the squibix family blog

Ice cream not pictured because all the youngsters slept through it, or almost: Harvey woke up after we had finished so we got him his own (and some more for us for later!), but it was kind of a bad scene. Half an hour in the car is not sufficient nap after several hours of beach. But a little television and playing trains with Tim—and then a whole lot of dinner—made everything better. We'll all sleep well tonight!

My other posts last year talk about the subject with more eloquence (or at least more length) so I won't rehash all I have to say about how ridiculous it is to export a system of agriculture that doesn't even work (for farmers or eaters; I'm not concerned with corporations) in this country.

Happily, the article also presents an alternative view:

Forty-year-old Jemal Mohammed owns a five-acre, hillside farm outside the tiny hamlet of Fontanina in the Welo region of Ethiopia's northern highlands. It is in the heart of one of the centers of diversity that Nikolay Vavilov visited on his 1926 expedition.

Stepping foot on Mohammed's land is like tumbling back in time to an ancient way of farming. His circular, thatched-roof hut with walls of dried mud and straw is the same dwelling that has dotted Ethiopia's countryside for centuries. A pair of oxen lies to the right of the hut in the shade of a jacaranda tree. Three or four chickens strut across a bare front yard. His fields, tilled with an ox-drawn plough and planted by hand, are a jumble of crops: tomatoes, onions, garlic, cilantro, gourds, sorghum, wheat, barley, chickpeas, and teff, a grain used to make injera, a flatbread.

There are those who talk about the importance of saving heirloom seeds and traditional knowledge, so that when industrial agriculture does break down we have something to fall back on. I say don't wait for catastrophe: start working on alternatives now! Our food supply shouldn't rely on a handful of cultivars of just three crops and it shouldn't rely on a handful of companies either.

And if you'll excuse me, I need to go tend to my heirloom tomatoes (I'll let the f1 hybrids take care of themselves today). Happy 4th, everyone!

Well of course he meant the ruler came from the table, he being a child of no abstract ideas (he answers "yes" to any and all why or how questions). In any case on reflection I know where he got the idea: from his friends Ollie and Bruce. Ah, the dangers of hanging out with older kids.

(Dangers for Harvey, that is; I don't think he would emerge very well from a fair fight with the dog!)

And indeed, once the prefab pieces showed up it became abundantly clear that, rather than an agricultural structure, what was rising behind the perfectly satisfactory dormered and additioned cape that fit so nicely on the lot was a new, giant, modular home. With bay windows and multiple modular dormers and, coming soon, a considerable porch in front. The siding is yellow and the shutters green, which is apparently the default offering around here (n=2).

As I said, the existing house was perfectly nice. But I'm sure the new owners had good reason to replace it; maybe it was rotting from within or something. That being said, I question the decision to go with a modular home. Not because I think there's anything necessarily wrong with building parts of a house off-site—if it speeds things up, so much the better! No, the problem is with modern house construction in general, whether the house is modular or custom built: cheap parts. Particle board walls, fiberglass siding, things like that. New big houses, if they're going to be at all affordable, need to be as economical on the outside as they are luxuriously decorated with oversized furniture from Jordans Furniture on the inside.

But really, why do folks need so much space?! Our neighbors have two kids; unless they're planning to keep the prospective horse inside I can't imagine what they're going to do with all those new rooms. And cleaning it all! When you have spaces in your house that you only use once a week (we could never entertain without our formal dining room!) it's too big. If you ask me.

I will now make a rhetorical leap and connect this tendency towards large homes with wider trends in American culture. Americans value quantity. When we go to the movies we want the big big sodas, to make sure we're getting our money's worth. And a good Italian place is one that knows how to pile on the pasta. Who cares if it's a little overcooked or if the soda is mostly ice (and also is just, you know... soda)! Similarly in housing. Big houses are good; they are fancy and respectable and let family members interact as little as possible. If some corners need to be cut quality-wise to make those square feet possible, so be it.

