The Coop that Ross Built

This is the coop that Ross built.

These are the beams that sat outside
And were soaked by the rains as the clouds opened wide,
For the coop that Ross built.

This is the frame, set in place by one man
According to his graph papers and hand-drawn plan,
Built from the beams that sat outside
And were soaked by the rains as the clouds opened wide,
For the coop that Ross built.

Here are the beginnings of the very first door
And a few flaps of wood attached to the floor,
Screwed to the frame, set in place by one man
According to his graph papers and hand-drawn plan,
Built from the beams that sat outside
And were soaked by the rains as the clouds opened wide,
For the coop that Ross built.

Next the project was covered with ply
Making it look like a barn to the eye,
Along with the beginnings of the very first door
And a few flaps of wood attached to the floor,
Screwed to the frame, set in place by one man
According to his graph papers and hand-drawn plan,
Built from the beams that sat outside
And were soaked by the rains as the clouds opened wide,
For the coop that Ross built.

Here's the project, all painted and done
(And moving it to the corner was seriously not fun)
After the project was covered with ply
Making it look like a barn to the eye,
Along with the beginnings of the very first door
And a few flaps of wood attached to the floor,
Screwed to the frame, set in place by one man
According to his graph papers and hand-drawn plan,
Built from the beams that sat outside
And were soaked by the rains as the clouds opened wide,
For the coop that Ross built.


Open the doors and take a look;
Our ladies in waiting enjoy quite a nook
Inside the project, all painted and done
(And moving it to the corner was seriously not fun)
After the project was covered with ply
Making it look like a barn to the eye,
Along with the beginnings of the very first door
And a few flaps of wood attached to the floor,
Screwed to the frame, set in place by one man
According to his graph papers and hand-drawn plan,
Built from the beams that sat outside
And were soaked by the rains as the clouds opened wide,
For the coop that Ross built.


This is the bar where the ladies now roost
(We had to train them by giving a boost)!
Open the doors and take a look;
Our ladies in waiting enjoy quite a nook
Inside the project, all painted and done
(And moving it to the corner was seriously not fun)
After the project was covered with ply
Making it look like a barn to the eye,
Along with the beginnings of the very first door
And a few flaps of wood attached to the floor,
Screwed to the frame, set in place by one man
According to his graph papers and hand-drawn plan,
Built from the beams that sat outside
And were soaked by the rains as the clouds opened wide,
For the coop that Ross built.

Here are the nesting boxes where our gals will lay--
They'd better or they may become dinner one day--
Beside the bar where the ladies now roost
(We had to train them by giving a boost)!
Open the doors and take a look;
Our ladies in waiting enjoy quite a nook
Inside the project, all painted and done
(And moving it to the corner was seriously not fun)
After the project was covered with ply
Making it look like a barn to the eye,
Along with the beginnings of the very first door
And a few flaps of wood attached to the floor,
Screwed to the frame, set in place by one man
According to his graph papers and hand-drawn plan,
Built from the beams that sat outside
And were soaked by the rains as the clouds opened wide,
For the coop that Ross built.

Our Chicken McMansion is done and it's dandy
Thanks to my husband who's totally handy;
He hinged the nesting boxes where our gals will lay--
They'd better or they may become dinner one day--
Beside the bar where the ladies now roost
(We had to train them by giving a boost)!
Open the doors and take a look;
Our ladies in waiting enjoy quite a nook
Inside the project, all painted and done
(And moving it to the corner was seriously not fun)
After the project was covered with ply
Making it look like a barn to the eye,
Along with the beginnings of the very first door
And a few flaps of wood attached to the floor,
Screwed to the frame, set in place by one man
According to his graph papers and hand-drawn plan,
Built from the beams that sat outside
And were soaked by the rains as the clouds opened wide,
For the coop that Ross built.

(Thanks, Honey!)

Emerson Update: Progress in Pictures

If you've visited Pocket Square Farm before, you may remember that I helped my friend, Brett, plant the Emerson Elementary Organic Garden earlier this school year. In my first blog about the school project, photos mostly portrayed large wooden raised beds filled with good soil... and not much else.

Much has changed in the Emerson garden over recent months as Brett and his students have carefully tended their patch of earth. Here is their progress in pictures.

The lime tree has been pruned way back to encourage side shoots and allow for more sunshine in the plot (front left raised bed).

View from the front sidewalk, where orange flowers frame the entry arbor.

