Archives - Posts tagged as 'random thoughts'
Sick hippiePosted June 28th
Been sick all week with a head cold which turned into fever with chills. I've had to stay in bed and the farm has been neglected. The goat shed needs mucking out, the garden watered, the rabbit cages are begging for a cleaning, the buffet of yummy greens that go to all the animals has been halted and boring processed feed will have to do. The worst thing is my sinuses are so plugged up, I can’t smell anything. Hence, I can't taste anything. Is this a life worth living? Amid these frustrating developments on a sweat-inducing break from the bed to check my email, I learned that I had been crowned Best Hippie 2008 by the East Bay’s locally owned free weekly. You guys!! A few years ago, maybe even a year ago, I would have scoffed at the word ‘hippie’ being used to describe me. Hippies! that’s my parents! I would say. I don’t listen to the Dead, I listen to the Dead Boys. But, if you think about it, I *have* been milking goats, making cheese and planting chard--all tell-tale signs of hippiedom. So I’ve learned to live with the moniker, and wonder why there isn’t a better word to describe my urban homesteading tendencies in a way that doesn’t reek of patcholi or come wrapped in tie-dye. Anyone got a better term? While we contemplate that, a sauerkraut instructional. Get some nice heads, tight ones. Half the cabbages, then chop into thin strips. Add the cabbage to a large bowl and sprinkle with kosher salt. A TB of salt per cup of cabbage is the rule of thumb. Once sprinkled with salt, pound the cabbage so that it starts to release some water. I use a pestle from a mortar and pestle that my roommate left behind. Add this ... Tagged as cooking, random thoughts, urban life | 11 Comments » | Continue
My ridesPosted June 18th
There's probably nothing more uncool than driving a car. It makes me sweaty, in a bad way. It turns me into a robot. I can't admire other drivers' footwear or fashion. I'm not enjoying the sun, the breeze, the hellos from other people on bikes or on foot. Nope, there I am, a big dumb-ass steering a big machine around the city.
This weekend we had blow out party for my friend Willow. She's going on a sabbatical. I roasted three pigger loins all day long in an low oven after marinating them with various rubs and brines. Then we hung up some decorations, and wheeled out the juice making shopping cart. That's right. A shopping cart that makes juice (sorry, no photo). In Caracas, Venezuela I first encountered this miracle machine. It involves filling a shopping cart with oranges, then mounting a juicer where the toddler would normally sit while you shopped for lentils. And a place to cut the oranges (and grapefruits). When you want juice, you reach into the cart, cut an orange, then squeeze. It's totally mobile, and if these hit on, will provide the greater Oakland area with plenty of Vitamin C. Can't you imagine a fleet of shopping carts filled with citrus, not aluminum cans? But first I had to get the oranges. Which meant driving (I thought) to the Friday farmer's market. I circled a five block radius for 20 minutes. I got sweaty. I even wanted to yell. I felt competitive and I think I even cut someone off. Just for some oranges! In the time it took me to find a parking space I could have ridden there and back on my bike at least two times, which would have been enough ...
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Goat smellsPosted June 10th
At the edge of the room in our apartment that I call the mudroom, the room where we milk Bebe, store tools, keep seeds, make vinegar, house crusty jars of canned goods, right where the door opens onto the backyard, lingers an odor of Farm. Bill's even noticed it. I've wondered where exactly it emanates because I harvest the goat turds and sawdusty clods of urine every morning before milking. Then I saw Bilbo pee on the back porch. Ah-a! Goat pee plus wooden deck plus sunlight. It's an unbearably delicious smell as far as I'm concerned. It means good things, to me. Maybe I'm remembering my parent's farm in Idaho or an old goat barn visited in the 1970s. The odor to my mind speaks of good things--goat cheese, dirt dappled potatoes, thick slices of multi-grain bread. Promises of coffee ground with a handmill in the morning, and marijuana smoked in the evening. Of course those days are gone, and we've all gotten over those silly pleasures, right? I guess some of us have not.
This past weekend I took Orla and three rabbits to Berkeley Fun Fair. The Berkeley Farmer's Market manager asked me to bring some baby animals for the kids to pet, to be a one woman band of urban farming.
When I arrived, I unfurled my ghetto fence made of chicken wire and wooden stakes, put Orla on a leash, and sat under a tree. So many kids and their parents came up and told me stories about having farm animals, some of them in the city! Of wanting their kids to grow up knowing animals. One little girl cradled a baby bunny, and I told her it ...
