Homestead Rescue and Hollywood Reality

So I came home early from work the other day and while I was sitting and having a late lunch, I flipped on the TV to see what was on. I stumbled upon the reality television show, "Homestead Rescue." 

Now at the outset I have to say that growing up in Los Angeles, surrounded by friends' parents who were in various behind-the-scenes aspects of showbiz, I already knew that most of what I was seeing was crafted by off-camera script supervisors. Nothing that comes out of Hollywood is real, including so-called "reality television." Real-looking breasts on TV and in the movies are probably not real. 80 year-old women don't look 80; they look like some nebulous age between 45 and 90, depending on the skill of their cosmetic surgeon.

Martha Stewart does not really tend her own garden and can her own vegetables, no matter what she appears to do on her show. Perhaps she did at one time, but she's an empire manager at this point.

Anyway, while I'm sure a lot of "Homestead Rescue" was scripted in advance, as most reality shows are, what did impress me and resonate within me was how hard Mother Nature appeared to be working to foil the plans of the aspiring off-gridders in the show, in weather situations no reality show series could script. Ice is real. Storms are real. Mother Nature cannot be commanded, coached or scripted. She just shows up and does her thing.

And I found I could relate to the show, not because we are off-gridders, but because we've already learned some of what the Raney family (the hosts) teaches each guest family on the show. The other half of the time, I related out of sympathy, such as when one family's greenhouse vegetables got completely destroyed by mice, or when putting up a new fence on the property resulted in two smashed fingers and muscles so sore that chopping more firewood seemed like too much to ask, but it was 4 pm and freezing, so chop they did. 

There are days when this place discourages me -- so much so that I want to pack it up and move into town. If it's not the wind, it's the wildlife eating our food. Or the insects. Or the broiling heat that decomposes irrigation hoses, destroys electrical wire, and blanches and rots wood. We are currently in line for replacing all the irrigation hosing in our pasture (which springs a leak in a new place that must be fixed every single time I run it. Every. Single.Time.). We're also getting a new irrigation timer with new wiring, and looking into how to create a wind break so that our fruit trees stay erect and don't grow sideways. That's this month. Next month it'll be something else, I promise you.

And as I watched the homesteaders in the series attempt to surmount even more daunting challenges, I sympathized, while simultaneously realizing that we don't have it nearly as bad as we could. But the first time anyone gets country property, no matter how many YouTube videos you've watched or books you've read, the land is still gonna hand you your ass on a regular basis -- even if you're just keeping a few chickens and growing some food. (Usually there is a honeymoon period of a few months to a year, just to make sure your guard is down when fate finally comes calling.)

And it's gonna hurt, because you love those chickens and those vegetables and those fruit trees. 

I think that's why most homesteading blogs disappear or morph into something else after a few years...because people finally realize it's just easier to order a pizza and sit inside listening to Pandora.  There is a reason roughly 80 percent of all 1800s homesteads ended in failure, and it's the same reason the newer ones will as well: Mother Nature has no mercy and will challenge you at every turn, continually. There's a learning curve, but as soon as you master one challenge another presents itself.

But for the sake of knowing the reality of homestead life, "Homestead Rescue" is a show I can recommend. Because for all Hollywood's fakery and slight-of-hand script treatments, I know that some of what you see on that show is real, and for that reason alone, it's a pretty decent entertainment/life lesson show. 

As for us and this place, we're putting Mother Nature on notice that we're not going away. Because while sitting inside listing to Pandora or wandering around some suburban lot in town might sometimes look attractive, what challenge is that? Strive on, I say, whether you're on 1 acre or 2000. Just prepare -- not only for starry nights and birdsong mornings -- which is nature's way -- but also for smashed fingers, sore muscles and expensive equipment getting broken, damaged or just disintegrating over time. Because that is also nature's way.

