Bobsledding Logs

April 30th, 2009

bobsledsideview

It’s 4:30, quarter to five,
on a crisp mid-winter afternoon.
The sun has gone down behind the hill,
and you can see dusk forming in the shadows.

Dry powder snow covers the ground.
The temperature never got above fifteen degrees today,
but working in the sun, you warmed up easily.
Now a slight chill seeps into the dampness of sweat on your shoulders.

The team is ready,
hitched in front of a nice jag of fine straight logs.
Put your coat back on, and check for mislaid tools.
Climb up on the load, gather lines,
brace your feet, and calmly call on your animals.

As the load lurches forward,
puffs of steamy breath float from the horses’ nostrils.
You can feel the weight of the load through your legs,
as the bobsled travels over humps and through hollows.

Hooves thump and squeak,
as chips of ice fly from sharpened caulks.
From below the load comes the jingle of bridle chains,
and as the logs rasp over the frozen snow
they put forth a whine, like from a bow on a fiddle.

Feel that?… That’s the spirit in your soul dancing the bob-sledder’s jig.
” Now we’re logging”.

1998; For Walt Bryan; Farmer horse logger, family man

Kate and Benjamin Returning from the Woods

April 23rd, 2009

katebeninwoods

Cultivating Spirit on the Small Farm

April 22nd, 2009

When I was young it was a potato field,
They grew hay there before that.
A quarter acre glacial terrace,
Never quite washed away.

A decade ago I started working here,
It was growing saplings then.
I cut and burned brush,
And pulled roots and picked stone.

With the horses and steers I plowed,
Spread manure, harrowed, and cultivated.
With my wife I planned, and planted.
Struggled, fought, wondered, and hoped.

I have picked bugs, and pulled weeds,
Picked more stone, and hoed hills.
In cold rain, wet snow, drizzle and fog,
At dusk, or at dawn, and in hot summer sun.

I have worked with the soil, and with plants,
And I have found both feast and failure.

These thoughts come to me as I kneel in mud,
Freshly softened by the warmth of early spring.
I push my fingers into the cold slimy soil,
And grasp, twist, and pull each perfect parsnip.

I can’t wait to bring in this harvest,
The first crop of the year, a true success.
With both hands I hold them, heading for home,
Overwhelmed by the sweet fragrance of edible Earth.

Power pours through my arms, these are not mere roots,
I feel pain and stiffness dissolve, throughout.
Just then, the brook bellows from below.
And songbirds sing down from tree tops.

I listen to them, and I smile,
From deep inside, I feel it now.
It is not me who has made this field,
But this field that has made me.    C.B.R 3/28/9

The Void

April 22nd, 2009

Grok!!!
Too-Dlunk!!!
Raven calls, Welcome.

It is the place,
where to you it’s clear,
but to them it’s foggy,
where to you it’s a crack
the breadth of a hair,
but to them it is an abyss.
You see the knowledge,
and truths that reside there.
Others are afraid and retreat,
they may frustrate you,
but enter alone,
and travel freely,
among the mysteries.
When you return,
they will hear you.

Grok!!
Too-Dlunk!!
C.B.R. 1/97 for Milo.

Respect

April 22nd, 2009

Conceived, born, and raised on this land,
the farm of your dam.
Where you tested your feet,
and found your first teat.
Many years had passed,
since they’d seen the last,
Jersey bull hazing,
this hillside grazing.
From you period of toil,
the wind, water and soil,
of Gilead are within you.

We are not taking this life,
or energy from you,
it will always be yours.
We merely use it now,
to feed our bodies,
and to fuel or minds,
to manifest our dreams,
and to empower our values,
to perpetuate the care of this land,
and your kin who will follow.

Through you we touch this soil,
to the very heart and spirit of the Earth.
You help us to be part of the system,
allowing us to become products of our own work.

C.B.R. 4/93

The Old Logger

April 22nd, 2009

The other day I met a man,
it was a meeting I did not plan.
He appeared to me for just an instant,
from a place I felt was distant.

