Springy Things & Upswings

Today I went foraging for breakfast. Inspired by a recipe in Edible Grand Traverse magazine for poached eggs over wilted greens, I began in the garden where I found overwintered gifts of spinach, kale, parsley, onion tops and lettuce. 

As I snipped the bright green spinach leaves, they were as buoyant as the mood overtaking us overwintered humans at this time of year.

Grocery store produce does not have that same quality, that same feeling between my fingers of ... what's the right word?

“Springy-ness” comes to mind. 

"Life force” jumps in next. These freshly-picked greens have a spirit that has long left the body of standard grocery store fare. 

It feels so good to be in the garden, I regret that my first cup of coffee wasn't enjoyed here.  Alas, table and chairs are still hibernating in the barn.  I mentally add this to the task list I’m preparing for my brief reign on Mother’s Day. 

Scanning the other beds I snip only the green tops of onions. The sight of soggy bulbs would spoil this reverie and I have already had to block the image of the cat's gift on the pathway. 

Today's remains were a robin's in the exact location as yesterday's field mouse. I'm am struck by a mulitple gratitudes: for the cat's gesture and ingenuity, the absence of house mice and the wheel of life that spins this little farmstead. 

A quick lap around the yard yields a fistful of dandelion greens and daffodils.

Back at the kitchen I run icy cold water over my bounty, quickly sealing some for a vase and a pot. I amuse myself over the thought that I just poached some water to poach an egg poached from the chickens.

In the time it takes for the pot to boil on our old electric stove, I can journal in front of an audience of approving daffodils. 

I couldn't ask for a better start to the day. 

And I couldn't ask for a better life than living year-round in Benzie County. 

Don't tell anyone. 

I am not a proponent of a year round economy. 

I love the seasonal swings; 

the abundance and the dormancy;

the wittling down of non-essentials

to the essentials. 

I glance out the window 

to see if the emerging green has begun to block my view of the Betsie River

One of winter’s many gifts. 

It’s hard to tell without the contrast of white snow, 

and for a nano-second I miss it.

Let The Great World Spin

Deja vu at the Cabbage Shed. Bodies crammed on the dance floor shaking the joint.  The two of us on stage together.

http://youtu.be/ngfqIHJlI1A



My biggest concern wasn't screwing up the chords or the lyrics (I already knew I was going to do that.) I was just hoping to grope my way back into 'the zone'.

All of this was happening in a fundraiser on our behalf.  Soon after Paul's cancer diagnosis,  I received a call from our dear friend Kelly Luedtke. She wanted to cash in a 'credit' she had with musician Jake Allen to host a fundraiser for Paul. The Luedtke and May families have a deep, multi-generational connection. And Kelly's brother, Kim Fairchild, was itching to make Cincinatti Chili for a crowd.  So Kelly was joined by Anna Mallien,  Monica Evans and DeAnne Loll and a wonderful name emerged: Let the Great World Spin!

Here's what Paul had to say about the Jake Allen Band: "They're as fearless as they are talented - and familiar with their parents' record collections!"

Jake Allen https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SO4PPGzX_ns    

Their set was followed by an Open Mic where Paul got to play a few songs with former musician friends. For us, it didn't feel like a fundraiser.  It felt like the good old days when we used to rock this place!

350 Dependents

U. of M. Hospital doctors and nurses are a tough crowd. Our jokes about needing to leave so we could tend to our 350 dependents totally bombed. While Paul was hospitalized and over the next few months we knew we would need to rely on the kindness of friends and family to run the farm.

We cut down on the work load by downsizing the homestead livestock populations. The kid goats were shipped off to Carl Zupin's farm, reducing the herd to a manageable two milking does. And the Weed Quackers (ducks in the garden) were ecstatic about the upgrade to Neighbor Dave's pond. 

Fencing Work Bee

Reward: May Farm O-Mega Dogs

The next task was to recruit many hands to make light work of running the farm through the end of the 2013 pasture season (October).

May Farm Help Wanted emails and posts went viral. Volunteers were solicited for 1-2 shifts per week. Fencing and barn cleaning work bees were organized. Sign-up sheets were brought to church. A weekly schedule was posted.

In no time the slots were filled.

Homestead chores commence at 6:30 a.m. and 4:30 p.m. with feeding, watering and milking dairy goats. This is when the barn kitties line up for their freshly squeezed paychecks. 

The milk is either brought into the house to be strained and bottled or put aside to "culture". This  probiotic-infused mixture is added to non-GMO, local chicken feed for extra nutrition. 

A periodic homestead job is feeding and watering 50-75 baby broiler chicks. Multiple times throughout the season we receive a phone call from the post office notifying us when the peeping package has arrived. Like seedlings, the chicks must be "hardened off" for a few weeks before being put on pasture. During that time neighbor Dave Sorensen was the baby chick nursery attendant 7 days a week, twice a day.

Pasture chores include feeding, watering and moving chicken tractors with 50 broiler chckens each. This was 13 year old, Gabe Johnson's summer job. He also fed, watered and collected eggs from 100 laying hens. Gabe lives within biking distance and worked 5 days and 3 evenings each week. However, while Paul was stuck in Ann Arbor he covered every shift, enlisting the help of the Oberski family.


When it comes to the bigger feat of "haying" , watering and moving beef and lambs to a fresh paddock each day, we relied on three "Head Honchos". Charlie McDaniel of Charlie's Natural Food Market had prior experience running his own grass-fed cattle ranch in Africa. Custer Carland would like his own farm someday. Finally our son Avery could usually hoodwink a few of his friends to help out.

