Brand new

- Baby! Benjamin Gabriel Donck, born yesterday. He came easily into the world and was welcomed by Damien (Nicolas' brother) and Stacy Donck. We are so happy for them.

- GT's Turkeys, Gillen's new blog.

Loads of visiting, and a birthday.

We got to see lots of people this past week. It was a wonderful way to celebrate not going back to school, and Gillen's 12th birthday.

Here are just a few snapshots from the past week. Unfortunately, I didn't take any good pictures of the Traaseths' or Stonebrakers' visits. I'll have to remember them in my mind.

Kimba, from the Atlanta unschooling contingent, at the not-back-to-school party on Monday. We went to the state park out here, Hard Labor Creek, and had the lake and beach pretty much to ourselves! It was so good to see Kimba, Beth, Missy, April and their kids again.

This woman cracks me up.
Here is Kimba with Claudia. It's really nice to have this beach only twenty minutes away.
Below is Max, with Sophie and Gillen. Suddenly, they are all so tall and mature. Another birthday - Katie's. Eating a delicious dinner with Mindy and her kids, their first night here. It was all from the farm, including Gillen's duck.
Sophie, wearing the beautiful apron that Mindy made for me, cooking the duck.
Small firecrackers from Gillen's birthday eve, which we celebrated with the Haworths:I'm glad that we've been busy. It's kept me from thinking too much about the fact that Gillen is twelve. Man. These years went too fast. I feel so lucky to be his mom.

Gillen's ten seconds of fame

An article about Gillen and his heritage breed turkeys came out in the Morgan county paper this week. The writing and the pictures are wonderful. This little weekly county paper was voted best weekly in Georgia. I see why.

Gillen is so excited. So is his mama.

Cowboy

He's kicking off his (once mine) boots after many hours of roping up vegetables. He rode home with his head hanging out of the window. He saw Food, Inc. with us the other night and now he wants a cow (always wanted one, to go with a horse, but now has some good justification). He can't wait to hunt us down some good venison. It's good that we named him Gillen T. He turned out to be such a cowboy.

Family photo, at Duck's Cosmic Kitchen

I think this may be the first family one in a year. Gillen looks like he's been drinking our beer but he was actually way energized by the sweet tea.

The lovely locavore Virginia Dupree offered to take it last night. We were at one of the dinners that she puts together with the Decatur restaurant, Duck's Cosmic Kitchen, to highlight eating locally.

Three years ago, Virginia was eating lunch at Duck's and reading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal Vegetable Miracle. She remembers what she was eating and that it was local. Between the delicious meal and the writing, she was inspired to take action. She put out an email to some friends asking if they would like to eat a meal with only locally produced ingredients at a local restaurant. That was on a Friday. By Monday, the word had spread and she had enthusiastic commitments from sixty people.

Now, there is usually a long waiting list for each dinner. She always includes a local farmer or other locavore, to eat with the gang and then talk about the specifics of eating local. The next dinner is hosting a local canner.

Nicolas and his mother went once before. Last night, Gillen was invited to join him in order to talk about his heritage breed turkeys. Jesse and I decided to join them. It was so nice - Tomato Pie, locally produced steak, Vidalia onion rings, blueberry sorbet served with orange and red watermelon. And Gillen was quite a wonderful speaker. Here, he is being transformed by his love of the desert:If you live in Atlanta or Decatur, Duck's Cosmic Kitchen (usually only open for lunch) is very special.

Proud

Gillen and his hunter safety certificate.He has been waiting for years to be old enough to take this safety training. Without the training, Nicolas and I hadn't felt comfortable with him owning or shooting a gun (he does have a B-B gun). I still can't say I feel comfortable.

But I do feel impressed. He studied for six hours yesterday and did the best of anyone in the test this morning. He couldn't wait to laminate the card and put it in his wallet.

We are eating a lot less meat lately. But we sure did love last night's rubbed and grilled pork chops, bought from our friends with the happy hogs at Riverview Farms. Maybe one day I'll only eat the meat that comes from Gillen's hunts. Hopefully that won't be too much. I imagine(well, hope) that most of his bullets will go towards shooting skeet. Though he now loves to give me a litany of reasons that hunting is essential for the environment and even for some of the hunted species.

I'm just focusing on his pride.

