters to work for you. You’ll be surprised that a decent compost pile reaches about 66 degrees Celsius inside while the bacteria and worms are at work. For more information and troubleshooting, there is a Compost 101. Serious.

The long awaited COMPOST HEAP

2010-10-06T14:19:00.000-07:00

If you bother to grow your own vegetables- and here in Florida the new growing season is under way- you should spend time to make your own compost heap. This photo is the proof that a compost heap does not smell when done correctly : it was my son's and his friend's favorite spots to play at the age of 3. And we lived in a German village among neighbors who would not have tolerated anything untoward.
I'm trying to create one at the moment. You need a container, not the ones you can buy in certain wholesale place that don't have holes. Air needs do go thru it to ventilate. Just rolling the drum / plastic container, as suggested in that store, won't do it. As you can see from the picture a timber construction is easily made, you need a few planks on the ground and an enclosure. Not necessarily for climbing on top...Seymour in his ultimate Self-sufficiency book has different cheap solutions: an old oil drum with holes bored into it,the aforementioned wood structure or an even simpler one with chicken wire/mesh as sides to enclose the compost.You can build one with bricks on three sides and timber planks in the front or an old fashioned silo, depending on your needs.You never have enough good compost. That requires more space and maybe a little tractor or bobcat to handle once it grows. The easiest is if you can open it at the front, ie remove the timber planks and shovel the ripe compost, ie crumbly, healthy earth out that is full of nutrients and life.It's more important what goes in! You start with a layer of twigs, then almost anything that rots goes: leaves, grass clippings, left overs (which are not thrown into the garbage disposal. We fed them to dogs and pigs).Even newspapers, eggshells, bark, fish, avoid bones as the dogs will only dig them out anyway. They also take too long to be transformed into earth by all the microbes that will get to work instantly. In the process of composting, microorganisms break down organic matter and produce carbon dioxide, water, heat, and humus, the relatively stable organic end product. All of that should be alternated by layers of dirt and nitrogen containing material such as bone-meal or fish-meal. Algae or seaweed make an excellent starter, too. Not to forget tea leaves and coffee grounds- even with the filter. Worms love coffee! And then a layer of dung if you have it. You should water it from time to time if rain is lacking. Not a problem in Ireland. The perfect silo has a pointed top so that you can cover it in winter and the rain drops off- once it's ready.
It's ideal to have two heaps going at the same time. One that has matured and can be used and one that is still ripening.
How do you get the materials going and onto that heap? Collect them in a plastic container in the kitchen and carry out each day to throw on your developing heap. Seymour suggests to trample the heap each evening by foot or beat it with a spade...but there are certain limits and it worked just as well without doing that on a regular basis.

What 16 year-olds know about Farming & the AI man

2010-09-10T14:11:00.000-07:00

In an earlier post I mentioned that a big percentage of Georgia( biggest grower of peaches in US) kids believe peaches grow in a tin. Here are some gems from a GED test. Are you ready?
Q. What is artificial insemination?
A. When the farmer does it to the bull instead of the cow

Q. How can you delay milk turning sour
A. Keep it in the cow

Q. What are steroids
A. Things for keeping carpets still on the stairs

Artificial Insemination, AI in short (and that is not artificial/alien intelligence), is done when the farm doesn't own a bull or the bull is not performing yet. Sometimes you also want to keep calving restricted to a certain time frame--and your vigorous bull is hard to keep away.
The AI man is usually a vet who arrives with cooling boxes in the trunk. Containers keep the sperm chilled until needed. The COWS have to be lined up in a one lane pen, ours was built out of timber, so that they go in one after another. Instead of opening the gates leading up to that paddock, he climbed them. Since you need two hands to climb a gate -when you are over 40 or so- he had to have his hands free. The syringe containing the bovine sperm went between his lips. He didn't talk until he reached the pen and took the syringe out ready to inseminate each cow standing behind them.They were separated from each other by a wooden barrier so that he wasn't kicked too often. He worked his way back to the line in no time. Another day's work done. In our second year we acquired Ismael who did the work for us. He was of a good-natured temperament, brown and very furry, not too big and had no horns. I was still in awe of him when passing through his field.

Greetings from Bavarian Mountains

2010-08-18T04:19:00.000-07:00

From a trip to the Fatherland where the weather very much reminds me of many a summer in Ireland. Daily temperatures 11-15 C. Well, I wanted change from Florida's sweltering heat. But there is no such thing as bad weather--only wrong clothes.

Have been busy publishing my first book, hence the delay in new postings here. Also creating website with it and posting on related blogs. Info is all on the right under: What I like.
I hope some of you will like that too.
The book bears relevance to the Ex Farmer's Wife and what became of her...and how she ended up in FL.
Will be back telling about sheep shearing-if a bit late in the season for this year.

Ah, the joys of farming...

2010-08-02T11:41:00.001-07:00

The current weather in Ireland reminds me of many a summer I spent there. In particular of 1987 when for 3 weeks in July it DID NOT rain for 2 afternoons. So now for you! I bought a padded coat, a Barbour hat and the central heating was running full blast. Hard to garden in those conditions. Pests thrive, veggies rot on the ground and fruit won't ripen. (See previous post about how we dealt with slugs).
My idea of putting the whole country under glass (meant as a joke) was met by stern looks by the Irish. My ex responded by building a huge glasshouse, ca.5x20m in the following months.Ah, the joys of farming in Ireland....
The pictures I spotted in Vogue Magazine are clothes that you definitely won't need on a farm, be that in Ireland or elsewhere. "Every garden-maker should be an artist along his own lines", said Vita Sackville-West.(Photo 1) They may be chic but utterly useless. I agree with their caption to photo 2: It's not easy being green. What you need are a Barbour jacket, raincoat and wellies.

A wheelbarrow full of gherkins

2010-07-15T07:20:00.000-07:00

Green Germany vs. Emerald Isles : a culture shock

2010-07-05T11:17:00.000-07:00

When we made the move to Ireland, organic farming, self-sufficiency and the whole shebang, we had years of green living and environmentally consciousness under our belts. Germany of the 80s had taken great strides in raising the public awareness. The Green Party was well established. As a German, I had been brought up with the motto “Waste not- want not”, that my grandparent’s. i.e., the war generation had drummed it in to us. It was natural to us to switch off any light upon leaving a room, or other unused gadgets, hang out the wash if the weather looked promising to save on electricity. In order to save on water and avoid surface pollution, German law forbids washing your car in the street. You must go to a car wash instead. The petrol crisis and the warnings of the club of Rome in the mid 70s had contributed to people saving gas whenever possible, downsizing cars, putting catalytic convertors in; cars were made fuel efficient. A debate was raging for years whether diesel or petrol was better for the environment. Another question was foremost on environmentalists’ minds: Does one save petrol by switching off the engine at a railroad crossing while waiting? Or at a red traffic light? In addition, being a bit of an activist –some said busybody - I would get out of my car in such a situation and ask the drivers before and behind me. “Does your engine have problems in starting, or are don’t you want to save the environment?” A speed limit was introduced in busy parts of Germany. The sky was no longer the limit as urban myth abroad about the Autobahn still claims.
A levy of 10 Pfennings on plastic bags had been introduced early on in the 80s if you went grocery shopping. So people made the switch and got accustomed to taking their own bags or baskets. We used rainwater for watering plants, off switched the tap while brushing our teeth and on again for rinsing. Water saving devices were installed into toilets, one for the small and one for the full flush. We avoided chemical cleaners around the house and substituted them with baking soda and vinegar. The use of aluminum foil and saran wrap as well as paper kitchen towels were reduced to a minimum. Freezers were defrosted regularly in order to reduce electricity. And then, after we had left for Ireland in 1990, recycling was taking to an all new level never seen before anywhere in the world. Until then, you kept paper and glass separate for recycling anyway, in addition, a bio- bin was introduced for scraps from the kitchen, and an extra bin for plastic or what is called “rest trash”. In some cities, households have 4 different trash cans. If you dare to mix the ingredients, maybe even by mistake, the bin men won’t pick it up.
Detergents were used so sparingly. Water softeners were the work of the devil since they hypertrophied rivers and lakes which make algae grow unnecessarily. There is no need for them if you hang your wash in the breeze, and definitely not if using a dryer.
When building our new house in Germany, it was built according to environmental standards with eco-friendly materials, in particular paints. In the renovating process of the Irish farm, Mac took gallons of Livos paint (eco!) on board in his hand luggage while I navigated 2 toddlers and their nappy bags in a stroller. Patrick, my second born, wasn’t exposed to disposable nappies –no, we had linen diapers and self-knitted panties made out of home spun untreated sheep wool. I didn’t spin though, only knitted …and then kept washing. They made the naturally big baby enormous around the midriff!
At some stage I had taken to making my own soaps and shampoos but it never turned out well enough to be of reliable use.
Being well trained in so many different areas, Ireland came as culture shock. The so called Green Isle was anything but “green”. Hedgerows were littered with plastic bags. My neighbor kept burning their rubbish, even attempted at setting metal cans on fire, exchanged their oil in the yard and let it drip down on the ground. I was the only one in the local store who bothered to bring a basket. Everybody else, even for buying just one bag of chips, got a plastic bag to wrap his purchase. In answer to the shop owner’s question why I did this since they had plastic bags…I told her about the German levy on bags. She frowned and said condescendingly, “That wouldn’t go down well in this country”. It took about 15 more years until Ireland had to face the music, too, as part of EU regulations, I suppose.
There was practically no awareness as to what was harmful to the environment, organic and eco products were not available. Clothes were way cheaper than in Germany but often made of poor quality, i.e. synthetics and not degradable. None of towns around Lough Dergh had a single water treatment plant until 1995. All household waste and sewerage plus farm effluents went untreated straight into the lake. So did the waste from numerous boats cruising on the lake, a tourist gem and the River Shannon.
Encountering this challenge in my newly adopted country made me bite my teeth on an ongoing basis. I was fit to be tied facing this sea of backwardness and having the ambition to change things for the better. I tried for many years. It’s hard work to convert a whole country.
Now here in the USA, I’m facing an even bigger challenge. Not just because of the size of the country, but because the irrefutable knowledge is there and widely available. The inertia that surrounds me seems to be unsurpassed, however. Apologies to states like WA , OR and CA where things are different.

Irish organic guidelines on washing eggs

2010-07-02T11:51:00.000-07:00

Here is the IOFGA official answer to my request to outline whether eggs are being washed in a chlorine solution as is customary here in the US:
Any of the egg packing plants I've ever inspected don't wash the eggs at all, it's not standard practice as far as I'm aware, although I'm not sure what they do at farm level. Where water is chlorinated for any kind of washing, the chlorine level would be much lower, generally max 2 ppm. Sometimes chlorinated water is used for washing saladleaves and it's usually 0.5 to 2 ppm. Depending on the size of the
factory, concentrated sodium hypochlorite is dosed automatically into the required water supply or else chlorine tablets are used with a certain number of tablets in a certain amount of water to give the required dosage.
Hope this is of some help,
Thanks,
Maeve
----- Original Message -----
From: IOFGA@Eircom.Net

Different countries different guidelines.

Never say never....

2010-06-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

My last blog was barely posted (Never again will I ....)when a friend gave me a basket of little peaches from her garden.You can't let anything go to waste is still written on my brain matter, so I spent Saturday night making peach preserve.Yum! With a drop of rum. Grand Marnier was always good for strawberries, and Slivovic for black-berries.
Another thing I thought I had left behind years ago:scraping a tree from lichen. Then it was in our Irish orchard and I was 7 month pregnant. Maybe you remember that story? Today I scraped an oak tree. I did it in my bikini in front of my house this Sunday morning in 90 F heat. Didn't have the right triangular scraper but wielded a long spade-like sharp blade.
On a more serious note, something else I haven't done in 14 years: clean organic eggs fresh from the hen. They are not as clean as you may think judging from what you can buy as organic in the store. They have small amounts of crap on them in spite of exchanging the straw they live, lie and lay on it. Unavoidable. However, by the time they make it to the shops they must have been washed somehow.
And herein lies the crux. An article last week by Dr. Merola brought threw me into action. He claimed grocery store organic eggs are being washed in a chlorine solution, waxed- sometimes by petroleum jelly and candled.I investigated...and they are. At least here in the USA, this is regulated by law, organic that is. Here is the link to the full unsavory, totally disconcerting story:http://www.americanchronicle.com/articles/view/163360
I spoke to the woman farmer at yesterday's market about the cleaning of eggs in chlorine. She knew about that procedure and pointed out that cancer patients come to buy her healthy untreated products. She had goats milk and cheese, too.
So back at home, I bit my tongue, cleaned the crap off before putting the eggs into the fridge. I've done worse. More of that some other time.

