The Open Gate Farm On Camano Island, Washington

Dear Friends:

Here comes Thursday!  Get the car gassed and ready because there’s going to be one outstanding sale on the remaining strawberry plants…name your price!  But not more than a dollar each.  And you have to have a hosta.  Their leaves are stunning and they love the shade…something we seem to have lots of this year.

So while you’re filling the car with healthy plants, grab one of the loaves of bread and fill your table with healthy food.  And the lettuce!  By golly it’s in, folks.  We’ve got plants in the garden that will probably cover a small table.  Or at least the plates on it!  Merlot, Grandpa Admire, Canasta…had all three in a salad last night and it was awesome.  And if you like kale, well…that should be enough of a hint.

Time is a relative thing here at The Open Gate Farm.  We have a chicken who finally figured this out.  Americana chickens are not dumb.  A trifle grumpy at times, but not dumb.  This brown hen was looking through the little farm office window studying the clock when it dawned on her how it all works.  She rushed back to the flock and broke the news gently for it was shocking.

Seems they have been concerned that we are letting them out a couple minutes later every morning.  They wondered if we had a problem with our alarm clocks up in the big house.  But every time we get there we announce, “8:00 folks, time to hit the lawns and fields and get to work!”  They were thinking this was odd because not so long ago it was dark when we said that and now the sun has been up for over an hour.  How could it still be 8:00 a.m.?  Were our clocks broken or were we living in a time warp?

But this bright girl had watched the clock and realized there is no relationship between the clock on the wall and when the sun comes up or goes down.  She considered the theory that there are two time machines at work at the same time, so to speak.  One is the sun which has days that grow longer and one is the clock that has days whose length never change.  Once she got her head around that idea, it all fell into place.

So off she went to explain this rather complicated idea to her feathered friends.  She had to field a few tricky questions, like whether this explained why we put vinegar in their water or why we only let them in the big garden during the short dark days of midwinter, but she got through it quite well.

Understanding time is always difficult.  Even people have trouble with it.  The value to the chickens in knowing about 8:00 changing each day relative to the sun’s distance over the horizon was that the clock, not the sun signaled their release.  The value to some people is that going by the sun instead of the clock can mean they miss planes, weddings, and the start of the movie.  Yet even with people we can find some who live by the sun.  We call them, “Snowbirds”.  When the days get shorter, they head south and when the days lengthen they come north again.

The chickens and ducks thought this most interesting.  It reminded them of the swallows and robins that show up here in the spring and leave when the leaves fall.  They wondered if we could show them a picture of these snowbirds from a bird book.   The best we could do was a small photo of the author on the back cover.  But that was enough.  It encouraged them to know not all the people in the world have the disconnect between 8:00 a.m. and the sun’s location.  Some folks actually live at the pace of life that makes sense to a chicken.   It’s called, “retirement”.

Happy Hoeing,

Jon and Elaine Stevens, the dawn breaking farmers, Snickers the clock watching dog, Mystery the clock avoiding cat, Ben and his flock of much smarter chickens, and the good Parson Dudley Brown and his flock of well-timed ducks, all of whom live joyfully at The Open Gate Farm.

Dear Friends:

A lovely weekend is ahead, regardless the weather.  Here at the farm the air is warm now and the flowers are dressing in their brightest colors and calling for our attention.  They like visitors too.  After all, who of us does not like being admired for our finest qualities?

Strawberry plants are on sale here this weekend!  At 20% off (aka $2 each), you can get a healthy plant in a gallon pot.  Many have more than blooms.  Think berries. And they are ready to send out runners to fill your beds with more plants than you can count so next year you’ll be ready when the rhubarb is for some fine pie!

But until then, you can come on by for some bread and lettuce and enjoy a great meal from our selection at the stand the Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, 9 to 5.  Oh!  Take note!  We have changed only the name…”Olive Cheese Boats” are now being called “Viking Boats”.  With all the Nordic heritage around here, this seems a natural.  A customer came asking for the, “Viking Boats” and we thought it fit well.  So come on Saturday and load up on the best boat a Viking ever ate!

Annie has come to live with us full time and we think she’ll fit right in.  She lived here before.  In fact, she was born here.  Or hatched, to be more accurate.  You see, Annie is a sweet, tan with traces of white, little Indian Runner duck.  She was in the last clutch of eggs Margaret hatched and raised a year ago.  She went with the rest of her siblings to a farm toward the north end of the island where they all have enjoyed a lovely pond and huge fields.

