I just returned from Alt Summit, a business conference for pioneering and rookie bloggers held last week in Salt Lake City. It was unlike any conference I've attended and I look forward to sharing some of the good stuff in my next post. But for now, indulge me for a moment to gush about one aspect of this conference that really stood out. The flowers! They were everywhere, used to creative effect in unexpected places and generally lending a dreamy and luscious quality to the whole event. All of the young lovelies in attendance adorned themselves with flowers and I felt like I was at a midsummer festival in Scandinavia. It was girly and wonderful.
All photos by Justin Hackworth and Brooke Dennis.
Everyone has an opinion, ya know? Recently, our third son Atticus (pictured above), critiqued our Instagram content. βItβs getting stale,β he said in that blithe manner typical of an apartment dweller with three houseplants. βNo interesting stories,β he said, βand you posted four photos of Heather in a row.β
Today on the blog Iβm sharing Laurentideβs most popular lemon honey salad dressing. Scroll down to the bottom of the post for the recipe.
Good grief, twenty teenagers? Yes, our chickens have reached that pubescent stage where their feet are growing faster than their bodies, their voices are cracking, and in accordance with their hairy Persian and Colombian owners, theyβve sprouted unattractive facial feathers. Theyβre now old enough to venture outdoors into a little fenced area where theyβre learning to hunt and peck in the grass. Weβve propped a couple ramps leading through a trap door. Making their way down the plank in the morning, theyβre out of control and gangly, like thirteen-year-olds on a dance floor.
Itβs been nearly two growing seasons since we named our farm Laurentide, after the prehistoric ice sheet that sculpted this valley more than 12,000 years ago. Since that naming, weβve talked about a brand identity that could elevate our farmerβs market stand and our website.
I cannot describe to you the way we feel about salad. Weβre mad to grow it, mad to eat it, and mad to talk about it. Every night, one of us walks down the basement stairs to the cooler and fills a bowl with fresh greens. One of us throws some oil, acid, salt, and mustard into the Vitamix. One of us roasts some nuts or blasts some chickpeas. One of us chops some veggies. And every night, there is not enough salad.
This Ameraucana chick (pictured above) has become my favorite. Maybe because she looks like an owl and I want to prop wee little spectacles on her beak. Maybe because Iβm super excited about the blue eggs she will lay, hopefully by the end of summer. She is easygoing and perches on my hand without any fuss.
We havenβt really named anyone yetβ we want to wait until their personalities become more clear. A friend told me when she was a kid, she was not allowed to name a chicken because that meant it couldnβt go away to βFreezer Camp.β Lol, none of ours are packing their mosquito nets for Freezer Camp. Theyβll all eventually get names.
In the episode βLucy Raises Chickens,β Lucy and Ricky, new residents of Westport, Connecticut, find life in the country to be pricier than they expect. Their electric bill is $18.75, βsplain that if you can! But this is 1957 when fresh eggs are going for 75 cents a dozen, so the Ricardos decide to raise chickens to defray costs. Fred is hired as the chicken tender and all seems perfectly normal. Then silly Lucy impulsively orders 500 chicks before the coop is ready, and hilarity ensues.
Two years ago, when my father-in-law got in trouble with a knee replacement, we found ourselves making frequent trips to visit him. We had closed on this agricultural property by then but hadnβt yet made any concrete plans for the future. You can imagine how we suddenly paid very close attention to all the farms we passed en route through Iowa and Illinois. We wondered about furrows, and the uniform distance between them. We noticed flags on the sides of some Harvestores, but not others. We took note of fencing and pole barns. But mostly, we stared at the miles of farmland underwater.
Whatβs a pandemic winter good for if not to watch birds, solve crosswords, and research your local history. As Iβve whined many times, weβve no TV out here, so this is how we get our jollies. Letβs just say if you click off this blog post right now to go search for Lady Gagaβs dog, I am okay with that.
The road in the photo above is Kettle Moraine Scenic Drive. It cuts through our little town of Monches, home to the Ox and Cat Saloon, a ball park, a church, an old mill, and a mill pond that is very popular with fishermen. If you need milk, gas, smokes, pretty much anything that isnβt pizza, beer, or the word of God, you have to drive another fifteen minutes.
Todayβs blog post is a photo dump of an ongoing project that has been underway since Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson got Covid. Do you all remember those bleak days of March 2020? Our son Walter and his partner Heather had been forced to return from jobs working at an eco-village in Thailand. As the four of us sheltered in place at Laurentide, we would take breaks from our rectangles of doom and walk around the perennial fields thinking, βCan we eat irises?β