Cobweb and Dust Covered

 It's my parents fault, really. Like  the wayward child who ends up in prison, I confess: it's easier to blame one's mother and father. In fact they made me do it. My crime, in this case, is a bit unusual: I love all things olden. The more cobweb and dust covered, the better.

My parents made the mistake towards this downfall early: They would regale my sister and I with stories, when we were little, about their faraway lives, worlds that seemed fascinating with ingenuity and old fashioned outlook. We had proof, too, about this enchanting old-world life, and that's how the trouble started.

Who wouldn't find it curious, to be staring down at their Grandmother's recipe book, the same Grandmother, long-gone, whose culinary prowess was such that she cooked in the houses of German nobility. And who could resist the story of good old Grandpa--who we all called "Big Daddy"--giving a vase to that very same Grandmother, since that vase, now a precious beacon, had come down through all those years to be sitting on my mother's shelf.

It was that, that HISTORY, you see, that had made me a lover of antiques, of outmoded items, customs, and ideas. It still persists to this day.

If you look around the fun-house that I call home, you will find an eclectic mix of my old Ethnic dance life, Halloween memorabilia (that ancient Fall holiday is my favorite time of year!) and antiques. My favorite is possibly the simplest of all oldenware, so plain it would probably be overlooked...

See, the picture at the top of this post is my great grandmother's dough cutter. This was my mother's mother's mother's ancient little cooking accomplice, one of many in an arsenal of bygone tools made for a kitchen over a century ago....

Yes, most folks wouldn't think twice over that thing. It is is archaic. And it's mine. A simple, little dough cutter. Perfect for making raviolis, pie crusts, you name it. I'm not even  sure if I used it more than ONCE. But that's of no consequence because, frankly, I'm more interested in the STORIES behind these old things. If they happen to be functional in their elderly conditions, all the better. But I want to know what each item did, whose hands they were in, and how those people LIVED. Don't ask me about this researcher's level of curiosity, it's always been a habit of mine to connect to the HUMANITY of everything....and I'm still not sure if that trait is an asset or a flaw.

But neither here nor there....

Honestly, I'd probably run amok with antiquemania but for those pesky paltry earnings of mine, but this year, as with much of everything else that seems to have magically manifested itself, I've somehow managed to become a magnet for a variety of artifacts.

A good portion of this is due to the lovely ladies in Iowa. Yes, for those following this blog for any length of time: I'll be pollywogging back down the road to Iowa--in this case, because the wonderful people STILL won't leave me alone. It's a funny realization, to know you can be harassed by kindness!

Donna Julseth and her daughter Maggie Howe run the phenomenal herbal shoppe Prairieland Herbs , and hosted me for a beekeeping tour a few months ago. They, along with most folks I crossed paths with, seemed to have an almost Universal generosity of spirit about them....

Donna may have trumped all, though, when she decided to give me her precious antique cast-iron collection AS A GIFT:

So suddenly, I have this wonderful antique collection that I am, frankly, feeling rather underqualified to care for, but here I am, keeping things polished and trying to read up on these interesting pieces.

You would have thought this was the end of the story, except that last week, I hopped online only to find an online receipt in my email inbox: it showed a package tracking that originated from the Prairieland Herbs address!  Not much more sleuthing was required, but when I asked Maggie, she was mum about it....

So I waited....and not much longer, I was gifted AGAIN, with these lovelies!

It was like Christmas all over again, prying open the box, and finding MORE antiques! I don't think I particularly did anything quite cherubin enough for either Donna or Maggie to send anything, but whatever it was, I'd need to bottle that lucky streak, for future use!

I want to be clear that I never once mentioned, or was aware of, these precious treasures coming to me; the level of generosity made me feel as giddy as the kid in a candy store. And sooo very humbled, to boot. If you speak with folks who know these two women personally, you will get a casual: "But that's Donna and Maggie for you," which simply means they are so magnanimous, so often, that it's actually not news, not anything to be surprised about!

Which makes this quite the perfect surprise..with a minor glitch, which is completely my fault...

You see...I don't know what some of these lovelies are! So maybe someone could solve a bit of the mystery for me?

This is clearly an antique fireplace bellows...

But this is more challenging to identify:

 I wanted to first say it's an old cast iron griddle or popcorn cooker, but the circular plate doesn't open up. It's circular section has holes all throughout the main circular shell, and  a long looped handle. Is this a standard grill, or even something to cook with?

