Apocalypse Farm

Food Is Love

There are two kinds of food love, the kind that fixes a loved one’s favorite dishes, and the kind that makes sure loved ones are getting all the nutrients they need. Both are important, whether you’re feeding your human loves or your animal family.

I must be pretty good on the nutrition part. I have a 15-year-old chicken who gets greens and mealworms along with her pellets. Then there are the 14 and 15-year-old cats, whose feedings are as complicated as a newborn’s.

The cats regularly threw up the dry food I’d been feeding them for years. I transitioned to food for cats with digestion issues, and they threw that up, too. I switched them to pates, small portions several times a day, after researching which ones could satisfy their nutrient requirements. There’s still the occasional upchuck, but it’s no longer a daily cleanup chore. It’s a chore, nonetheless. I’ll take care of them and love them as long as they’re around, but I’ve decided no more cats.

When Dale and I got married, he assumed I was a good cook because I could make biscuits and gravy. He didn’t know that most of my repertoire was made up of experiments that I perfected for one of the many columns I wrote for the PERKINS JOURNAL. Maybe he was also swayed by my first book, a collection of interviews I did for the JOURNAL, each of which ended with the interviewee’s favorite recipe.

I was not a spectacular cook, and I never will be, but with a family to feed, I got better. And with all my nutrition research, their diets got healthier. The healthy part didn’t always go down well. Dale sure misses the biscuits and gravy, but he doesn’t need all that white flour and fat. That doesn’t mean I can’t make biscuits as an occasional treat.

I feed my family because I love them, but we need to spread the love. If we want to make a real difference in the world, what’s a better place to start than making sure the families in our communities are fed?

Does your community have a food bank? Do your local churches offer food assistance? Does your school provide nutritious meals, breakfasts and lunches, for everyone, regardless of their ability to pay? If not, is there something you can do to help?

I believe in public education for every child. If we want kids to be prepared to learn, they need to start the day with a full belly, with food that meets their nutritional needs. What if we spent as much money and time on free, healthy meals for our school kids as we do on sports? Don’t get me wrong; I think sports are an important learning tool, but if we put as much emphasis on our school cafeterias, and if we make sure students who can’t pay aren’t singled out, who knows what new sports star could come of it, or a new thinker, a new artist?

If you’re one of the lucky ones, donate to your local pantries. If you believe that free, healthy meals should be available in our public schools, write your legislators and tell them so. Do it for love.

The Last of the Pontiac Reds

Featured by sharonedgemartin

I just steamed the last of the lovely red potatoes I grew in my garden this spring, and it made me think of my Grandma Edge and her potato supply. She raised several long rows of potatoes in her garden on the east bank of Buck Creek. She kept the potatoes and the produce she canned in the storm shelter that was connected to the house by a breezeway. Her potatoes lasted into the winter. Mine don’t.

There’s two reasons mine don’t last. Pontiac Reds are one of my favorite potatoes, and they are early spouters. Also, I don’t grow nearly as many potatoes as Grandma did.

Grandma had help. There was a tractor to plow the long stretch of garden beside the creek. And when it came time to harvest, the potatoes were uncovered before family members went down to the creek with Grandma to gather them in. This potato gathering is one of my fondest memories. It may be why I grow my own potatoes when potatoes are always available at the grocery store. But I do like growing new varieties, discovering their textures and their tastes.

This year I got an inkling of what happens when something interferes with the potato harvest. Oklahoma weather is iffy. You never know if container gardening or in-ground gardening will be best. This year, the potatoes I planted in the ground produced almost nothing. I could blame moles, but I saw no sign of digging. I got a good crop from my containers, so I’m inclined to think it had something to do with the soil. A fungus, maybe?

My containers are old stock tanks. I drilled holes in the bottoms and filled them with good soil. I got enough potatoes from the containers to keep me to fall and to share a few with a friend.

Next year, I’ll dig new in-ground potato beds and see if I have better luck. I’ll plant King Harrys and Yukon Golds along with the Pontiac Reds to see if one variety is more successful than the other. I might even give in and start testing my garden soil like my friend, Phyllis, has been urging me to do. I’ll never be as self sufficient as my grandparents were, but I can do better. As I learn more, I’ll keep you posted.

Are We Back to Normal Yet?

Featured by sharonedgemartin

That depends on what you call normal. Oklahoma’s weather has always been a challenge. The natives who were forced here on the Trail of Tears called it “the place where it’s too hot in summer and too cold in winter.”