Used to feel bad

So I used to feel bad every time I'd see this -- a fruit or nut tree in full bloom with at least half its blossoms knocked off by a significant rain or windstorm, and all that gorgeous color just lying on the ground. Wasted beauty, wasted fruit, I used to think.

Now I realize that this is nature's way of ensuring the trees do not produce more fruit than they can effectively ripen. Spring storms are a great way of knocking excess flowers off the tree, thereby ensuring there will not be an excess of fruit. Which means maybe I won't have to thin the fruit as drastically as I might otherwise.

What a freaking genius idea.Well played, Sir God. Well played.

Dawn

Granny Smith Apples

The days may be warm here, but the mornings are always cool and inviting. Today I woke up before six a.m., and decided to do a little walk around the property and check on things before the sun came up. I checked vines, fruit, and growth.  It's amazing how much plants can change just within a few years; the fig tree we planted in 2013 that was just up to my knees is now as tall as I am, and the cherry trees which were sticks now have sizable trunks and stand well over 7 feet tall.

Baby pumpkin.

On the more short-term end of things, the pumpkins are growing in anticipation of fall, and summer squash is in its usual state of over-abundance.

Ollalieberry vine.

For some folks, Sunday is a church day, and I have total respect for that, but I have always found God more present in the land than in the cathedral.  And so this morning left me especially grateful for the fruit, for the clouds, and for the good land we live on.

Seckel pears.

Happy Sunday, everyone.

Listeria Recall

Just heard a warning issued that the California-based Wawona Packing Company has discovered Listeria bacteria in some of its peaches, nectarines, plums and pluots. The fruit was distributed across the gamut of supermarkets, including Sam's Club, Trader Joe's, and Whole Foods.

One more reason to appreciate having a food life that's significantly off-the-grid, so to speak. We have no Listeria here. It gives me a very real sense of personal empowerment, well-being, and independence to see stuff like this on the news and know it doesn't effect us in any way. Of course my heart goes out to all those injured or otherwise affected by something like this, but one of the reasons I keep this blog is in case anyone ever reads these words and thinks, "well I could plant a fruit tree or two." (or grow a lettuce, cauliflower, or tomato plant or two, etc.)

It's not just the well-being that comes from a diet grown within feet of where it's going to be consumed; it's the freedom from worry that comes from never having to take a bite of fruit, or a vegetable, and worry that it might make you sick, something which is becoming more and more commonplace in the commercial world as larger and larger shipments of food are crammed together, or processed together, and shipped thousands of miles away from where they were grown.

Sure, plenty of blog posts here are about the work it takes to make food, but it's also about the freedom that comes from doing the work. Which is worth it in every way.

Low-hanging fruit

When we moved here, we inherited a white nectarine and regular nectarine which were planted by the previous owners.  Both are commercially produced hybrids, meaning they've been selectively bred to produce an abundance of fruit.  I've never had much of a taste for nectarines, yet I have to admit these are pretty good, especially when eaten just this side of being ripe.  Turns out I love nectarines, as long as they are crisp, not mushy.

So the problem is not us eating the fruit.  The problem with commercial hybrids like these is that it's rare one family can put all the fruit they produce to use...plus producing that much is very hard on the tree, year to year.  Despite several rounds of thinning fruit, we have once again ended up with waaay too many nectarines.

I gave big baskets to the neighbors.  I gave bigger baskets to the kids at the winery.  And probably bushels to the birds.  And there's still more.

In another month or so it will smell like a country winery under those trees, as all the ripe, picked over fruit finally drops to the ground and begins to ferment and eventually, rot.  I will leave it there until cooler weather, when I will harvest the dried out fruit mummies and start all over again as the cycle goes around with the calendar year.  But I really do wish the previous owners had planted heirlooms, which in general have lower fruit yields than hybrids do.

Because one can only eat so many nectarines.