I think this is a match holder..

This LOOKS like an feed scoop, except these holes at the top make me think it was hung up somehow, or there was an attachment to it.

Additionally, the metal piece atop it is also a wonderment. Was this also possibly a place to attach something?

And these....not an idea, though they look like some sort of machinery parts...

I'm not sure if it's embarrassing or entertaining that I don't know these long-lost facts, but I'm sure it will be an interesting education! In the meantime, I need to figure out what to do with them, and where, in my object-bloated apartment, these new gems will fit!

But wait! There's still ONE more box that hasn't been opened....

And the contents of those, Dear Friends,  shall be revealed SOON!

Gifted....

I am gifted, yes I am. But you won't understand my meaning.....

I am not here to talk about my love of arts and crafting, the ease of painting and imagery that flows through my fingers. Frankly, if you understood the lack of formal art training I've had, you'd throw me straight out of town...

I won't tell you I'm a gifted writer; you'd be amazed how speechless I can be at times....

I won't talk to you about farming qualifications; clearly, there are far more old timers, hard-scrabble homesteaders, and green-thumb gurus out there that would win the grand prize in that category...

I won't talk to you about performing, though I suppose that's my strongest suit...

But no, those are NOT the gifts I'm talking about.

I'm talking about THESE gifts:

And particularly, these gifts!

I don't remember ASKING, MENTIONING, or even being aware of this package being sent to me!! So why, oh why, am I getting this boon of treasure?

And why am I NOT SURPRISED that this package is addressed from IOWA? Maggie Howe and Donna Julseth, I'm looking at YOU!

This  leads me to back to what is quickly becoming a well-worn phrase around here:
"IOWA! Will somebody PLEASE TAKE MY MONEY?!"

Exactly what grand goodies came from these boxes? I'll tell tales, tomorrow!

Untrod....

 My life tends to lean towards the Untrodden, but this weekend has jokingly been an example of the extreme of that; you'll know this by my first choice of blog titles: "The Path Not Taken of THE Path Not Taken."

You see, there were plans. Of course there were, there always are. But in a life like mine, those sort of fancy notions get thrown to the side, real quick-like. I already have a life that is so far off the beaten path, most people would cry "foul," although I am at least not quite side-show freakish (yet!)...

But I digress.

So this weekend, my strange, non-regular path type life DID have solid plans. We were to go to an Upstate Farm...mostly to do the *ahem* totally unforeseen task of actually FARMING, but also to survey the land, as there are ideas of perhaps being betrothed to my Sweetheart there...and other top-secret missions that I cannot reveal here at the moment, but let's just say there was great interest in our weekend jaunt.

But then June, the farmer's sweet wife, fell ill...and what could one do?  These are the sorts of occupational hazards the come with being alive... and so, while we were disappointed, our untrodden schedules were quickly orphaned at the side of the road...and our weekend plans were slated clean.

Which in some ways, were exactly what the Sweetheart and I needed. I mean, what with The Summer Crazies and Mayhem tidal-waving us, it was good to play catch-up without any distractions (relatively speaking).

What did we do with our sudden expanse of time?  Well, there was frantic dust-bunny slaying, of course:I participated in the pulse-pounding, exciting event known as house cleaning: dish washing, vacuuming, finding lost items under heaps-o-stuff that was finally placed in appropriate areas.

Once that was done, there was work online:  wrangling, writing,and  re-arranging items into more professional configurations on ALL of my websites. 

I also started photographing a long list of art  items that seriously need to be placed as online sales.  The sales, and the reworking of the websites signals a new shift towards this crazy farm, and horse-drawn life idea of mine. Actually, I really can't say much more about this, but in case you thought that each of these little posts is a nice, neat group of musings used as filler instead of the original goal of old-fashioned horse powered adventures, then think again.

This crazy idea, much like my life, is a gnawing ache that is very much alive, dancing--stomping, in fact--in the back of my head. This weekend was a nice, unexpected break in the break-neck pace, it's untrod ways making me think of the bigger untrod picture, which is THIS:  When I clearly see that large, movie screen version of my life--you know the kind of image I'm talking about, the fuzzy, fantasy version of The Life You Want--mine is on a farm, with a brave horse or two to plow the fields or ride the wind...of course, after one long wagon ride with their crazy-haired mistress.
There is a working dog or two, and we'd grow heirloom veggies, build a house of straw bale and other renewable items, raise rose gardens and heirloom veggies. There is happy livestock, probably more pets amongst them than any self respecting farmer will care to admit  There is art, and holistic work, and classes, community, and mayhem.

