I'm trying to keep track of the farm skills I've learned so far, so here goes:
How to live in an intentional community
How to use an oscillating hoe.
How to pinch off tomato plant suckers
How to tie up tomatoes
How to properly harvest garlic scapes, lettuce, mustard greens, turnips, radishes, strawberries, sugar snap peas, garlic, zucchini
How to weed just about any vegetable plant
How to string up garlic for curing
How to operate a chain saw
How to operate a tiller
How to set up a drip irrigation system
How to set up a tunnel to protect plants from excess heat or animals
How to properly smush bugs that are eating eggplant leaves
How to water a 3 acre field with a single hose
How to pot up plants
How far apart to space starts for carrots, tomatoes, eggplant, lettuce, peppers
How to break apart a hay bale
How to mulch with hay
How to prepare a bed for planting with mushroom and leaf composts
How to build a frame to hang slaughtered goats on (so that their blood can drain)
How to build a platform for an army tent
How to erect an army tent
How to build wooden bunk beds
Wow-- I've learned a bunch... I'm sure I'll think of more!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Turning up the heat
Today I was reminded about why I am a proud Reform Jew.
I slept gloriously late on this Shabbat morning. I got up and found my way to the kitchen, where an intense discussion was underway. It seems that the cholent pot, containing the slow-cooking traditional Shabbat stew, had been set on “low” before Shabbat, and there was concern that it had not cooked enough, and wouldn’t be fully cooked through for lunch, three hours hence.
A debate was raging. Could someone go over to Pearlstone, find a two-year old, bring them to the kitchen, and place them in front of the cholent pot until they happened, in innocent play, to turn the pot from low to high?
The discussion went on and on as I sat and ate my Cheerios. How old could the child be? Three was deemed too old, as they would no longer simply play, but need to be told what to do, and it was forbidden to instruct someone to turn the heat up, because it’s against Jewish law to benefit from the product of intentionally telling someone to violate Shabbat. In good halakhic form, one person told a story of a time when they were in a house where a major fuse blew, and one of the heads of household held a small child in front of the fuse box and said something like, “wow, Sammy, do you see anything to play with?”
Then, a woman in the process of conversion to Judaism said that she has to do one thing each Shabbat to violate the laws of the day, and she’d be willing to turn the pot up. Another lengthy discussion ensued, in which it was established that as long as no one had asked her to turn the pot up, and as long as it would redound to her benefit (ie. that she herself would be eating the cholent), the rest of us, if we happened to benefit from her self-interested actions, would be fine to consume it. She went and turned up the heat.
Having listened to what seemed to me a crazy conversation, especially in light of the fact that there is a ton of other food available for consumption in the kitchen, I blurted out something I now regret in front of the gathered group of 5 or 6 of my fellow intentional-community cohorts: “This,” I said, “is why I am a Reform Jew.”
I now sit here typing away furiously on this box that halakhah prohibits me from using on Shabbat, feeling terrible about having uttered what must have sounded a horribly judgmental statement. I really and truly feel bad—it was unlike me to do something like that.
It’s not an excuse, but I know that whatever my ideal Shabbat looks like, it’s not in that discussion. I get turning the cholent on and then not doing any formal cooking on Shabbat—I actually really like to idea, and intend to try it when I get home. I get regretting that it was set on low, and bemoaning the fact that what should have been outstandingly tasty beans and potatoes will alas go to waste; this fits in with a religious ethic of letting go of some sense of control on Shabbat. What I don’t get in any way, shape, or form, is how luring in an unwitting baby into the kitchen, hoping (but not asking in any way) that the child might accidentally turn the pot up makes any sense at all. What I don’t accept as a part of my halakhah is how the concept of a Shabbes goy can be acceptable Jewish ethics. I admit that, early on in the conversation, I had half a mind to just go in and turn it up.
But if knew one thing, it was that I wasn’t going to be the Shabbes Reform Rabbi. I like intellectual discussions and debates as much as anyone. But to me, there’s a point where the discussion has to end. Either someone turn the pot up, or get out the cold (but yummy) pasta from last night. But if ritual practice in meant to lead to righteous living in the larger world, what are we teaching when we ask (in however veiled a way) our two year olds and our potential Jews by choice to do what we ourselves are unwilling to defile ourselves by doing?