Drummer Boy

Friday night, Gillen's percussion day camp had their concert on the square in Rutledge. It is amazing what Eva and her talented professional musician friend accomplished in a week. We are so lucky to have Eva nearby. She is also my zumba teacher. I have taught at a few theater camps and I no longer have what it takes to do it right. She could write the book.

What a cool camp. The kids got to pick between four countries - Brazil, India, Cuba, Spain, and the continent of Africa. Each group learned their country's specific rhythm, on gourd and goat skin drums that they all made for themselves the first day. They also sewed their costumes and painted the set. Gillen loved this camp.

The concert highlight:These boys represented Brazil; they also represented what music, and Eva, can do. They are brothers who live with their grandmother. They rocked! It was good to see them getting positive attention.

Gillen chose Spain because he had started a friendship with one of the other guys who chose Spain. Turns out that the Spanish rhythm is really challenging - it's a 12/13 time. The guy who taught them could not believe how well Gillen could keep the rhythm. He talked about getting Gillen a scholarship to take drumming in Atlanta. Gillen wants to stick to guitar, and to taking it locally.Gillen really liked the drumming but was much more impressed with this photographer and what she had to offer (Eva is the one directing the kids from below as only a yoga/zumba teacher could). He met the photographer one day in Rutledge's Caboose ice cream shop. Gillen commented on her worn cowboy boots and said that he had some that were even more worn. She asked how they could possibly be more worn then hers. Gillen explained that he was a turkey farmer and told her about our farm. Turns out she has been trying to relocate our contact information for years. She has been wanting to do another story on the farm. What trumped the drumming compliments, to Gillen, was that she is going to do a story about his turkeys!

Rural Georgia is meeting the kids' needs. My city prejudices are withering away, after fifteen years, in the unexpected opportunities held in our small town life.

flowers, birds, and the bees

This morning at the farm, I got to spend some time making bouquets with the masters - Helen and Elizabeth. These red ones, in Elizabeth's hand, are called "Tassel" (maybe tassle, I'm not sure). They are my current favorite. I had to leave to pick up Gillen from his overnight camp, and then he came back with me to make a few more. He likes to work with flowers.

We missed him this week. He loved the camp. The best part? After he got all of his new friends' phone numbers and had gotten into our car, he said that he couldn't wait to hug Jesse hello. Sweet.

Back to the farm. Look at the beautiful bouquet that Helen made (many of them, in challengingly shaped ceramic bowls) for a wedding. She used the dill flowers as a base to hold up the other flowers. Genius.

Check out the garlic, when it goes to flower:Of course, a bee had to make an appearance, to remind me of what I should be doing (and have been, a bit, every day - rereading my bee book and being inspired again about bees, while counting on the rewriting inspiration to make an appearance next week). Here is the bird part of today's story:The Carolina Wrens have come back. Having found their outdoor annual nesting spot now turned into a snazzy room for the cat, they moved to our front porch and made themselves at home in a few bike helmets. So cool! We'll be able to see the babies much more easily.

Time

Too often, lately, it moves lightening fast. It blurs by, just like Fracas while in pursuit of a frog; or on a low to the ground sneak inside to grab a lap:That is how quickly my boys seem to grow.At least he is still using the wrong side of Nicolas' razor, and apparently even the wrong end of his face:
At least there are still dinosaurs on the edge of the bathtub.

I love Nicolas in pajamas.

I will be gone for a time, to Montana, where my little sister lives with her husband and new baby girl, Isha. I am respectfully requesting (in my mind) that there be no growing while I am gone.

sigh.

It is way too soon to be leaving them again. Once a year makes way more sense than twice in one month.

Farm Tour

The Georgia Organics conference is happening in Decatur this year, only 45 minutes from our farm. So seventy of the conference participants came on a bus to our neck of the woods for a farm tour.

For the first time in years, I watched Nicolas' whole tour. He is quite a speaker. And he looked good - talking about his Belgian roots, his hoop houses, his asparagus, and general farming advice, under a cloudless sky. He had put on one of his least-worn button-up farm shirts for the occasion. When Gillen went with him to the farm this morning I heard him ask Nicolas why he was so dressed up. :) Here he is at the asparagus bed.Tom Stearns, who owns High Mowing Seeds (and whom we drank lots of wine with at Terra Madre) is in the red plaid shirt and vest to the left. He's created a hugely successful business by simply growing organic plants for seeds. He is also one of the guys talking and writing about Slow Money.

