Flint Hill Does Rodale

Flint Hill Farm participated in Rodale's Organic Apple Festival today, despite the rain. Above, you can see Kathy Fields, the owner of Flint Hill, driving two of her hardier draft horses with some sturdy country souls; there were two separate areas to visit, in addition to the orchard and grounds: the Bookstore and adjoining pavilion, and the Barn, where the various vendor/farmers were located. That's where we were.

We were entertained by several different performances throughout the afternoon. Above, you see the jazziest earthworm ever, staying cool while his pal, Red Delicious, contemplates her future in composting. The dude in the background was a fan. Poor Red was the last apple standing, and was a little worried about her future.

Here she is, getting schooled by our friend the worm, who graphically described his castings, just for laughs. You can see some of the vendors in the background. We were also treated to a game that taught children about the importance of honey bees and pollination, a folk quartet with a wide range of musical styling, organic hot-dogs and everyone else's goodies. I bought lemon verbena, some lettuce plants for my fall garden, two simple beeswax candles for home (and two pretty ones for a friend), some ground cherries and a jug of organic apple cider. It doesn't get much better than that.

But wait! I left the premises briefly and drove a scant 2 miles to an Amish stand where I scored two bushels of local plum tomatoes (GOLD, since the late blight hit in August), a bushel of slicing tomatoes to share with the neighbors and can for the winter, zucchini, eggplants, and sweet peppers for my friends. The corn in the adjoining field is about 7' tall right now. It's been a tropical summer. Kids would get lost in there. Heck, so would I!

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Kathy gracefully relieved me of milking tonight, and I will spend a majority of tomorrow (Sunday) processing tomatoes for winter. Stephanie and I will make soap, and I'll spend some evening time with my girls. This whirlwind of a weekend will fly by, as they do now, and I'll arrive at my desk on Monday in a heartbeat. Life is good. And she flies, she flies...

Bethlehem Sands

Silk Mill, Easton, PA

There was a time, still in my memory, when people worked hard, made their wages, lived their simple lives. In Bethlehem, PA, the former Bethlehem Steel plant, world reknowned in its day, closed several years ago, leaving behind pensionless workers and throwing an industrial neighborhood into ruin. Just this last year, the "Sands" casino has made its home there. Is this irony lost on everyone but me?

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A generation of blue-collar workers gambled their futures on their jobs, pouring steel. They lost. Who will win now? Is it for the best, bringing new commerce to this depleted area? Or are the financially gifted once again draining the lifeblood from this depressed community? Will there be scars, or fortune? Does anyone really win?

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I'm not usually pessimistic, though the sight of "SANDS" in blazing colors, suspended from an incomplete iron bridge segment-slash-billboard made me more sad than hopeful. I drove down the street, and saw the full parking garage, and the artfully lit stacks behind the casino. In the dark, it was beautiful. In the early morning light however, just a few short blocks away, there are still homeless people and abject poverty. The crime rate is up in the area; college students get mugged by teenagers. A small bodega owner was shot dead a year ago during a theft. And a block or two away, they're serving cocktails and haute-cuisine, gambling and dancing. Bethlehem's school programs are being cut. Her children are wanting. Who will win? Will the casino bring a better tax base, to support the people in need? I hope so, because right now, the dichotomy is too extreme. It hurts me, to see those bright lights, when I know there are children who are hungry a few blocks away. Emeril creates his masterful dishes, the high rollers make their fortunes or land in the hole; the local girls apply for cleaning jobs, and there is work to be had, but in the end, the poor stay poor and the rich stay rich.

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I have given directions to travelers who are coming from other places to gamble here; me in my farm-stinking boots, sweat dripping from my ponytail, them in their Mercedes. I have less to lose. I wish them luck. I wish us all luck. I hope the children and the community benefit from this huge gamble as well. The ghosts of the steel-workers are watching.

Grow Your Own...Dinner

I had no plans for dinner tonight, but after I milked, I checked the garden, and it yielded three small eggplants. That equals eggplant parm, in my book. I topped them with sliced home-grown tomatoes, Parmesan-reggiano cheese and garden basil, then heated up a pint of homemade sausage and kale soup as a side. I have a stockpile of frozen soups.

My home garden yielded rhubarb yesterday, which I knew I had to process or lose, so I chopped it while the eggplant cooked. I had every intention of freezing it for winter,but...