Let Shabbat be a special time for honesty and straightforwardness in our dealings.
Let it be a time of simplicity rather than intense complexity.
Postscript:
When I returned to the moadon to apologize after hiding out, stewing, thinking, and writing for two hours, I found a few interesting things:
1) No one had actually been mad about my comment; some found it funny.
2) For a few people, the comment actually sparked curiosity about Reform Judaism, both in specific regard to this issue, and also more generally an interest in Reform Judaism in general
3)One Orthodox woman shocked me when she admitted quietly, "Yeah, I also was thinking what a ridiculous debate we were having!"
What a strange people we are...
I slept gloriously late on this Shabbat morning. I got up and found my way to the kitchen, where an intense discussion was underway. It seems that the cholent pot, containing the slow-cooking traditional Shabbat stew, had been set on “low” before Shabbat, and there was concern that it had not cooked enough, and wouldn’t be fully cooked through for lunch, three hours hence.
A debate was raging. Could someone go over to Pearlstone, find a two-year old, bring them to the kitchen, and place them in front of the cholent pot until they happened, in innocent play, to turn the pot from low to high?
The discussion went on and on as I sat and ate my Cheerios. How old could the child be? Three was deemed too old, as they would no longer simply play, but need to be told what to do, and it was forbidden to instruct someone to turn the heat up, because it’s against Jewish law to benefit from the product of intentionally telling someone to violate Shabbat. In good halakhic form, one person told a story of a time when they were in a house where a major fuse blew, and one of the heads of household held a small child in front of the fuse box and said something like, “wow, Sammy, do you see anything to play with?”
Then, a woman in the process of conversion to Judaism said that she has to do one thing each Shabbat to violate the laws of the day, and she’d be willing to turn the pot up. Another lengthy discussion ensued, in which it was established that as long as no one had asked her to turn the pot up, and as long as it would redound to her benefit (ie. that she herself would be eating the cholent), the rest of us, if we happened to benefit from her self-interested actions, would be fine to consume it. She went and turned up the heat.
Having listened to what seemed to me a crazy conversation, especially in light of the fact that there is a ton of other food available for consumption in the kitchen, I blurted out something I now regret in front of the gathered group of 5 or 6 of my fellow intentional-community cohorts: “This,” I said, “is why I am a Reform Jew.”
I now sit here typing away furiously on this box that halakhah prohibits me from using on Shabbat, feeling terrible about having uttered what must have sounded a horribly judgmental statement. I really and truly feel bad—it was unlike me to do something like that.
It’s not an excuse, but I know that whatever my ideal Shabbat looks like, it’s not in that discussion. I get turning the cholent on and then not doing any formal cooking on Shabbat—I actually really like to idea, and intend to try it when I get home. I get regretting that it was set on low, and bemoaning the fact that what should have been outstandingly tasty beans and potatoes will alas go to waste; this fits in with a religious ethic of letting go of some sense of control on Shabbat. What I don’t get in any way, shape, or form, is how luring in an unwitting baby into the kitchen, hoping (but not asking in any way) that the child might accidentally turn the pot up makes any sense at all. What I don’t accept as a part of my halakhah is how the concept of a Shabbes goy can be acceptable Jewish ethics. I admit that, early on in the conversation, I had half a mind to just go in and turn it up.
But if knew one thing, it was that I wasn’t going to be the Shabbes Reform Rabbi. I like intellectual discussions and debates as much as anyone. But to me, there’s a point where the discussion has to end. Either someone turn the pot up, or get out the cold (but yummy) pasta from last night. But if ritual practice in meant to lead to righteous living in the larger world, what are we teaching when we ask (in however veiled a way) our two year olds and our potential Jews by choice to do what we ourselves are unwilling to defile ourselves by doing?
Let Shabbat be a special time for honesty and straightforwardness in our dealings.
Let it be a time of simplicity rather than intense complexity.
Postscript:
When I returned to the moadon to apologize after hiding out, stewing, thinking, and writing for two hours, I found a few interesting things:
1) No one had actually been mad about my comment; some found it funny.