Of course there is mayhem, unexpected, probably joyous. Because all of the people on this journey so far, all of them have this in common:

Their lives is as Untrod as mine.

I've met Renaissance-raised horse trainers, dancers, bards, bartering musicians and potters, hooping herbalists, hog-farming writers, hippie cheesemakers, chicken loving activists, skyscraper-beekeepers, ex-stockmarket shepherds, and one very understanding male entity who has been by my side through this strange, festive carnage.

Now, to find a horse and wagon willing to take me off the well-worn path....

More MidSummer Madness...

In case you couldn't quite grasp the concept of my telling of The Summer Crazies, here is a pictorial demonstration of the last month of hot-weather mayhem!

 I am the largest "worker bee" there is!

From Swarm....

....to harvest season. One frame harvested, 20 more to go!

Preparing to pour honey into their containers...

Tasty, tiny containers of honey!

Stuff around the "urban farm"....

This mulberry-strawberry concoction (including the mulberries plucked from the mulberry tree across from my city apartment!).....

....becomes a bevvy of tasty jam!

Some herbs go up.....

(Fresh-from-the-garden Peppermint, left, and Sage, right, get hoisted towards the ceiling on my homemade drying bar)

And some herbs come down...


Dried Stevia, waiting to be picked and bottled....

And LOTS of official events...

Chief Beekeeping Rep for Bronx Bees, at NYC Slow Money's Event!

Speaking at Slow Money....

Question and Answer at NYC's Opening Weekend of Queen of the Sun...

And, the rare moment of making art....

Perhaps I can get these beauties into the online shoppe soon!

And, apparently, the mayhem continues, with THIS recent announcement:  after much consideration, I've decided I will be using this site as a main source for blogging, from now on. This means I will (fingers and toes crossed) be concentrating on posts about my life, old-fashioned life, farm and nature fetishes, and other tales of linsey-woolsey sorts of lore on a MORE regular basis. I am hoping to update on a mid-week basis, so stay tuned!

Alas, this also means that I will probably keep my Vagabond Creations simply for selling purposes, but you can at LEAST read about the making of all of my humble projects HERE, alongside my other general shenanigans. As much as it pains me to leave that creative sanctuary of a blog, I can't write that blog fully, then this one and keep in time with the other Farming and Apiculture endeavor.
I hope you understand, but this three-ring-circus life of mine needs to be truncated, somehow, and this is my best solution, at the moment....

So hold onto your hats, as I'll be posting my interesting weekend journeys, TOMORROW!

MidSummer Madness...

 The alarm clock buzzes, my eyes fly open, and I'm beholden to a crazy sight...everything around me is foreign and frightening. The furniture is unfamiliar--I'm definitely not in my house!  As I bolt upright off the bed, it all comes back to me: I am taking care of a dog overnight, because one of my clients is out of town. On vacation. Which eventually signals the exodus of more rich urbanites who will need animal specialists like me to take care of their beloved furry companions. Which means way more work for me....Yes folks, the return of MidSummer Madness is officially here!

As Swarm Season is to Spring, the return of June is cause for bracing for the inevitable...

The Summer Crazies.

And the Summer Crazies, it ain't for pansies;  notice, I do capitalize "The Summer Crazies", as an event of this magnitude is clearly worthy of.

What are The Summer Crazies?  It is the type of chaos that really has no description except, since I tend to have associations with farming, I usually compare it to the agrarian life in the Summertime: the flying, desperate attempt to control a day heavily laden with activities too monumental to even wrap one's mind around. Nope, there is no stopping this runaway train:  in fact, smarter people would run for the hills, content to live a simpler, one-trick-pony type life.

The irony is, as an urbanite, people are constantly surprised that I even HAVE the sort of to-do list that I do. Public transportation, convenience stores, and everything at the touch of a finger? Yes, indeedy, cities come with all of that.  My problem is, I've sort of shunned these sorts of things AND, I've managed to make more work by trying to lasso together various businesses under my belt.