There have been other times,
that I am sure I’ve seen his signs,
the meanings of which I learned to read,
but on this day he came to lead.

I hadn’t asked but he lent his hand,
and showed the marks left on the land.
Up along the trail he led,
and found the spot to park the sled.

It was one of those days when things went right.
The work was hard, but the load seemed light.
The logs just rolled with the greatest ease,
as if they floated on the breeze.

The steers stood chained to their tree,
and chewed their cud and looked at me.
I’m not too sure just what they thought,
but to me his visit meant a lot.
C.B.R 10/94

Reid’s Mile Beach

April 22nd, 2009

I like to watch,
the gulls as they fly,
along the edge of an incoming wave.
They rise,
then dip to within a foot,
and glide,
the entire length of the beach.
Moving only slightly,
with occasional wing-beats,
each flight is so smooth,
as if it were the stroke of an artist’s hand,
as she traces each wave,
and stone,
or bubble of foam.
Then adds shades of tan,
green, white,  silver and blue.
What divine pleasure,
to watch the master at her craft.

C.B.R. 7/95

Farming is a Bundle!

April 16th, 2009

In my mind the beauty of a farming enterprise is that we can, with some cultivation and manipulation, use a natural process that accumulates organic material and energy in to a biological community that we then can access to meet our needs. The natural relationships that exist between sun, soil, plant, and biological organisms, are the basis for a sustainable farm. There is some transportation and loss of biomass and energy, but the natural process is the ultimate example of efficiency.

Problems arise for us as we tend not to see ourselves fitting into the food web that is available in a particular region, or if considering commercial endeavor the need to produce salable products for viable markets, we institute a system that breaks up the natural relationships, and is designed to deliver products to outside consumers.

There is an assumption that as farmers we should be thinking about the rest of our culture, and their needs for the items that we can produce, but I see this as a bill of goods we have been sold to get us to mine the energy and nutrients out of our ecosystems. The reality is that even when you are grazing beef to sell, you are in fact managing an ecosystem that supports the flow of energy to those beeves. Energy will flow to the animals regardless of the residual balance of productivity asset.

The challenge that we face is learning how the manage our demand on the ecosystem so that we can accumulate biomass and energy into a site in surplus of our need to harvest. This is a really huge challenge in the face of incredibly depleted soil systems, and the largest demand from human consumers that the Earth has ever had to meet.

Agriculture is a bundle of land-use and animal husbandry practices that are not limited in their validity by scale, or commercial intent. Although there is a certain efficiency with the use of large tracts, it by no means is the defining measure of effectiveness of producing food.

I’m not sure what we can do to reverse the trend to subdivide land into smaller lots, but I do know that people who find themselves trying to respond to their need for good food by farming small tracts of land are going to be a big part of any successful future. Community scale composting will be a great way for groups of people to recapture nutrients and energy and return them to the soil to support community food production systems.

I understand the drive for people to cast themselves as farmers, those hardy individuals who wake early and engage in the activities of working earth and animals all day, every day, but this image can be, and probably will be, an impediment to growing a vital food system.

We are losing parcels that can be used for large-scale production. In some areas like Vermont, our landscape doesn’t offer much opportunity for such farms. And we have a populace with varied life experiences, and career interests. So opening our definition of “farming” to include all facets of the experience is, in my mind, one of the first steps to reclaiming our farming culture.

Probably a big turning point will be when prices are more dramatic, but I also know that people are beginning to understand that food is not a widget, produced by a mindless mechanical process. People are realizing that they yearn for the relationships that real food represents, to people (family who share it, and community that desires it, or produces it), to living organisms, to Earth, and to personal satisfaction from sensory experience.

There is a lot of talk about lowering energy consumption, reducing carbon foot prints, etc., but the real sea-change will occur, in my mind, when people reclaim a human relationship to food, and realize that there is only a limited number of ways to get that. A major component to that will be a revival of the agricultural community, in other words everyone in the community realizing the role they play in our food web, from the way they use their land, to the way they manage their nutrient stream, to the food products they consume.