In a few weeks, Nicolas and Jesse are going to work with a big Atlanta chef on a cooking demo at our Atlanta organic market. The audience will be elementary school kids. I'm so glad that Jesse wants to do this. He's really excited. I had to take a picture of them today for publicity:Gillen also led a tour, in which he talked about his turkey business, the hoop houses and the worm farm. He speaks (maybe :) even better than his father. I hadn't even known he knew all that! Very cool. Here he is explaining about the worms:And after being asked what they look like:Tonight, Nicolas and I are going to a small Slow Food dinner that will include Michael Pollan. He is in town to speak at the Georgia Organics conference tomorrow tonight. I hope I don't gush - through my mouth or arm pits. I'm really impressed by his ability as a writer and am grateful that he got so many people talking about factory farming, organics and eating local. Though I am not as enamored as my friend Helen (whom I really hope gets to meet him tomorrow night), I did put on lipstick; and I am going to put my telephoto lens on my camera so as to capture him from afar.

Gillen's Farm Tour

Today, maybe inspired by his outfit (my cowboy boots and one of the worker's hats) Gillen was all about showing me the farm. I wish I'd had the good camera, but it had run out of battery. At least I had the old point and shoot. It was definitely a day to remember.

He showed me the giant worm farm that he and Nicolas recently created with cement bricks and a tin cover. He showed me that the Saw Tooth Oak trees that he planted last fall are finally taking root in their pots:
Here, while shooting my tour guide cowboy, my focus wandered to the left of his hat - do you see it? That eery black hole in the hoop house plastic? A barn cat created this hole while sliding down off of the hoop house roof after a sun bath. Because really , what are all beds, hoop houses, toys, bath mats and walls for but to hold (and receive the spray of) cats. Yes, my nights are still punctuated by the hourly Fracas vaudeville show...But, back to the light of day, and the sweetness of spring.

For this next part of the tour, you must travel through time with me to the year 2013. Gillen is just months away from turning sixteen. In preparation for getting his learner's permit, he is practicing driving the farm truck - the Isuzu Pup. Gotta love a pup. Notice it isn't the "Isuzu kitten".
Here he is, in that speck of a truck in the distance, driving his trusting little brother over creek and dale to the back fields. To think, just minutes ago four short years ago, he was only eleven and couldn't have done this. Thanks to the magic of time travel, all arrived safely and took a break at the creek.There was much more water than usual. In the recent heavy rain and snow, one of the beaver dams was broken. Not only do we have a much more forcefully bubbling creek, the beaver pond (that had been expanding through the woods for many years) is much reduced. Gillen pointed out the break in the dam.Behind farm-touring Jesse's hat (looking appropriately touristic with that label poking down) are the grasses of what used to be (and probably will be again) the water-covered wet lands.
We then travelled by truck (with me as a truly impressed passenger) to the farm's "rock beach" where we spent a few hours swimming, reading, catching crawfish and finding rocks. We have decided to do this a lot more often. It was so peaceful. With "the pup", it is such a quick, whinge-free journey. And maybe Gillen can teach me to shift (it's true, except for perspectives, I don't yet shift). We vowed to earn the watering hole privilege by doing a bit more sweating on the farm next time with this guy, first.

The unexpected

When I was in my twenties, in New York City, imagining being a wife and mother (because I probably dreamed more of making a family than of "making it" as an actor) I just never could have imagined this life, that is oh so perfect, but entirely unexpected.

This morning, Gillen was frying up some eggs and singing a made up song really loudly - some manly, guttoral, warrior belting. I was in another room looking for Nicolas' missing phone and was relieved, I admit, when the singing suddenly stopped. I went into the kitchen to help with the eggs and make some toast but the frying eggs were all alone. The outside door to the back deck shut. Gillen came back into the kitchen, his big dimples highlighted by shiny cold red cheeks. He washed his hands and went back to his spot at the stove.

"I just shot a squirrel," he said, pride stretching his grin.

"Just now? What? You shot a squirrel? How? ....Why?" His citified mama was very confused.