Formerly Crabby CrabApples

Blooming Out

When we moved in here, one of the first things I noticed were the dead-looking bushes running along the unattractive fence line to the north of our front yard.  Our original plan was to remove them and put some evergreen vines of some kind on the fence, in order to block the view of our neighbor's garage.  But on a random trip to the nursery, a woman who works there and is familiar with our neighborhood told me the bushes were actually crabapple trees, which bloom in a profusion of pink and white blossoms in spring and even produce edible fruit.  She said they'd once looked glorious, but had, in recent years, become completely neglected.  But she said she guessed they were probably still alive.

So I decided to give them a reprieve for a year and see what I could do with them.  I'm a softie that way, I tend to see almost any plant as valuable for something (except possibly bermuda grass and star thistle), and am therefore apt to try and work with it, as is, instead of ripping it out and planting something else.

So I first pruned them back hard, so they once again assumed the form of trees and not bushes.  I trimmed off all the dead wood, and laid down a thick layer of chicken waste around their trunks to fertilize them slowly, over time.  The next step was to add a couple more drip irrigators on each tree, as they were clearly starved for water, hence their ugly appearance.

The staff of life... 4 GPH drip lines and chicken shit

This is proof of my tendency to turn into a softie and save anything valuable that at least makes a stab at staying alive.  I looked at those trees and felt sympathy for them...trying to bloom, trying to grow, yet hindered by the fact that they were never given enough water or food.  

And this spring, they bloomed, beautifully, although a couple are still struggling a bit.  I am still planning on adding some vines to the fence line, but the trees will absolutely stay if they can make it through the summer, which I believe they all will, even the struggling ones.

This homestead life is often filled with failures and the lessons failure provides, but sometimes, successes happen too, and instead of firewood, you get productive, well-watered, and (at least in my imagination) grateful, happy trees, swaying gently and colorfully on spring's first breezes.

Happy tree

Trees of Antiquity

We have a great resource here on the Central Coast for heirloom fruit trees.  It's a company called Trees of Antiquity here in Paso Robles, which specializes in organically grown heirloom fruit trees.  When I first heard about them, I initially balked at the idea of buying an organic tree.  After all, it's the fruit that matters on a tree, and whether or not you've produced organic fruit depends on how YOU treat the tree -- what you do with your soil, as well as how you manage your weeds and pests.  

But in thinking a little more, I realized that an organic tree farm is better for the water table, the air quality, and the ultimate sustainability of the land it sits on.  So by giving them my business, I'm making a little investment in the environment of this beautiful region I live in, and helping keep it healthy for generations to come.

I picked up a Golden Grimes apple tree today, parent of today's Golden Delicious apple.  And I have three ollalieberry bushes and two blueberry bushes on order.  Planting season is indeed in full swing, and I hope to someday, years from now, be able to take a blanket and a book and sit among my trees, berry bushes and vines and remember this first planting season on our new land.

For more information on Trees of Antiquity, check out their website.  I think you can even have trees shipped to you, if you live out of the area!

http://www.treesofantiquity.com/

Plant where you can grow

Granny Smiths -- Someday!

We ended up moving our orchard, all the way across the pasture from the west side to the east, from where we originally dug the holes last weekend.  When I went out to begin actually taking the trees out of their wrappings and placing them in the ground, I got a really good look, and feel, of the soil we were planting in and was not happy.  It was silty with a strong dose of clay and a bunch of limestone rocks thrown in for good measure.  Maybe wine grapes can grow in it, but I knew our fruit trees would not be able to get the nutrients they needed from that soil.  Oops.  

Bings and Royal Anne -- also someday!

 Big Ag and I had a discussion about whether or not it would be better to find a part of our pasture, maybe lower on the hill, with better soil (he was initially resistant because, let's face it, no one wants to have to go dig another 10 holes in the ground after you've already dug 10).  But we explored around and sampled what is in the pasture, all the way up and down the hill, and eventually found a large patch that had some lovely soil that was like crumby chocolate cake -- moist, dark and loose -- about mid-point down the hill.  (The new holes only took about a half hour to dig, the soil was so pliant.) Of course, the new spot is a totally inconvenient spot for an orchard from a human standpoint...it's a long walk down and back up the hill, but you need to plant your trees where they have the best shot at growing or it won't matter how convenient the spot is...you'll be taking a short walk to nothing.  A dead orchard won't care that you planted it in a great place for YOU.