This garden's success is due to Brett's diligence and his students' enthusiasm. I stop by occasionally to give advice.

Seeds and seedlings are planted close together to provide maximum yield.

Although we thinned the carrots tremendously, their green tops are still thick as a forest. At this moment in time, the carrots about about a finger's length and width. Brett plans to invite the kindergarteners out to share a fresh-from-the-garden snack (carrots) with his 5th graders in the near future.

Lettuce continues to be one of his top sellers at classroom farmer's markets.

Sugar snap peas have reached the top of the trellis and need to be pinched back weekly. This stops them from growing taller and, instead, encourages side growth (and more peas).

The sweet, white flowers of sugar snap peas wither away as the pea develops.

The blooms are delicately beautiful, in and of themselves.

Onions planted from sets (small bulbs) have sprung up beneath the lime tree. We expect to harvest full-grown onions over the summer months, or perhaps even in the fall.

Radishes grew to golf-ball-sized proportions, and were harvested and sold at their last farmer's market.

Cauliflower was a popular item at Emerson's last farmer's market. Each large head sold for $4.00.

Broccoli is a very profitable crop. Once the main heads are cut and sold for $3.00 each, Brett's class will be able to harvest secondary, side-springing florets, which can be bagged and sold together at a similar price.

Brussels sprouts are beginning to form marble-shaped buds at the intersections of their stalks and lateral stems.

Purple cabbage is just beginning to form heads.

Chinese cabbage has already been harvested a few times, and it continues to pump out beautiful, large, tender leaves perfect for stir-frying.

Green cabbages will be ready to harvest in time for Saint Patrick's Day!

And then, there were a few pretty surprises of the floral variety.

Johnny Jump Ups are tiny rays of sunshine on a cold winter's day.

We will continue to harvest winter vegetables, most likely, through mid-March, where after we will pull and compost the remaining stragglers that are no longer producing. Our plan is to do spring planting sometime near--surprise!--spring break, with hopes that Brett's students will get to enjoy some of that wonderful summer produce before school ends in mid-June.

Stay tuned for more fresh happenings... in the Emerson Organic Garden.

Foodie Field Trip: Eugene's Social Justice

A few months ago I had the opportunity to visit an old friend. A wonderful friend, close to my heart. The kind of friend who reminds me of who I used to be, and at the same time inspires the person I someday want to become.

Every year I look forward to visiting her, if only for a day. But the problem is, as with any friend, that as time goes on we change. She changes; I change. And after ten years we sometimes hardly recognize each other anymore... which leaves me feeling a little lost, a little forlorn... because my entire life used to center around her, within her. Of course I'm not talking about a person, but a place. My favorite place: Eugene, Oregon.

This is the town where I took my first steps of independence, discovered and nurtured my interests, fell in love with my husband, and made big plans... lots and lots of plans.

It was ten years ago that my husband (then boyfriend) and I packed up everything we owned inside of and on top of two cars, and we drove away from her--from Eugene--to start a new life together in Long Beach, California. In some ways Long Beach reminds me of Eugene: its eclectic population, its energy, its lack of pretense. But in other ways, the two locales couldn't be more opposite: the climate, the environment, life's pace.

And though Long Beach has seemed to stay relatively the same throughout my twenties, Eugene has been transformed, developed dramatically. Most Oregonians herald this progress. As alumni and benefactor Phil Knight (of Nike) pours money into the campus, new super-glitzy structures of steel and glass spring up around East Eugene. There's the new basketball court. And the new baseball facility. Not to mention the new tutoring center for college athletes. These buildings may be modern, they may be expensive, and they may draw more students and serve them well.

But I will always remember what used to be there: a view looking out from my old dorm room towards the Willamette River; a breathtaking planting of daffodils that has since been paved over; an emerald meadow sprinkled with evergreen trees near the football stadium; and the Williams Bakery from which heavenly scents of freshly-baked bread wafted each and every morning of the four years that I lived there. These things are no longer.

Not only the campus community has changed. City-wide, visitors will find revamped shopping centers, monstrous billboards so low to the ground they practically slap you in the face, and space-age sculptural elements. The city has big plans for updating its riverfront property. Roads swerve in different directions around recent construction, and even the road signs are new. My husband and I drive, confusedly, up and down streets that were once second nature, second-guessing our routes and even our destinations. This must be what it feels like to have the beginning stages of Alzheimer's.

