It seems that last week the honeymoon period here on the range had a not so smooth crash landing. My spirit broke daily from having to walk into work at a steakhouse, and Josh’s spirit desperately choked from this dusty barn that can’t quite seem to make sense yet as a shop. And these overwhelming feelings of heaviness in the brain continually reminded us that: We Need A Yurt. Stat. Winter looms, the mornings already falling below forty degrees; the frost predicting flowers that have bloomed six weeks before frost for decades and decades last week began showing their yellow blossoms. Lovely.

And then we had the opportunity to attend a conference within the Wyoming state line called Living and Working on the Land. We drove four hours over a remote and beautiful highway, eyes peeled looking for bighorn sheep (to no avail), reaching a delicious evening of acoustic music, local food, and our very own hotel room. The two days that followed were full of amazing speakers, wonderful local farmers and ranchers, and great time spent thinking that perhaps this ranching project of ours might have some validity to it after all. You know, it can be real exhausting to think to yourself hour after hour, day after oppressing day, that you are an anomaly, a being of extraordinary strangeness that will just not ever fit into this wild and rustic west. But we met others who’s eyes shine when you say the words, “diversity!”, “sustainability!”, and “rotational grazing!”. And now the real challenge comes with finding a way to remember that we are not alone, we are not being unreasonable dreamers, and that we just might be able to be successful with ranching while simultaneously bringing greater health to this soil and all who subsist on it.

We met Joel Salatin, leader of all things unconventional and diverse in farming. All ears perched as the audience took in his every authentic word, spoken with the unapologetic intensity of a robed and animated preacher. Who knew in this contemporary day and age it would take a farmer to stand up and speak the truth to the connections of health, food, government, politics, family, and land values. One of our favorite topics addressed by Joel was about how new ideas and growth come from disturbance. He speaks of not only how disturbance of the soil brings new growth (thus the importance of grazing animals on the land), but how allowing our false economy to crumble, thus using human capabilities to exercise and design a higher level of ecology. Innovation will arise. Joel’s Polyface Farm in Virginia works to improve the soil while providing food to a great number of people in his local community, all while teaching and employing a substantial number of well-compensated young people; young people who will take this knowledge and exponentially touch cities and rural lands alike. And as Joel said at the conference, “We are all more similar than we are different. We all eat.”

We also were fortunate enough to have an engaging conversation with rancher and writer Diane Peavey. On an evening trip to Table Mountain Vineyards Winery, we waited in the buffet line for locally produced burgers on a stick (for real) with Diane and heard some of her amazing stories about her sheep ranch in Idaho. She listened to our bit of bitchy banter about the struggles involved when two young people leave a yuppy university town and end up in a western town with the state’s severest reputation, all while not having a very good plan for how soon and very soon a yurt will be built. She thought it was hilarious and hopeful, repeatedly saying that the best marketing any of us at the conference could possibily do is to tell our stories. Tell your stories. And ah, if there’s one thing this Wyoming family has, it’s stories. And if we can only hold on to our wacky sense of humor, oh the stories we can tell of this beginning, slightly ungraceful and definitely uncomfortable, period of learning to walk despite the badger holes at our feet and battering wind at our backs.

It’s crazy how intimidating new things like saving seeds can seem. But perhaps it will be like many other things… once done, simple to repeat.

This year I let all my lettuce bolt (see varieties mentioned in the previous post. Also grown this spring was Italian Lacinato nero Toscana Kale, an heirloom variety). Sadly my hands were full with fermenting and canning projects, so gardening and growing were not on the top of the priority list. Instead we chose to enjoy the colors and shapes in the lettuces, allowing them to grow and flower once they were bitter and no longer edible.

These bolted adolescent lettuces seem to be seeking not only acceptance but a chance for the next generation to survive! I’m finding it difficult to find consistent information on saving lettuce seed. Any suggestions on how to save the seeds from our Butterhead Speckles lettuce?

The description on this Butterhead Speckles lettuce package from Botanical Interests, Inc. is appealing: An heirloom that originated from the Mennonites who brought it with them from Germany and Holland over 200 years ago.