2) For a few people, the comment actually sparked curiosity about Reform Judaism, both in specific regard to this issue, and also more generally an interest in Reform Judaism in general
3)One Orthodox woman shocked me when she admitted quietly, "Yeah, I also was thinking what a ridiculous debate we were having!"
What a strange people we are...
Monday, June 21, 2010
The Kollel Begins
Happy Summer!
The Kollel finally began today, with 11 of us studying texts I had prepared from the tractate of the Talmud called Berachot, and it all went really well. There's a range of text ability here, and I am at the lower end of the spectrum, which made putting the texts together rather intimidating. We ended up having great conversations, though, about the blessings we are taught to say before we eat, and why we are instructed to say them. The Talmud gives many reasons as to why we are supposed to bless in this way, but the basic gist is that the food doesn't belong to us, even if we grew it--it belongs to God, and the way we redeem it from God is by saying a blessing. By blessing the food, we bring God into the world.
It was wonderful to finally begin this three week part of the journey; I was very nervous and tonight I'm feeling partial relief...
The study followed a great and hot morning of farming-- removing the suckers on tomato plants, planting purple peppers, and finally finishing the weeding of the kale in my plot.
My plot is turning over quickly; the beans are really done and will soon be plowed under; there are now four types of micro greens growing in the front of the plot, and more kale was planted where the spinach was. We're really transitioning from spring harvest to summer harvest-- there's actually a bit of a lull right now-- far less to harvest than there was in weeks past.
The Kollel finally began today, with 11 of us studying texts I had prepared from the tractate of the Talmud called Berachot, and it all went really well. There's a range of text ability here, and I am at the lower end of the spectrum, which made putting the texts together rather intimidating. We ended up having great conversations, though, about the blessings we are taught to say before we eat, and why we are instructed to say them. The Talmud gives many reasons as to why we are supposed to bless in this way, but the basic gist is that the food doesn't belong to us, even if we grew it--it belongs to God, and the way we redeem it from God is by saying a blessing. By blessing the food, we bring God into the world.
It was wonderful to finally begin this three week part of the journey; I was very nervous and tonight I'm feeling partial relief...
The study followed a great and hot morning of farming-- removing the suckers on tomato plants, planting purple peppers, and finally finishing the weeding of the kale in my plot.
My plot is turning over quickly; the beans are really done and will soon be plowed under; there are now four types of micro greens growing in the front of the plot, and more kale was planted where the spinach was. We're really transitioning from spring harvest to summer harvest-- there's actually a bit of a lull right now-- far less to harvest than there was in weeks past.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The times, they are a-changin'...
Had a great Shabbat with the family-- it was so incredibly good to see them! We had a fantastic time at the farm-- services and dinner on Friday night, sleeping in and a great hike of the loop trail on Saturday, and a good time harvesting this morning and going into Baltimore for the great, if sweaty, Farmer's Market. The boys popped right up this morning and helped pick peas, which was so fun! Here's some pictures from that harvesting:
Aren't they handsome?
Tonight, we met with the five folks who have come for the Kollel for this week. The Kollel is actually why I"m officially here, now that I'm more than halfway through my time. The idea is that, starting tomorrow, we'll work in the field until noon, and then study Jewish text related to agriculture in the afternoon.
So far, the folks I've been living and working with have been the Fellows who are working both at Kayam and the adjacent JCC Day Camp, plus the paid staff of Kayam. Now, things are changing; these new, great folks have come in, and as of tomorrow, camp starts-- the fellows will mostly be there, and I'll mostly be with Kollel group, which will change week to week as some folks are here for much of the summer, and some are here as short as one week.
Each week we'll be studying a Jewish text related to agriculture; I'm "captaining" this first week, which is based on the Talmudic text called Brachot. It's been more than a little humbling to put together study materials for this group-- most of the other folks have been in yeshiva or at least have Jewish day school backgrounds. Hopefull the study materials I've assembled will serve as a valuable jumping off point for each chevruta's (learning pair) study.
I've not been so intimated in a long time; hopefully it will go well. This being way out of my league, too, is a different experience-- hopefully a good one!
Off to try to sleep before the big day!