We could usually depend on spring and fall tornado season, though. Rain was hit or miss, but it was spread out across the seasons. To quote an author I can’t name but whose lines have stuck with me for years: “We average 27 inches of rain a year, but I’ve never known an average year.”

Rainfall patterns have changed. Oklahoma has known droughts before, but we seem to be evolving into a place where rains come as monsoons separated by long periods of no rain at all.

Last year, we had 15 inches of rain in a single month, that’s more than a third of the year’s average. This year, we had day after day after day of rain, but the rain was so light that the inches didn’t add up. Still, unlike last year, the tomatoes flourished. My pantry is full of the little Juliets that I can whole for winter salads and the Park Whoppers that I dice and can for winter soups, thanks to my friend, Phyllis, one of the most productive gardeners I know.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not a great gardener. I can’t take the heat, so I neglect my garden in the hottest part of the summer. But I still manage to can and freeze and prepare. And what I’ve discovered during the last few painful years is that life goes on, and a full pantry takes away some of the worry.

I still see masks in the grocery store and understand, there are vulnerable people trying to go about their schedules. I go to the gym, and we hold our breaths when someone in our yoga or Tai Chi class is out sick. But life goes on, in the gym, in my kitchen, and in my garden.

What’s That Got to Do with the Price of Eggs?

September 27, 2023 by sharonedgemartin

I have one lonely chicken in my coop. Chickens are flock animals, and I feel guilty keeping Bessie here alone. She’s an English Creel, a bantam who roosts in the rafters of the coop. She’s at least fifteen years old, the only chicken left of the ten bantam pullets I ordered from Cackle Hatchery all those years ago.

She comes running when I walk toward the aptly-named run, the run that’s the reason I have only one chicken. It needs to be rebuilt. The framework is falling in, but Bessie’s still secure beneath the sagging chicken-wire cover. I could keep her in a cage while we’re rebuilding, but the plan was to let the last flock I bought as chicks live out their lives before we rebuilt. I didn’t expect them to live 13 years, 14 years, and in Bessie’s case, 15 years.

Meanwhile, I’m buying eggs from friends who have their small flocks. I don’t argue about the price, unless they charge too little. I know how much it costs to maintain chickens. Even when the pandemic and bird flu drove up the costs of eggs, they were still a bargain.

I understand that four and five-dollar eggs hurt the budgets of those whose budgets are already stretched thin. Still, a dozen eggs provides a family of four with 18 grams of protein each. So would a pound of beans. Eggs and beans can help stretch food dollars. And there’s good news on the inflation front. At my local dollar store, eggs sell for less than two dollars a dozen.

Would chickens in family yards be less likely to succumb to bird flu? Maybe we could start a chickens in every yard campaign, as they did during World War II. We would also need a nonprofit to build secure runs and tight coops in people’s back yards. We could call it Habitat for Poultry. I guess we could also teach people to make chicken stew when their old hens are no longer laying.

Meanwhile, I keep feeding Bessie and she keeps running to the gate to greet me. I’d like to think I could do the right thing if she were an essential source of nutrition for my family, but I just don’t know. She’s like a member of the family now.

Vegan Questions

October 14, 2020 by sharonedgemartin

It has been another educating year in my garden and kitchen. Now I’m back at the keyboard with the questions I’ve been mulling all summer.

If you’ve read HOW NOT TO DIE by Michael Greger, you are familiar with his Daily Dozen. If you are not familiar with his work, here is a link to an invaluable tool to help vegans make sure they get their daily nutrients.

After a year of eating a vegan diet, and eleven months of being cancer free, I’m pretty sure I’m vegan for life. The Daily Dozen has helped me stay on track, but I still have questions. And a new insight: No matter what eating lifestyle you subscribe to, you have to be flexible. The pandemic has made that perfectly clear.

No, I’m not eating animal products, except for an occasional spoonful of honey. But I’m able to get a B-12 shot twice a month. At my clinic, the nurse comes to the parking lot, checks my temperature and other vitals, and brings the shot to me. What if I didn’t have an accommodating healthcare provider? What if?

This morning, I made a decision. If I am ever in a place where I can’t get my bimonthly shot, I will choose to eat a boiled egg two or three times a week. B12 is a necessary nutrient, and meat eaters’ best defense. I won’t shame anyone’s choices. I just want to make good choices for myself.

