Bit of Earth Farm

 

 

Refried Beans (a favorite with my family) 

 
2 cups raw pinto or black beans (or mixture)

olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

3 cloves garlic, chopped

2 teaspoons ground cumin

a hefty dash of dry chipotle powder or cayenne powder

1 teaspoon sea salt


Dump the beans in a colander, rinse well and check for stones. This is a wonderful job to assign young children. They enjoy the tactile pleasure of running their fingers over beans in the colander as water pours on them. 

Then put beans in a large pot, cover with water and bring to a boil. You can do this the night before, which speeds the next day’s cooking process. If you have time, let the beans sit in the hot water to soak at least till the water cools. Then drain the cooking water, cover them again with fresh water and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down and let them simmer until done, usually about an hour and a half. (Two batches of cooking water increases the digestibility of the beans I’m told.)  Don’t store beans too long. Old dried beans of any variety take a very long time to cook and lose flavor. 

 
Anyway, drain the cooked beans and get on with it. Heat some oil in a frying pan. Add the onion and cook till translucent. Add the garlic. Then get out your handy blender. Toss the onion and garlic mess in the blender with a bit of water. Whirl it around. Dump this into a large bowl, adding the spices and salt. If you prefer, put a cup or more of whole beans into that bowl for some texture. Then start blending the beans in batches. Depending on your blender, you’ll have to add a decent amount of water to even encourage it to run. At least a cup of water to every two and a half cups of beans. Don’t worry if the beans seem too thin. The thinner they are, the longer you’ll bake them to reduce the moisture content. You’re aiming for cooked oatmeal thickness now. After they’re cooked, you’re aiming for mashed potato thickness. 


Once you have the rest of the beans blended and scraped into your bowl, mix everything together. Then scoop into a heavy casserole dish that has been pan sprayed. Bake at 350 for an hour or two. You’ll need to mix every half hour or so while they bake, scraping the dry refried beans from sides and bottom to rejoin their beanie friends in the middle. These beans thicken a bit as they cool. 

 
Serve as a make-your-own-burrito meal with all the fixings. Or stuff into bell pepper halves with fresh corn, salsa and cilantro topped with cheese. Or serve with chips and salsa. Or roll into enchiladas. Or do what you’d like.  We always make a triple or quadruple batch of these beans.

 

Toss In What You Have Beans 

olive oil

1 large onion, red preferred

2 or more cloves garlic

1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds (optional)

1 large bell pepper

3 cups cooked beans---black beans, black-eyed peas, pinto beans or mixture is good

1 pint home canned tomatoes and hot chili peppers, OR 
     Rotel tomatoes and chili peppers OR 2 fresh tomatoes,
     chopped plus one small minced hot chili pepper

1/2 cup cranberries, chopped OR 1 small ripe mango, diced

1 teaspoon sea salt

¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro (optional)

2 small cooked sweet potatoes, diced OR 1 ½ cup cooked
    quinoa, brown rice or pasta 

 Heat oil in large pot, add onion and cook till translucent. Add garlic, cook a minute or two longer. Then add cumin seeds and bell pepper. Cook, careful to avoid burning cumin seeds. Mix in beans, tomatoes and chilis, cranberries and salt. Simmer 10 minutes or so. Stir in cilantro and starch of choice. Heat through. This is better then next day when flavors have blended. Wonderfully colorful with cranberries, mixed beans, cilantro and sweet potato. 

 


 

 

Chocolate Beanie Squares  (delicious and flour-free) 

There are recipes out there for bean brownies. But really, don’t call them brownies, because they don’t have the texture of brownies. You’re asking to have your dessert rejected. And if possible, enjoy the real pleasure of subversive cooking and don’t tell anyone there are beans in the dessert until AFTER they’ve enjoyed eating. Then chuckle all you want. 


1 ½ cups cooked, drained beans (navy beans, garbanzo beans, black beans, pinto beans)

3 eggs

¼ cup butter, melted

¼ cup cocoa powder

dash salt

 ½ teaspoon baking powder

EITHER dash of vanilla extract OR dash peppermint oil

½ cup honey

¼ cup mini chocolate chips or shaved chocolate

6 ounces milk chocolate chips or shaved high quality
    chocolate

Option (when using vanilla, not peppermint) ½ cup peanut butter, divided

Put beans, eggs and butter in blender. Pulverize into smooth slurry. Dump out into mixing bowl. Add cocoa powder, salt, baking powder and mix. Add honey and chocolate chips, mix. Now for your choices.  