The biggest windfall was the arrival of interns Frederik Stig-Nielsen and Betsy Mas sent our way via local artist Mike Farmer. After graduating from law school and signing up for the Peace Corps, they wanted to gain farm experience. They turned to relative Mike Farmer for ideas and joined the ranks of interns who showed up on our doorstep before them, including an Interlochen Arts Academy Creative Writing grad, Ann Richardson, yogini-farmer, Karen Storms-Rohn, a horticulture student/musician, and more. 

All in all, 15 people shared the chores that Paul did 7 days a week, twice a day before and after his supplemental job helping at the small plant where we process our meats. 

I will close with a big Thank You to our farm hands: Custer Carland, Charlie and Wendy McDaniel, Neighbor Dave (Sorensen), Gabe Johnson, John Manrow, Lisa Richter, Renee Herman, Ireland Sutter, Meg Louwsma, Kimm Jayne,  Monica Schultz, Al Flory, Joe Frederick, Ann and Norm Holm, Peg and Wayne Dunn, Lorna Mason,  Judy Bosma, Jim Olsen, Karen Roberts,  Emily Votruba, Anna Sangemino, Avery May, Levi Hubbard, Shayla Soto and other Frankfort youth, Frederik Stig-Nielsen and Betsy Mas families,  Penny Nelson, Alan and Gerry Chinavere, Anne Rogers, Leslie Hamp, Julie Laporte, Erik Kinzinger, Dennis Pace, Thomas Hirsch, Jenn Ryan,  Kimm and Thom Jayne, Rob Burtch, Robin Willband-Snow, Kelly Luedtke, John and Karen Storms-Rohn, John Vinkemulder, Rob Burch, the Gergosians, Kathy Zalar and and uncountable others.

The May Farm Pilot Pasture Video

The May Farm Pilot Pasture Video

Isaac Ryan McKinnon's mother shared this story with me.

Isaac was complaining.

"Why can't we be normal like other families and have Doritos in the cupboard? 

No one else's parents care about eating healthy food 

or the planet."

"That can't be true," Christina challenged.


"There must be ONE other parent who cares about healthy food and the planet!


"Alright," Isaac conceded, "Avery's mom," adding after further consideration "and Olivia's mom".

Olivia Buzzell and Isaac Ryan McKinnon and Avery May went to the Waldorf-inspired pre-school and early grades program together. 

They all eventually landed at Frankfort schools, lucky to have each other to commiserate with over the shame of Dorito-less cupboards 

and Waldork parents 

who cared too much about healthy food and the planet.

Miraculously, they survived. 

And Olivia, now 16,  made this video about The May Farm.

OB a n d C o . 

OBandCoProductions@gmail.com

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OB and Co. Productions 1716 Pilgrim Hwy Frankfort, MI 49635

Tooth Fairy, Busted

I wasn't there when Paul told Avery about the cancer. 

Naturally, I wondered how he reacted. 

"Well, his face had the same look on it as the day he found out there wasn't a tooth fairy" s

aid the Master of Understatement.  

But then it all came back to me. 

A prominent debate between pre-school Believers and Disbelievers, 

when questioned, I mechanically fell back on my mother's answer. 

"Well, I believe in [fill in the blank] "  

That worked until second grade, 

the day the Tooth Fairy slept in.  

Once busted, she spitefully took down the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus with her.

The whole think fell like Dominoes,

the last one being that parents were Big, Fat, Total Liars.

Recently in a quiet moment Avery shared his perspective about the Cancer. 

I bet it pretty much summed up his take on The Tooth Fairy thing, too.  

"Things are really different now, aren't they?"  

I explained that the good/bad news is that we're not destitute enough to get assistance 

but if we do get destitute, there's assistance. 

That we won't go hungry but may have to acquire a taste for government cheese. 

That we will probably get to keep our house. 

And if we lose it all, we will get to start all over on a New Adventure!







He offered to cover his own expenses, starting with school clothes. 

A few weeks into 16 and he's already supporting himself on a seasonal job at El Berto's Taqueria.

I'm soothed by the gesture and the thought of guacamole until October. 

I think back to how well he manned up to take care of the farm 

for the 3 days his Dad was unexpectedly hospitalized in Ann Arbor. 

A series of unfortunate events unfurled as a consequence:

the cancellation of the final test to get a driver's license; 

and even worse, a ferocious thunderstorm on the pasture that killed his smart phone. 

A 16-year old without a cell phone? 

Spurning our empty house and the law, 

he drove unlicensed to cousin Anna and Zoe's doorstep. 

When Anna called me at the hospital he was snuggled on the couch with Zoe 

and a bowl of chicken noodle soup, 

watching a movie.  

This mother of a law breaker 

breathed a sigh of relief 

and gratitude. 

Best Summer Ever

His popularity had sky-rocketed over the last school year. His social calendar was overflowing. 

Movies

bonfires on the beach

camp outs

a trip to 6 Flags

sleep-overs

a driver's license....


Yep, Avery was having his "best summer ever".  

It hasn't always been that way. 

.

Besides being geographically isolated, it took him awhile to shed the "goat boy" image

It has plagued him since the switch from a Waldorf home school group to 

the Frankfort Public School system. 

A set of oddball parents didn't help any. 

But a great sense of humor triumphs 

over geography

goats 

and genes. 


Avery discovered this truth at my expense, 

keeping a straight face while scolding him

is nearly impossible. 

It is so wrong

that being manipulated by rib-tickling 

is such a tolerable offense. 




There were too many unanswered questions 

about the type, stage, prognosis and plan

to spoil Avery's  Best Summer Ever. 

So we preserved that and "normal" for as long as possible 

by not telling anyone. 

Could I really make it through a two hour appointment

with one of my dearest clients without spilling the beans? 

I discovered that I could. 

And that the rhythm and creative outlet 

provided by my work in the salon 

and by the farm 

was comforting ground to stand on.  

And I discovered something else. 

That I / we 

did not have to be defined by this.