If getting a shot is harder during a pandemic, so is stocking fresh produce. Lucky for me, I have a garden and so do my friends. We trade and share, so we’ve all had enough squash, okra, tomatoes, and cucumbers. Green beans were hard to come by, though, and no one had fresh lettuce. No cabbage, either! Cruciferous vegetables are hard to grow here. We’ve eaten well, but even if my day includes 15 servings of fruits and vegetables, I haven’t always hit every item on the Daily Dozen.

What if I sprout seeds to replace greens? Do broccoli sprouts count as greens or are they cruciferous? Are bean sprouts beans or greens?

Berries are another issue. I have Goji berries and blackberries in the back yard, but not enough to keep me through the summer, much less the year. And because the food chain has been broken in places, there were times this year when there were no frozen berries in the grocery store freezer case.

Do tomatoes count as berries? How about raisins?

How do you classify potatoes? Sure, they’re a root vegetable, but they are starchy. Is sweet corn a vegetable or a grain?

Maybe all I need to do is eat as many colors as I can and as many fruits and vegetables as I can grow or find close to home. Maybe I need to learn how to forage for wild greens. I know they’re out there because I pull them for my chickens.

Yeah, I know! A vegan with chickens and a whole lot of questions!

Gardening in the Weeds

June 6, 2020June 6, 2020 by sharonedgemartin

Weeds choke out the roots of your cultivated plants. Right? But is there a place for weeds in your garden? I guess it depends on what you call weeds.

I’ve planted things in my garden that have taken over. Lemon Balm? I have enough for everyone in town. Chickens like the fresh leaves, and it makes a good tea. It makes the house smell good, too. Strawberries escaped from a raised bed a few years ago and took over a twenty-foot stretch. In years with a wet spring, there are enough strawberries to freeze a few. In dry years, like this one, the turtles get more of them than I do.

I planted hyssop for the bees, one plant. I now have a hyssop bed. But I also have bees and butterflies, and this is what has prompted me to find a way to live with the easy spreaders. This year, the spreader is swamp milkweed from seeds I planted last fall.

The solution is lots of straw in winter over areas where I want to plant vegetables. In spring I create boundaries in which to build up good soil on top of the straw. This year, I cut the bottoms out of plastic swimming pools and made potato beds. The plants are big and healthy. Next year, I’ll move the pools to another location and plant something else, maybe okra or beans, in the dirt left behind.

Repurposed mineral tubs, a gift from a rancher friend, contain blackberries and goji berries. In places, I’ve pushed back the straw and planted rows of beans, marigolds, and whatever else strikes my fancy.

My garden may not look like the ones in the magazines, and some years I get less than I’m hoping for. But I have a patio full of Grow Boxes, in case the year is dry, and to make sure I have fresh tomatoes and peppers all season. They work well for okra, too, because okra needs a constant source of water to produce.

Patches of weeds through and around the garden seem to make the bees and the birds and the butterflies happy.

No weed killer! I do a few minutes of weeding every day so my chickens have fresh greens in their secure runs! There’s lots of life here. It isn’t always pretty, but my garden brings me joy. I hope yours brings you joy, as well.

First World Problems in Third World Times

April 29, 2020April 29, 2020 by sharonedgemartin

Out here on Crow Farm, we were prepared for the pandemic, we just didn’t know what we were preparing for. We have chickens, although most are pets instead of laying hens. I have a garden, but I get more produce from the nearby farmers’ market than I do from my own labor. Under my piano, in metal tubs, are peas and beans and rice.

I didn’t realize how quickly I’d run out of fresh lettuce, you know, that kind that comes prewashed and wrapped in plastic. I started a flat of micro greens that will last a micro minute. And I got out my sprouting jars and seeds, but even as I was measuring a mixture of mung bean, alfalfa, and broccoli seeds into my jar, I started wondering what would happen if the farm system broke down and I couldn’t get my sprouting seeds. How many acres would I need to plant for a seed crop? Which seed crop would be most productive? Who am I kidding?

As the first cases of COVID-19 came ashore on the west coast, I made a Costco run. I got the last twelve-pack of almond milk on the shelf. There was plenty of oat milk, but I have never tried oat milk, so I didn’t get any. I probably should have.

I didn’t buy raisins, a staple in my breakfast oatmeal, or the big box of Quaker Oats, because I had plenty to last me until my next follow-up appointment with my oncologist. Silly me! Two weeks later my oncologist and I agreed to postpone appointments for at least two months. I wonder if Costco has any raisins and oatmeal left.

