Posted in Farming

Real Farms are not Picture Perfect (but that’s okay)

The large book I have on natural insect and disease control says that one should plant their pumpkins as far as they can away from last year’s crop to prevent squash bugs. We thought twenty-five miles would do it. Nope. It is rather difficult to have a farm named Pumpkin Hollow Farm whilst battling these invaders.

Two weeks ago we had a great hail storm. Really a doozy.

RIP Scarecrow

Followed by a huge rain storm, flood, and mud slide. It was really something.

And something ate the beans.

Farming. Not for the weak of heart.

Now, I want you to forget all those pretty, glossy pictures in the magazines. They are like social media, carefully staged and edited to look a certain way. A real farm is messy. With a bit of trash blowing around (cause it’s always windy). And squash bugs, weeds, and ducks who eat house plants left on the patio.

It is easy to focus on the negative. Where did all the cabbage seeds I planted go?…for crying out loud. It can get frustrating. Where the heck did I put that wine? It can be scary. What color would you say that cloud is? But through it all, it is miraculous. Always focus on the positive.

A restaurant wants to buy my lettuce. My friends are getting their fill of fresh, delicious eggs. I counted fifty thriving corn stalks in just one row. The birds are taking out grasshoppers. Forty-five tomato plants were found under all the mud and debris after the storm and they are thriving. The amaranth grew an inch overnight. The potatoes are busy underground and the corn will surely be knee high by fourth of July (a saying we hold to dearly around here). We are planning out our greenhouse and vineyard for next year. And best of all, we live on a farm!

I need more help around here to keep this farm going. That is a good thing. That means things are growing. The weeds are pretty high but at least they are green (rain in the desert, woohoo!). I am getting fabulously strong and tan and we are eating the best lettuce and a few peas out of the garden. After our several mile walk around our country town each evening, we water by hand. Doug takes the front gardens, I take the back, and an hour later we meet on the porch to laugh at the ducks and baby chickens and eat ice cream as the sun colorfully sets behind the mountains beyond our little farm.

Posted in inspiration

Farewell Social Media (embracing old fashioned relationships)

Well, I finally did it! It took me a year, but I pulled the plug on social media. Never would I have imagined that it would become so addictive. I do not usually have issues with addiction. I can have a cigar once every five years or a glass of wine with friends and then go for a long time without. I can have a cup of coffee…oh never mind, bad example. But social media was a whole other poison.

It seemed so innocent, didn’t it? I can reconnect with friends from seventh grade! (Did I have friends in seventh grade?) Our family can reconnect! (Maybe that wasn’t a good idea.) But really it just brings out the worst in people and becomes a popularity contest. It isn’t much different than high school. Will people like me? Will they care about what I am doing? Don’t I have a prettier picture than this? Oh, here’s one from ten years ago, that’ll work! Inevitably sad when someone close to me (or not close to me) responds with a rude comment or blocks me. (My niece blocked me after the last election.) The funny memes have been going around so many times that I stopped laughing.

I looked up the other day from my screen, upset and anxious over all the Covid-19 posts and political bashing, and realized that I have wasted hours- no years!- on this damn thing. People started fighting on one of my posts and the whole thing just needed to go. Addiction done. I wondered why I stuck around so long. All my photographs are probably the biggest factor. I let someone else (Facebook) hold onto my life and records for me. And boredom, I guess. An hour can go pretty quick scrolling. I always end up anxious after a bout of scrolling. I could have been out laughing at the baby goats, or reading a good magazine, or read a chapter of my book, or write, or bake, or hell, do something! Sit outside and look at the mountains. Find some peace.

My real friends call me anyway. My penpals are a postage stamp away. The small sect of people close to us already know our political, spiritual, and personal views and are rarely surprised. They check in on us. 80% of my huge family hangs on by a thread on social media. In the real world there isn’t time to keep up with 364 friends and family. We have forgotten what real relationships look like and feel like. It is time to reconnect. Not by keyboard, but by phone, or email, or over tea. It is time to fill my moments with joy. At the end of my life, I might regret the wasted time and irritation of social media. Better head outside to view the world. Real life is happening right here.

My email is Katie@PumpkinHollowFarm.net if y’all want to be penpals, I would love to exchange addresses.

Posted in inspiration

The Medicine Woman Memoirs

wild 23“I had the best day today,” I told my husband when he called me on his way home from work yesterday.

“Oh yea, what did you do?”

“I went to see Maryjane’s dance class and then had lunch with our girls.  And I wrote most of the day.”

I am writing my memoir.  I am my own worst critic.  Aren’t you a little young to be writing your memoirs?  What makes you so special that you should write a book about your life?  They might be voices from my past that just keep following me around.

I am writing my memoir.  I realize that most people have not experienced many of the things I have like working and learning from Native American elders and seeing miracles and healings and dozens of eagles circling my house.  Most people don’t look at others and see tumors and broken hearts and see where the break in the bone is.  I am a medical intuitive and am very psychic.

On the other hand, there are a fair amount of people like me that feel alone or do not understand their situations.  There are folks who were not nurtured as children, or who are stuck in abusive relationships, or who are highly sensitive to everything and those that are clairvoyant, and those young people that are desperately trying to be “normal” and society has labeled them mentally ill or ADD.  There are people that need to know they are important and special and need to know how to embrace, understand, and move forward with their great gifts.

There are a million reasons why I need to write my memoir.  And I am.  It is flowing out of my fingertips faster than I can write and I am fascinated by what is coming out.  I feel like a bystander transcribing a medicine woman’s journals.  We are going to talk about that?  Oh yea, I remember when that happened.  Oh, those were good times.  Yes, talk about that, that was scary…amazing…beautiful…devastating…real.

I want to blog about planting potatoes and spring crops and spring herbal remedies and changes but I cannot.  I am writing my memoir and it is fascinating and the Universe is quite insistent that it get done.  I cannot wait to share it with you.  Right now I need another cup of coffee and I will begin my new day’s work, writing.