Elderflowers in Bloom

2010-06-16T14:18:00.001-07:00

Elderflowers are in full bloom here. I guess in Ireland too? Whenever and wherever I see them -since I left the farm- a big sigh of relief escapes me; accompanied by a sense of freedom: "These days are long over, never do I have to make elderflower champagne and elderberry jam again,ever!" Or any other jam or any other wine for that matter, if I chose not to. Maybe you don't know the sensation of feeling obliged to make use of what is given to you for free,i.e. here by Mother Nature. Berries in abundance along hedgerows compelled me for almost 10 years to avail of the bounty that was given to me. In the end, there was always a huge supply of preserves etc. in the larder. But to get there...the work can't be underestimated.

Raising geese into Christmas dinners

2010-06-15T20:54:00.000-07:00

We were lucky that first year and had 7 eggs. The most our couple ever produced was 9 and one unfortunately died that year. They are bigger than chicken eggs. Either Mother Goose or Father Goose will take turns and watch and sit on them until they hatch. During that period the parents, understandably, were most aggressive. We never let the kids go into that patch and feed them then. Trying to lock the sentinel parent into the hut at night was more difficult than ushering in the 2 together. He or she would chase the dog and you all around the hut and grassy patch until they eventually relented. Or we got lucky.
The average time for a goose egg to hatch is about 30 days. During that time, the parents do alternating shifts keeping the eggs warm. Little goslings are cute, yellow fluffy balls like chickens. After about a month they start to pin out, i.e. their pin feathers are growing. These are feathers that are shafted almost to the end, with a just a bit of fluff at the ends. Their tails look like feather dusters. Fast forward another month and you can hardly differentiate them from their parents. I lost my fear of them. Always wearing wellies and taking your dog helps. I didn’t particularly like having them in my orchard where also the washing line was situated. Why? They are messy creatures. And by that I mean: very messy. Impossible to go in there in your normal shoes. Being very environmentally conscious, I only used the tumble drier when the inclement Irish weather left me no other choice in the winter. Laundry that is flapping in the damp garden for more than 3 days and constantly rained upon is a nuisance and not very clean by the time you take it to the closest. Particularly when the lambs also roam that patch; for them it becomes a toy. It is also a nuisance to scamper for your wellies at the first sign of rain, run down the garden, open the gate and make your way through whatever animals are in pasture and collect your linen. After the second year, I put my foot down and insisted I would mow the grass and do without these free mowing helpers. Mac had suffered a childhood trauma having to mow their little city lawn and was reluctant to do it. Hooray, I eventually got an electric lawn mower and trimmer for my birthday. I was really grateful for that thoughtful present. A battle had been won.
Never sit a gosling in a big bath tub. While they enjoy the experience on a hot day, they will get tired and drown.
Preparing the geese for Christmas dinner,ie killing and plucking them is another story.

Goosey, Goosey, Gander

2010-06-06T13:54:00.000-07:00

Germans love their goose for Christmas. So it was only natural for us to enlarge our zoo by a pair of these big birds. We once had kept geese before in Germany while living in a cottage in the countryside. When they were ready around St. Martin’s Day for the roasting pot, I took them in our Toyota Landcruiser to a place where they were killed humanely. The method of one of our neighbors was to grab them by the neck and put them in front of a chainsaw. We still owned the same Toyota which is padded in the back area with carpet. What eejit of a car designer puts a fitted carpet into the area where you are likely to transport stuff and not have it lined by plastic sheeting or metal container that can easily hosed down? Anyway, I didn’t want to relive the experience. The card board box I had put them in then was soaked through in no time by their constant flow of smelly green excrements. Maybe they were nervous too and knew what was coming?
We found a pair of geese for sale in the Nenagh Guardian that often advertises agricultural goods, hay, or animals. We set out to pick them up somewhere near Terryglass, on the other side of Lough Derg, a mere hour away. Our preferred means of transport for them was our big horse trailer, the envy of all our neighbors. The geese were a mature couple that had hatched goslings before, we were assured. The drive home must have been like a rollercoaster for them. We had put some straw in for them to sit on, but a horsebox that is big enough for 2 grown horses proved to be a big merry-go-round for them. On each bend in the curvy country road they slithered all over the place. When we arrived home, they must have been so relieved to be shown to their new abode, a hut similar to what we had built for our broilers. A slanted roof structure made of Creosote-doused timber to withstand the Irish weather all year round. We put them in a field nearest to the back of the kitchen that was fenced partially and had wall and gate for easy access from the yard. Hoping for some goslings the same year, they would keep the weeds and grass low in that patch of yard. Later we alternated them with the sheep in our proper garden and orchard which was also surrounded by a strong fence.
Geese take a bit of getting used to. They are not very sociable and make hell of a noise if someone approaches them. Remember the story of them saving Rome with their noise from assaulting marauders? They also try to bite you or at least nip you when you go near them, especially when they have eggs to guard. Then they can get outright aggressive. Mac was bitten through his jeans several times over the years.
We let them out in the morning and ushered them back in at night before a fox could get to them. When you open the door in the morning, you want to step behind the door and have it between you and the geese who will scamper out immediately , ready for some foraging in the grass. At night, it’s a different story. More often than not they didn’t agree with what we considered bedtime. Just like our kids. Luckily Brandy, our fist dog, had turned out to be useful at herding up animals. She had to overcome her initial fear of geese which was proven justified often enough. Brandy was faster than the geese however, and that often saved her hind legs and butt. In order to put the geese to bed, both an adult and Brandy had to use all their tricks to drive them into the hut. We would stand behind the door ready to pounce and Brandy would chase them and direct them in. Depending on the weather or their mood, it could take several circling trips when they overshot the target before heading for their nice bed of straw for the night.

It'll be nice when it's all done....

2010-06-01T11:08:00.000-07:00

We had loads of visitors in the first few years. Friends who wanted to see Ireland and even my doctor who wanted to check up on us. We gave them a warm welcome, took them on sightseeing trips which became boring after a while. How many times do you want to visit Bunratty Castle? For the first bunch I had even whitewashed the outbuildings on the yard. I had unpacked tons of removal crates to get the house into respectable order while working in the garden and cooking, making jams and baking breads and cakes. This couple, admittedly well-heeled, showed up in their blue suede Gucci loafers, looked around, and she said to me, “How can you bear it and not be running away screaming?” After one night, she deplored the lack of water pressure in the shower for her thick hair. “We should have stayed at Ashford Castle.” Needless to say, that friendship didn’t last much longer.
We, the blow-ins, were often asked by the natives,” Are you happy?” While Mac wholeheartedly answered in the affirmative, I hummed and hawed a bit, “Well, it’ s very nice here.” In a consoling tone, people remarked, “ It’ll be nice when it’s all done.”
And that became my leitmotif for the next few years while on the farm.

Milk is Not Good for you

2010-05-23T09:20:00.000-07:00

In case you never heard about it: Milk is not really good for you--no reason for grown- ups to drink it. This excellent article claims you should stop. http://www.care2.com/greenliving/skip-milk-5-reasons-why.html:
"Chronic constipation, irritable bowel syndrome, arthritis, chronic sinusitis and allergies" are often "cleared up when they stopped eating dairy."
"In addition to being chemically altered into something that hard to digest and causes problems, today’s milk usually contains steroids, antibiotics, pesticides from treated grains, bacteria from infected animals, and genetically engineered growth hormones."

Save Hay while the Sun Shineth

2010-05-21T12:08:00.001-07:00

Warm summer weather and lots of sunshine are the prerequisite for haymaking, essential fodder for the animals in winter. These days, farms usually make silage, i.e. fermented, high-moisture fodder that can be fed to animals when they can no longer graze outside. Even today, making silage is THE bid social event of the agricultural year where the whole neighborhood gets involved and helps out, doing each farm in turn. The women folks’ job is to cook for the ‘silage men’. Silage is made either by placing cut green vegetation in a silo or by piling it in a large heap covered with plastic sheet, or by wrapping large bales in plastic film.
In our first summer, we had allocated only one field and our garden behind the house to making hay. We had opted to save hay the old-fashioned way by hand. Mac used an old scythe for cutting. No lawnmower gives the same result. The blade needed constant sharpening with a honing stone called ‘strickle’. After the grass was cut it had to be raked together in rows which had to be turned every other day. We were lucky, because showers stayed away—otherwise we would have ended up with a useless, indigestible mash. Hence the saying. Then the rows were raked into little heaps, dragon cocks, and then later when the hay had turned crisp and yellow, it was raked into triangle shaped forms called trams. Hay ropes secured the trams from the wind until they were brought into our hay barn. A family bonding experience surely − except when you are allergic to grass like 3 in our family were. One year later, we had a few more acres under hay, and we had them cut by a tractor and made into square bales. Mac loaded the square bales into the jeep and my task was to drive the jeep to the hay barn where a farmhand unloaded and stacked them up. After several trips my hay fever and asthma got the better of me. My nose was the running; I sneezed, accompanied by itching eyes and coughs. Mac’s advice was to take some medication against the unwanted symptoms. I went on strike instead. No more hay transporting in our family car for me. In the following years when he managed the full acreage himself, a contractor did all the work.

A Killer Horse named Scarlett

2010-05-13T08:20:00.000-07:00

Most little girls like ponies and get into horse-riding. Amy had had riding lessons in Germany before we emigrated and now wished for a pony of her own. The first we got for her was Sparky, but she suffered from laminitis, an inflammation of the hooves often caused by lack of exercise and overeating. She was soon returned and replaced by Rusty who stayed with us till the kids had outgrown a pony that size. To look after a pony entails a lot of responsibilities for a little girl: grooming,riding,feeding and mucking out, in the morning before school and last thing at night. Rusty was housed in one of the outbuildings next to the tack room. She would be prone to that disease as well if you let her feed all day and night in a field of fresh grass.
A keen horseman himself, Mac acquired a 3/4 thoroughbred to go hunting with,a good 15 hands in height, a filly of two years and just broken in. She was quite the primadonna under the horses and had a temperament.
I've always been afraid of horses and their sheer size. On the first day that Scarlett was out in the fields, she frightened the life out of me. It was in new surroundings and appropriately frisky.That was the day we decided to set Benny Bunny free down by the river(See previous blog).I carried him in a box and had both kids,7 and 4, tagging along on either side chatting away. Scarlett circled us for most of the way, coming dangerously close at times. The kids tugged at my arms, frightened, but I couldn't let go of that box. We increased our pace until we made it over the river. There, I reasoned, with out the encumbrance of the box I would be free-- to do what I wasn't sure though. When we stared climbing the hill back up, Scarlett came charging towards us, whinnying and circling us. Her hind legs were precariously close to the heads of my children. Hearts racing, we pressed on and back to the house. Mac appeared at the top of the hill, arms stemmed by his sides: "What's going on?" I shouted: "For God's sakes, grab your killer horse and lead it out of harm's way! It's attacking us!" He shook his head at my ignorance. " Don't you know you just have to shout to shoo them away? That scares them and tells them who is the boss." Hands cupped around his mouth, he yelled a piercing "boo" twice, and Scarlett cantered away, and we to the safety of the gate. After that I preferred to have a stable door between her and me. Both kids, however, overcame their fear and became horsey people, jumping and all.

Which products to buy organic

2010-04-30T09:45:00.000-07:00

Just stumbled across this little handy picture guide in an article by Ronnie Citron-Fink on Care2.com. http://www.care2.com/greenliving/organic-revisited-a-free-cheat-sheet-for-buying-organic.html Excellent website for matters organic by the way. While I don't agree with her that the jury is still out whether organic products are healthier, I found this gadget useful. If you have an iphone, you can even download it as an ap.

Hexane in our organic foods?