You can tell that I don't like it. Me, I can't live without beauty—or at least personality. Those fancy restaurants where they give you a tiny little portion of exquisite food? I'd eat there all the time if I could afford it. And I'd take a one-room cabin if it featured exquisite woodworking and real genuine muntins in the windows (and maybe a loft for the kids too). Failing that (since as you well know I can't afford it) I'll rejoice in the solid wood doors and hand-laid pine floorboard of our little old house. Also when we eat I'll serve small portions, thought I reserve the right to take seconds.

I'm happy when I see people getting excited about local produce because it's another way to reject what's cheap and abundant and barely acceptable and replace it with something that may be more expensive, but which is undeniably better. I'm not the only one who'd rather, for a certain sum of money, eat some really good tomatoes once and a while rather than industrial agriculture tennis balls. Maybe we're getting there. But in the meantime I still have to look at this ugly house going up every time that I walk around the corner.

This year Harvey was big enough to go in the bouncy house:

He didn't bounce except when he was impelled upwards by the motion of the bigger children around him—he didn't even manage to stand up, in fact!—but he had a great time.

Recent days also saw the first Parlee Farms blueberry picking expedition of the summer.

We met friends there, so it wasn't the hard, focused work experience our picking trips are usually (but we did get some serious picking out of the way before they showed up). Six quarts should take care of the blueberry jam production needs for the summer, if we ever get around to making it; so far our busy social calendar has prevented.

We also saw some animals at the farm.

So far, though, things are doing really well. Sure, the peas might have kept producing a little longer had they not been so parched, but then again it could have been the heat that did them in. We're harvesting zucchini now, and they're growing as vigorously as we could ever wish; cucumbers also are coming along nicely. Cucumbers are a staple of Middle Eastern cuisine, and unless I'm very much mistaken it doesn't rain too much in the Middle East. Should be fine, right?

In all seriousness, I'm doing what I can to help the plants get by with minimal watering. They're mulched in some cases (though I'm using less mulching than last year, since I think that in some cases it slowed down ripening) and in others the leaf canopy itself keeps the ground shaded. And I'm keeping my eyes open for wilting: I watered the beans yesterday and most everything today. Of course, I did it very carefully, very low flow right at the roots. I made sure not to waste even one precious drop. Sure, rain less than an hour later kind of ruined the effect, but I'll take it. The cool air that came with it is nice too.

Those are producing these:

We're also eating a lot of these as pesto:

This one we didn't manage to eat last year, but now it's ornamental:

These are growing ever taller:

With the promise of something tasty soon!

Not pictured: zucchini, carrots, peppers, corn, beans, eggplant, collards, and chard. Some more successful than others. And check out that new fence!

I know we've done this before, but it feels special every time. Where else in my life do I find myself in such desperate pursuit of the "new hotness"? Actually, my pursuit is generally pretty lackadaisical, but here's an instance where I've actually managed to get on the ground floor. Sure, everybody else is already on the way up in the elevator, but close enough.

Some people are already complaining about the lack of anonymity inherent in Google+, but while I agree with them in principle, for me that's actually part of the draw. I hate being anonymous! I'm engaged in a constant effort to supplant all those other "Dan Archibald"s from the top of the Google search results, and giving Google yet more (carefully curated) personal information is a great way to forward that goal. That's also why I started signing my full name when I comment on blog posts, in case anyone was wondering. And look, it's working!! Sure, at the time of writing my best results are only numbers three and five, but we're getting there.

So yeah, Google+. Join up and friend me, or circle me, or +1 me; whatever they're calling it this time. My profile thingy is here.

*It's a Christian cult thing, if you're curious.

Among the thousand things to do tomorrow is pick everything that can be picked and preserve what I can manage to preserve. We'll see. I only hope the tomatoes wait until we're back before ripening!

In my defense, I did make bread and two batches of pesto and chocolate chip cookies (with Leah's help), and we've packed up more than half of the items on our two-page, two-column-to-a-page checklist. So I'm not a total disaster.

I know, I know, we should have more of Zion, but you know, he just doesn't do as much!