MINT: If you are making mint squares, add the mint oil, scrape the batter into a prepared (greased or sprayed) 8 x 8 pan and bake at 350 for approximately 20 to 30 minutes, just until the middle is firm but not dry.  As soon as your remove the pan from the oven, sprinkle the 6 ounces of milk chocolate evenly over the top. Immediately cover the top with a cookie sheet to hold in the heat. After a minute or two, remove the cookie sheet and spread the melted chocolate with a knife. For an extra spectacular presentation, sprinkle with peppermint candy canes you’ve heartlessly chopped into pieces. Cut when cool.

 
PEANUT BUTTER: If you are making peanut butter squares, add the vanilla extract and mix in ¼ cup of the peanut butter. (It helps to melt it a bit or toss it in the blender in the bean step---now I tell you.) Scrape the batter into a prepared (greased or sprayed) 8 x 8 pan and bake at 350 for approximately 20 to 30 minutes, just until the middle is firm but not dry.  As soon as your remove the pan from the oven, sprinkle the 6 ounces of milk chocolate evenly over the top along with dollops of the remaining ¼ cup peanut butter. Immediately cover the top with a cookie sheet to hold in the heat. After a minute or two, remove the cookie sheet and spread the melted chocolate with a knife. Cut when cool.

 

 

Make all the bean jokes you want. I live with fans of Blazing Saddles, The Onion and XKCD online comics. Chewing and guffawing are a constant around here.










 

Isabelle turned 12 not long ago. She spends her days as she chooses, munching last summer's hay with her two calves or resting on a comfortable bed of straw in the barn. 

She seems to enjoy winter weather. Sometimes Isabelle stays out in a snowstorm as if contemplating whatever it is bovines contemplate. She stands looking peacefully off in the distance, steam from her nostrils joining white swirling snowflakes. She's seen enough seasons to know that spring will return, bringing fresh grass to the pastures around her. 


Isabelle's life was recently described on Culinate. Sadly her pastoral existence isn't the norm for dairy cows, as this Alternet piece explains. Expedience and short term gain cannot guide our practices. Nature teaches us to approach life with respect for wisdom we can only barely comprehend. Isabelle teaches us every day. 

We don’t eat raspberries in the winter. 


It’s simple. They don’t grow the in the winter. We eat locally as much as possible, so that means if we haven’t canned or frozen raspberries from last summer’s harvest we’ll wait until they ripen again. 

Eating locally isn’t a trend. It’s a return to a way of life that makes sense. 


Why is it worth the trouble?

1. Save energy and reduce your carbon footprint. Food travels an average of 1,500 miles before reaching the consumer's fork. Combination foods travel even farther. One study found that the sugar, yogurt and strawberries in fruit yogurt traveled over 2,200 miles.

Buying locally can slash these numbers by more than 90 percent. It isn't hard to buy local yogurt, honey and fruit to mix up a homemade snack. This also cuts down on global warming gasses, making the end product more sustainable. In fact, the World Watch Institute reports that a typical North American meal uses up to 17 times more fossil fuel than a locally sourced meal.

2. Preserve flavor. Because today's crops are grown to be shipped long distances, growers plant varieties that will survive transport best. That means the peaches are not grown for flavor but hardiness, the tomatoes are chosen for their thick skins and standardized size. Growers pick produce long before natural ripening. The taste suffers even more during cold storage and shipping. As a result, who really wants to eat the cardboard-like fruits and vegetables available most of the year at the supermarket? Few of us know what straight-off-the-vine grapes taste like, not many of us have ever tried freshly picked sweet corn or cherries still warm from the sun.

But when you buy locally, you get a powerhouse of flavor. Farmers can pick the fruits and vegetables at peak ripeness because their customers are an hour or two away. The taste will convince you that buying foods in season from local growers is the only choice worth making.

3. Gain nutrients. According to USDA data, random samples of fruits and vegetables show 26 percent less calcium, 36 percent less iron and 29 percent less vitamin C compared to 1975. Not only do food crops need to reach peak nutritional levels by fully ripening on the plant, recent studies have shown that organic farming methods lead to improved nutrient levels. A four year, 25 million dollar study conducted by researchers at the Tesco Centre for Organic Agriculture at Newcastle University, United Kingdom found that organically grown foods contain higher levels of cancer fighting and heart healthy antioxidants. The study concluded that, compared to standard commercially grown fruits and vegetables, organic produce has on average 40 percent more antioxidants. Other studies have shown similar results for animal products. Consult Eat Wild at (http://www.eatwild.com/) for similar results pertaining to pastured, organic milk, meat and eggs.