2010-04-24T14:09:00.000-07:00

As I've done before, current political developments regarding food, environmental, and health issues urge me to take a stand. Being an avid organic fan and promoter I do not want Hexane in my so-called organic veggie burgers. This unsettling piece of information is frightening because of the extent of what food producers do to consumers here in the USA without the requirement of declaring ingredients and production methods. I don't want to spoil your appetite, but the attached links are worth reading and signing the 2 petitions.
The other one concerns a proposed bill which can still be stopped:As written now, the legislation is a big gift to the industrial food producers, and a drastic blow against small farms. Come to the rescue: Unless it is amended, the Food Safety Modernization Act will regulate our local food sources out of business.
Now is the time to come to the rescue of the party. Thanks.

Happy Earthday!

2010-04-21T06:53:00.001-07:00

Let's enjoy the earth as long as it lasts...silly? With the threats to climate, endangered species and pollution all around us I think it's a realistic danger; if not for our generation, at least for those who come after us after us. I lived an organic, self-sufficient life for about 10 years. As you may have figured out I left that lifestyle and marriage a while ago and lapsed into "normal" buying and living habits.
Now, back to growing my own produce and total awareness of how the earth and our health are connected, I'd like to promote Earth Day: to buy locally and organically. Not only does it help our local economy but also the environment. Instead of hauling i.e. flying produce around the world, take advantage of what is in season and available in a shop near you.
Just this short note today. Amy is here for a visit in the land of plenty that is environmentally challenged. Regarding the insect repellents I wrote about a few weeks back, in her memory not only did we scrape off the slugs from underneath the board in the vegetable garden.We also put them in a jar, ground them up, and sprinkled them between the rows of veggies. So now for you...How could I forget?
No wonder Amy is still traumatized by slugs.

Benny Bunny

2010-04-08T17:43:00.000-07:00

One Saturday morning I drove into Limerick. I had heard they had a fresh market and an organic shop: Green Acres, named after a popular TV show I didn’t know. The actual market was not much to write home about, different to the exquisite fresh and live displays we have in most German towns. I spotted a little black rabbit that I took home as a surprise for my kids.
They were ecstatic and called him Benny Bunny. The same afternoon we built a little timber house for him with an enclosed porch. A lot of sawing and nailing could be heard being done by their father. They helped painting it with creosote to let it withstand the elements. The structure allowed Benny Bunny to nibble at the grass outside his hut while he was safely enclosed by chicken wire. Another plus he couldn’t run away. There was also chicken wire underneath that no critter could dig through. His task was to cut the lawn and the task of my hopeful offspring was to move it a little further everyday and occasionally provide him with a little extra dandelion or something equally scrumptious.
First it was fun, and then they neglected their duties. We had made friends with another German family who were breeding rabbits for meat. That was not our intention, however. Watching my children neglect Benny Bunny for several weeks, I asked them what the problem was. “He shouldn’t be encaged. We like to play with him and he should roam freely.”
“Ok, we are going to set him free and give him his freedom back.” But I didn’t want him too close to my vegetable garden, so I decided to take him beyond the river. From “Watership Down” I seemed to remember that the little fur balls didn’t voluntarily cross a river. I reckoned that would prevent Benny Bunny from coming back and doing damage to the cabbage. We carried him over in a cardboard box and gave him his life back on the other side. On the way back I had my doubts already. Would he make it on his own or be eaten by a fox any time soon? But I kept my thoughts to myself.

Happy Easter Eggs!

2010-04-03T16:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday it was exactly 20 years that we started our adventure in Ireland. Although in my current chronology of events I’m at a different point in time, I’d like to throw in this typical Easter procedure that was repeated for several years.
Our neighbors’ kids were flummoxed that there was an Easter Bunny to visit German children that brought them sweets and colored eggs—even to those living abroad. In our first year we could see our new neighbors peep through their front windows. It wasn’t customary at the time to have an egg hunt in Ireland. In the following years we invited them to join us but since Mass took precedence, they didn’t often make it.
Since the weather was often dreadful and our offspring couldn’t be relied on to always find what had been left for them, we came up with a clever strategy. On Easter Sunday, Mac would take us through the gardens pretending to look for hidden eggs. He had all the goodies in his big overcoat and dispensed them furtively as he went along. Amy and Patrick hang back with me, thoroughly inspecting each shrub and little tree for possible hiding places. The garden was big enough for him to forge ahead without them noticing. This maneuver had a double benefit. Neither did the chocolates or colored and decorated eggs get soaked nor did we find surprises later in the year when some gardening was going on in that area. We also brought the German tradition of decorating fresh spring twigs with decorated eggs, bunnies or butterflies with us.

Bugs galore

2010-04-02T11:03:00.000-07:00

Like death and taxes, there is something utterly certain about organic farming: the arrival of bugs. Together they may impact your joy in organic farming. As the weather will, particularly in Ireland.
Just like the arrival of them here in FL on my bell peppers and even Brussels sprouts within a screen room that’s supposed to keep bugs out. There are a couple of ways dealing with different type of bugs, only few “chemicals” of an organic nature are allowed. I set out to find the one we mostly used in Ireland yesterday: Pyrethrum is the Latin name for chrysanthemums, an ornamental plant. It has been used for hundreds of years as a natural insecticide and a lice remedy. The insect repellent ingredient is taken from dried flower heads.
The best way to deal with bugs is to avoid them in the first place. That can be done at the planning stage of your garden by deliberately choosing which plants to grow together. John Seymour offers a list of solutions in his book, our Bible. To give you a few examples: grow carrots with onions, plant marigold, rhubarb or coriander between vegetables. Their smell deters bugs, allegedly. The main aim is not to grow the same plant in the same spot every year. A change of location, rotating the plants in a four year rhythm is recommended. The creation and improvement of soil is the prime foundation for a productive and healthy garden. This is done through proper techniques of composting and cultivation. Besides, a deep and humus rich top soil produces strong disease resistant plants whose deep roots will survive drought.
Another method is to use ladybirds (ladybugs in America) as natural bug eaters. Alas, they just wouldn’t do it for me. I picked them from one shrub and carried them over to the infested vegetable. They just sat there, lazy, looking bored, and had no idea of what their job was. I see them for sale in a jar here in Florida. Good luck with that method!
I had mentioned planks before that Mac had put between the rows of veggies for convenience of walking, squatting and kneeling while weeding, and also for keeping the weeds down. The downside was that under these planks slugs found a cozy habitat. You simply have to turn over the planks and can pick up the slugs by hand or scrape them off with a tool. Rumor has it that slugs like to drink beer. If you put out little dishes with beer they climb in…and die a nice dead. Ours didn’t comply. Unfortunately the y weren’t of the variety the French like to eat. And I have reconsidered that gourmet option since my farm experience, trust me.
One of the last resorts to get slugs and black bugs out of Brussels spouts was to examine each plant one by one and flick the bugs of by hand or a little knife. A tiring procedure and prone to mistakes. In spite of my best efforts of examining broccoli and cauliflower this way and soaking them in hot salty water for some time, some made it to the plates. My kids have been traumatized this way by finding cooked slugs on their dinner plates. Up to this day many years later, I’m not keen on cleaning fresh Brussels sprouts, peeling off layer after layer of the green overlapping leaves. Not that I’m afraid of finding insects, but it’s a tedious process if you do it conscientiously given my farming background when I buy them organic.
John Seymour further recommends a nicotine solution against bugs or lice: Use 100 cigarette stubs without filter, bring them to the boil with 4 liters of water and let it simmer. Not everybody is a heavy smoker though and I wouldn’t recommend starting it. It’s supposed to work against beetles and caterpillars.
Lime rings prevent an ant infestation on fruit trees. You can keep millipedes from getting in the way if you dig tin can, riddled with holes, into the ground but you must fill it with potato peels. Never tried that since we didn’t have a problem with them. Let me know.
Overall good advice for the protection of your garden: Walls or rabbit fencing should be in place on your boundary. You should have nets, fleece and wire available to protect brassicas, fruit, and peas from birds. You should get keep your garden free of hiding places for slugs. You should encourage beneficial predators such as hedgehogs and frogs. You should make sure there is diversity in your vegetation, including wilderness areas and flowers which harbor beneficial insects and beetles. Hedges will protect your garden from wind and give shelter to beneficial insects over winter.
And don’t forget to swing that hoe regularly between the rows of veggies because the weeds won’t forget to grow in the meantime.

Most pesticide-laden fruits and veggies

2010-03-24T12:57:00.000-07:00

You can't always buy organic, it's too costly. So my reasoning is if you don't even eat the skin of veggie, for example, for avocados and other peeled produce, pesticides aren't a problem. Right?

Not always. Some fruits' and vegetables' thick skins do protect the edible part from chemicals. But not all. The Environmental Working Group recently analyzed samples of 47 common produce items in the state that they're usually eaten (i.e., avocados were peeled, apples washed with water, etc.) then ranked them according to the amount and variety of pesticides the researchers found. Good news for my guacamole addiction: As I suspected, peeled avocadoes contain a small amount of pesticides, ranking 46th on the list. But bananas come in at a surprisingly high 27, and cucumbers at 19. "It’s really hard to use your intuition to figure out what’s going to have high pesticide loads," says Environmental Working Group spokesperson Amy Rosenthal. "Skin is something to take into account, but it doesn’t always make a huge difference."
1 (worst) Peach 100 (highest pesticide load)
2 Apple 93
3 Sweet Bell Pepper 83

Weed Control

2010-03-22T16:32:00.000-07:00

As the summer progressed and lush greens surrounded us everywhere, we weren’t spared by the unwanted greens, i.e. weeds. The German word is much kinder:Unkraut= non-herb. The vegetable garden had priority in this ongoing battle. Often times, even the kids were recruited to pull some—after some instruction as what were weeds and what not. Mac had laid timber planks on the paths between his planted rows of potatoes, strawberries, and the young vegetables. In particular smallish courgettes/zucchinis and onions were doomed if we didn’t make regular guest appearances. Remember, the rows were 50 m long each. When using a hoe proved too risky around smallish specimen, you would squat down, then kneel, and eventually sit on the planks. Already in Germany, where our garden had been on a smaller scale, our children had spent a fair amount of their toddling years and childhood among the greenery. In particular Amy, who started walking late, was often parked on the ground were we worked. We had to keep an eye on her to prevent her from eating the dirt.
No question whether an ‘aspiring’ organic farmer would avail of the use of herbicides or not, understandably. We learned to mulch which was a novelty then. You couldn’t just buy mulch in Ireland. We used grass clipping which have a tendency to rot in the Irish rain. We used layers of newspapers which get unsightly and torn in too bad weather soon. Sheet mulch (black plastic sheets) came into fashion only later. So mainly it was back to backbreaking work.
The farmyard, however, made of tarmacadam, was a different story and a bone of contention between us. Mac didn’t mind letting the grass grow there. And grow it did nicely. The traffic of crossing animals and tractors encourages weed growth exponentially. Initially, I tried to pull the weeds by hand. The yard was about 10x30m. The width and work involved didn’t constitute so much of a problem. No, pulling the weeds unfortunately also tore up part of the tarmac in little patches. What to do if Round-up was not an option?
Mac bought a flame torch for me. Since it was my job or least desire to keep the yard clean.
With some trepidation I learned how to use it. It took about 2-3 hours to do the whole yard. In contrast to what handy commercials show you, you had to repeat the procedure at least once a day or two later. Otherwise the flame wouldn’t really destroy the cell structure and root as promised. Low and behold, it only spurred the weeds growth! Did I mention you can only use the torch on dry weeds or in dry weather? Unfortunately, the Irish weather tends to include a lot of regular rain. How to use a flamer http://www.gameco.com.au/index.php?idp=26&mod=page. In spite of the proper gear, I was fighting a losing battle.

Elderflower Champagne

2010-03-16T08:34:00.000-07:00

While we can expect a proliferation of things turning green here in the US in anticipation and celebration of St.Patrick's day − not only my lawn after a particularly cold winter in FL− I mean, rivers tinted , green beer, socks, hats and very other impossible kitschy items for people who aren’t even Irish, my blog continues with our first summer which progressed nicely.

