The Missoula farmer's market is special for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that it is actually in Missoula. Beyond that, though, are the people and the attitudes. A large portion of the vendors are of the Hmong culture. In the Vietnam war era, the Hmong people of Laos were recruited by the American military to fight against the enemy. Largely abandoned and the target of Vietnamese agression after the war, many of that culture emigrated to the United States and settled in various communities, Missoula being one of them. The continue to maintain their traditions and have some of the finest looking produce available at the market. In August and September, they often have mountain huckleberries for sale.
The most important part of the market from my perspective is the attitude that comes with it. Yes, there are some very "crunchy" people there, but the Local Food Movement that they promote is so, so important. Many of the people at the market are also the same ones that help to run community gardens and bring agriculture in to our schools. All too often, kids in our society come to believe that food comes from cardboard boxes, plastic containers, and drive through windows. Progressive towns like Missoula are trying to change all of that. Community supported agriculture keeps local farmers in business, keeps people and the earth healthy, prevents urban sprawl, and often contributes an overabundance of produce to local food banks. It tastes pretty good, too.
People are led to believe that eating fresh, organic produce is for the rich man's world. Guess what? It's not. Grow your own. Buy locally and in season. Be happy.
Of course, I'm not the perfect one to talk about this since I live in what could almost be considered a food desert (another subject for another time), but the local food movement is something I really believe in. Searching out farmers markets wherever I go is one way that I can support it. I can't think of a finer way to spend a Saturday morning.
Neither can Danish Cowboy, apparently. With the local food-ers also comes coffee. Really good coffee, locally roasted, though not locally grown (we're all hypocrites at some point, eh?) I think country boy is starting to see the benefits of this liberal type of life.
Oh, Dearest Emily,
Several pansies. And then there was the expense of twine to create a clever grid system to keep the cats out while the flowers fill in the spaces. I laugh at you on these June evenings where the temperatures reach 25 degrees and you foolishly have to cover the tender, weak annuals every night. And uncover them every morning. You and I both know that you don't have time for this.
And that underground sprinkling system I told you about last year: it, along with the sewer line replacement and months of ice settling on the lawn, have left us some nasty scars in the form of bare spots which have required raking, shoveling, tamping, and leveling. God forbid the lawn is uneven and large clumps of dirt remain behind! This is a ranch, for pete's sake. Manicured lawns required.
It also takes more time now than it ever did to get the kids dressed and ready to go out. They insist on helping, which, while cute, can make one scream as they put shirts on their legs and yank the socks off that you have just wrestled onto them. The thing that has sucked the most life out of me over the past three weeks, however, has been illness of the family. I can't chalk it up to swine flu, but I want to.
I've also created a new rubber mulch walkway where there used to exist a wheelchair ramp. A few stairs, a new rain barrel and some better planning on my part and we shall be good to go. The moral of this story: when thine Wal-Mart with thou rubber mulch existeth over 100 miles away, buy enough of it to completeth your project.
Does it ever end? Seriously. Does it?
The calves have started to arrive. Every time we turned our back on Saturday, it seemed like a new baby was born. I even saw one mother stand up to have her baby calf. She dropped it on its head. A cruel entrance into the world, but it apparently suffered no ill effects. Baby calves are a lot of work. First you have to zoom over and lift its leg to determine gender. And then you have to go back to the house and assemble ear tags, shots, rubber bands (for the males), FastTrack for the digestive system and other things baby calves need for a good start. Then you have to go out and administer all of these things to baby calf while an anxious and oftentimes enraged cow snorts down your back (and I'm referring to Danish Cowboy only here -- I almost got pinned once between a mama cow and a large hard barn wall because she was very unhappy with my presence. I was frozen and I was envisioning my pelvis being crushed into a million tiny pieces. Danish Cowboy repeatedly screamed at me to run -- and did I ever. I tend to avoid close contact with mama cows as a general rule.)
There have been three trips to the veterinarian in the last week. Two resulted in Cesarean sections (one singleton, one with twins) and one resulted in twins being pulled from their mother's womb in the traditional way. With 150 or more pounds of calf and eight legs, you can imagine the confusion that might result in trying to be born. (I am starting these peppers this weekend along with the tomatoes.)
We then enlisted lots of help. Installing underground sprinklers is very hard work. Twins falling in 18" trenches makes the job even worse. I ended up staying inside most of that weekend baking frozen pizzas, mixing lemonade and bringing alcoholic beverages to the hard workers. It took a surprisingly small amount of alcohol to get this thing installed. They were simply too tired for those shenanigans.
The trenching started here.
And continued on behind the house, around the sewer, to the garden, through the power line (well not through the power line as we were responsible enough to call that "one call does it all" utility locator number, but you know what I mean) and on to the west front of the yard. It is hard to know where to end a yard when you are surrounded by many, many acres which you have total control over. And I'm not gloating here -- it just simply takes a lot more acres in this part of the world to survive. Sometimes I wish for a 1/4 acre lot so that my neighbor could tell me where to end. The obsessive-compulsive side of me would not fret over the unclean line between irrigated and non-irrigated. I may have to install a fence to protect myself from insanity.
Well, you sillies, it's the arrival of my 
Who could have foreseen that I would ever demand qualities in a seed catalog?
I love this co-op. Who else would think of selling garden seeds for school fundraisers? What a grand idea and so much better than, say, beef jerky or dried out chocolates.
Their brand of sarcasm is right up my alley. Directions for ordering. Complete with a request to be neat! There are actual humans behind this catalog. Real life people.
But most important to the catalog is their product offering. They give their customers complete and honest descriptions, oftentimes with a history. Honesty is the best policy for them -- if they don't have a product due to crop failure or if something is tricky to grow -- they let you know this right up front.