Leftover eggplant breading supplies (egg-milk and flour, not breadcrumbs) = crepes. Hey! I have leftover strawberries in the fridge!

Rhubarb and strawberry sauce.

Crepes stuffed with rhubarb sauce, topped with homemade peach ice-cream and a drizzle of sauce.

I should fail to plan dinner more often! There's nothing like growing your own!

Goat Speak

"I'm Wise AND Beautiful. Look Into My Eyes: Give Me Licorice. I Deserve It."

Knee Deep

Vigilant, Voluptuous Mama with Reclining Aunties

Our baby is growing stronger and more capable every day! She frolics like the goat kids did when they became sure on their feet; the sheer joy of being alive is so evident in these young, freshly minted creatures. It makes me smile.

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Knee injuries DON'T make me smile. Notes to self: 1) Don't carry any more calves across the field without a wheelbarrow. 2) Wear real shoes in the barn and to school, not sandals. 3) Ask for help moving 60 lb. boxes of clay etc. when unpacking supplies. I blew out my knee. I'm in an ibuprofen fog, so please forgive my absence lately. I'll be seeing my osteopath tomorrow, as I've nearly had to cry each night this week when I finally came home. Dang.

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On a happier note, I DID spend my early evening with my pretty girls (goaties), and I AM working on a drawing of two of them whenever I get a chance. I don't find much time during the day, as my goal at school this year is to run a more organized "ship", and that requires rules and vigilance, for both my students and myself. I do get a moment or two in the morning before my first class, a bit of time during lunch, then maybe some time after school, if no one needs my help. And tonight, I've brought my drawing home! If I can stay awake despite the ibuprofen, I'll draw. I'll show you later. It feels so good to draw seriously again!

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Each evening, I milk 15 goats, and tend to the growers (pregnant does) and kids. I do this as a volunteer/room-and-board payment for my pretty girl, Faith. The whole process takes about 90 minutes if I'm steady, or longer if I dally (which I love to do). The does are so funny and expressive! I try to catch their moods in photos, but it's so difficult to show the averted eye or the grasping lips, the coy pose or the head-butting power-play. They're so dynamic. I'll try to draw it; but I think you need to know their language. I speak it. Do any of you?

If You Haven't Seen Them...

Here you go. I do a series of these every spring, from my own photographs of the architecture of Easton, PA. I illustrate the Easton Heritage Alliance Historical House Tour. This is a detail, a second-year drawing. I'm sure I'll be writing about it in February or March, if they still want me.

Who's Got MY Goat? Any Goat?

OK, so maybe this isn't my finest work, but I have noticed that there are very few goat chachkas on the market. I've been shopping, now that Crunchy Chicken's Buy Nothing Challenge is over. I should have shopped for them DURING the challenge, as my efforts have been nearly fruitless. I did score one little goatish doo-dad. I'm being deliberately vague, as it is (probably) going to be a birthday present for a friend. And I found two varieties of goat charms for jewelry, thanks to the zodiac. YAY Capricorn! But that's it. It's a desert out there. So I did what I always do in a pinch. I threw together a bunch of stuff and made one. All natural, even the used cork. If nothing else, it was fun! The barley eyes with the horizontal pupils really made me laugh.

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I'm also working on a drawing of Faith and one of the Saanens. Goat faces are so strangely proportioned when you look closely at them! Their eyes seem too high, their necks too thin, their legs too knobby. It was challenging just getting the initial drawing on paper. It feels good to draw again though; I haven't done a serious drawing apart from the architectural drawings in quite a long time. I'm working on a nice sheet of ARCHES rag paper, and the graphite just looks and feels like velvet as I lay it on the page. I want to dive into it and pull it over me like a gray blanket. It's best to draw or paint what you know best. You can bring all of your senses to the work; I know the feel of those velvety lips, the moisture of the noses, the roll of their eyes. I've smelled the sweet alfalfa breath, and have watched them steal licorice from me. I know the short, velvet hair on their ears (both short and long), and the long, curly blond locks on their crocodile spines. Their calloused, knobby knees jut out above their pretty cloven hooves, and their udders range from full and hard like little warm fists to loose and swinging like my full-bodied Oma's. My girls are beautiful; seemingly made up of spare parts from other, more graceful animals, they are bold and clever, and unabashedly unselfconscious. My heroes. I love them.

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Wish me luck! We'll see where it goes.