Hawthorne hedges blooming white and red gave way to elders (common elder; sambucus nigra) that have a white-yellowish bloom before they turn into black berries in the autumn. We had made German friends who had a similar farm set-up to us who were experts on making wines. Not just from the homebrew kit that the local homebrew store had for sale. R&R made wines out of strawberries, rhubarb, redcurrants, blackcurrants and blackberries and elderberries. And a sherry-effect liquor to die for!
My Ex,Mac, considered himself a concerning wine drinker. In Germany, we had only drunk exquisite German dries and Bordeaux wines. Then when we went environmentally friendly, switched to drinking organic wines only because many vineyards –particularly in Chile- had taken to spraying pesticides from the air by plane. A Sunday Times article double paged feature described the congenital birth defects this caused for the 2nd generation of vineyard laborers already. No more such wines for us…!
Our first attempt was elderflower champagne which, strictly speaking, isn’t champagne of course. It hardly has any alcohol, yet it sparkles and is a refreshing spritzy drink even for kids.
Elderberry champagne:
Approx. 10 liters of water, 15 big elderflower clusters, ¼ l wine vinegar 2-3 untreated lemons, 1 kg sugar.
Besides these ingredients you need a big stone or earthenware; thick walled glass bottles, preferably old champagne bottles that can be secured with a cork and wire. Screw tops do blow of under pressure. Wait till you hear that story!
First go for a walk to cut these elderberry blossoms, fully blown, but not over yet. Boil the water, dissolve the sugar in it and cool down. Wash the untreated lemons in hot water and cut into slices.
Check elderflower blossoms for little critters and dirt. Use as much as possible from the thick green stems and then give the blooms together with the lemon slices into the stone pot. Add the wine vinegar to the cooled sugar water to and pour over the flowers and lemons in the stone pot. Cover with a cloth and leave in a sunny place for 4 days. Stir every day with a wooden spoon. Don’t fill the bottle too much but up 4 to 5 cm below the rim. For this filter the liquid through a muslin cloth or very fine sieve.
Seal the bottles and secure the corks! The best place to store them is in a box. Bring to a cooler place (the basement) and leave at least 14 days to mature (bottle fermentation). The champagne sparkles a little already, but at maturity, there's real power, or then again sometimes not.
The development of carbon dioxide differs from year to year. It must depend on the weather or the condition of the blossoms. You can’t predict the amount of CO2 in the bottle.
So be careful when opening the first bottle, unless you want to paint the ceiling anyway. Or better open the first bottle in the garden. Elderberry champagne tastes best chilled: a great refreshing drink on hot days.

Farmville

2010-03-11T08:59:00.001-08:00

I wanted to write about planting more fruit etc. I always get distracted by food/organic/farm related things in the news. Bear with me...
Watching Charlie Rose the other night shook my world. He interviewed Mark Pincus, the CEO of the greatest social gaming network. Zynga has just been voted Best Overall Startup Product of 2009. FarmVille was voted their Best App. (application for the uninitiated).
Farmville is at the top of their popularity list. Over 60 million “farmers”, more than in the real world. Grow delicious fruits and vegetables and raise adorable animals on your very own farm!
Where does this virtual interest come from? Because you can grow and harvest in no time? Without sweat and risks like bad weather? And you won’t get your hands dirty? So here I am on my blog telling you how we toiled the soil, brought lambs into the world, and plucked chickens. My avatar: the new Virtual Farmer’s Wife.
Farmville is game where you can farm with your friends, a social network. Got it? What’s wrong with that?
All these games are playable on Facebook. No wonder people withdraw from the real world and chose an online, virtual –may I say Ersatz- world? Remember the Tamagotchi of the late 90s? Where you could raise, feed and walk a dog? Sounds familiar? You probably guessed that I’m not a gaming or virtual reality person. “People really need to do something with each other” (Mark Pincus).” You don’t say!
You start off with crop ready to harvest. For that you get gold coins…without having to bother going to the market. Fallow land is plowed in a second. You can buy new seeds at the market and sow immediately. After ten minutes, soybeans are 2 % grown: Hey, Presto! Instant gratification!
For the rest of my article go to Opednews.com. See link on the right, please.

Earth Bound

2010-03-06T05:17:00.000-08:00

A downpour empties the rain choked bowl of a thundering sky
Earth pauses after the soaking
And basks in a gray green glow
Back lit by brushed metallic radiance
That moment just before a new sun breaks through

The last few fat rain drops
Splat on the tin roof of the chicken coop
Bothering brood hens fluffed wide
Over clutches of satin brown eggs
Each hen, eyes half closed in contentment
Chucking quietly to herself

The moist smell of new straw warmed under feathers
Rises
Then touches the fragrance of strawberries and lavender
From the garden

My small refuge in this frenzied world gone mad over itself
As it speeds down a highway that cuts through corn fields
Sandy Hartman

Written by a reader of my blog. SO kind of you! Thanks.

Organic certification

2010-03-01T20:07:00.000-08:00

One of the frequently asked questions is :How do we know what we buy is really organic?
Your produce is not just organic because a producer says so. There are detailed requirements to be fulfilled in order to qualify for this label. I’m outlining this in detail because I keep encountering skeptics who doubt that organic products are really organic and how do you know that the supermarket is not just putting a label on it in order to raise prices?
If you buy a farm that so far has been farmed conventionally, it takes a few years of “conversion” until you can call yourself organic. Cattle farmers or beef and lamb meat producers like us had to start with letting your fields grow naturally, without the use of artificial fertilizers and pesticides. For that period, your produce is labeled “in conversion” after “an in-conversion license is granted to the successful applicant.” In the meantime the animals you have on your field must be raised without medication and growth promoters.
In Ireland, IOFGA is the official organization that certifies that produce and meat etc. are really organically grown—and that means from start to finish (Irish Organic and Farmers Association).
“The conversion period is the time frame that occurs between applying to IOFGA to convert to organic farming and getting a full organic symbol. In most cases this is two years. When the conversion period is successfully completed a full organic symbol is granted allowing produce to be sold as organic and to display the IOFGA symbol.” (http://iofga.org/certification-and-members/organic-certification/)
An inspector will come to your farm, write an inspection report that then will be examined by the Certification panel.
In Ireland over the past 10 years the organic market has enjoyed high levels of consistent growth. Even in times of economic pressure peoples’ priorities are sourcing food which has been produced with an emphasis on environmental, ethical and health concerns.
Perusing IOFGA’s website, I see you can search growers by product or county. It shows who is in conversion and who is certified. For homework: Note to blogger for homework: check what the American procedure is and compare!

IOFGA now runs classes on how to grow stuff organically (for school projects, hobby growers, allotment holders etc.)
We met lots of likeminded people through attending their meetings because in our neighborhood, nobody else was an organic farmer—yet. We met Jo who was the biggest producer of wheat and procured grain that I ground into flour for baking my breads and cakes; we also made friends with vegetable growers who had been farming organically for some time and had more experience than us. A lot of them were Germans like us or Dutch.
We organics weren’t that many altogether –yet in the early 90s.When my stint on the farm ended, Mac was the second biggest beef producer in the country—and only had 20 animals for slaughter that year.

Raising broilers

2010-02-26T12:23:00.001-08:00

We got our first little chicks (broilers, actually) that summer. I collected 24 of these cute yellow fur balls in a cardboard box from a farmer in our family car. Their chirping and pungent smell --in spite of their miniature size-- quickly filled the jeep. My kids and 2 of the neighbor's ones we had taken with us for the ride where delighted.
We had built another little hut according to Seymour's specifications. No caged chickens for us! The chicken farms in the neighborhood of my parents home in northern Germany, huge commercial enterprises with thousands of animals that never saw the light of day still make my stomach revolt. It was their stench to be specific. It lay like a smelly blanket over miles of agricultural land and one gave a sigh of relief on leaving that area. Chicken slurry smells just as bad as pig's. That beside the idea of their caged, imprisoned existence put me of eggs and chicken meat for years.
The fur balls turn their color quickly into white when they grow up and develop white feathers.
It posed an immense problem to feed them. The Creamery where we (and other farmers) bought our feeds, only had the usual starter feeds. Enhanced with all the goodies that an organic farmer objects to: grains enhanced with growth promoters to kick start them and medicines for good measure because they normally fall sick early when in confined accommodation. Antibiotics, primarily. We opted for pure maize, unadulterated with any dubious extras, barley and wheat grains all of which we had to crush by hand or an old coffee grinder to make them small enough for the only day-olds.
Every turkey or chicken that you buy that hasn't earned the label organic will have got started on the above mentioned extras. They also fed on grass and the occasional salad leaf, free to roam our garden. They thrived just fine until we slaughtered them for our own consumption when it turned too cold for them.
Our zoo now consisted of 4 lambs, 4 calves, a cat, a dog and 24 broilers as well as a dozen of pullets.

Conventional vs Organic Meats

2010-02-18T07:54:00.000-08:00

Our cattle, lambs, pigs and chickens were grass-fed. They lived a happy life in a natural, healthy environment until they went the way of all flesh. Before we produced our own on the farm, we had practically given up on meats unless it was organic−often hard to get hold of and more expensive.
In contrast to intensive farming, organically raised animals are not confined to tiny cages where they can’t move. They don’t have to live and grow in overcrowded, often filthy and inhumane conditions where they are treated as production units, i.e. they have to put on weight at top speed at lowest costs. They are treated as living creatures instead.
Conventional agriculture pumps animals full of hormones and drugs, feeds them unnatural diets, douses vegetables with chemical pesticides and fertilizers, and introduces genetically modified seeds into the environment. How can the food on your family’s dinner table not be harmful to your health?
Besides the health benefits of organic farming, there is also the environmental result of significantly less fuel consumption, less erosion, less air and water pollution and greater soil fertility.
I can’t eat chicken dishes anymore when eating out unless the menu states specifically grass-fed or free range. If you can’t get organic produce all the time, there is now the “all natural, no-antibiotic, no growth-hormones” raised chicken, pork and beef in some supermarkets here. I have my doubts about this concept, however. Out of my own experience in Ireland, I know that the organic farming status and organic label are hard to achieve and guarantee what they promise.

Thanks for comments

2010-02-12T04:33:00.000-08:00

I appreciate comments left. I got the translation of what a Chinese reader wrote: 要持續更新下去喲!!祝你心情愉快 "Please continue updating!! May you have joyful mood."In case anybody else was wondering what it meant...

Bullocks

2010-02-07T04:59:00.000-08:00

When Mac bought 4 calves, I knew he meant business. For self-sufficiency on the farm, even John Seymour said that one cow is enough. It provides you also with your dairy needs including cheese. The four were Aberdeen Angus, a Scottish breed well regarded for its meat and even temper. So down the line, there was a herd planned. Since we didn’t have a milk quota, we couldn’t just produce milk without end. One cow for our personal consumption would have been OK, but we didn’t need more than half a gallon a day for ourselves and neither Mac nor I felt like milking. We didn’t know how to either. But that we could have learned from The Book of course. A cow needs regular milking twice a day. There was a limit, however, to what Mac was willing to do and that didn’t include getting up and milking every morning, or being around late each afternoon. We saw neighbors driving their cattle home along the road each day in the morning and evening messing up the roadway in the process. This was great excitement each time for the dogs steering them; when an impatient car had to follow them patiently until they turned into their familiar yard entrance; or for the farmer’s wife, armed with a stick in wellies and headscarf when it rained. It seemed to be a woman’s job and it seemed to rain a lot. Sometimes children would follow in the back to keep the herd together. Some cows are notorious for sampling what hedgerows have to offer.
We named our new additions to the family Rira, Lulu, Micki and Roisin; two after the characters in Amy’s Irish reader and the other two after my mother and father. Micki‘s purpose in life was to provide us with beef some day. Mac finally explained his intentions that we were starting a herd of suckling cows and that we were into grass and beef — instead of dairy. The calves were already weaned and quickly outgrew our orchard. That’s why we had kept the 4 acres for initially while the rest of the farm was rented out in the first year. Mac had put his economist’s hat on while walking the land one day and a shift change from self-sufficiency to commercial agriculture had occurred by the end of that first year. Our escapist enterprise had to become a viable business.
So we had to learn more about being in the beef business. Cattle come as little bulls and little cows. Bulls must be castrated when less than two months old. For that you don’t need a vet. Elastic bands are fitted around their testicles and they shrivel away over time - some have to be cut then; mercifully, some not - and then they turn into “bullocks.” Easy as pie. Even Nicole Kidman learned to do it for her role in Australia where she plays a British aristocrat of 1930 who get a cattle station as inheritance. For full instructions see How to Castrate a Bull. It keeps bulls' temperments in check -- a wise move unless you are breeding for bulls fights. Nobody in Ireland said steer or oxen. Bullocks — not to be confused with bollocks. It often sounded the same. As did ballcocks, which caused quite a stir lately on an Irish radio show and in ongoing jokes. But that's another story.