4. Preserve family farms. For every dollar spent on food, approximately a dime goes to the farmer. The remaining 90 cents has a lot to do with profits made by corporations when wholesome food are converted into high calorie, low-nutrient products.

Local growers who find direct sales for their products with restaurateurs, farmers' markets and grocers can get full retail price for their food, meaning they can afford to remain on the land. This maintains the bedrock lifestyle that formed this country. Only one percent of Americans now farm as their primary occupation. Get to know the farmers who grow your food when you join a CSA, buy on the farm or see the growers week after week at market stands. You can ask questions about how your food has been grown, find out how to prepare it and learn what it takes to support non-industrialized food in this country.

5. Help your local economy. Money spent on processed foods and products produced elsewhere does little to sustain your local economy. One study followed the funds spent on food as it persisted in the local economy. It was found that a dollar spent at a supermarket was less than half as valuable in local reinvestment as one spent with an area grower or producer.

You also build an invisible economy of connections, people to people, when you are committed to buying locally. Once you are a regular customer at a locally owned bakery, participate in community gardening, and meet up with the same folks each week at a farmers' market, you'll get to know people who live by similar values. These ties support and sustain communities.

6. Understand ecosystems. By voting with your dollar for locally and often organically grown foods you are swaying the marketplace towards sustainable agricultural practices. Such practices include erosion control, cover crops, windbreaks and habitats for natural pollinators. You are proactively making a difference in supporting viable land use.

When you begin to eat seasonally rather than making do with tasteless raspberries in December you are learning to reconnect with natural rhythms. Other than food they preserved, our ancestors ate exactly what came from the surrounding area. Once you eat local foods you begin to cherish the short time that blueberries are ripe, and may master the art of making jam. Winter may find you enjoying root crops and sturdy grains. Our bodies seem to be more in sync when we live in concert with the seasons.

7. Save genetic diversity. While commercial agribusiness relies on a limited number of seed varieties, often genetically modified and patented, local farms can grow any of thousands of varieties passed down for generations. These hardy stocks provide more than flavor and disease resistance, they also are genetically diverse. The potato famine in Ireland taught farmers to use diverse varieties to prevent tragedy. The new seed varieties of agribusiness do not permit diversity nor seed saving. Heirloom varieties are natural insurance for a changing climate and altering global conditions. They also give us a gift of wonderful taste since we are accustomed to the same few varieties. Ever try Wren's Egg beans, Noir des Carmes melons or Tolman Sweet apples? There are literally thousands of heirloom fruits, vegetables, nuts and grains grown on small farms.

How does one get started?

The concept may seem daunting at first. There's no need to jump in full force. Rather than an all or nothing approach, do what you can and increase your commitment as your comfort level grows.

1. One product at a time. If you are accustomed to a diet of convenience foods then take it in moderation. Every time you shop, replace a category of food on your list that is provided by a distant corporate entity with a local provider. If you normally buy bread from a corporate conglomerate, start buying it locally or make it yourself. In another week or two when you are at ease with that change, make another change. Eventually your shift to local food will be complete without disruption or difficulty.

2. Try something new. Explore farmers' markets, the offerings from ethnic restaurants and new ideas from slow food cookbooks. Oftentimes if you are a member of a CSA, you'll find yourself with an abundance of something you haven't used before. A bumper crop of butternut squash will help you discover curried soups and casseroles you hadn't imagined before you had to deal with this nutrient-packed treasure.

3. Preserve. When you have extra you'll find it worthwhile to freeze, can or dry. You'll notice it is also helpful to double recipes so you can make your efforts worthwhile. Try getting together with friends to make spaghetti sauce, chutney or pies. The results can be an excuse for a party or give you plenty to use later.

4. Share the pleasure. Join or create a network of others who appreciate local food and/or slow food, (www.slowfoodusa.org/) .

5. Proceed wisely. Become acquainted with growing times and growers. Once you are familiar with ripening schedules for raspberries, tomatoes, eggplant and your other favorites get to know local growers by visiting farm stands, farmers' markets and orchards. You can get better prices by buying in bulk, going to pick-your-own farms, asking for seconds (smaller apples, oddly sized potatoes, etc) and bidding at produce auctions. To find local farms, Community Supported Agriculture and stores selling locally produced crops consult Local Harvest at (www.localharvest.org/) .