So we decided to re-do our plan for where we were going to graze any future animals, place the orchard where the soil was best and work the pastures around that.  As usual, this place is a project list with a fence around it, and the project list can change in a moment's notice, depending on what happens real-time.  Today, it was finding surprisingly crappy soil in a place we thought would be fine.  Tomorrow it'll be something else.  We roll with it.

It's interesting though, to note that the worst soil is where the builders must have dumped soil from where they graded the hill to build the house 8 years ago, and the absolute best soil is down the hill, in a spot that hasn't been tampered with in any way whatsoever.  Mankind always thinks they're not having an impact in places they are, and the best places to grow thing are often the ones that have been pretty much left bloody well alone. 

It's all taking shape now...orchard, vines and pasture. It will all come to pass, but as with anything on this homestead, it probably won't look anything like what was originally imagined for it.   And that's OK.

Last New Year's Eve, I reflected a bit on where our family was going and where we'd come from.  We had spent the morning in a San Joaquin Valley WalMart, purchasing storage tubs to begin packing our house up for an anticipated move, and I was trying to imagine where I'd be when December 31, 2012, which at the time was exactly one year later.

It's a year later, and I am here.

I have spent my day stoking the pellet stove, adding fresh straw to the chicken run, and deciding where to plant the fruit trees we bought yesterday.  When this round of planting is done, we'll not only have the pomegranate, nectarine, and pineapple guava trees which the house came with, but also a Mission fig, a Blenheim apricot, a Bartlett pear, three cherry trees (two Bings and a Royal Anne), a Granny Smith apple, and an Elberta peach growing on the property. 

 This is good news, as its important to get any trees you will use for food planted on new property ASAP, since it will be a few years before you reap any kind of decent harvest.  So the sooner, the better.  I'm glad we did not procrastinate on this item, as we have on so many others!

My husband has been down in the lower acreage fixing fencing today (one of his favorite chores, surprisingly) and tonight we will take a well-deserved break from our farm work and go into town and to a good dinner at one of the nicer Italian restaurants downtown.

So did I imagine myself here, one year ago, when I was standing in line at WalMart?  Yes and no.  In so many ways, we are living the dream we dreamed one year ago.  And yet, it's different. We are not as self-sufficient here as I thought we would be.  Yes, we will have plenty of food which we've grown ourselves, but we will always need the grid to provide us with electricity for well water, if nothing else.  Our pellet stove is amazingly efficient and cheap to operate, but it also requires  a small amount of electricity, so if we want to be comfortable in winter, we need that as well.

So I've had to come to terms with the fact that here in western United States, there really is no such thing as true and complete energy independence and self-sufficiency...at least not without an extremely great financial investment.  Along with that, we face the fact that we're not getting any younger in many ways, especially when it comes to the manual labor this place requires.  yet it's a labor of love, and so we do all we can and make sure there's always ibuprofen on hand.  

And there are so many positives about where we live. I love the dark night sky here, and the peace and quiet. I love the view from the top of our hill. I love that we're making friends and feel ourselves to be a part of this community and the city that's closest to us.  The air is clean, the water is good, and the sun does not set over our neighbors' roofs, but over the western hills. And even on the hottest day, it still cools off right after sunset.  Our kids are off doing their own things, which we knew would happen, but they're all happy and healthy, as is the rest of our family. Those things are priceless.

I hope you have some priceless things in your life that you're thankful for as we roll over to a new year. If nothing else, you survived the Mayan Apocalypse, and that is surely something to be grateful for.  Happy 2013, everyone.