For those of you who've lost track, let me expound: it ain't easy being a farmer-beekeeper-dancer-writer-dollmaker-radio host and...sane person.

And so, there is no use in vigilance against MidSummer Madness; in fact, sneaks up on you, really. First, there seem to be a few extra things on one's chore list. Around here, it starts innocuously enough: Spring cleaning, of course. If you have any semblance of a garden, then suddenly you're planting, or weeding. And heaven forbid if the weather gets in the way. You'll find yourself delayed, or starting over. Then it really starts hopping.....

The bees awake from their winter hibernation, and so bee season rolls in: selling product, working emails, customers, harvesting honey, labeling it, and of course, bee inspections.  The day job then interjects, with clients making ever more erratic and crazy requests.  Events start piling up, THREE blogs and TWO websites need maintaining, plus a radio show to prep,  and it's all I can do to beg a moment for creating art of any sort. And once the summer clientele pick up, there is no amount of cajoling that will change the situation one whit...dearie me!

Cleaning house? A figment of one's imagination, to dream of clean and uncluttered spaces. Yes, folks, the dustbunnies are winning that war. 

I've no idea of how to accurately convey this sort of white-knuckled pace other than to look at any given entry in my calendar. Except, it all looks like one rabid, run-on sentence.....

Wake up....Attempt to finish blog...Finish inspecting hive number 6, looks like there's a problem from outside hive...Run to train, check on client number 1, East 65th St....Run to train, walk client number 2 dog..... Run to train, East 14th street, two dogs....Run to train, back up to East 65th for client #2 visit number two...back down to East Village to drop off honey for a customer...race to train, all the way out to Long Island, teach dance class...home again at 11pm, finish Moon Gazer Doll.....clean honey harvesting equipment....

And on and on the daily marathon goes, with my only break happening when my head finally hits a pillow, a weary finish line, indeed.

This year has become particularly complicated, a double-edged sword which includes happy new events that, in turn, create even more work.  But what can one do? I'll take drudgery that hangs off the coattails of joyous events.

So if that means I miss housecleaning and networking points because I am traveling to places like Iowa for a week to teach classes, so be it. And, of course, we are attempting to plan more of the same, cross-country, this Fall. But that means weeks of hunting down establishments who are even remotely interested in a weird haired woman from THE CITY, for heaven's sake, coming to teach beekeeping, old-fashioned skills, art, and more.

At the same time, I wonder how much more of this I can endure? I stand in awe of those who seem to effortlessly expend energy as simply as if it were blinking, or breathing. I wonder: do they ever break a sweat, or break down? Do they question what a nice girl (or guy) is doing in a place like this?

To be fair, it occurs to me I've created this sort of rag-tag life out of too many bits. I mean, who spends breakfast checking bees, one THIRD of their day on mass transportation (and using their computer to hack out the weekend's radio program, to boot!),  lunch wrangling nippy animals or conference calling beekeepers or farmers, and who considers "down time" the chance to paint faces on cloth?

It would make more sense to simply conglomerate all my vast interests but..it's all just to darn, ahem, INTERESTING. But I suppose this sort of dallying reminds me of my father's favorite phrase: "You're a jack of all trades, and master of none."

He may have a point.  Until then, my favorite new phrase: "Calgon, take me away!"

Swarm Season....

 The sun had barely made it's entrance onto the city landscape, and I was already suited up, wrangling a decent sized hive of bees that had escaped onto a tree. People warily crossed the street to the other side, cars slowed down. Which only meant one thing: Swarm Season was upon us!

Of all of the places or crazy scenarios I could imagine doing in the heart of New York City, chasing after bees was not something I considered when I first moved here a decade ago. Yet, there I was, dressed rather like a space invader, wrangling stinging striped insects.

Spring is swarm season. So constant is this, in the world of the beekeeper, that every spring seems to be heralded in by this event. In our case, the end of May seems to be the time to place your bets; after May 20th, our Bronx Bees queens are rarin' to leave the hive.

For those unfamiliar with the act of swarming, contrary to popular belief, bee swarms are not some bevvy of "killer bees" hanging around, waiting for unsuspecting victims to sting to death. What they truly are, instead, are bees who have done rather well for themselves over the Winter and early Spring; in fact the queen has laid too many eggs, made too many bees, and now has decided that the hive is too crowded, and so she leaves with some part of the hive, while another queen is hatched and stays with the second part of the hive, thus insuring TWO new families of bees.

