Now, it was no monster, it was a dear John Deere, green and cute. It had a broken seat so I had to sit, ramrod butt, spine straight up and down. And a manly metallic spine at that. There were four gears which shift clunky. I was daring and even climbed to 3rd gear on the home stretch! It rumbled and puffed like the magic dragon, grunting out smokey goodness as it chugged along. I was the heroic cowgirl, minus a horse, straight backed, upright, high in the air. My noble task was to transport the household rubbish bags to the burning pile out back of the barn. It was a glamourous enterprise, especially when the bags kept falling off! oh boy were those levers fun. Big teeth UP, big mouth OPEN, big arm down, mind the bum as you turn the corner.
I am also realising how USEFUL tractors are...and am really asking how it is possible to grow organically, fertilising by hand with mulches etc, on a scale that is large enough to be economically viable. I spoke with a young farmer in BC about this tonight, and he says he has struggled with that question too - sure, if 90% of our population grew food, we could grow on small scales very efficiently. However, with 4-5% of the population trying to feed the rest of us, it seems we may NEED to use some of the methods of agribusiness -namely tractors, non-mulch fertilisers. Its all very well making your own compost for your garden, but how about for 10 acres of land? I'm beginning to see why farmers use chemical fertilisers. The farmer here has also challenged my understanding of 'organic' - organic Bat poo fertilisers may be flown half way round the world - is that good? Organic is getting old, 'carbon footprint' and food miles are in, dude. How far does your food travel?
I have also nourished my inner mother egg - THREE times I have gathered duck eggs! I am learning the round white art of tiptoeing among the offerings sprawled around the barn. The ducks bury some of them deep, and I feel their eyes watching me, hoping hoping that I will miss their latest hiding place. Of course, they get the last laugh as I have to scrape off compacted shit and woodshavings from their buried treasures. I imagine the Quack Ringleaders are the culprits for those few hidden ones. They're the ones that lead the otherwise rather contented ducks into fearful chaos at my every move. The George Bushes of ducks? She's either with us, or against us, and she's definately not a duck! I keep my arms down, walk slowly, while entertaining with mantras and singsong. They lay about one a day each.
I am also proud to report that I have winter sandpaper lips! This is a rare occurance for one with a gentrified upbringing! Not to mention woodblock hands and the immovable dirt under my nails. mmmm...yummmy. It can be as cold as -15 C at night. I have to revert to all night electric heating sucking me dry! Anyone want a kiss?
Well, you guys are all to far away, but Paws and Liam might give me one. Thats them below in the Greenhouse. (photo as you requested John!)
From winter apprenticeship 2008/9, Edmonton AB
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