Then there were those things I kept putting off. My phone and my laptop are out of date. I need my piano tuned. Oh, the piano isn’t too far off, but it may be by the time this pandemic plays out. Playing the piano keeps me sane.

I wasn’t nearly as prepared as I thought I was, but I have resources not everyone has. Most important, I have a new crop of seed that I ordered over the winter and a garden in which to plant my seed. I have enough beans and rice to last a few months. I still have peaches and applesauce canned last summer.

The question niggling at the back of my mind isn’t, “Where’s my next meal coming from?” It is, “Will I be able to can peaches and green beans this summer?

I realize the privilege of my question and how small my problems are. So, what can I do to help those who don’t have the same privileges? What can I do to ease someone’s anxieties? Privilege isn’t worth much if you don’t share.

Canning in April

April 23, 2020April 23, 2020 by sharonedgemartin

I’ve always loved beans, but my mother, not so much. When you grow up poor and one of a dozen children, as she did, beans are always on the menu. But she knew we loved them, and it was a real treat when she made her chili beans.

Beans are one of the cornerstones of my diet, along with whole grains, fruit, and vegetables. My man isn’t quite as fond of all-things-beans as I am, but there are a couple of things he welcomes on the menu. One is my home-canned blackeyed peas. The other is our pantry version of black beans and corn salsa.

If you’re a prepper, you know dry beans store well. For the long haul, it isn’t necessary to can them. For the short term, though, a few jars of canned beans and peas in the cabinet sure make meal planning easier. Whether you buy them from the grocery store and can them yourself depends on your circumstances and your taste. I prefer my home-canned beans in glass jars.

Whether you can fresh beans or bags of dried beans from the grocery also depends on circumstances. I do both.

I shelled and canned a bushel of purple hull peas last summer. Fresh peas need to be processed quickly. Even partially dried ones can mold on you. They can be canned or frozen. The frozen ones still require some cooking time, but they are a good choice for people who limit salt.

The 24 pints of canned peas I got from that bushel didn’t last long, and I found myself buying bags of blackeyed peas at the grocery store to can mid-winter.

We eat blackeyed peas at least once a week. I just open the jar, heat the peas, and serve them with cornbread.

To make Mama’s Chili Beans, I open a jar of my canned pintos, add a teaspoon of Williams Chili Seasoning, and heat. When I serve it, I add a few teaspoons of salsa to the bowl. Yep, it’s that simple.

You can serve chili beans over rice or with cornbread. They also make good tostados.

To make our Pantry Black Bean Salsa, I rinse and drain a can (or pint jar) of black beans and drain a pint of my whole kernel corn (or thaw a pint of frozen corn). I toss them together with a cup of salsa, cover it, and let it sit in the fridge to chill and marinate.

Serve the salsa with tortilla chips or tortillas. If you have fresh cilantro, so much the better! And don’t let anyone tell you that chips and salsa are not a complete meal!

Creativity and Pandemic

April 3, 2020April 3, 2020 by sharonedgemartin

Jerry Saltz, author of How to Be an Artist, writes, “Isolation favors art.”

It’s true. I work best without human distractions, but isolation isn’t enough. Time, too, is necessary.

Last night, I had time for this: I cut a quarter head of red cabbage and put the chunk into a pan with about an inch of water. I put on the lid and brought it to a boil. I turned the burner down and let it simmer for a while. I ate the cabbage with my dinner.

When I took the cabbage out of the pan, I noticed two things: the patterns on the bottom leaves were lovely on my plate, and the water left in the pan was a rich winey red. I couldn’t let that water go to waste.

After dinner, I got into my basket supplies and teased out a length of quarter-inch flat reed. I coiled it as tightly as I could to fit it into the small pan. The cabbage juice didn’t cover the coil. I added water and set the pan on the stove. I boiled the coil. If I were a better scientist, I could tell you how long I let it boil, but just know it was long enough to see some color happening in the reed and short enough I didn’t boil the water completely away.

When I took it off the stove, I added enough vinegar to cover the coil again, put on the lid, and left my experiment overnight. This morning I was rewarded with lovely pink reed, the color strong enough to sit between two strands of smoked reed to make a chain pattern.

During this scary time, when my daughter and her family are quarantined and recovering, I will take the gift of time and distraction from what scares me most, and I’ll make a basket.

As they say on PBS’s Gallery America, “Try to put a little bit of art into everything you do.”