6. Garden. Homesteaders have been eating local food for years and community gardeners haven't been far behind. If you don't have the space for your own garden, locate one near you through the American Community Gardening Association, (http://www.communitygarden.org/) .

7. Curl up with a book. A number of books on the concept of local eating have sprouted on the bestseller lists. Try "The 100-Mile Diet: A Year of Local Eating" by Alisa Smith and J.B. Mackinnon, "Coming Home to Eat: The Pleasures and Politics of Local Foods" by Gary Paul Nabhan, or "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver.

Buying local food brings the solution back home. It doesn't assume that corporate or political answers will provide the solution. Polls show a majority of us care deeply about the environment and health. Now our day-to-day decisions are beginning to reflect this consciousness. Each time a choice is made to eat healthy, locally grown food we put sustainability on the menu.

 

Why We Walk the Dogs 

 

Yawning, you say you’re too tired 

yet we can’t refuse

brown-eyed pleading at the door.

 

Away from these walls we more easily silence

sorrow, hardship, loss

by looking, only looking.

 

Cows in the lower pasture raise their heads as we pass.

A Baltimore oriole alights on a hickory fencepost

twined with yellow flowers. The sun stretches

generous arms of light cloud to cloud.

 

The old dog walks alongside,

as the puppy bounds through ditches

up hillsides, joyously muddy

collecting scents for his dreams.

 

When grief or fear catches in my throat

I remember to look at the sky

letting higher possibilities

hover over our steps.

 

Then through evening brightness

dozens of blue and green dragonflies

swoop around us in some unknown ritual.

We wonder which of nature’s perfect gestures---

migration, mating, defense---this may be. 

Standing in the middle of our complicated lives,

we feel a lift of hope requiring no effort

and turn toward home, wide awake.

 

Laura Grace Weldon  


published EarthSpeak Magazine 
Autumn 2009

http://www.earthspeakmagazine.com/sequinoxwhywe1.htm




Creative Commons image 

 

"As long as I live I'll hear the birds & the winds & the waterfalls sing. I'll interpret the rocks & learn the language of flood & storm & avalanche. I'll make the acquaintance of the wild gardens & the glaciers & get as near to the heart of this world as I can.

As so I did.

I sauntered about from rock to rock, from grove to grove, from stream to stream. Whenever I met a new plant I would sit down beside it, hear what it had to tell, make its acquaintance for a minute or a day.

I asked the boulders where they had been & whether they were going. And where night found me there I camped.

I took no more heed to save time or to make haste then did the trees or the stars. This is true freedom. A good practical sort of immortality."

John Muir

 

The sight of Ron’s farm is like a quiet blessing. I wait for my first glimpse of it over the rise of a hill each time I take the dogs for a walk down our street. The house and several outbuildings are in shambles, but that’s because Ron puts his energy into keeping his small dairy farm going. 

His herd of around fifty Ayrshire, Holstein, Guernsey and Brown Swiss graze on pasture so that the grasses sway in the wind. Many of the old fence posts surrounding the fields are wire-wrapped osage orange and hickory trunks, since farmers a few generations ago knew these durable woods would serve while alive and long after.   

Ron puts his cows out on pasture each spring by a calculation that remains a mystery to me, something to do with phases of the moon. He adheres to other timeworn methods that aren’t fancy enough to be termed eco-friendly or green. For example, Ron drives his old car back to the hayfield before it’s time to cut. He walks through the field handpicking weeds that aren’t good for his cows. He doesn’t confine his cows year round, dose them with production-boosting hormones or follow any other agricultural trends.

Ron’s back is bent; his face is weathered and creased into a permanent smile. Already he looks like his father, Herb, who died a few years ago, probably already in his nineties. We asked Herb’s advice back when we first started farming. Herb told us he’d walked over to see our cows a few times, meaning he’d hiking through fields and woods to reassure himself that all was well.

How many of us can still benefit from the benevolent instinct of a neighboring farmer? How many are lucky enough to learn from examples of those who are deeply rooted, as Lisa Hamilton’s wonderful new book Deeply Rooted is aptly named?

Dairy farms all over the country are selling cows, selling land and going out of business. The price they are being paid is about the same as it was in the 1970’s, although feed and fuel is much higher. Government aid under consideration for small farms is steered to prompt farmers into selling cows, meaning even more milk will come from huge confinement agricultural operations.