Unfortunately bullying is not a trait exhibited just in our public schools.  For several months her brothers have been picking on her.  Literally.  All the feathers on her neck and back got plucked out and they were, well, just plain mean to her.  They chased her away from food and wouldn’t let her play in the water or anything.  Her farmers rigged up a separate place for her and her feathers mostly grew back in, but several attempts at reuniting her with her siblings just did not work.  It’s hard to teach ducks not to bully once they get started.

So home she has come.  You’ll recall that, as Robert Frost said, “Home is where when you go there, they have to take you in.”  And this is her home.  No matter where you roam, home is also where you lived when the babies were small.   And this is where she was small.  Here is where she chased and ate her first bug.  Here is where she learned how to swim.  Here is where she first tasted a blade of sweet grass and drank deeply of soft water.  Here is where she learned to be part of a group, to belong to a flock.  We have taken her in though, not because we had to but because we wanted to.  And when you meet her you’ll know why.

Introducing a new member to a flock must be done carefully.  We made sure she arrived in the evening after everyone was in bed.  We let her out of her cage inside the poultry house as dusk was falling and watched as she trotted over to the others who were clustered in the corner.  No one chased her away so we left them to talk it over, to get re-acquainted, and we walked back to the house in the dark.

Now, in the light of the early morning, we’ve been down to check on her and all is well.  She was sitting on the nest under the nesting boxes where the ducks all lay their eggs.  As we approached, she popped out and trotted over to the others and stood at the back of the flock, waiting for the door to open.  When we let them out into their yard, she did stay inside for a bit.  Eventually though, she shot past and joined them out by the swimming pool.

The Parson took her under his wing, so to speak, and showed her how they drink from the pool, then how they root in the grass for bugs and slugs, and how they help the chickens finish up the cracked corn before the sparrows can steal it.  We are leaving all of them in the small yard for a bit to give them time to lay their eggs.  Soon though, we’ll be opening the gate to the yard knowing she has an adventure waiting for her as her new flock lead her around the place, showing her all the great spots for whuffling in the grass  and that crown jewel, the little pond in the woods.

Watching all this has brought to mind what it is like for us to enter a new situation too.  For example, it is the same when we go visit a church or group to talk about Growing Gardens For Life, our project to come alongside orphanages and teach the children how to raise food.  We enter the room, hoping to find it friendly and filled with kind people.  We look around and find the pastor or leader who guides us to the details which will help make our visit pleasant and productive.  And just like Annie this morning, we are so relieved to be welcomed and to begin to share stories with those we meet.

At the stand, we meet many people who are in the same boat as Annie.  They are newcomers to the island, brought here by these hard times as their previous lives became too painful to continue because the economy or employment issues bullied them unmercifully.  So we take the time to welcome them, to point them to houses for sale or a good dentist or a great park, and most importantly, a faith community where they might find new friends and a parson to show them the ropes.  It is only in community that we thrive and a church is the fastest way to find friends who are of a common mind.

With the wide variety of denominations we have here on the island and in Stanwood, it seems there should be one somewhere that would be a good fit for them.  Loneliness around here is a choice.  Some folks seem to like the pain of it.  But Annie didn’t and so with the help of our loving flock and under the care of the good Parson Dudley Brown, she will be able to come out of that shell, to leave the fear and terror of bullies behind and join joyfully in the line that we herd each evening to the safety and shelter of the poultry house.  She will have a place, a place in all our hearts where she will belong.  Welcome home, Annie.

Happy Hoeing,

Jon and Elaine, the home building farmers, Snickers the guardian dog, Mystery the watching cat, Ben and his flock of grain guzzling chickens, and the good Parson Dudley Brown and his flock of welcoming ducks, all of whom live joyfully at The Open Gate Farm.

PS  The web site for our orphanage project is now up on the Internet!  Check it out at www.growinggardensforlife.org and see what’s new!

Dear Friends:

The deep purple lilacs are blooming.  The chickens are strolling across the lawn like they were royalty.  The ducks are floating on a sea of green, and the swallows and sparrows are swinging by with food for their families.  With the blue sky overhead and birdsong all around, this is feeling like we’re in a Walt Disney movie.  Pardon me while I get a fresh baked Snickerdoodle from the stack just out of the oven.

If this sounds awfully good to you, then come on by and set a spell while you chew on a cinnamon roll.  Or any other of the fine breads from the bakery.  And when you are ready to head home, let us know and we’ll pick a fresh head of lettuce for you or pull a garlic plant so you can make tongue tingling pesto.

And poke around in the nursery.  Our native plants are on sale this weekend at 30% off!