Near downtown, at the heart of the city, the largest, most obtrusive structure of all rises up before us suddenly, like a tidal wave. We almost slam on the breaks in surprise as we approach the new Wayne L. Morse U.S. Courthouse. It shimmers and gleams as a few rays of fleeting, evanescent sunlight make their way through the pervasive, Pacific Northwest cloud cover. It looks like something out of Gotham City, not my brick and mortar Eugene of a bygone era.

Eugene's New U.S. Courthouse

We pull over on a [newly paved] side-street adjacent to the building. We stare, wide-eyed, through the passenger-side window, gawking at its monolithic stature for a moment. And then we look to the left.

On the other side of the road, just beyond the shadows of the courthouse, lies something amazing, something beautiful, something completely paradoxical, something organic. Inadvertently, we have parked beside the brand-spanking new Eugene Community Garden.

Eugene Community Garden

I had read about this project a few months before our visit, in an alumni publication I receive. But here it was, still unexpected. A University of Oregon professor had noted this land, sitting blank and unused beside the new courthouse, ripe with potential. With the help of many dedicated students, raised rows were dug, irrigation was laid out and connected to a fresh water supply, and a storage building was erected and fenced off.

Rows upon rows of vegetables grow in stark contrast between the new courthouse and the antiquated, dilapidated riverfront industrial buildings seen in the background.

A View Toward the Riverfront

Demolished hardscape was removed from the site and rests, like horrific haystacks, along the edges of the garden. You can just make them out in the middle, left hand side of the photo above. I assume that this debris will be reused or relocated in the future.

My family huddled in warmth of the car while I got out with my camera and meandered through the snow-sprinkled paths to take a closer look.

In the November cold, Brassicas, like these cabbage below, flourished to gigantic proportions.

Six-foot-tall trellises supported a variety of berry canes. Of course, there were no actual berries to be seen this time of year.

Rows were thickly mulched with fallen leaves and straw, natural resources which are in no short supply in the Willamette Valley.

Strawberry bushes huddled by the hundreds against this concrete wall, which was covered with pea netting (I suppose for spring crops to come). The plants look healthy, despite their light frosting of ice and snow.

In front of the strawberries stood a single line of fruit trees, a mini-linear orchard of apples and stone fruit. I imagine how full and lush this will look when the trees mature. Interestingly, the trees are underplanted with onions.

More onions emerge, nearby, from a straw-mulched, raised bed.

Artichokes cap off the ends of each row with a colorful burst of purple.

There were many more varieties of vegetables growing here, but because I was frozen to the bone after only a few minutes, I did not manage to snap pictures of them all. I recall, however, multitudes of Swiss chard, rhubarb, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, and blueberry bushes. Many of these were ready to harvest.

Off to the side, down a grassy slope and next to a pond of sorts, lies a make-shift gathering place. Metal and plastic lawn chairs and tables are strewn, happenstance, alongside a Weber barbeque and assorted bales of hay. I envision a balmy summer evening here, the sweet perfumey scent of the Willamette Valley in July, college-age gardeners gathering at the end of a long afternoon harvesting vegetables for the local Lane County Food Bank. I see them lounging atop the hay bales, cracking open a cold one, sharing fresh food, relaxed conversation, and the leisurely comraderie of fellow farmers.

If I still lived there, and if I were a little younger, I would probably be one of them. But times change. Places change. People change.

As my head swirled back to reality, I turned to see my patient husband and two beautiful children jumping up and down wildly (the kids, not the husband), waving me back toward the car and my own current reality.

Practically numb with cold, I was picking my way toward the street, through the rows, when I stumbled upon a marker. Looking down, I found a hand-painted stone that said--simply--this:

Between the smoke and mirrors of the new courthouse, and the industrial, river-front reminders of yester-year, lies something wonderful. The Eugene Community Garden is the intersection of the past and the future. It is the embodiment of sustainability. Without trying, it is the most progressive new structure in the city of Eugene. And it didn't even cost $96 million dollars to build.

Now that is social justice.

A Little Squeeze of Summer

You know the old saying, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!" While I subscribe to this philosophy, I can also say that there haven't been a whole lot of lemons in my life lately.

Figuratively, things seem to be sailing along fairly smoothly this year for my family, and I am grateful that we haven't had any major obstacles to overcome in recent months. Knock on wood: I certainly don't want any of THOSE kinds of lemons.