Biofuels debatePosted May 5th
Anyone else out there feel like a 1970s revival is on its way? I'm not talking about bell bottoms and polyester, but gas lines and fuel shortages. As some of you know, I work/own a biodiesel station in Berkeley with five other women. Most days our customers come in and happily pay more than the price of regular diesel. They do so because they know that our biodiesel is sustainably made: we sell fuel made from recycled vegetable oil within our community (Oakland/SF Bay Area). It’s better for the environment, for the workers (we have intimate contact with biodiesel—pumping it into the truck, dispensing it, changing fuel filters), and for our customers. Lately it’s become very easy to dismiss using biofuels. Biodiesel and ethanol are getting a bad rap. The former head of the UN called biofuels a crime against humanity. So I guess I should just shut up and get a gas car like everyone else. The reason I got into biodiesel was self-empowerment. I learned how to make my own fuel by scrounging through a restaurant grease trap, processing it with lye and wood alcohol, and viola: fuel for our old Mercedes. I didn’t have to buy a Prius (which I can’t afford). If it rained, I had a car to drive instead of my prefered transpo option, biking. Then I joined our collective and learned how to drive a biodiesel big rig, fix cars, and run a business. So biofuel changed my life for the better. So, despite the UN, I’m still pro-biofuel. The question is: what kind of biofuel? How was it made? Local? Recycled? Does it enrich our community? Is it traceable? Our biodiesel costs $4.99/gallon. That's about 50 cents more expensive than regular diesel. Lately, some people have become scared. I see it on their faces at the ... Tagged as random thoughts | 6 Comments » | Continue
FundraisingPosted April 30th
Sorry I've been out of touch for awhile. I'm in the middle of a hard-core fundraising effort with the Biofuel Oasis, a worker-owner collective that sells recycled oil-based biodiesel. Tonight we're putting on a fun show at La Pena, and I'll be MCing (my handle: NC-Hammer). Come on by and help support our station! Even if you don't use biodiesel, we'll have electric cars and a plug-in Prius parked out front, because we at the BFO know that this petroleum thing is not going to last. We also sell urban farm supplies, and with the new location, we hope to expand that end of things.
Goat cappuccinoPosted April 24th
Yesterday I had a break-through with Bebe my milk goat. Every morning for the past few weeks, come milking time, I would have to catch Bebe. This involved chasing her through the goat pen, trapping her in the chicken house or under the stairs. Then I'd drag her upstairs and literally pick her up and put her on the milking stand. It made me feel like a real asshole. My goat advisor had told me that having a milk goat is a delicate relationship. On one hand, you're providing them food and water; on the other, you're nursing from them as if you are a baby goat. The mom has to accept you as a legitimate milk-taker. I think Bebe's been trying to figure out who the hell I am, and finally relented. 
Today she came running up the stairs and jumped onto the stanchion, ready to be milked. I nearly wept with relief. Who wants to be the asshole all the time?Though Bebe has tiny teats, she's pretty easy to milk. Instead of using my whole hand to let down the milk, I use two fingers and my thumb. Sometimes I sit to the side and milk her, but I think she likes it better when I sit behind her. it's easier for me, too, because I can reach both teats. My hands cramp up a little bit, but they're getting stronger. I love milking, Bebe's rumen rumbles, she eats some oats and chews her cud, waits patiently. Her udder is warm, her flank is a soft place to rest my head. She milks out about 2 cups of milk per milking, which is really all ...
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Milk stealerPosted April 9th
Who would steal milk from this adorable little goat? This innocent, hungry love muffin who bats her tail around, gets on her knees, and oh so cutely sucks from her mama's breast?Lately, me.
On Monday I started a weaning program that will go on for almost two months. At night I lock the little ones into a dog crate near where Bebe and Bilbo sleep. In the morning, Bebe's udders are full and the little ones make these heart-breaking bleating noises. Before they get their milk, I put Bebe on this stanchion (jankity construction by moi) and milk her. The first day was a total bust, I felt like such an ass, and I couldn't get any milk to come out. I mean, Bebe is a dwarf goat, she has small little teats! 
