Fog Listening
December 13, 2011
JustLiving Farm
One good thing about frozen fog mornings in December is the sound. The sound of quite frozen fog mornings is unlike anything else. Unlike mornings of snow-covered landscape that encases movement and sound, frozen air allows the wheatgrass to move with the slightest of breeze. 
The grasses dampened rustle plays with the conversation of two chirping birds which mingles with crunching frozen grass below each boot step. Frozen fog, a natural symphony of sorts.
© David B. Bell 2011
Fences Lost
April 27, 2010
I took down fence yesterday. And in a way, it feels as if something has been taken. Not always, but sometimes, when a fence comes down, there is a sense of loss. This loss isn’t so much a tangible loss—no one came along and took the wire and fence posts—as a spiritual loss. And when one knows the original fence builder, the loss is deeper.
Sometimes the reputation is good, sometimes not. A fences reputation has as much to do with the fence builder as it does with job it was built for. The Berlin Wall, for instance, or the fence being built along the U.S./Mexican border, says as much about the people who construct(ed) them as it does about the fences job keeping people in or out. Most often, I think, when fences apply to people, their reputation suffers.
Fences on farms and ranches are most always built to keeping something in or out. Open rangeland, like that around the farm, means animals have the right to roam as they please. If you don’t want a horse or steer eating your front yard, you best build a fence. Fences at the farm help keep horses or wandering cattle out of the hay fields. But fences also are used for confinement. More than keeping animals out, on the farm, most fences are about keeping animals in. We use fences to breakdown pastures into rotational paddocks. By rotating stock, we feed many more animals on a small piece of ground than we could without fences. Thing is, fences themselves are neither good nor bad, rather, it is how they are used that matters.
I stood along the drive for a fair amount of time looking at the fence. My mind pretty much made up to take it down. As I stood there though, I couldn’t help but search for another way of getting tomorrows work done with the fence as it is. The problem I pondered, though, wasn’t really a work problem as it was spiritual. Spiritual because my kids had built this fence when they were kids. Might sound a little strange, but once the fence was gone, there would be a loss of visual memory. Sure there would be pictures to look at in the future, but every time I drive down the driveway, there would no longer be a visual reminder of when the kids were kids.
Standing looking down the fence line I also realized this was a fence I was “proud” of. Most any fence will keep animals in a field. A fence line might stray the left or to the right, the fence post tops might be uneven, and wires might not be taut; but even a poorly built fence will keep a lot of animals in, or out. Fences do have something to say about who built it. A lot is said about a fence builder who takes the time to eyeball a straight line, who digs and pound posts straight and level, and who pulls a taut wire. A fence tells a story about the pride builder has in their work.
Looking down the fence line I heard such a story. The weather, best I remember, was hot. The t-post tops were taller than the girl’s heads and pounding them were not easy. Running one quarter-mile wire after another meant a fair amount of walking back and forth along the fence line. Yet, while I know they had many other important things in their life to do, they laughed and told stories as the work was done. After days of work, the fence was done—it was a straight fence, with posts you could sight down and see tops even, one with another, and wire running true and tight.
The fence came down yesterday. A memory-inducing landmark in the landscape of the farm is now but a memory itself. Days of hard work, sweating bodies, and sore muscles and hands now exist in only in the mind. Perhaps having story in the back of the mind is enough. Perhaps it will exist as long as a fence. Maybe longer?
© David B. Bell 2010
Alkali and Salt
April 20, 2010
The landscape of the Farm has multiple soil types. For such a small area, the soil changes often. Some of the areas are great for growing hay, and then, some of the areas are high in alkali and salts, not so great. A few of the alkali and salt areas are located in or near our hay fields I would like to bring them into hay production sometime in the future. Alkali and salts are not the only problem though. Where the alkali and salt have existed, for who knows how many years, little vegetation has ever grown. Which has left the soil not only high in alkali and salt, but with little organic material.