Losing small farms also means that the wisdom of farmers like Ron will be left behind at an ever faster pace. This includes specific wisdom about the land and wider wisdom about ways to live. 

Authentic connection to the land is so easily crushed beneath the weight of society’s pressing demand for immediate gratification and quick profits. But then, much is lost. As Pierre Teilhard de Chardin said, “This palpable world, which we are used to treating with the boredom and disrespect with which we habitually regard places with no sacred association, is a holy place."

Perhaps most obviously, common sense is lost. Small farms are actually more efficient.  The Institute for Food and Development Policy amassed the available data from every country to compare productivity of smaller farms versus larger farms (total output of agricultural products per unit area -- per acre or hectare.)  Their research showed that smaller farms are anywhere from 200 to 1,000 percent more productive.

Ron’s son-in-law and grandson help on the farm, but his family talks to him about getting out of the business. They know he’s losing money. Ron says that he watched his father go through hard times and he learned that the way you stay farming is to hang on. So he’s hanging on. 

Ron’s rootedness to his farm and his land is part of who he is, like the farmer Gene Logsdon describes:“…he is a last member of an ancient tribe—the genuine traditional farmers who committed themselves lovingly to a piece of land and husbanded it from generation to generation, carrying in their memories a lifetime of their own experiences and that of their fathers and grandfathers on that land.”

So today I will walk in his direction, grateful for Ron’s farm. I’ll pay attention to the sight of cows resting in tall grass and the sound of a slack board on the house creaking in the breeze, hoping perhaps each thing we look upon with love somehow is more likely to endure. 


 


Crosspo

 

We persist in learning the hard way. We keep on farming when our bees leave town, our cow refuses to get pregnant, our chickens are eaten by marauding neighborhood dogs. Somehow these trials don’t persuade us to farm conventionally even though most other beekeepers use pesticides in their hives, most other farmers cull older cows, and most “free range” chickens don’t actually have any freedom. 

Now we’re skipping down another highly educational path. 

Every November we buy a turkey or two from our friends at Tea Hills Farms  It’s a beautiful drive and we’re glad that our purchase helps sustain their farm. Every November we also talk about raising our own flock of turkeys, especially after paying $70 to $90 per bird for our holiday table. We have no plans to replicate Tea Hills' business, but simply hope that, on a smaller scale, we might be able to supply ourselves and our customers with naturally raised turkeys.

A friend who has experience with raising turkeys told us (gently) that our hopes were foolhardy. She said our plans to avoid medications and artificial vitamins in the feed would leave us with no survivors. Many online tales of turkey-raising attempts repeated her woeful account.

But do we listen? Naw.  

We ordered 15 turkey chicks from the ever-amazing Julia at Spencer Feed. That was our first expense.

Then, because we don’t have the equipment to raise them indoors for the necessary six to eight weeks we had Mark’s friends, an Amish family, care for them. These lucky birds were kept carefully tended in the family’s kitchen. It was an unseasonably hot spring, and Elmer told us that he found every excuse possible to stay out of the fowl smelling house. One bird sadly perished during that time, so our small flock was down to 14. We picked up the peeping little birds and paid Elmer. Another expense.


 

At home Mark and Ben welded together a turkey tractor. This is a moveable coop which they custom designed to fold up for storage between seasons. Entirely out of metal, it was modified several times over the first few weeks. They built it with roosts but we soon learned that the turkeys didn’t care to perch. The roosts came out. After the turkeys spilled copious amounts of grain Mark added hangers so that the feeder could be suspended from the top. And after some concerns about predators, they added a movable electric fence. Yup, more expenses.

Most books about raising turkeys offer advice for conventional farmers, including warnings about keeping turkeys “on wire,” indoors and away from (gasp) the disease-carrying dangers of grass. Our turkeys are considered pastured birds because they have constant access to grass and bugs. In fact Claire, principal turkey wrangler, moves the turkey tractor several times a day. 

How much these quickly growing chicks eat surprised us. We give them fresh organic produce from the garden each day. They have strong preferences. They love tomatoes, squash and watermelon. They’ll consider zucchini, cucumbers and spinach. They do not care for rutabagas or broccoli. But the cost of feed is startling. Four bags of locally grown grain and seed cost nearly $50. By now they’re getting through those four bags in about two weeks. Another expense. 