Catching a swarm is a way to get extra and free bees (or is it freebies), but it isn't the easiest way. And in the city, it is darn-near a circus act to grab bees from sides of buildings, off or huge and high branches, and keep everyone safe while doing it. Dare I say a certain level of fitness is to be maintained in order to swarm-catch.  That, and a sense of humor....

 While it seems heroic or admirable to do this job of catching bees, I have to say, I am no great fan of it, not in New York City, anyway. Here, it looks amazing:

While catching a swarm well is a wonderful feeling, the dread here is when it goes wrong...and wrong, it had gone...
Two  days before, it was a different story altogether:  midnight, outside my house, desperately hauling armfuls of bees off the ground in a swarm catch gone wrong. "Welcome back to New York, Kid," I thought.

 There were many factors that led to a swarm tumbling to the ground, not least of which was that I had inexperienced help, and that we did it at night because, as I mentioned, doing such a thing with such a MASSIVE amount of bees was risking too many bystander's safety. And I had to sigh, knowing that had I been in the country, this would not be an issue. I guess the same could be said about my help, grabbed last minute, and because my actual assistant couldn't make it out.Obligations of city living.  Do I feel like country folks would have more knowledge of beekeeping? No idea, but I hoped that rural men asked to help would at least NOT run away once they realized that something was about to go wrong. Because those city counter-parts, the same gents that could brag about their male pride and so on, promptly vanished once they realized what was happening. Did I mention that a sense of humor might be crucial here?

While the end result still turned out alright---(and I do say that through gritted teeth--because I had to KILL several straggling bees which I couldn't get into the box with the others, and I HATE killing bees, much less any other living creature, if it can be helped)---I managed to actually, miraculously,  load the queen into a cardboard box along with a great majority of the swarm...but I couldn't stop to think, during the harder moments of catching that swarm, about how very much I, too, felt like swarming.

It dawned on me that, like the queen bee, I had become overwhelmed...perhaps not by millions of other bees, but I had felt crowded in by my own "kind," overburdened with too much crowding, in a noisy and overbearing space. And like the queen, I felt it was now time to flee, find a new place to be....because my current home was too crushing.

New York City is like that--too much wild, noise, craziness. While this works for a certain age, and mindset, this sort of "excitement" had slowly become a deluge for me, with each passing year. Returning from Iowa, this became more painfully clear. What was I doing here, lost amongst a people and culture so out of step with everything I valued? Why had I returned to a place so money-driven, spastic, stressful and frenetic? So much so that I had ONE day job, two side jobs, and various other projects all in the hope that ONE of them might pay my rent?  Instead of adding to that "crowded" feeling in my life?
 Where was the kindness, the gentleness, the compassion? Was it just me? Was I around the wrong kind of people? Because everyone seems inundated with the city-ness of it all, whether they wanted to be or not? And, worst of all, people think this way of life is NORMAL.

Believe me when I say, New York is beautiful. There are many things to do, loveliness to be seen. But the level of monetary  requirements, and the desperation which that inflicts on it's inhabitants, is stressful and all-conquering. From my perspective, as well, this made for such a hairpin wound society that would be subjected--like the doomed bees about to plunge not into a safe box, but land instead on the city floor--to  too much that could go wrong, to much precious commodity at stake.

I resolve not to go plunging down with this situation, but I wonder if these sort of things are part of the reason I like wandering? Yes, partly. But I also love meeting new people, learning new things, and seeing different ways of life.....so perhaps the wondering is also a wondering....

So for now, I will continue this sort of restless roaming...with ideas for a new home, a new way of life. I don't know what will happen or where I will end up, but I believe simplicity is the key to what I am doing. I DO know I have many friends and people interested in my funny and crazy little life....

Maybe by next year my personal Swarm Season will come to an end.

Iowa (Heartbound) IV: The Amazing Miss Effie!

By the time I had left Woodward, Iowa, I felt as though I had left with far more than I came with....