Pullets, chicks and broilers

2010-01-24T14:58:00.000-08:00

Triggered off by an inquiry from one of my Followers (!), I’m postponing my compost story (yawn) and also fashion advice for the trendy farmer's woman (shame). We started with about a dozen brown chickens. Laying hens are called pullets. We asked the farmer we bought them from whether they were laying already or not, because it can take up to 6 months until they do -- depending on the breed. Now my dear friend, not knowing how old or what your breed is, I venture to say that, just like girls, chicks start to mature and reach puberty at different times. One of them may well be laying already, as you wrote, whereas the others are still growing and getting ready to produce a life-long supply of your eggs. These pullets, when they are older and past laying, can still be used for nutritious soup. You wouldn’t roast them, because they would be too tough. You want broilers for roasting.
Some hens lay an egg every day, some skip a day. In Ireland, they reduced their production in winter. Even if yours are home in a milder climate, their circadian rhythm may still tell them, "Hey, it’s winter…and the chick union entitles me to have a break.” Keep feeding them as normal with an extra bit of grain or protein. I knew a farmer who swore by fish for that purpose. We always felt the eggs had a fishy smell.
Be careful what you feed them. Most ready-made feeds you can buy consist of undesirable ingredients that we organics don’t approve of: Growth promoters are the worst. Don’t even think about those now just because your hens are not laying yet! More about this topic when we talk about raising 1 day old chicks into juicy roasted chickens. When in doubt, and you can’t buy organic feeds, let them run around free on grass or among vegetable patches and let them scratch and feed where they want, add some grain, grass or unwanted salad leaves. They will not overeat or eat anything that may be bad for them. What you might do to encourage broodiness is putting medium sized plastic buckets with straw inside into the hen house. They have their individual little cubbyhole which they adopt and where they lay their eggs. Nothing worse than trying to find eggs in the hedgerows every morning if you have free ranging hens!
Make sure the chicken house is safe. We followed John Seymour’s ARK type. It has to be above ground so that badgers and rats or foxes don’t dig through. Otherwise a tight chicken mesh is advisable. Tall enough for easy access with a lockable door. A roof also helps against intruders from above, even big dogs jumping in and having a field day; a fence around their designated area is advisable but not fox proof. Lock the hen house at dusk. That’s when Mr. Fox strikes. Open up late mid morning after they have laid their egg -- probably. Don’t count you eggs before they are laid:}
I sold our surplus eggs at the local news agent. Which was against EU regulations. (Oops!). Eggs have to be officially screened against diseases. So Liam kept them under the counter and customers discreetly asked for them. Everybody loved our fresh eggs and got upset in winter when the demand was higher than the hens’ productivity.

What you Need to Know about GM Foods

2010-01-17T15:00:00.000-08:00

In the USA most children think milk comes from the supermarket and peaches from a can, according a recent survey; even the kids in Georgia where most peaches are grown. That shows how far removed from the sources of our food we’ve become. Kids never set foot on a farm.
By the same token, most people think the food in the frozen food isle is actually real food, not realizing it's chock full of unnatural additives; preservatives, colorings, and artificial flavorings. That was one of the reasons we chose to grow our own food/produce 20 years ago. We felt that returning to natural eating habits was a must. Even more so today.
And Healthy Eating Starts with NO GMO! The problem here in the States is that genetically modified produce need not be labeled. So you don’t know what you are eating. You can assume, however, that you take in 70% genetically modified foods if you live off the fast food isle. I highly recommend reading Jeffrey Smith’s books, Seeds of Deception and Genetic Roulette. Jeffrey Smith
Smith documents at least 65 serious health risks from GM products of all kinds, including,and I quote:
“Male mice fed GM soy have damaged young sperm cells
The embryo offspring of GM soy-fed mice have altered DNA functioning
Several US farmers have reported sterility or fertility problems among pigs etc.” The list goes on and on. To sum it up: GMO foods can be: • Allergenic • Toxic • Carcinogenic • Anti-nutritional".
How can we avoid GM food? By buying organic. I experienced firsthand how difficult it is to acquire that well-earned label “Organic”. Get this quintessential shopping guide that lists GM foods: http://www.nongmoshoppingguide.com/SG/Home/index.cfm.
Dr. Mae-Wan Ho of the Institute of Science in Society (ISIS) explains the heart of why GM foods are so dangerous: Playing with Technology We Don’t Fully Comprehend (read the full article on Mercola Article on GM.
Products to avoid that contain these at-risk ingredients are 1. Soy 2. Corn 3. Cotton 4. Canola. I don’t know how cotton gets into the food chain, but soy and canola oil is prevalent here and hard to circumnavigate.
Germany – together with 5 other countries in the EU- has banned growing GM corn. And their food products need to be labeled.
The American Academy of Environmental Medicine has called for a moratorium on genetically modified foods! Genetically modified foods That’s food for thought, ain’t it?

Nixers, gurriers and eejits

2010-01-10T12:45:00.000-08:00

Instead of explaining how to start a compost heap, my mind segues to some more typical, if idiosyncratic Irish expressions. After the “tirty-tree” nothing much surprised me. Just as well the Irish don’t go for putting suffixes after the names of their offspring much like here in the US, e.g. Jim Mahoney, III…
My piano teacher called Mozart a gas man. I had no idea what she was talking about: funny, hilarious, of course. Here in the US ‘gassy’ has entirely different connotations. In other words, Mozart was a character. A character is not just any character but a unique, rare, one of a kind individual. It doesn’t imply he isn’t the full shilling. But politeness mostly prevails and a mentally challenged person is just “innocent, God love him!”
Your ‘gaff’ is simply your abode. If his place was a ‘kip’, stay away (a dump). No gurriers in my neighborhood please! Kipping, however, is normal and allowed (napping).
Snogging is prevalent and also used in the UK, but unheard of in the US. Don’t overdo or you’ll feel knackered or banjaxed.
A blow-in could be somebody who moved in from far away like us, or just from across the other side of the bridge, as was the case in our town. There the bridge was the border between Co. Tipperary and Co. Clare.
One of the old diehards when a baby is born: “Is it a boy or is it a child?”
A well-endowed, top-heavy woman “has all on it”.
A Brit will understand what a woolly jumper is or a trolley. Nixing is a bit of work on the side, and not necessarily known to the taxman.
To call a person or something previous when they mean premature leads us in the area of malapropisms. Pity I loaned my priceless book on that topic to a friend and never got it back. It’s out of print, unfortunately. My housekeeper kept all her referees in a box under the bed.
It’s easy to go mental with all these exotic expressions, isn’t it? My all time favorite is the ‘eejit’. Met a few in my life. In contrast to idiot, it’s a term of endearment. Alas, not everybody outside Ireland understands that and may take offence. So now for you. There you have it in a nutshell.
I am skipping true slang phrases here. There is a book with more of these expressions if this whetted your appetite: The Feckin’ Book of Everything Irish. (The effing word is acceptable as long the vowel is changed).
I could go on and on…Let me finish with two quotes:
“This is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever.” (Sigmund Freud about the Irish). Don’t you just love the Irish?
And: “Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.” Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774)
Next week I'll start the compost heap; promised!

1030 Trees

2010-01-02T14:12:00.000-08:00

When we bought the farm we had 1000 trees planted down by the river, a mixture of firs and deciduous trees. Mac had the idea we could always sell them as firewood and that could be an extra income in years to come. Alternatively, the ash could be used for making hurling and camogie sticks. They were down by the river, a good bit away from the house. Since we didn’t live on the farm then permanently, we couldn’t look after them in the first year after planting when there is the danger of the little saplings being overgrown by weeds. Herbicides and any non- organic spray were out of the question anyway. We hired a farmhand, Siney, to trample the weeds instead and paid him all summer long. While we were there on vacation we helped, Mac and I, and to some extend the two toddlers who grew tired of this pastime even faster than I did. Whenever we checked on Siney, he was just having a tea break or asleep in the high grass. Did he even turn up in our absence, I wondered?
On the yard and in the front garden, we planted 10 edible chestnut and walnut trees, fully aware that it would take 10 years for them to produce the first nuts. Ironically, the first nuts showed up the year I left the farm.
Our orchard had a dozen or so of old apple trees which didn’t bear much fruit anymore and they were tiny. Maybe older trees aren’t that prolific anymore anyway, or the lichen that grew on their stems prohibited their growth. The summer I was pregnant with Patrick, before we moved in for good, we tackled the lichen. A triangular gadget with 3 sharp edges, a scraper, was used to scrape off the unwanted growth on the bark of the trees. Not exactly how a 6-months pregnant woman wants to spend her vacation but it had to be done. Later we planted an additional orchard of about 20 apple trees where we erected a big greenhouse in the field near our vegetable rows. Young apple trees need about four years to mature. Especially in the first year, their stems need to be grass free. Mulching is a good method to keep the weeds down. We put paper down around them with grass cuttings on top.Obviously we couldn’t do that with the 1000 trees.
Apple trees want proper cutting; preferably in the winter to keep them in shape. A summer cut needs to check that year’s growth. A tree that is pruned doesn’t produce any fruit but puts all its energy into growing. A good bit of manure as fertilizer will prepare their growth for the coming year. In spite of good care taking we never had enough apples for our apple juice and cider making needs. But more about that another time.

More animals and plants

2009-12-31T13:48:00.000-08:00

Athblian shona duit! (Happy new year!)

The summer proceeded; our little farm set up grew by a beautiful hairy cat that looked like a grey-striped tiger. A neighbor’s kid that Amy had befriended brought her over. A farm needs a cat like a flower needs the rain. She was young and of the cuddly sort, not the independent kind that scratches and goes missing. We called her Wuschel. Together with Brandy, the dog, she lived in the sheds which we had cushioned with straw and presumably there were plenty of mice to catch. Growing up together made them friends or at least tolerate each other. Brandy didn’t like, however, when Wuschel went anywhere near his food.
The weather went back to normal. Occasional rain watered our little plants in the garden that we had first sown indoors into prepared trays of humus rich soil and then planted outside when they were a several inches tall: broccoli, peas, and carrots. Onions were planted next to the carrots. This symbiosis keeps the carrot fly away and bugs under control.
Since we didn't have our own veggies to eat yet that summer, I had to resort buying from the one little local shop. (We certainly didn't drive 20 km to the next bigger shop. A real supermarket like I knew from Germany opened only a few years later in Limerick- 20km away.) The broccoli they had there came from the USA and the spuds came from Cyprus. So much for Ireland being an agricultural country. No local little farmer produced veggies at that time--because they could "buy everything in the shops now" and also had the money for it in contrast to the old, pre-European Union days.
We looked hard for strawberries, although it was late in the planting season to get them started. Impossible to find as there was only one nursery in a radius of over many miles. “Where do you get the plants? Everybody loves strawberries.” The answer came from our housekeeper’s brother who helped out occasionally doing a painting job on the house. “You can’t buy them. Everybody has them in the garden. “ Then I learned that strawberries multiplied by producing layers running along the ground like tentacles which you have to cut off otherwise they run wild and take over. “Can I buy some?” “No need to pay. People will give them to you for free.”
“For free?”
“Sure, in fact deydumpim.” What? “Dey dump ‘em.” At this stage I need to explain that the local accent pronounces ‘th’ like a ‘d’ or a ‘t’. That clarified, I got a bucket full of layers for free no problem. The plants would only carry fruit in the following year. A local gardener sold Pick your own strawberries and redcurrants as well as raspberries from his garden. That kept us going in the first summer and also provided enough cuttings. These berries – i.e. their shrubs- grow from cuttings.
In the meantime, Amy made great progress at school. I had taught her my version of English which I had learned myself at university, and that was BBC or British Standard English. Her teachers, however, pronounced the ‘th’ in three like t. I heard her constant one-two-tree while skipping. A futile attempt to teach her otherwise. My teacher’s ears flinched but there was no convincing her. 33 remained tirty-tree for many years. Patrick remained silent and didn’t care one way or the other.

