I feel like this should be a post talking in metaphors about how I need to take a year to “weed the garden” and simplify my life or minimalize the amount of stuff in my home. It’s a good thought and both would be beneficial, but not this time. I literally need to weed the garden.
Its official, I’m not planting a garden this year. All of my seeds will remain neatly sorted in their packets and in a zip-lock bag until next year. How depressing. A ton of vegetables, herbs and flowers and all their beautiful potential sitting quietly under my desk.
The fire is lit in the old stove slowly warming the oven for the day. I’ve got a day of bread baking planned. My coffee is hot and the flour mill is grinding away. Morning is my favorite time of day. Once I’ve got enough flour ground for the first batch I can get started. For now I’ll steal away a few quiet moments and tell you why I love to use my home-grown, home-ground, whole wheat flour.
Dream big or sit on the front porch…or… Dream big, grab your hoe and rolling pin and make things happen!
I love that the eggs in our kitchen came from our coop, the raspberries in my scones came from our berry patch, the honey from our hive, the wheat from our field and ground to flour in our kitchen and if I were ever not pregnant when it came time to start milking Lucy and Sweet Caroline there’s potential for fresh dairy products from the barn. That’s just the bakery side of the farm. To say that we are blessed is an amazing understatement, to say we are thankful is the same.
It took more days than I had hoped but all of the grain to be planted for the season is in the ground. You see when you plant by hand it takes a few extra hours. When you add children to the task those extra hours get spread out over extra days. Little by little we got it done though.
The original wheat field was planted first. I used a small handheld broadcaster. Mike followed me with a fifty pound bag of seed, refilling my seeder every pass, all the while asking “Are you walking in a straight line? It doesn’t look like it.” (sigh) Once I had it all seeded he used took the drag, the four-wheeler and one kid riding at a time they smoothed the whole thing.
“So this is the break and that’s the clutch or no?”
That’s when my dad’s eyes got big, Mike shook his head and they backed up the instructions. The last time I drove a tractor was the fall of 2006 after my grandpa passed away. (rough guess) Grandpa had quite the collection of tractors and to keep them all in working order the family would gather at the farm, everyone hopped on a tractor and drove for a while. A tractor parade of sorts around the farm yard and fields. So it’s been a long time.