There have been some miscommunications going on around here and it’s time we attended to them.  We know what Snickers means when he barks at the door.  Just check which side he’s on and get him to the other, thanks.  Or when he barks at 2 a.m. and insists on going down to check on the ducks and chickens.  He’s probably heard they were going to a party over at the neighbor’s coop and he needs to do a bed check.  We think it means there’s a varmit down there and so slipping on the boots we grab a flashlight and go to chase it off.

But that dandy little motion detector that lets us know when you come by the stand is starting to go off more often than people are present.  It’s taken some research and waiting, but we finally caught the culprit in the act.  Across the road and on the other side of the ditch from our little yellow and white bakery and produce stand is a row of trees.  There is tall grass in the ditch, filled with seeds and bugs apparently.

A very handsome robin is now living in one of those trees and drops down frequently to the buffet at his feet.  Then he flies up with a load of shrimp or crab legs or pie for the kids.  Then back down to get some napkins.  Back up to show the young ones how to use them.  Then he has to take the trash out.  And every time, you guessed it, he’s triggering the alarm.  We drop what we’re doing and hustle out to help someone only to be met by the still, calm, quiet of an empty country road sweetened by a soft birdsong.

He’s kind of human, that robin.  Sending a signal he knows nothing about which tells folks something that is not true.  We know the signal means empty stomachs are at the stand.  He just hears a distant bell and figures it means chow’s ready.  How often have we done that?  How often have we sent a signal we didn’t know we’d sent and it causes high blood pressure and alarm?  Cutting someone off on the highway and not realizing we had done it.  Or blinking to get some dust out of our eye and someone thinks we’ve winked at them.  The ducks do it too.  Quackers will yell at the others to find where they’ve wandered off to and we think she’s reporting a coyote on the radar when all she wants is company.

But at the end of the day, we have to set aside these unintentional messages, sort them out and realize that they are just part of the price we pay for living in community, whether it is a community of chickens or chow hounds or birds being good parents.  And every now and then, the alarm actually does find a human to report on.  And then we are happily drawn into the community we know and love and all is well once again.

Happy Hoeing,

Jon and Elaine, the alarmed farmers, Snickers the alarming dog, Mystery the low battery cat, Ben and his flock of chatting chickens, and the good Parson Dudley Brown and his flock of hanging out ducks, all of whom live joyfully with the robins at The Open Gate Farm.

Dear Friends:

Mother’s Day!  We’ll have hanging baskets and lovely plants up at the stand alongside a bit of rhubarb and if you get here at the right time, one of our first 6 heads of lettuce that are finally ready!  The cookies this weekend will be “baker’s choice”, another way of saying we’re making all our favorites, one batch at a time!

A Mother’s Day story which involves mostly men…

It was all that grey squirrel’s fault.  It really was.

It would have been better if he had not found the barrel of cracked corn for the poultry we keep under the eaves of the chicken house.  It would have been better if he had not gnawed through the lid and helped himself.  It would have been a lot better if, after the squirrel was relocated to Eagle Acres a few miles away (good luck, squirrel), the scrap of plywood screwed into place to repair the lid had kept the torrential rain out.  And it would have been much better if the cracked corn, now nicely dampened, had not fermented.

It might have been nice if when we were wheeling Bonnie and Clyde to their old home and went past the chicken house in the evening after everyone was tucked in for the night, if Clyde had not given a wolf whistle.  He was just trying to announce their return  home after a year herding goats, but he should have kept his beak shut.  And it would have been really nice if the Parson had not developed a taste for the fermented corn mash.  A duck with a hangover is not a pretty sight.

It would have been better and it would have been nice, but it wasn’t.

Bonnie and Clyde, as you may recall, are two young ducks our dearly departed Margaret hatched out one year and who then went off to become goat wranglers over in Snohomish.  These prodigals have now come home and our hopes for their rejoining our little flock are fast fading.  It seems the Parson Dudley Brown, our senior gentleman duck, in his hung over state has decided Clyde’s cowboy manners are not needed here.  Now in the morning, after his morning “cracked corn”, he has taken up chest bumping the fence until Clyde comes over.  Then the shouting match commences.  It’s not pretty.  They both know too many strong words.

The Parson Dudley Brown is an upset clergyman on his way to teach a sinner the difference between right and wrong and the reality of eternal brimstone.  Clyde, on the other hand, claims to be a cowboy who could teach the old man how to hold his liquor.

No feathers have flown yet, but we are concerned it won’t take long for a fight to break out if we let them sort it out themselves, beako to beako, so to speak.  The only thing the Parson has going for him is a slightly tarnished virtue.  Clyde, on the other wing (or hand) is sleek, smooth, fast, and smart and about has a ¾ pound advantage.  He is “in the silk” as prize fighters like to say, and has youth, weight, and reach on the Parson.  Clyde knows the moves, though the Parson knows virtue.  It would not be an even fight.  No, we really should not let them argue with their bodies.