"I saw it getting into the bird feeder so I went and got my BB gun, and I shot it. First shot!"

"You were making eggs for papa and you left them to go shoot a squirrel?"

"Yes. I can't believe I got him. Do you want to see?"

I didn't. But I followed him outside and looked anyway. One shot in the heart. I was relieved to see he never suffered. Gillen's first kill. Wow. I can't say I ever imagined having to deal with guns in my home and a passion for hunting. Nicolas and I asked if he had thanked the squirrel, as previously instructed in many discussions about hunting. He had. He bagged it up and put it in the fridge and before I knew what was happening, the husband of my local homeschooling friend was here on our porch eager to teach Gillen how to mount it.

Jesse and I hid inside playing Quiddler. Jesse was shocked by the killing but had decided to wear his camouflage shirt out of respect for Gillen's moment - also unexpected, and very cool.

So right now, on top of my new art cabinet, a squirrel skin is laid out flat, curing in a plate of salt. There are four tiny squirrel legs soaking in salted water in the fridge, waiting to be marinated in something good while we go to gymnastics, and then eaten tonight (we have asked that Gillen eat anything he kills). The squirrel couldn't be mounted since its tail had been injured and it wasn't going to sit correctly. No mounted animals in my home. Yet.

I was also surprised this week by another example of how little I know about my children. I love how impossible they make it to pigeonhole them.

As a result of "that horrible Lassie movie" (I ignorantly brought home the one when Lassie is poisoned by an evil man and spends much of the movie dying), "The Yearling" (o.k., my bad) and "Around the World" (which had some frightening footage from race riots in the sixties) I have had a reputation with my eldest son for picking the worst movies ever. I keep trying to pick movies from netflix that everyone will like but most of the time Gillen won't even give them a try - until this week, when the netflix queue did not reflect conscious family choices that I hoped would appeal to everyone, at all. We watched "Mansfield Park" the other night, an historical drama that is based on Jane Austen's most autobiographical book. Not only did Gillen sit through the whole thing, he really liked it. Then, last night, we watched another historical drama about a farmer in MN meeting his mail-order bride. It was a slow, tender, visually beautiful film but definitely not one I'd have chosen for my sons. Gillen liked it.

You just never know.

Monday Farm Photos

I no longer get to savor the deep reds of a New England fall, but I do love the colors of our farm's fall lettuces:
I have no idea what that odd, non-lettuce plant is. Probably a weed, yes, but I just wasn't sure enough to pull it. I see everything through a fairy tale lens and so that plant is a possible ugly duckling. Sad, I know. ; )

Over the past week, Gillen collected lots of Sawtooth Oak nuts from the school yard down the street. He also brought a few visiting unschooled city friends to the school to skateboard over the weekend:I had Alice Cooper and other old rockers' tunes about school going through my head as I watched them skateboarding on school property:But back to planting trees for the future...
Today he collected lots of pots in which to plant those Oak nuts. His long term plan is to transplant them into the back fields to attract more deer. He tells me that they won't be attracting deer for 5-7 more years. I am impressed by his patience.

I wish he only wanted to attract the deer so that I could name them and take pictures of them, but he is growing up in a rural southern town and has different influences than I did in Boston, and his own dreams. I'm keeping my mouth shut, and putting away my ignorant city girl ideas about hunting.
While he waits to be old enough to get his hunting certificate and big enough to ride the huge ATV that he wants to buy, I appreciate this moment - nurturing these seeds that will one day be Oaks.

Gillen's Birthday

Gillen turned eleven on the eleventh, which happened to be the same day as the GA Unschoolers' not-back-to-school-party, held at a very cool pool. On his birthday eve, we were at Mindy's, which meant we were with some of his favorite people.

In addition to the yard sale-ing, Gillen got to teach Sophie to make a hemp friendship bracelet and she has agreed to help him lead the funshop at the Live and Learn Conference.They sure are some cute eleven-year-olds.Mindy made him a Mississippi Mud cake that was amazing. The next day, his actual birthday, we drove to the pool party with leftover cake and shared it with other appreciative unschoolers. This cake even has marshmallows!Below are a just a few of the unschoolers and their moms. Even dads showed up. That was cool.Here is what the place looks like as a whole. There is also an inside Olympic sized pool with diving boards.Gillen definitely had a good day.