Note-- I've just (finally) added some photos from the watershed pilgrimage to that posting-- check 'em out!
Aren't they handsome?
Tonight, we met with the five folks who have come for the Kollel for this week. The Kollel is actually why I"m officially here, now that I'm more than halfway through my time. The idea is that, starting tomorrow, we'll work in the field until noon, and then study Jewish text related to agriculture in the afternoon.
So far, the folks I've been living and working with have been the Fellows who are working both at Kayam and the adjacent JCC Day Camp, plus the paid staff of Kayam. Now, things are changing; these new, great folks have come in, and as of tomorrow, camp starts-- the fellows will mostly be there, and I'll mostly be with Kollel group, which will change week to week as some folks are here for much of the summer, and some are here as short as one week.
Each week we'll be studying a Jewish text related to agriculture; I'm "captaining" this first week, which is based on the Talmudic text called Brachot. It's been more than a little humbling to put together study materials for this group-- most of the other folks have been in yeshiva or at least have Jewish day school backgrounds. Hopefull the study materials I've assembled will serve as a valuable jumping off point for each chevruta's (learning pair) study.
I've not been so intimated in a long time; hopefully it will go well. This being way out of my league, too, is a different experience-- hopefully a good one!
Off to try to sleep before the big day!
Note-- I've just (finally) added some photos from the watershed pilgrimage to that posting-- check 'em out!
Friday, June 18, 2010
The Long Wait is Over
The day has arrived, ending the longest stretch of my time at the farm without seeing my family... Today is the day-- they'll arrive later for Shabbat, and I can't wait!
Two nights ago we spent the evening at the farmhouse where the staff of Kayam live, about 2 miles from Pearlstone. There's a hiking path through cornfields and forest, though we drove a country road that felt alot like Highway F in Wisconsin.
The farmhouse is actually owned by New York Times garden columnist Ann Raver, so you can only imagine how beautiful the home and the property are. She grew up in the farmhouse, which is charming and right out of the 1940's-- I half expected Dorothy and and Toto to come prancing out! A few years ago, Ann and her partner converted half of one of the huge barns on the property into this amazing lofted apartment where they now live.
Every bit of the property is thoughtfully planned out and elegant-- the ultimate garden tour-- but not fancy or showy. Here's a rosebush planted in the middle of the lettuce beds. Here are the horseradish plants she wrote about for her March 31, 2010 article on the subject. We were stunned at every turn as we picked wild mulberries and blackberries and black raspberries-- we feasted on them...
Ann is a good friend to Kayam, and a good supporter of their work; I'm now a fan of Ann and am reading all of her articles at the Times website; she;'ll definitely be another one of my new garden gurus!
Two nights ago we spent the evening at the farmhouse where the staff of Kayam live, about 2 miles from Pearlstone. There's a hiking path through cornfields and forest, though we drove a country road that felt alot like Highway F in Wisconsin.
Every bit of the property is thoughtfully planned out and elegant-- the ultimate garden tour-- but not fancy or showy. Here's a rosebush planted in the middle of the lettuce beds. Here are the horseradish plants she wrote about for her March 31, 2010 article on the subject. We were stunned at every turn as we picked wild mulberries and blackberries and black raspberries-- we feasted on them...
Ann is a good friend to Kayam, and a good supporter of their work; I'm now a fan of Ann and am reading all of her articles at the Times website; she;'ll definitely be another one of my new garden gurus!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
10 million fireflies...
I have never ever seen so many fireflies...
We just walked back in the dark from watching the first half of the Lakers-Celts NBA game 6 at Yakir and Netz's house, and there were more "flashbulbs" going off in the forest than there were at the Staples Center in LA! It's so incredibly beautiful and peaceful here-- can't wait to show Lys and the boys-- just 2 more days!
Okay, speaking of Elyssa-- dear-- I will never ever complain again about what a pain it is to weed the little garden we've got growing in our front yard. You graciously have done that work for years, never complaining. Well, I now have some perspective. Over the last 2 days, I have single-handedly weeded 500 tomato plants, and no, that's not an exaggeration. My favorite new gardening tool is an oscillating hoe:
Me and my hoe (also called a saddle hoe) have gotten to be good friends. (Hey, no jokes, please-- this is serious business!)