I don’t mean that I think it will happen any time soon. I do see seeds of hope though. There is a growing consciousness, and I think that it is the basis for a successful future.

I also think that we are at an end to the reflex application of agriculture. We have run the gambit from scratching the soil to grow a few grains to the mechanical production of food widgets. We are faced with the realization that growing food does work simply by repeating customs, but without thought, or understanding, it can turn into devastation and depletion. I really think that we are headed for a new cultural understanding of farming, not only because I think we need to, but because it is a logical adaptation of a failing system.

Not to over emphasize my own point, I really believe after years of practice, that “farming”, is a bundle of land-use and animal husbandry practices that are not dependent on scale to be validated.

If you want to use those practices to make commercial, or economic profit then so be it, but I have been farming between pasture, hay, gardens, and woodland, nearly 200 acres for twenty-two years with as much emphasis on developing a functional land-base and infrastructure as any inclination toward financial profit.

I take my profit in the early morning twilight watching the ravens tumble in the sky over my barn, in the smell and feel of soil on my hands, in the bright eyes and smiling faces of my kids and wife when they are there working with me, and in the notion that I have been accruing significant assets in material, equipment, skill, and in productivity that I can pass on to those who will need that more than any money I could have saved in the bank. I keep as much of my “surplus” as possible by rolling it back into the operation. Our farmers marketing, and milk, egg, and meat sales are really only ways for us to engage with our community.

People are always saying, “but you and Lisa both make incomes from off the farm”, and that is true. So what, we still are supported in our off farm work by the on farm work we do to feed and provide for ourselves, and it is our own decision how we want to use our land as a farm. I see no reason to off-load energy and nutrients, plus my own ingenuity and physical effort, to an unappreciative public, losing money, just to say, “I’m farming”.

Farming like the future mattered, I see my farm feeding five families. Not only will it feed them, but it will employ a good portion of them, and it will give them a safe place to live, play, and learn. Farming is not an economic process unless you chose it to be. As long as we perpetuate that concept we will limit the degree to which we reclaim an agricultural community, and we will continue to under-utilize and under-value our land and environment.

Carl

Luce Farm

April 12th, 2009

bobsledding2I watch each horse bob their head,
as they draw this loaded sled,
through floating flakes and fading light,
into this space in time tonight.

These logs in mighty hemlock grew,
one hundred and fifty years they knew,
ever since this yard was made,
where house and barn cast their shade.

The sounds of hooves and harness chains,
echo deep into my veins,
and play like shadows cast in space,
of other lives who’ve passed this place.

At times like these I catch the sight,
of those who’ve crossed this beam of light,
and eddied in the current here,
the prints they made are very clear.

Their whispers speak of hard work done,
that doubters would never have begun,
but the challenge of this Earthly life,
is to work with love instead of strife.

For Mark & Leslie 3/01

Some Days !!

March 6th, 2009

Some days are like last Sunday, a week ago, when snow started falling early. Falling straight down in small light crystals, like the type we recognize to be the beginning of a major accumulation. So, I had to change my plans and go get a load of hay instead of work the horses, because now I was pretty sure I was going to have to clean up snow all day Monday.

Some days are like that Monday with 10 inches of new snow, melting on the roof, and backing up behind the ice jams that I had hoped would melt before I had to get up there and chop them out of the roof valleys. 10″ of new snow, on top of 3-4″ I didn’t clean up the week before because the truck was in the shop getting inspected, that needs to be plowed now before any other work can get done, which by the time I’m done, I get the horses harnessed by 3pm, and get 2 trees cut and skidded out.

Some days are like Tuesday, when a plan that had been made to take my trailer to a friend’s to haul her pigs is canceled, but other commitments had been made in concert with that, so part of the day is blown, so I arrange at the last minute to get another load of hay from my other source, then while clear skies and light winds predominate after noon, I sit inside at the Forest Forum, discussing pertinent issues about forest biomass energy initiatives in Vermont with a bunch of other forester types who keep looking out the window, and trade disgruntled comments as we leave about what a good day it might have been outdoors. At least we got the second load of logs moved for this week.