So if you know of someone who would like a pair of charming ducks, let us know.  Bonnie is laying eggs like a politician and he’s a great one with the goats.  He’s not a bad guy, but we are definitely keeping him away from the mash.  He could be a mean drunk. Goat wranglers have a reputation, you know…

And the Parson?  We’re cutting him back to mash on Sundays and then only a little for communion.

So folks, that’s what happens when a squirrel turns the cracked corn barrel into a distillery and a duck eats too much fermented mash and comes out in the morning with a headache.  He will never see the straight and narrow which leads to harmony, happiness, and a good  home.  This could be a lesson for many of us.

Happy Hoeing,

Jon and Elaine, the refereeing farmers, Snickers the umpire dog, Mystery the time keeping cat, Ben and his flock of staggering chickens, and the good Parson Dudley Brown and his flock of embarrassed lady ducks, all of whom live joyfully at The Open Gate Farm.

Dear Friends:

If you’re low on sunshine, come by the farm!  We are the hole in the donut of rain around here according to the new radar dome up on the top of the ridge.  But if by some odd chance rain is actually falling, come by anyhow and fill your bags with sunshine from the bakery.  This week it is chocolate chip cookies and butterscotch bars for the brave of heart.  A double header for the kids in the orphanage!

Smaller loaves of our popular breads are now available.  Some single folks who love the bread reported they took two weeks to polish one off so we started making some half loaf size and they sold well last weekend.  You’ll never find fresher and finer anywhere around here for your summer sandwiches!

This week we attend our first big Farmer’s Market!  We’ll be over in Snohomish with dear friends, Matt and Petra Hurja, and their family staffing the scene.  So if you can’t make it there, come on over here and get what you’d like of the following:

Ben, our big red farm rooster, came by the farm office the other day.  Hopped up onto the deck and strode through the door.  Clearly a man with a heavy matter on his mind.  A slight frown furrowed his brow and with a quiet cough he began to lay out his concern.

Seems the girls are hard at work, laying as many eggs as they can because they know we need them for the bakery.  However lately they have laid 5 and been delivering only 4.  After some hard detective work they think they found the thief.  Ben said they saw a four legged fellow in a long brown furry coat trotting off with one in his mouth.  His four legs worked faster than their two so they never saw what he did with it.

Now Ben was discreet and never named names, but it was not hard to figure out that our dog, Snickers, was involved.  It was interesting to us because yesterday Snickers came to the back door, sat down and barked.  Between his front legs was a lovely, green, fresh egg.  He has taken to gathering the eggs for us, it seems.  He had heard us talking about how much work we had this year without the extra help and he wanted to pitch in.  We praised him and gave him a reward for his effort.  Tonight, we intercepted him on the way to the porch with another egg he’d lifted from a nest.  Good dog.  Sort of.

Ben was, of course, relieved to hear we had gotten the hen fruit after all, but was concerned that the dog not try to snack on one on the way up.  He has done that in the past as we all know and so was banned from the chicken house for a year or two.  We assured our noble rooster we would keep a close tally on the egg score and see that all that get laid get delivered.

But it raised an interesting observation.  When we do something for someone which looks wrong to one observer (i.e. the hens saw it as stealing) with the best of intentions (gathering the eggs for his master and mistress), if the egg were to break in transit was a wrong committed?  Especially if he then ate it?  When does a good deed become a bad deed?  Or can it?

One paragon of virtue explained that a half truth becomes a lie the moment it leaves our mouths.  That is probably so.  But here is a new situation in which what appears as a sin to one person is a blessing to someone else.  It may be that what is needed is to not come to any conclusion which tarnishes the reputation of another.  If the hens had kept their investigation going a bit longer and stationed themselves along the route they saw him taking every time, they would have seen him at the back door, delivering the goods.  It may be we sometimes come to a conclusion too early…though we never think we do…and we should keep our eyes and minds open just a touch longer to find the real truth.

Well, Ben headed back to the coop to let the girls know the whole situation was under control.  We headed back to the house to count our eggs before they hatched.  Snickers wandered off to the back woods where he heard the ducks were hiding a stash of eggs that needed attention.  And peace returned to the nests and egg cartons of the farm.  Though we all are keeping a closer eye on the dog.

Happy Hoeing,

Jon and Elaine, the egg cracking farmers, Snickers the egg hauling dog, Mystery the cat who eggs the dog on, Ben and his flock of egg making hens, and the good Parson Dudley Brown and his flock of egg hiding ducks, all of whom live joyfully at The Open Gate Farm.