Our River

2009-12-15T17:39:00.000-08:00

The farm we bought had a km of a river without a name, about 10 feet wide, narrower in the summer and swollen during the winter. Well, in my view a brook really, but nobody used that term. The previous owners, an elderly couple that wanted to retire still had experienced salmon to swim upstream for hatching purposes. These people had no children, therefore sold the farm in order to move to a single-storey bungalow with all the mod-cons like central heating and no stairs to climb. (First thing I had done to the house was have a heating system installed when we took it over on a cold November day. While that was put in, I stayed in the hotel.)They must have been the hardy bunch to survive just on the kitchen based coal fired stove. The water heating stove in the dinigroom sent hot water up to the bathroom; heat of some kind but hardly enough for somebody who did not grow up accustomed to frosty windowpanes inside a room- like most Irish had. They were also responsible for the water pipes to be laid from the well to the house, meaning in their first years of marriage they carried buckets of water for hundreds of yards up and down hill.Ironically, they were of German extraction, their forebears came from Palatine in the late 1800's. Their family name in German meant "Miner". As we had downsized considerably from our new German home to this 3-bed house, we referred to it as the "Humble Miner's House" whereas for people in the village it was always the Big House. This was a term usually reserved for really big houses belonging to the Protestant gentry or (hated) English landowners.
Unfortunately, we never spotted any salmon in the river, only some little unidentified fish – but we were not knowledgeable in fishing anyway. The lowest point of our fields had a ford with stepping stones where you could walk through it for most of the year. The word ford still exists in ‘Oxford’ and in the German town’s name of Frankfurt.
A path wide enough for a tractor wended its way down from our house to the river through a big field. It was badly drained and couldn’t be used for grazing until we had draining done a year later. Cattle could get stuck in the mud there. Not pleasant for the rescuers either! For us it was the swampy field.
The by-product, however, was the most beautiful scene of thousands of yellow wild lilies or flaggers, as they are called in Ireland. At the end of May, I had a brainwave and thought I could sell them to the tiny flower shop that didn’t have much of a selection, mostly carnations and plastic wreaths for graves. The children and I picked arms full. By the time we put them into water up at the house, they started to shrivel as one-day creatures do. When Mac decided two years later to have drainage put into the field I quietly cried about the loss of wildflowers and the beautiful scene, sacrificing that to productivity.
Until a few years before we took over the farm, water of the river was connected to the mains and used in the village as drinking water. The pump house was still there but wasn’t serviced anymore since it had been taken out of use. The tap down by the school, however, was still working and supplying people who came to fill empty milk containers, gallons size.
I often sat by the little brook, listening to the gurgling noise of the water. A kind of mediation to ease my mind, communicate with nature, and take in the beauty of my new home- the move had not been totally of my free will.

As Right as Rain

2009-12-14T15:18:00.000-08:00

A shortage of water in Ireland - sounds like an oxymoron? There is usually precipitation of some kind and degree every day. Or as the national weather man once forecast, “We don’t know exactly where and when, but we know it’s going to rain tomorrow,” to the utter amusement of our visitors. Indeed it does.
Our house like all other farms outside the village weren’t on the mains. Neither was the sewerage nor the effluent. As right as rain? That phrase never held much water until our well ran dry. The well, our own water supply, was located on the highest field on a little hill and came to our house through copper pipes and by gravity. It had not rained for almost 4 weeks. Water pressure began to decrease and finally was reduced to a dribble. The outside water basin was still full. That water was used for the animals, watering of our new plants and seedlings, and during the last days of the draught for our toilet. I carried about 4 buckets a day upstairs to the bathroom. For our own drinking purpose I went over to the neighbors with a kettle a couple of times a day. This predicament lasted only a few days, but repeated itself that August. More than 2 good weeks a year? Absolutely unheard of but true in 1990 and nobody wanted it that good…
Storing water in reservoirs was a novelty back then. There are 7 reservoirs now in Ireland: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_reservoirs_and_dams). The Water Service Act of 2007 was introduced for times of draught. As of 2010 households on public water schemes will have to pay for their water.
All villages and towns around Lough Derg let their run-off (household and farm) directly go into the lake. The first water treatment plant was built around 2003 in Mountshannon. The popular boating hub on the Shannon, Killaloe, and all tourists on their boats on the lake, discharged their effluents directly into the lake. (http://www.discoverloughderg.ie/MapZone).
From one extreme to the other. If you heard of the recent flooding, the worst in donkeys' years, please have a look at my favorite Irish picture blog done by Paz to get an impression: (http://www.irelandinpicture.net/2009/11/floods-in-galwaya-typical-irish-winter.html).

Brandy- not Whiskey

2009-12-07T14:00:00.001-08:00

Before we knew it we had a dog. Every farm needs a dog, especially once you have sheep or cattle. Irish sheep dogs are bred for that purpose in particular, but ours turned out to be a mixture between Border collie and God knows what. The kids were delighted. Our promise of a dog had been a big incentive luring them into this adventure of emigration, something not easy to understand for little ones who had to leave behind their familiar surroundings and friends.
The pup was about 8 weeks old. We named her Brandy although she was more black and white than brown. “So, will the next one then be called Whiskey?”, the neighbor who gave her to us asked in true Irish humor. Brandy turned out to be an excellent watch dog and an expert at rounding up herds. A few months later that autumn, she already was pregnant with 11 puppies. That fertility continued over the years. We kept one of her first litter, Brownie, who became an expert football player, snatching the ball in real goalie fashion. She was useless with the animals however. Patrick loved to play football with Brownie though he found it not fair that she was better at it than him. “No wonder, she has 4 legs…” he groused. Brownie was a devil for following cars down the road attempting to bite their tires and was run over in the process twice. She would retreat to her dog house and not eat for a couple of days but then be at it again relentlessly- or shall I say stupidly?
May weather was beautiful and warm that year promising a long hot summer or so I thought. My enthusiasm was curtailed by the prevailing Irish wisdom, however, that “we only get 2 weeks of summer a year”. That’s it. But it was only May? Wait till you see. By the end of May I had unpacked most boxes and got ready for our first set of visitors. And we ran out of water….

First Additions to the Family

2009-11-29T16:37:00.000-08:00

Spring eventually arrived. To my surprise, the 1 May is the official start of summer in Ireland, in contrast to Germany where the equinox marks the beginning of summer. To my utter surprise later in the year, while I was still counting on some hot days in August, Ireland’s autumn begins on 1 August already.
Our daughter, Amy, 7, started school locally. She had been in Primary School in Germany while learning English for 6 months at home with me as her teacher. She was almost fluent by the time we arrived on the Irish shores. For our son, Patrick, 4, I found a little Montessori school, a very down to earth little place in comparison to the German Kindergarten he had left behind. My heart almost broke to see him there among other children who didn't speak his language. He had no inclination of learning English. “Why don’t they learn German, or Amy can translate?" So now for you!
Our family grew by four –lambs that is, Michelangelo, Donatello, Rafael and you guessed it- Leonardo. Don't think my kids were young art connoisseurs! That year "The Ninja Mutant Hero Turtles" were all the rage, however, and Amy and Patrick named the new arrivals after them. These 4 high-fallutingly named lambs were the starter of our herd that would eventually increase to about 100. We fenced the house garden area in with electric fence, carefully protecting the flowerbeds and shrubs. They liked to lie under a little weeping willow I had planted the summer before. They were also in charge of the old apple orchard, grazing to keep the grass down which allowed us to forgo buying a lawn mower. Not a bad thing in a country where you have to mow the lawn from February onwards. First, they had to be bottle-fed, however, for a week or so. Later in the summer, when they were stronger, the children had great fun trying to ride on them. Unfortunately, those fleeting moments weren’t caught on camera. Years later, when my kids mutated into teenagers, I called them the "Mutinous Hero Teenagers" in reference to their childhood pets. Those were the days....

Trip to a Farmers' Market- a Déjà Vu

2009-11-22T05:05:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I made a trip to one of the local so-called farmers’ markets that have sprouted in the area. During the week the local radio station had promoted it and others that are scattered all over the city. Where does this fashion-trend come from suddenly? They asked and uttered a caveat: Some produce had been sitting in Californian crates. I had to check it out.
A pleasant outing when the weather is dry and fresh –as opposed to Florida’s humidity in the summer. About 30 stalls were scattered in a park-like area. Mostly artists who made jewelry, dog collars, ceramics, shells-creations, soap vendors, a Gelato man, who was nowhere to be seen, however. Only the generator of his presumed ice-cream maker was purring, four sellers of reusable shopping bags and a weaver. Then there was one baker who allegedly had German breads. That had lured me there in the first place. Two stalls selling home-made jams and relishes. We found three stalls selling vegetables and I struck up my usual conversation. "Do you grow the veggies yourself?” Some did, others got it from other farmers nearby. None grew anything organically.
A good find at the end was a Mark who sold shrubs. He had a cardboard sign: Fresh eggs. Talking to him he said: Organic seems to be the latest! -Thank God, it finally found Florida! I started it over 20 years ago. He used the straw the chickens run or live on, including the manure, as fertilizer for his shrubs. “And we recycle the egg cartons”. I did too when we eventually had enough surplus to sell I produce as a Farmer’s wife including herbs, veggies, fruit and relishes. A veritable trip down memory lane….I went home, planted the arugula I bought and swore to nurse the remaining bell peppers still on the plant, but suffer from sinking temperatures at night and start losing their leaves.

Fully Loaded- with Pesticides

2009-11-17T15:14:00.000-08:00

In my last posting I mentioned that conventionally grown vegetables mostly retain more pesticides than organically grown counterparts. Here is a list of the top 10 foods containing the most pesticides, according to the Environmental Working Group, a non-profit research group based in Washington, D.C.
These 10 are considered high-pesticide foods: strawberries, bell peppers, spinach, cherries, peaches, Mexican cantaloupes, celery, apples, apricots, and green beans. For more information and possible substitutes that contain less pesticides but make for tasty alternatives check out this website:
http://www.care2.com/greenliving/the-top-10-foods-to-eat-organically.html#
Whether you base your planting decisions on this list undoubtedly depends on the planting area available to you and the climate you are in. At the least, it may influence your produce purchasing decisions. If you can’t buy everything organic because it is too expensive, this list helps to set priorities.

The Humble Spud

2009-11-15T16:26:00.000-08:00

Potatoes were high on our planting list because homegrown ones, organic potatoes do taste different to conventionally grown ones. There is no scientific evidence I can quote, only the anecdotal one. They taste like when you were a child…like real potatoes. Conventionally grown potatoes are full of nitrates resulting from high use of artificial fertilizers that make them grow faster, produce more water in the potato, however, and that waters down the taste. Same is true for mushrooms.
The weather picked up a little bit after Easter so that the Plow & Harrow job, eventually, got completed. I would have planted the first row of potatoes there and then; however, I wasn't the farmer, only newly transformed into a "farmer's" wife. The next step before successful planting was getting a cultivator to rake through the still pretty big and rough ground, generally loosen it up and aerate it, and then rake it. There was still a lot of grass left in the soil because the ground had always been grassland, never cultivated.
If you don't own a cultivator and don't want to spend hundreds of $, tool rentals are happy to take your money, although you never know what you get at a rental place. Ours clearly had some problems. It was self-propelled and ran away with Mac. Many drops of sweat were shed until the joke broke down about 1 hour into the booked rental time. The shop was 30 minutes away; a substitute was procured eventually and the job continued, although not finished before closing hours. It being a Saturday and closing time early, this added another day to our bill as we could return it only the following Monday.
But now the ground was properly prepared. I can only advise to choose a day during the week and test the rental in the shop! We all got down on our knees to help planting the potatoes. Well, the farmer had a tool for it, called potato planter which ‘himself’ was wielding, a manual one. Not unlike your post pole diggers. You open it up like a tong and put one potato in, then close the tong which places the potato in the ground. You pull out the planter and repeat the process. One potato makes one plant which will yield up to dozens spuds. It is more useful for light soil and can do damage to the potatoes, however. For commercial use, there are huge machines available.
Potatoes need to go in about a spade deep, growing well in acid soil with a PH over 4.6. Originating from South America, they don’t like it too cold or too wet. So you want to wait until the frost is over- or take a gamble. Any frost will kill the leaves and further growth unless you protect them with straw or a polyester tunnel. Not being too familiar with the Irish weather yet –when is one ever? - And in order to get started, we took the risk and were lucky.
Potatoes need to be covered by about 8-10 cm of soil which is later heaped up into neat little rows. John Seymour recommends a good shovel of compost per foot. We had no compost here yet- we did have it in suburban Germany- but figured the quality of our soil would be good enough since the grassland had never been used for growing vegetables before. In contrast to later ones, the early potatoes cannot be stored. How to store them? I’ll tell you later.
What next? Which vegetables to go for after the quintessential, omnipresent yet undervalued spud?