Tuesday my friend W came over and gave me some moral support. Although she hasn't milked a goat either, she encouraged me to keep trying. What's the worst thing that can happen W asked--Bebe will tell Bilbo I'm a total creep? So I kept on and finally got a few sprays of milk out of one of her teats. Yippee!! Today I got them both to work. Tomorrow I'm going to milk her dry. The idea is that when the babies go in for milk, her udders will refill and supply the demand. I still feel bad for stealing from the little ones, but as you can see I only took a little bit. Here's the bounty. 
After filtering it, I gave ...
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Bee checkPosted April 7th
I've a beekeeper for many years and yet I've always been a hands-off beekeeper. I guess you could say I've been a bee-haver. But lately I've taking a more active role: taking classes, learning from old-timers, going to beekeeping meetings. The other day I realized that I could spend my whole life studying this insect and would still never know everything about them. Somehow, I find that comforting. I still want to learn as much as I can. 
With that in mind, my friend John came over and we opened up the hive. We took some honey supers off, and really got into the brood chamber area, a place that makes me sweat. The bees were not disturbed at all, these girls are the most gentle bees I've ever worked with. We didn't see the queen, but evidence of her was everywhere: that brown capped stuff is brood comb. In the hollow spaces are little white larvae that the workers feed for 6 days. They then cap the larvae which transforms into a bee in 8-10 days. We saw a few young, soft looking bees--the young ones who remain in the hive all day long cleaning and feeding everyone. After a few weeks, they become field bees, out collecting nectar and pollen. We didn't see any swarm cells--peanut-shaped protrusions that indicate the colony is planning on splitting into two. It was a successful spring inspection. 
Lately many hives have been hit by varroa mites. I was curious about my mite counts, so I did the powder sugar test (sorry there are no photos, Bill wandered off). After ...
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Horn searingPosted April 4th
My friend A emailed me regarding my goats the other day: "How do you deal with the fact of their unbelievable cuteness? I can barely stand to look at the photos. So soft! So sweet! AAARRGHH! It's tough, but somehow I've been coping. Yesterday was a horrible, sad day. But it was a necessary thing. I put a cage in the backseat of our truck, lined it with straw, then stole Bebe's babies away for a few hours. I drove to Cotati--about an hour north of Oakland--while the babies slept in back. At the animal hospital, Dr. Dotti, a large animal vet was scrubbing up after delivering a calf. It was all very James Herriott. The calf lived, there was blood everywhere and a happy mama cow chewed her cud as if this was all just another day. A woman chatted with me about her horse's dental work, and when I told her why I was there--to get the goats horns disbudded--she said, oh that's no big deal! Then why was I sweating, and feeling awful? I tucked a goat under each arm and Dr. Dotti's assistant showed me where to take them and shaved their heads. The horn buds were very small, just starting to mound up. He said two weeks is the perfect timing for disbudding. Dr. Dotti warmed up the disbudding iron (looked like an evil curling iron), and we chatted about how amazing it is that the Nigerian Dwarf goats are considered a dairy breed now, about Bebe, the birth, and the necessity of disbudding. It's really best for the goats--and my neighbors--because the horns will get caught up in fences, gouge my other animals, and worst of all--might gouge out the eye ...
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Bounty of beesPosted April 1st
This Sunday I took a class with the Alameda Beekeeping Society featuring Randy Oliver. Randy is this amazing beekeeper and breeder who lives in Grass Valley and reads tons of scientific studies about bees, digests it, and then feeds it back to the general beekeeping public. He is thoughtful and funny and his presentations are wonderful. I didn't want him to stop talking. It was fun too, because I got to see my friends Alan and Mary and meet new beekeepers. Here's just a sample of some things I learned: -Bees have a little appendage on their front legs which snaps open and allows them to groom their antennae-Beekeepers were paid over $150 per colony to pollinate the almond crop this year -When you see a bee sitting still somewhere on a cold day, it is probably shivering invisibly until its body temp goes up enough to fly again-Bees generate 400 watts of electromagnetic energy by flying, so when they land on a flower, the pollen zaps onto their bodies-In a German experiment, two queens each had one of their mandibles removed, and they lived together in peace in a colony together (this is good because you'll have more workers laid and thus more honey). As the day ended, Alan got a phone call from a guy with a swarm in his yard. Alan said, "wanna go get a swarm?" Oh yeah. The house was just down the street, in an oak tree. Sorry I didn't have my camera. But basically it was a small swarm of about 2 pounds of bees. We chopped off the limb, stuck it in the box, and relocated the beauties to my lot in Oakland. 
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