Food for Thought

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

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....

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

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

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...

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!

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!"

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?

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.