11/9: The Fall of the Berlin Wall- 20 years ago

2009-11-09T08:50:00.000-08:00

Apologies if I digress one more time; I'll get on with the farming life without delay, promised!
But this historical landmark just happened before our move to Ireland and the political situation in Germany in the years before had influenced our decision to escape to Ireland.

Ask any American where they were on 9/11, they will now. On 9 Nov, 1989 I was physically absent from Germany, was on a 2 weeks’ vacation playing golf in Tunisia by myself. I was also mentally elsewhere for the months leading up to the events because I had life changing drama going on in my own little world. We were on the cusp of emigrating to Ireland in early 1990. A decision favored and initiated by my then husband, me only willy-nilly supporting the idea and undergoing therapy to get used to this involuntary change in our lifestyle. My now Ex and his mother stayed back in Germany minding our 2 and 5 year olds so that this mother could recharge her batteries and find some peace in herself.
The resort of Port –El-Cantao provided enough distraction, sun, beach, food, and golf. My hotel didn’t have a TV in the room and this was during pre Internet days. What I gleaned from the news in the noisy lounge bar was unfathomable: Hungarian and Czechoslovakian borders had opened to let Eastern Germans leave their country. Calling my husband back in the Fatherland, he was equally doubtful. We both watched developments anxiously. Mrs. Thatcher would rather give up Northern Ireland and let it reunite with Ireland than that the Soviets would tolerate this insurrection and not intervene, was our reasoning. They had done that before in Prague in 1968 and suppressing Hungarian liberation attempts in 1956. Another evening, I fearfully suggested to come home directly to have the family back together at least.
“Let’s watch on TV if there are Russian troop movements, you from there in Tunisia, and we from here. If they are sending tanks west, don't bother to come back to Germany -then it’s time to reconvene in Ireland“, our new home where we had bought a farm a few years back and to which we would move soon in 1990. Maybe sooner now....“The Americans won’t just stand by and watch on.” It had all the trimmings of an escalation. In the 80s, we felt like living on a powder keg during the armament race during the Cold War anyway. That had led us into buying the escapist farm.

The Obama Allotment

2009-10-31T15:27:00.000-07:00

The previous piece of Irish news below obviously doesn’t carry the same importance here in the USA as when the Obama’s dig up a patch of their south lawn in March to plant veggies, for the first time at the White House since Eleanor Roosevelt’s victory garden in World War II. Not only has it provided healthy vegetables for the first family but also educated the nation’s kids (or at least a selected bunch of them) about health living, healthy food and the connection to a greener environment as well as the joy one derives from harvesting one’s own, at a time when obesity has become a national concern and rows for food stamps become longer by the week. For me it’s the political and environmental symbolism that counts. The plots were in raised beds fertilized with White House compost, crab meal from the Chesapeake Bay, lime and green sand. Ladybugs and praying mantises helped control harmful bugs.
If you followed the news there, the crop was plenty.
And I'd veture to say Michelle's applaudable enterprise furthered many causes, organic and healthwise.

Allotments back in fashion

2009-10-26T07:10:00.001-07:00

On a weekly news round-up "Out of Ireland" that I'm watching here in the US regularly to keep up to date with my former country, I saw a report yesterday on the growing popularity of allotments. Enniskerry started this at the beginning of the year, converting fields into little patches of a few square meters for people who are worried where their veggies are coming from, what insecticides etc. are used on them, or the sheer price of them. Interesting- like back in the old days when people were so poor they had to grow their own. Or is it just happening because the Celtic Tiger is hibernating or comatose?

People who had never seeded anything before were surprised and delighted at the outcome. How easy it was. Nothing like your own grown carrots or potatoes. They taste different. The educational aspect was a joy to see - how parents got involved with their kids in this little project. The autumn crop was good and they were planting winter vegetables like cabbage now.

Enniskerry started off with ca. 50, now had 180 and expects to extend this program. Well done, Enniskerry! Close to my heart and home, I lived in Bray, both in Co. Wicklow, until I moved to the States.

Plow and Harrow –not a Pub but the Beginning of Husbandry

2009-10-25T07:06:00.000-07:00

April is high time to get the land ready for planting. St. Patrick’s Day in March is often like a hallmark where the weather gods show some signs of benevolence. Alas, that first spring when we moved to Ireland was particularly inclement, cold and wet, so that the plowing for our vegetable patch remained in the planning stages for a while. It was particularly late in the year to get early potatoes in the ground. My Ex (he has a name, but let’s call him Mac), designed the layout of the vegetable garden with great care according to John Seymour’s suggestions regarding which vegetables go well together, e.g. , carrots and onions. This is important to know for crop rotation and minimizing bug infestations. We bought seed potatoes that had sprouted already at the creamery (i.e. farmers’ supply & feed store where small farmers also take their milk each day. Big farmers have their milk picked up by a dairy truck). Normally you can save money and make potatoes sprout yourself by leaving them in a warm place in the house. For convenience sake and in order to guarantee a big enough yield, he opted to plant in rows of 50 m in a corner of a sun facing wide open field adjacent to the garden below the house. It had a gate already for easy access from the road. At the moment, the field was grassland and needed to be plowed before we could seed or plant anything. He had bought a plow and harrow during earlier visits which he wanted to use with one of the two tractors we had schlepped over. I kept myself busy with unpacking the truckload full of moving boxes and setting up the house. Eventually the big day came where he would try to plow, the Saturday before Easter which happened to be his 40th birthday. My idea of a big birthday bash in Germany had been thwarted by his deliberate choice of moving day. Instead he spent the day huddled on an ancient tractor in a rainproof wax jacket jacket and a green woolly Aran cap.First the tractor didn’t start. We hauled it into the village for the local garage to have a look at it. I had never towed anything, never mind a tractor on narrow country roads. When that was fixed, several attempts to turn the naturally heavy, fertile soil failed because the land was still to sodden for the old plow. The afternoon had well progressed when the enterprise was aborted because the light snow flakes –unusual for this time of year- came down thick. Mac stood next to the tractor, smoking a fag, cursing, when a car on the road stopped. Out stepped Phil, the local builder, currently making big bucks in the UK. He was on his way to Mass in his fineries when he saw Mac’s predicament. Maybe stopped out of curiosity. We knew him, because he had fixed our chimney earlier in the year, not totally satisfactorily and there had been a dispute about it.Nevertheless, he climbed over the gate and walked on the wet furrows in his Sunday shoes. Having grown up on a farm, he must have known something that Mac didn’t because he managed to turn the remaining rows within an hour, just before dark. We invited him in for whiskey as a thank you and warm up. He took the glass standing in the doorway, soaked, on account of his shoes being clogged with earth and then preceded to church.I had hoped to follow a German tradition later that evening, the Easter bonfire, to say farewell to winter, but the wood I had gathered was too wet to ignite or burn. Instead I invited the neighbors and their four children to come over for a drink. They sat on our sofas like organ pipes, uncomfortable at small talk, but we toasted the birthday boy. So much for a 40th birthday party which our family and friends in Germany had anticipated. Our adventure was about to begin.

The Big Move

2009-10-08T18:13:00.000-07:00

We arrived on April Fool’s Day. Actually, it was April 2 when the kids and I made it over by plane. However, nomen est omen! (The name itself is an omen)
My Ex had traveled ahead with his Jeep and a tractor in tow. A beautiful Deutz 54. “Almost the vintage of my wife”, he used to joke. For an interesting viewing of this machine see: http://www.15er-deutz.de/http:/www.15er-deutz.de/. There had been two prior trips to haul over farm machinery that he had bought in Germany, a combine harvester and a threshing machine. The threshing machine was an enormous monstrosity, impractical to maneuver long distance, across the Irish Sea, and on narrow Irish country roads. But it was cheap and it might come in handy, you never know; if not as an actual tool, at least for the agricultural farm museum he was planning. My Ex was a hoarder (pack rat).
In order to handle it, it had to be dismantled. It was a 3-day job for an experienced farm machinery serviceman who was in his 70s. He had worked on these things all his life and his son had many years of experience under his belt too. Two pictures of the joke were taken to be sure to know how to re-assemble the machine in Ireland. And off it went on its emigrational journey.
I’m not giving the punch line away, but you can imagine it was never put together again. This Humpty-Dumpty was either too tricky or too big, parts were either badly marked and nobody around who had seen this type of thresher and worked on it. Or it was outright cheaper to rent a modern one when the time came. Starting the farm and keeping it running as a one man band kept its owner too busy anyway.
An 18-wheeler or articulated truck with all our belongings arrived a few days later at the farm. It had done the 200km journey from the port in Rosslare twice, because the driver failed to have the proper transport papers signed. We waited yet another day in an almost empty house. The huge truck blocked the country road for a full day while we unloaded. Whenever a car tried to pass, the truck driver had to jiggle it a few yards backwards and then forwards again. The neighborhood took to us from the start…

Haunted Houses

2009-10-05T07:30:00.000-07:00

This is not a blog about ghosts but with Halloween coming up, I can’t refrain from telling this true one.
Ghost stories stand and fall with the trustworthiness of the person who vouches she knows it on good authority. And that in Ireland is usually the friend of a cousin once removed.
Leaving Killaloe, where we purchased our abode, on the road to Scarriff, there is a 2-story stone house on the left hand side. Its dark bare windows give the property an abandoned, foreboding look while the huge front lawn is always meticulously mown and the landscaping simple but well kept. In full view in front of the downstairs windows are several beautiful specimens of truly blue hydrangea bushes. These caught my eye while we were still farm hunting.

I wondered whether it was for sale because it was obviously empty, but I didn’t dare to walk up to the door and find out. The farm buildings belonging to this house are across the road. A huge sycamore tree towers over everything at the roadside gate, the tree trunk protected by heavy steel bars. I wondered what the obviously expensive enclosure was about.

Pauline, the guarantor of this story, my one time housekeeper and later friend, who likes a good yarn but is generally a reliable person, told me about the drama behind this house. She is, by the way, the grand niece of the Irish freedom fighter and hero Michael Collins.
In 1923, the times of the troubles, when Ireland was torn by a civil war, there lived a family of five who were IRA supporters. One dark night when all were in bed, there was terrible knocking of rifles on the door. It was the Black and Tans, the most feared and vicious British brigade, that all but terrorized local communities. Their primary task was to make Ireland hell for the rebels to live in. They meant business. Suspecting traitors in this house, they broke down the door, and killed the whole family bar a son of 9 years of age who manage to scramble out during the bedlam. He stole away and hid across the road in a tall tree, which saved his life. As the only survivor, he takes care of house and lawn and protects the tree in memory of the tragedy that befell his family.
Is the house haunted? Yes, everybody knows that and well, what do you expect after so many killings? Could I talk to the owner? No, he is a bit funny in the head, has never been the same since.
While we didn’t buy that house, I drove by it regularly, and each time couldn’t help remembering the horror that occurred in such a peaceful rural area.