Some days are like last Wednesday when I had to go the Vermont State House, wearing my hat as a Board Member for Rural VT, because our ED had to be out of town, and we were following important bills through Gov/ops, Ag, and Fish & Wildlife committees, and I had to watch and listen as politicians and lobbyists maneuver around details that basically limit this set of constituents, or that one, and looking out the window at the bright sunlight reflecting off the roof in the first day above freezing for several, and thinking that these are not the horses asses I wanted to be looking at today.

Some days are like Thursday when I’m finally at home and can concentrate on getting some logs cut, but first Ben is going to move a couple of loads of pine logs to my woodmizer with his forwarder, which by the time he’s done, I get the horses harnessed by noon, which is better than nothing, and things still seem pretty good in the woods, and I still have all weekend and part of next week to finish another load of logs.

But, some days are like Friday when one kid needs a ride to day care, and my mother needs a ride to catch another ride with a friend, and I know that it is going to start raining during the afternoon, so by 11 I finally get the saw and go to the woods to cut a few down while the horses get a little snack, after which as I’m brushing them I hear the rain starting in fits and starts, so that I stop in disgust, then start again as it doesn’t seem too bad, only to start even harder then just start pouring, so I just go into the shop and work on a saw.

And of course, some days are like Saturday when I have to put everything on hold because it dropped below freezing during the night and we have a side hill ice rink, so I can’t even put the cows out without going to town for a load of sand, and as things are now glazed over every where I will have to put the sharp shoes on the horses before I can go back to the woods, and I save that for Sunday so that I can put more wood in the basement.

Some days are like Sunday when the horses are so relaxed that I can hold each foot for cleaning, trimming, and rasping, or to drive all 8 nails, without a battle. Nothing like a pair of well shod horses walking on glare ice with sharp caulks, watching the chips fly.

And then there are days like Monday when all of the expectation from every day over the last week are all balled up inside me, and all I want to do is use these sharp shod horses to move as much wood as I can, and they haven’t done snot for 7 days, and they sense my tension, and the snow is like 2 1/2 feet of corn crystals off the beaten track which make them even more discomforted, especially because we’re getting to the point where there are not so many trees that are that easy to get to, and with a strong wind out of the North working against me, they are acting like absolute renegades, and I feel like it is the worst day I’ve had in the woods for years, but I struggle to find the patience to take it one step at a time, and end up with a pretty good stack of logs, and reasonable calm horses by the end of the day.

Oh, and then there are days like Tuesday, when I wake up after a good night sleep as a result of resolve to improve on Monday, with renewed focus and patience to make the best out of a calm good weather day, with horses harnessed early, trees falling where I want them, taking light loads, and giving the horse a chance to relax, things are a bit more frozen so footing is better, and about noon I’m getting to feeling pretty good, like I have a good thing going, and as I return to get one more, I actually begin thinking that there’s a chance that I’ll have a good load ready by Wednesday PM, and then I see coming down the road, my log truck, a day early and a couple of thousand short, but rather than getting too down I can see the benefit of getting the landing cleaned up today, and while he’s loading I go get the two that were on the ground, and cut one more, 24″ on the stump, 3-16’s, and right next to the trail, it falls with ease, I decide we’ll take it all, and they’re all there, right on cue, and after 1000 feet of good hard work we walk onto the landing with the whole stick right alongside the truck, unhitch and back them out of the way where they can watch the loader swinging logs high in the air over their heads. Now that’s the team I want to work.

Some week’s are like roller coasters, when I feel like a yoyo, but I have experienced the frustration so many times, and the elation as well, that I have learned which I prefer, and how to keep working at it, to overcome.

There is a quote that I keep in my head, from the early 20th century arctic explorer Vilhamar Steffanson, “Failure is no excuse for success”. It is more than try try again, it is the denial that failure is even an option, and that it is really only a part of the process toward success.

Carl