What I do wish for, though, are real lemons, in the literal sense of the word. You know, those sunny yellowish globes hanging heavily from everyone's citrus trees... except mine. Everywhere I look, citrus fruit abounds. Even our backyard neighbors (who have one of the most neglected yards on the block) have hundreds of gorgeous tangerines dripping from their tree, mocking me from the other side of the fence.

It's not that I haven't planted any citrus trees. When we moved into our house six years ago we planted a lime tree immediately. Then a scrawny stick of a thing, the plant itself has flourished to more than ten feet tall and almost as wide. It has finally just begun producing limes worthy of sharing with friends and family.

We also planted a "pink lemonade" tree three years ago after the variety was featured in Sunset magazine. Technically a variegated dwarf Eureka lemon tree, it has just barely begun producing fruit. Last year we got two lemons. This year we have four... despite my diligent feeding and watering. I've been told it just takes a while for citrus trees to really start cranking them out. In the meantime, I'm waiting... and not very patiently.

Eureka lemons

Fortunately, a very sweet student just brought me a paper bag brimming with Meyer lemons from her family's tree. As I set the bag down, lemons spilled across my desk like rays of sunshine. I knew immediately what I was going to do with them.

For the past several days it has been in the high seventies and sunny; my kids and I were going to make fresh-squeezed lemonade. Never mind that it was January. It felt like summer. We kicked on our flip flops and pulled out the juicer.

In the past I've tried a lot of different fresh lemonade recipes, and I've always found them to be a little too sweet, a little too sour, or a little too grainy. It annoys me when the sugar doesn't fully dissolve and, rather, settles at the bottom of the pitcher like a fine silt. Searching online, I finally found this recipe, posted at Simply Recipes. The difference is that you cook the sugar and water into a simple syrup first, which you then add to the lemon juice. This extra step gives it a much smoother texture.

This recipe is definitely not low in sugar (or calories), but it sure goes down easy. Squeeze some up today and you will ALMOST begin to believe it's summer!

"A Little Squeeze of Summer" Lemonade

Ingredients:
1 cup organic sugar
1 cup water (for the simple syrup)
1 cup freshly-squeezed Meyer lemon juice
3-4 cups cold water (to dilute)

Directions:
1. Make a simple syrup by heating the sugar and the first cup of water in a small saucepan on the stove, just until the sugar is dissolved completely. Set aside.

2. Use a juicer to extract the juice from 4-6 lemons, enough for one cup of juice.

3. Add the juice and the simple syrup from your small saucepan to a pitcher. Then, add 3-4 cups of cold water, more or less to taste. Refrigerate 30-40 minutes before serving over ice. Garnish with a sprig of mint if you desire.

Kick back in a lounge chair with a tall glass of lemonade and your shades.
Pretend it's mid-June.
Voila! Instant summer.

Serves six.

Better Late Than Never: Guerilla Dining Recipes

So I promised in August that I would post the recipes from my Guerilla Dining soiree. And then life got busy.

I went back to work. Mason started school. And, of course, we brought home chickens. Naturally.

But I didn't forget about that pledge to share all the delicious details, so here we go.

The first course I served was a simple salad of freshly picked and washed baby greens. I prefer to use sweet, tender, lacy lettuces rather than coarse romaine or spicy arugula for this salad. Harvest your lettuce in the morning so it has the highest moisture content possible.

You may be tempted to add a little more flavor or color by tossing in fresh or grilled veggies, crumbles of cheese, or croutons. But don't. This dressing is delicate and complex at the same time. It brings out the best in your greens, and it will be overwhelmed by any other flavors you try to add.

To prepare this recipe I measure out all the ingredients into a washed Mason jar, top it off with a lid and a sealing ring, screw it all together, and shake vigorously for about ten seconds. Pop it into the refrigerator so the sugar and salt can dissolve and the flavors can bloom and mingle.

When you're ready to serve (within the week) just give the dressing one more quick shake, pour liberally over your fresh greens, toss, and serve. I love this simple salad in the spring or summer, but if you happen to have lots of lettuces growing in your winter garden, you can shake and serve it up tonight!

Citrus Champagne Vinaigrette
This is an adaptation of a white wine vinaigrette recipe I found online. The difference is in the vinegar. I am in love with this vinegar.

Here's a picture of the brand I use. I purchase it at Von's on the top shelf, but you can also order it online through sites such as Sur la table. As an added bonus, this vinegar is produced right here in California!