Here’s some info that I’m guessing is pretty accurate,
found on highmowingseeds.com:


Seed Saving Instructions for Lettuce:
Self-pollinated. Lettuce varieties will not cross pollinate with each other even at short distances, but beware of any wild lettuce which can cross with lettuce. Allow plants to “bolt” and eventually flower. Under wet conditions lettuce plants may need to be covered with a rain cover or grown in a greenhouse to prevent fungus from infecting the plant and seed heads. Carefully shake the seedheads into a paper bag to allow the mature seeds to be collected while leaving the immature seeds and flowers to keep growing. Gather every few days until no more seeds remain. Also, you can simply harvest the entire plant when about half of the seeds are mature and allow the rest to mature inside by standing up the plants in a box and on a cloth or tarp. Use an 1/8″ screen to help with cleaning. Lettuce seed can remain viable for 3 years under cool and dry storage conditions

Today was a day to not leave the house. When I looked at the weather on-line, trying to decide if I would overheat if I went jogging, there was a mass splotch of green plodding along towards Ann Arbor. I gauged that I had about three and a half minutes before the skies opened and I would be saturated. This meant no running, but a prime chance to plant the fall lettuce seeds that have been haunting me, secure in their packages. This week was somewhat dreadful, long and lame, mostly work with little play. So when I realized that the rain was marching forward, destined to drench, I grabbed the packets of seeds, pulled at the bolted spring lettuce, made shallow trenches, and planted four different greens: Bright Lights Swiss Chard, Correnta Spinach, Butterhead Speckles Lettuce, and Bon Vivant Spicy Mesclun.

Today was successful. I didn’t leave the house, and finally the pestering seeds, anxious in their packets, were placed in the ground to grow tasty and colorful.

Josh and I bought these funny little Mexican mushrooms at market yesterday. They’re only Mexican because the culture there has embraced the fungus as an edible delicacy. The actual home where these huitlacoches grew was on the corn found at Tantre Farm in Chelsea, MI.

Aren’t they goofy? I’m a tad afraid of their slipperiness on my tongue, but they were affordable so worth the experiment. Before you know it these gourmet little truffles will be $29 a pound. Josh has some pretty serious ambitions for these guys, and I think he will be inspired by some of these sites: Professor introduces unusual edible fungus to Madison, Corn Fungus Tamales: Tamales de Huitlacoche, and this information straight from Mexico.

Would you, could you, try these? They are fascinating.

We grew these in our backyard garden of weeds. They are absolutely delicious- nutty and sweet. Last night for dinner we cleaned out the fridge, foraging red peppers, red onions, parsley, lemon, green beans, and these carrots. A savory couscous was in store, accompanied by homemade yogurt and pita from the mediterranean bakery down the street. We also steamed the homegrown carrots and beans, then tossed them with chervil and butter. The picture below is the meal recreated for lunch today. The taboule salad is on a bed of greens with a touch of balsamic and dijon mustard, raw broccoli, and an egg hard boiled.

Taboule Salad
About 1 and 1/4 cup dry couscous, mixed with 1/2 cup boiling water. Add about 1/3 of a cup extra virgin olive oil, 1/3 of a cup lemon juice and stir completely. Cover the mixture and let sit for about 5 minutes. Fluff the whole batch with a fork. Add any fresh things in your fridge. Try bell pepper, tomato, carrot, onion, celery, even fennel, but to be somewhat authentic you must add at least 4TB of chopped parsley. You won’t even need to add S&P- at least we didn’t. Toss lightly and refrigerate for a bit for all the flavors to meld and set. Fluff before serving.

Oh, and the jar in the background is pickled beans and zucchini with basil. That recipe will come soon.

Does anyone know what’s going on with my Orange Banana tomatoes? I started these from seed and then gave several plants to a few friends, and it seems mine are the only ones that are ill. Hmm. I didn’t plant them in the same place as I planted tomatoes last year, so I really don’t know what nasty bug has my plants in this sincerely despicable twist of fate.

On the other hand, my Sainte Lucies and Green Velvets are flourishing (no pictures).