Aside from the expense, we’ve found that turkey farming is interesting. The toms gobble at any noisy airborne attractions: Canada geese, crows and helicopters. No matter how long they’ve been here we find ourselves smiling at each gobble. Then hens chirp and cluck in their own quiet manner while the toms are prone to show-off displays of exaggerated feather fluffing. Their heads turn iridescent blue when they’re annoyed and sometimes they engage in snood-grabbing jousts. Our dogs are fascinated by the turkeys and visit each time they get a chance. The turkeys don’t seem to mind the attention. One of our chickens visits them most days, hanging around like a friendly fowl diplomat from a nearby land.  

Then this week our mistakes became evident. First one, then another bird slowed down and died. We were terribly saddened. Turns out that they grew too big too quickly and their hearts gave out. The manuals we read gave instructions about feeding non-pastured turkeys, but ours have the benefit of fresh grass and bugs (not to mention all that produce) so they’ve gotten big and done so quickly. It also turns out that we started too soon. We should have bought chicks mid-summer. Our birds are now Thanksgiving size much too early. On the plus side, our turkeys have remained much healthier than their factory-farmed counterparts and never suffered from any of the predicted ill health. Well, until they got so big that they keeled over.

So this week we took the biggest of the birds, the toms, to a local USDA inspected slaughterhouse, located on at Plum Creek Farm. Mark lost his glasses in the drive, fortunately they were there when he went back or our turkey venture would have cost us even more. When we returned for pick up we were surprised to find that the birds dressed out between 24 and 36 pounds.

Because we failed to have them fresh in time for Thanksgiving, we’re not charging our customers the same price we’d planned (on par with Tea Hill’s price of $3 per pound). We’re asking $2.50, knowing that learning is its own reward. Maybe next year we can put those hard-earned lessons to good use as we continue to contribute our small efforts to the cause of sustainable living. 
 

 

"Repurposing" is a strangely awkward word. Our ancestors didn't need a name for the frugal and often creative uses they found to reuse objects. 

My grandfather set a door across file cabinets for a work table. When making repairs he did calculations on an old piece of cardboard. Then he fished used screws and bolts from neatly labeled tin cans, chose from coiled loops of wire and string hanging from hooks, and proceeded using tools his own father once used.

My grandmother was a talented seamstress who reworked clothes until they were no longer functional, then took off the buttons and used the fabric for anything from hooked rugs to dust clothes. She made do with everything she came across, from leftovers to plant cuttings.

My parents carried on in the same way, although by the sixties and seventies such traditions were regarded as eccentric, even bizarre. They tore junk mail into notepaper, saved wrapping paper to rewrap, used bread bags and even foil over and over. When our hot water tank had to be replaced my father kept the old one in the garage. He cut metal from it for years to use in various projects. These tactics were a source of amusement to their children, except when our chores included polishing silver using the soft cloth of tattered men’s briefs or some similarly embarrassing task.

As an adult I take a particular delight in repurposing. A wine decanter holds mouthwash in our bathroom and geodes collected by my children are our toothbrush holders. I’ve tucked plants into worn workboots and cracked mixing bowls, made children’s pajamas from their father’s flannel shirt, and take special delight in wrapping presents in something reusable.

Here’s a little stuffed guy made from a child’s sweater:

And here are two baby toys made from socks:

After my mother died we were left with many beautiful things, but it wasn't bearable to toss out the broken beautiful things. So I incorporated them into a bit of yard art. My husband and son cut a large piece of iron into the shape of a crescent moon and welded it on a post. Then I made a mosaic on it using broken plates, bits of bright glass, even bisque amputee dolls. Here it is, with two wonder dogs Jedi and Cocoa Bean posing underneath:

Now my husband has made another of his handcrafted sinks out of repurposed materials. He took apart, reglued and recoated an antique kitchen table. Into it he affixed an antique copper candy-making vessel to serve as the sink. A leaf from the table provides a mount for the faucet and the drawer still works. 

Our friend Rebecca has this for sale in her store, Planet Green Goods
which offers locally made products, earth friendly cleaners, organic apparel and more. 

 

It feels good to save sweaters, broken plates and old tables from the landfill. It feels even better to make something from them to serve a new use. Repurposing is liberating. It frees us from the oppression of wanting, opening us to a greater freedom.


Journeying god,
pitch your tent with mine
so that I may not become deterred
by hardship, strangeness, doubt.
Show me the movement I must make
toward a wealth not dependent on possessions,
toward a wisdom not based on books,
toward a strength not bolstered by might,
toward a god not confined to heaven.
Help me to find myself as I walk in other's shoes.      

(Prayer song from Ghana, traditional, translator unknown)