Ingredients
1/3 cup very fresh vegetable oil (do not substitute olive oil; the flavor is too strong)
1/3 cup citrus champagne vinegar (see brand above)
2 cloves garlic, pressed
1 Tbs. organic "white" sugar (may actually be light brown; do not use brown sugar)
1/2 tsp. salt, preferably kosher
1 pinch ground black pepper

Directions
Measure all ingredients into a small jar. Screw on the lid tightly and shake vigorously. Store in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.

I have no nutritional facts for this dressing, though it's obviously not light in calories, nor is it or sugar-free. However, if one of your New Year's Resolutions is to eat more healthy foods (like veggies and greens), I promise this recipe will have you going back to the salad bowl for seconds... and maybe even thirds.

Enjoy!

I Dream of Spring

A New Year brings hope, a fresh start, a clean slate. Resolutions abound. "Maybe this year I'll finally [fill in the blank]," we think to ourselves!

At the risk of sounding like a pessimist, I have to admit I've kind of given up on my traditional New Year's Resolutions, which have typically involved a) losing weight or b) organizing my home.

After a decade of miserably failed resolutions, I have come to terms with the fact that I will never again look like I did in college, and my "junk" drawer in the kitchen will never look like the pristine and attractive ones in the pages of Real Simple or Better Homes and Gardens.

And I'm okay with that. Because in my mind January means something even more exciting: the promise of spring.

"Spring?" you ask.
"We're in the middle of winter!"

Well of course we are--you are right--but if you are a gardener, seasoned or fledgling, this is the time of year you begin to make big plans for your little patch of earth. For me, that means pulling out my most trusted gardening books, magazines, seed catalogues, and last year's garden journal.

I will scatter them around me like fallen leaves.
I will make lists of the vegetables and fruits I want to grow.
I will research new varieties I might like to try.
I will order whatever garden supplies I may need come March.

Now, this is not to imply that my raised beds are sitting empty and untended at the moment. Quite the contrary, they are pumping out the hardy staples of winter: broccoli, cauliflower, Swiss chard, kale, Chinese cabbage, green onions, etc.

Nevertheless, I dream of spring. Spring is the time of rebirth, of new possibilities. It is the time to wipe the slate clean and start anew.

So if you've been considering starting a garden this year, or expanding your current patch, I encourage you to start planning now. Whether you'd like to try to build a raised bed in your sprawling yard, or just add a few pots of tomatoes and basil on your pocket-sized patio, you can take the first step toward helping your family eat and live more sustainably.

Think big but start small.

Dream a little dream of spring... with me.

First Taste of Freedom

Our girls are getting big quickly--and conversely, their cardboard condo seems to be getting smaller! While there's still plenty of room for our four pullets to peck around, I have to say it's becoming a little smooshy in there.

I think I probably know how they feel. It's like when all four members of my family are trying to brush teeth in our one, pint-sized bathroom--simultaneously. And there is only one mirror.

Penelope, Serafina, Lillian, and Esther are gaining not just in size, but in attitude. And why wouldn't they? After all, for all poultry intents and purposes they're practically teenagers!

My husband has been very dedicated to building their hen house, but between Christmas, a trip to Mariposa, the rain, and the flu--well-- it's definitely still a work in progress.

So we finally had a beautiful, sunny day. I decided the girls were due for their first taste of freedom. I carried them from their condo, two at a time, to our backyard, where Mason was dedicatedly keeping an eye out for our farm cats.

Penelope and Serafina had their outdoor time first. Aren't they so much larger than before? Their feathers have really come in; they hardly have any fuzz left at all.

As they hudled together and took tentative steps through the damp grass, they looked like real chickens! Not that they weren't real before. They just look a little more wild out in the open, don't you think?

The funny thing was that they didn't like the feel of the grass on the bottoms of their feet. They kept lifting their legs to examine the ground beneath them.

"Where am I?" Serafina Sweets seemed to ask me.

Next it was Esther's turn. She stayed close by my side, cocking her head this way and that in worried confusion.

Lillian, now the largest and heaviest of the four, at first seemed a little more confident than the others. She scratched a bit at the earth, and even clipped off the top of one blade of grass with her beak before she suddenly had a change of heart...

...and ran up one arm to perch on my shoulder!

You know what this means?
My chickens are chicken!

I guess I'll have to schedule some more supervised backyard playtime for these gals before they make that big leap from dining room digs to the great outdoors.