Ghost Stories

2009-10-02T09:37:00.000-07:00

Well, the ghosts...! It's amazing how many haunted houses there seem to be if you start looking for them. Another estate agent (in Co. Meath) told us wild stories about his vast experience with haunted houses the minute he detected the interest of my Ex in these matters: moving furniture, creaking floorboards, and the chill in the rooms, etc. The usual. Co. Meath seemed to be particularly ghostridden. Since we were genuinely interested in one particular farm, we stopped by the neighbors to suss them out. The farmer's wife, a mother of 5, doubled as a school teacher. We reckoned she had her head screwed on the right way and wasn't into make-believe as such. No, there were no ghosts. Not anymore anyway since Father Gogarty had said mass there. So now for you! A little cottage down the road, abandoned for donkey's years but not in disrepair, sits looming on a curve in the road. An Irish friend, Sheila, explained to me that she saw Little People there at night sometimes when she came home late around midnight. Maybe a case of too much of the brown stuff? Doing my research for this blogs and all things Irish, I stumbled across a book with the title "The Lively Ghosts of Ireland," published 1967, by a German sounding Hans Holzer, an American, however, who traveled to the Green Isle regularly for research on haunted houses. What they often have in common is a tragic death that befell somebody in or around the house. And Ireland history with its 800 year long occupation and subjugation is full of tragic stories.Holzer's psychic travelling companion sometimes is able to set the ghost at ease, to send them home or lay them to peace. Marvelous. The interest in ghost lore -like in UFO's- never ceases. As a regular reader of the Skeptic Inquirer, I see that a lot of debunking is still being done in that magazine and needs to be done. I'll have a real haunted house story for you the next time. With real ghosts in our new home town...

Farms including forges, ballroom sized bedrooms and ghosts

2009-09-27T19:36:00.000-07:00

We viewed farms that seemed to have good land and where the price was right. Talking to locals and neighbors became an eye-opener. Over a pint of Guinness, we stumbled over little secrets not mentioned in the advertisements. A mansion in Co. Wicklow was appealing to the eye with huge ballroom sized bedrooms, high stucco ceilings, and chandeliers. It had a beautiful, curving staircase with mahogany banisters to slide down on. The caretaker refused to accompany us in and show it from the inside, because it had a ghost. That, however, only increased its appeal to my Ex, “Think of its touristy value!” It gave me the creeps. The Irish are fond of ghosts, leprechauns, Little People, and other manifestations of the Irish spirit. The local banker confirmed the ghost’s existence. However, during the conversation he let slip that some acreage was useless due to flooding in the spring just when one wants to sow.
My Ex fell in love with a place situated on a lake that had its own mill, forge, and power station. It also had about 15 rooms, some cracked windowpanes and miles of gutters that needed replacing. While it would have been an opportunity to run the house as a Bed & Breakfast in addition to the farming enterprise, I could visualize Himself pottering about fixing the place up for years to come. I pointed out the costs for central heating. Oh, there wasn’t any yet, we could install it gradually. Thankfully, this particular gem of real estate – like most property in Ireland − was sold by auction and we were outbid.
Farms high up on hills were too windswept for certain crops and vulnerable in storms. Others had big and functioning outbuildings but the yards were too mucky for my taste.
At the end of our second reconnaissance trip, after an exhausting day and almost disillusioned, we found what we were looking for. The farm was located in a beauty spot near Lough Derg in Co. Tipperary, also within easy reach of Limerick, a university town, and Shannon Airport. From here tourists start their boat trips on the lake up the Shannon. Situated on a small hill, a pink house nestled under protective old trees, mostly beech and ash, and it had a very clean yard. I didn’t get out of the car because my 10 month old was asleep on my lap. “Check it out what it’s like inside and I can settle for it.”
The price was right and it could be rented to interested neighbors until we were to make the big final move. Until then the property yielded a good return on our investment and we could use it for vacations. Take a glimpse: (http://www.irelandinpicture.net/2009/05/boreens-and-backroads.html). It resembles our little boreen, down to hedgerows of flowering whitethorn and grass growing in the middle of the road.
Now we had a farm but we weren’t yet farmers. Not just yet.

Location, Location, Location

2009-09-25T20:50:00.001-07:00

As any realtor will tell you, this is not a troll’s truism regardless of what type of property you are looking for. Searching for a suitable piece of land, our choice was influenced by a couple of criteria. For my Ex, the soon to be farmer, it was the quality of the land. For me it was the accessibility. Obviously farms are in rural areas and this city girl wanted to be within a reasonable driving distance of a city, schools, and airport, not totally in the sticks. For the farmer, it had to be good arable land which is considered to be suitable for any type of farming whatever you go into. We were looking for more than the aforementioned 5 acres, which according to the Seymour-Bible, were enough to sustain a family.
Soil conditions in Ireland vary considerably. The midlands have the richest, most fertile conditions. This is the region to grow grains, an indicator for its quality. Farm prices reflected this fact. The further north you go (Clare, Galway, Sligo, or westwards towards Kerry) the land becomes stonier and less suitable for multipurpose agriculture. While the countryside is beautiful with its dry stone walls, i.e. without mortar, the ground becomes stonier too. The walls, by the way, were erected by laborers in previous centuries that picked up the stones from the fields. They stacked them up into walls that created fences and boundaries around fields. Labor was cheap in those days.
We traveled pretty much all over the country, starting off on the East coast in Dublin. Heading west, the rolling countryside of Co. Kildare, home to stud farms, was very lush but unaffordable. Farm value is calculated per acre. If there is a house on it, it’s thrown into the bargain. So it was an extra bonus if the house was livable or even in move-in condition.

A sneak peek of topics

2009-09-23T11:07:00.000-07:00

What you will find here in the next few weeks about our endeavors:
-Location: how to choose your land wisely; water supply; fencing
-grow veggies in crop rotation: cauliflower, tomatoes, potatoes, onions, carrots, eggplants, cucumbers
-raising and plucking chickens and geese; organic feeds
-dealing with weeds and pests
-composting; kindling and firewood; making hay
-calves, calving, lambing
-AI (Artficial insemination); children and the facts of life
-making preserves, jams and tomato ketchup; freezing
-dealing with abundance
-growing mushrooms
-homebrew; baking bread
-recycling, and many more topics as they come up.
I will not endeavor to teach you how to harness a horse, milk a cow, slaughter an ox, cure a ham, salt beef, brew beer, churn butter, press cheese, keep bees, track game, set a snare, bat a hook, skin a rabbit, sink a well, build a barn, mend a wall, fire bricks, dress stone, spin flax, coil pots, weave a basket, thatch a roof, construct an oven make fuel, generate light, harness the wind. We didn't get round to that! (All of that can be studied in Seymour's books), but "follow the seasons, respect the land, reap the harvest, waste nothing, stay healthy and live well."
“We are intended by nature to be diverse, to do diverse things, to have many skills.” (John Seymour). So get ready.

Getting started

2009-09-18T17:03:00.000-07:00

Coming from a city in Western Germany, my big concern was that self-sufficiency –farming meant going back to a lower standard of life. The idea and my ex’s expectation, however, was that it enhanced it: by growing and consuming our own produce, by harvesting the fruit of our land and hands. We didn’t know that it would also take up most of our waking hours and continuously occupy our thoughts caring and worrying about animals that depend on you; that even the weather would become a major concern to us.
In Ireland, they called us organics, alternative life-stylers ‘the Birkenstock wearing , muesli munching crowd.’ Wellies or Wellington boots were more practical though, given the climate conditions.
Before you make the big move and opt out of the rat race and become a back –to- the-lander, you may want to experiment and practice a little on a smaller scale. Convert a big ornamental planter into your first herb garden, dig up a patch of lawn at the end of your back yard (the front stretch might offend your neighbors), convert a flowerbed into a vegetable patch, or turn a piece of ugly waste land near the garden shed into something productive. Allotments used to be popular in the olden days, often of economic hardship and as a getaway for city dwellers.
If you live in suburbia, as I do now, you should check with your CDD or HOA. I’ve seen rooftops verdant with beanstalks, zucchinis, and tomatoes. You want to check the weight capacity of your roof though. If you really want to grow your own, you’ll find a way. When we bought our farm in the West of Ireland in the 80s, our cattle raising and dairy producing neighbor proudly announced, “We don’t have to go to all that trouble anymore. We used to do that when we were poor. Now we can buy fruit and vegetables in the shop.” I’m proud to say, within 2 years of watching us, she had parsley and strawberries going successfully.

The self-sufficiency guru

2009-09-17T14:52:00.000-07:00

John Seymour, the guru of self-sufficiency, was then a man in his 70s when we stumbled across his books that changed our lives. On one of his trips between Germany and Ireland, hauling over some farm machinery, my Ex visited John on his farm in Killowen, Co. Wexford and had tea with him. He came back impressed about the set-up, how well it worked, how relaxed and unpretentious the old gentleman was, etc. What impressed him most, I guess, was the fact that John had a girl-friend/partner who was at least 30 years his junior. Hence his fervour for organic farming? Who was first, the chicken or the egg?

I once had a Farm in Ireland

2009-09-16T15:38:00.000-07:00

Memories of that previous life are still vivid in my head as if it was yesterday, although not in cinematographic ochre and amber but all shades of green. Ireland is high on the list of many tourists who wish to visit it for its scenery, folklore, and the “Million Welcomes” of its people. It is also the country many Americans trace their roots back to and longingly dream of. Farming is a life style and never ending work. Farming can be somebody’s dream –as it was for my ex− and the nightmare of others.
Interested in farming, producing your own produce and foods, and an alternative lifestyle? This column of an ex- farmer’s wife (or is it farmer’s ex wife?) can shine some light on life on the farm through anecdotes of her previous experience introducing organic farming to rural Ireland.
We’re talking Irish farms here, not American multi thousand acre agricultural operations. We’re talking self-sufficiency. Ours had 127 acres. (For city dwellers: 1 acre=4,840 sq. yd.) For Irish and organic farming standards this is a big chunk of land.
How does one get into it? Either you inherit it or dream of living “the good life”. With the current recession, job losses, and stock and property markets crash investment advisors these days recommend to invest into gold and diamonds – or farming. At least grow your own vegetables.
In my case it was the danger of another environmental disaster after Chernobyl in 1986, and the nuclear threat was motivation enough for us to opt out of the rat race and get started. After Chernobyl, in Germany fall out levels were dangerously high. The government discouraged people to feed milk to their children, and our new Geiger counter measured excessive radiation levels in our children’s sandbox. Ireland had escaped almost unscathed due to the prevailing weather pattern in the 2 weeks after the disaster in Ukraine. That was it for us. If some of this sounds vaguely familiar to you and resonates with current developments in an increasingly environmentally challenged and endangered world, you may want to read on.
Another driving factor was a book that topped the bestseller list in Germany in 1980: John Seymour, Self-sufficiency on the Farm: The classic guide for realists and dreamers. It became our bible. My ex had no background in farming. He learned what he needed to know from this story-book look-alike that contains specific instructions and cute drawings. Invaluable advice also came from a friendly elderly neighbor, a life-long farm laborer who scratched his head watching our humble attempts at farming.
So here’s what you need: a little nest egg, or preferably a biggish pocket book, or better still an inheritance to buy yourself into farming , Seymour’s book maybe, and enthusiasm; in fact tons of it. Throw in a dose of practical realism with your dreams and you can farm away.
According to this bible, you need about 5 acres. Small is not only beautiful but is also viable. If you can still lay your hands on a copy: (New-Complete-Book-Self-Sufficiency). Also see Seymour’s Killowen Smallholding project at http://www.self-sufficiency.net).
With farming you step back in time; something that a shopper at popular farmers’ markets doesn’t necessarily realize. A life close to nature awaits you. You work with your hands, are exposed to the elements, and you bond with your animals, as well as your neighbors whose help and advice you’ll learn to cherish. You synchronize your life with the sun −some even with the moon (http://www.biodynamics.com/biodynamics.html). You will experience life and death from close up and will value clement weather and the peace that surrounds you. Coming from Western Germany, the sticks of Ireland were a huge change and culture shock for me. In spite of recent the mega changes occurring in Ireland commercially, also known as the heydays of the Celtic Tiger, rural Ireland remains widely untouched.
Farming keeps you on your toes around the clock –literally. We only achieved part of Seymour’s self-sufficiency (and skipped the tool and furniture making): We farmed, grew our own vegetables −more than we could eat. You can grow everything yourself, weather and climate permitting. Having previously cut our meat consumption to a minimum whilst living in the city, we raised our own meat. Organic food in the early 80s was still in its infancy and buying it not really an option. On the farm we had chickens, geese, pigs, and cows. Naturally organic. Otherwise we couldn’t be bothered and it is the more viable option to make the enterprise profitable. I baked our own bread and cakes- after grinding the wheat.
For almost 10 years, we nearly killed ourselves producing healthy food.