There are at least two trains of thought when considering seeding these areas. One is to know what plants you want to grow in the soil and then work to change the soil—additives, soil builders, etc.—until the soil will support the plant. Another thought is to know the soil and then find plants that will do well in that type of soil. I want to do both.
What I would like to do is to seed plants that do well in alkali and salts. Let those grow and then turn them into the soil. The hope is if we do this for a few years the soils humus will build to a point that the soil will open up and the alkali and salts will flush out with watering. After a few years of working the soil with plants that “like” it, I hope the soil changes (using plants as the additive in this case), and I can grow hay in the areas now full of alkali and salt.
I had some time with my neighbor the other day who has the same problems, but has been farming (and farming this soil) years longer than me. Over the years, he has used Sudan Grass in these areas. He is clear that where the alkali and salt are very high, the Sudan doesn’t grow there either. But slowly with time, the edges are slowly playing out and crops are closing the alkali and salt areas. However, like he said, this takes years and there are no guarantees. He also suggests taking some time to see what other seed is “out there” that might do well in alkali and salt.
So I am searching for a seed that enjoys alkali and salt. If you have any suggestions, let me know.
Moon-Horizon Conversation
April 1, 2010
Gifts sometimes fall out of the sky. Maybe fall is the wrong word. The temperature fell last night. The sky was clear and open.
A gift of raising animals and hay is that frost protection is not on my list of “to do’s.” Yesterday a visitor came to the farm who farms ten acres of cherries. As I woke this morning and heard wind machines in the valley warding off frost, I thought of her. She spoke about how the last week has been one of the early early morning work of keeping trees healthy in this time of freezing mornings. As I looked at eighteen degrees on the thermometer I realized she and her husband had been up hours ago caring for their trees. The gift I am thinking of though is not about not working frost protection this morning.
The cold did call me outside around 5:30 to take care of a few water items. There was no need for a flashlight or any other light to do the needed work. The horizon had that deep blue tint that occurs when the black of night gives itself to the early morning. The moon, not fully full but rather a little out of round, combined with the lightening horizon gave plenty of light to work by. Fifteen minutes, I am done and heading back to the house. It is then I had the opportunity to take a moment and contemplate the moon and horizon.
Looking around I noticed most of the night stars could no longer be seen. Mount Pahto to the west glared back with white slopes. Toppenish ridge to the south spread arms as if soaking in the cool moonshine would give strength and life to the day. A cold morning moment makes one want to selfishly keep it to themselves and at the same time yell out and invite others into a conversation with sky and land. I like to think, though, yelling isn’t really necessary, for there must be others living in their orchards this morning, caring to the life of their trees, who had a moment to notice the wellspring of being that lies between sky and ground, light and dark, cold and life. I hope so, for that is a gift.
Good Company, Good Conversation
March 23, 2010
Maybe it sounds like an old record. I’ve said it before. But I can’t make it far without neighbors.
The farm’s tractor has been on the edge of life for a while. When we bought it at an auction years ago, it had been used hard and put away wet. Just the same, it has done us well over the years. And just the same, it is time for a new tractor (at least new to us).
Last week I bought a John Deere 4230 with almost 8000 hours on it. The tractor is a little larger than what we need, but the price is right and best I can tell, there are enough hours left on it to serve us well. One problem though, how do I get it transported from Ellensburg (about an hour away) to the farm?
The day after buying the tractor, I spent a good amount of time online trying to find a hauler. Later in the day I had the chance to talk with my neighbor about my need to find a hauler. He said, “why not talk to your neighbor?” Now here’s the thing, for years I’ve watched my neighbor haul hay and tractors in and out of his place, and yet it never occurred to me to ask. Choosing community means many things, not the least being; one does not have to depend on only their own mind to get through the day. Not a bad deal!
Yesterday morning I met my neighbor, drove to Ellensburg, loaded the tractor, and was back on the farm in a few hours. I got more out of the day than just a tractor. I had good company and good conversation. And good conversation is good work. Might be an old record, but it is a record I can deal with.