It was very rewarding work; it'd be even more rewarding if I didn't already know that by next week, there'll be weeds again, but, such is life...
Had an interesting talk with a forest ecologist today... He took us on a walk around the loop trail popinting out amazing things.
It seems that each expert we speak to makes the concept of sustainability so much more nuanced and complex... Kayam is doing great things with organic farming, but it still uses tons of water (instead of using water collected when it rains). It's doing incredible stuff with its production, but it's still not doing permaculture, instead relying on the basic style of farming used in most places in the country.
I am determined not to make the perfect the enemy of the good, as Voltaire wrote. Kayam is an amazing place, period, and it represents a growing community of folks concerned about sustainability. AND, I have many more questions to ask. Like everything else I learn in my life, I suppose, the more I know, the more I realize how much much more there is to learn...
We just walked back in the dark from watching the first half of the Lakers-Celts NBA game 6 at Yakir and Netz's house, and there were more "flashbulbs" going off in the forest than there were at the Staples Center in LA! It's so incredibly beautiful and peaceful here-- can't wait to show Lys and the boys-- just 2 more days!
Okay, speaking of Elyssa-- dear-- I will never ever complain again about what a pain it is to weed the little garden we've got growing in our front yard. You graciously have done that work for years, never complaining. Well, I now have some perspective. Over the last 2 days, I have single-handedly weeded 500 tomato plants, and no, that's not an exaggeration. My favorite new gardening tool is an oscillating hoe:
Me and my hoe (also called a saddle hoe) have gotten to be good friends. (Hey, no jokes, please-- this is serious business!)
It was very rewarding work; it'd be even more rewarding if I didn't already know that by next week, there'll be weeds again, but, such is life...
Had an interesting talk with a forest ecologist today... He took us on a walk around the loop trail popinting out amazing things.
It seems that each expert we speak to makes the concept of sustainability so much more nuanced and complex... Kayam is doing great things with organic farming, but it still uses tons of water (instead of using water collected when it rains). It's doing incredible stuff with its production, but it's still not doing permaculture, instead relying on the basic style of farming used in most places in the country.
I am determined not to make the perfect the enemy of the good, as Voltaire wrote. Kayam is an amazing place, period, and it represents a growing community of folks concerned about sustainability. AND, I have many more questions to ask. Like everything else I learn in my life, I suppose, the more I know, the more I realize how much much more there is to learn...
Monday, June 14, 2010
The New Moon
Kayam has a calendar garden, with (soon to be) twelve pie-piece-shaped beds arranged in a circle with a sundial in the middle. Each bed represents one of the Hebrew months, in addition to one of the 12 tribes of Israel. Yesterday was the new moon of Tammuz, represented by the tribe of Reuven. In honor of Tammuz, a month that the mystical tradition associates with trial and testing, we planted spicy hot "fish" peppers.
Then tonight was the first clear night in awhile, and we went out with my telescope and looked at the sliver of the new moon with the rest of the moon ever-so-gently lit with earthshine. It was a great way to close the bookend of the day in which we marked the new moon.
The tribe of Reuven is associated with "seeing," and so we challenged ourselves today to really attempt to see and pay attention to what is around us, where we are, and also to where we'd like to be, what we'd like to work on, during our time here. I shared with the group my desire to be more reflective about my experience in life generally, and certainly during this unique experience. I'm not totally sure that I can reflect on it fully while I'm in it, but I am going to try to stop and "smell the basil!"
Happy Rosh Chodesh Tammuz!
Then tonight was the first clear night in awhile, and we went out with my telescope and looked at the sliver of the new moon with the rest of the moon ever-so-gently lit with earthshine. It was a great way to close the bookend of the day in which we marked the new moon.
The tribe of Reuven is associated with "seeing," and so we challenged ourselves today to really attempt to see and pay attention to what is around us, where we are, and also to where we'd like to be, what we'd like to work on, during our time here. I shared with the group my desire to be more reflective about my experience in life generally, and certainly during this unique experience. I'm not totally sure that I can reflect on it fully while I'm in it, but I am going to try to stop and "smell the basil!"
Happy Rosh Chodesh Tammuz!
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