For those of you who missed the Iowa Adventure Mayhem:

IOWA I
IOWA II
IOWA III

In exchange for a few hours of beekeeping, here I was with a beautiful pottery piece by Rebecca,  some wonderful Prairieland herbal goodness, an amazing assortment of antique cast iron ware. More importantly, I had an array of friends that I could not have imagined at the beginning of this sojourn.  Plus, I learned that people didn't money to live, one really COULD live on non-processed food, and people did stand by their word. It all seemed so...simple, and yet, I'd rarely seen this combination of goodwill happen anywhere I'd been. So I couldn't imagine it getting any better...

But I was only half done with my trip. And, apparently, I was in for more of the same, according to Maggie, my first host, and mistress of Prairieland Herbs. She had conspired with Cathy Linker LaFrenz to get me here. I already had an inkling that Cathy was going to be special, simply because she agreed to host me to teach beekeeping in HER neck of the woods. Which happened to be four hours away from Maggie. And she'd drive to get me.  And, she'd never met me before. Yes, sight unseen, this woman was offering to support me in this crazy, dreamy adventure of mine. And did I mention that she (along with Maggie, for that matter) DID NOT ask for any sort of money/percentage for hosting me?  I'd never seen anything like it. People, actually just SUPPORTING someone, with no real desire for any gain for themselves. You could've knocked me over with a feather.

Cathy was gonna be something else. I had already gotten a sense of her from her online posts about her business: Miss Effie's Country Flowers and Garden Stuff. Oh, this woman was smart, and hilarious. She was a creative dynamo. Of course, when I talked to Maggie, these notions were confirmed. She had a beautiful flower farm, she had chickens and an egg business, she taught classes on making cheese, canning, and was a speaker on farming and sustainability issues...an every day Laura Ingalls Wilder pioneer, whirling dervish of activity. And she was a hoot: I had heard she had a thing for chickens, not just those in her farmyard, but also in the decor around her house and, in true Cathy fashion, she found fun ways to incorporate the chicken theme.

Besides that, I WAS a little worried about Maggie telling me about this person that MIGHT just match me in energy, or even surpass it. Hmmm, a woman that created events, loved talking to people, loved farming, advocated it, made their own food, and was doing 50 different projects on any given day?  Actually, I could say the same about Maggie, now that I think about it!

When I finally DID meet Cathy, she was impressive. Boisterous, gregarious, funny as all get-out; as Maggie predicted, we got along famously. We talked a mile-a-minute, laughed too loud, and told stories and spoke plainly as we liked. She is clearly a person who loves life, is hard working, and also supports and connects people. She is also amazingly imaginative, as was demonstrated by her amazing farm.....

Her FARM! I don't really know how to appropriately put into words how absolutely in love I was with her place!  Her acreage is simply enthralling. Firstly, I should explain (or maybe I already have?) that I love antiques. My dream house would be nothing BUT antique but alas, I've no real budget for it, and because I also happen to like Halloween, Eastern Dance and Prim decor, what you get at my house is a fun-house of vintage Halloween, Moroccan casbah, and a slap-dashery of Eastern spiritualism meets old world farmhouse. Yes, this only makes sense to me....

But Cathy? Her place is some kind of old-world enthrallment. Everything either LOOKED antique, or was antique (I'm almost sure it was mostly the latter), and I felt like I stepped into a turn of the century farmhouse (actually, I DID, but who knew all the working parts were also antique?). Old cabinets, shelves and armoires were filled with equally ancient bowls, art, dishes, cups, silverware, figurines, and more. Everything seemed stately and beautiful. What a dream house! She had fullfilled my dream-house fantasies!

I should have known what awaited me when we first came, since the middle of her property boasted THIS:

A REAL TEA TREE. Tea Cups hanging from a tree!

  Where did she get such an idea? "It was a dream I had," she said, as casually as if she were talking to me about weather.

She said she had to go out early one morning, so motivated about this dream, and hang her first teacup. Since then, people have actually BROUGHT her cups to hang from the tree!  Hmm, I woman with an idea to travel in a horse drawn wagon talking to a woman who had this unique piece of art (and nature) in her yard? This was my kind of person!

And the charm just kept coming. It oozed from everywhere. The details were amazing. I couldn't help but think that wherever I turned, it was postcard perfect. I think I mentioned, several times to Cathy, that she should turn her place into a bed-and-breakfast. I probably should have admitted my purely selfish reasons for doing so would be to HOST this bed and breakfast, if only as a way to stay there myself!  I mean, look at all of this beguiling splendor:

Cathy in front of her farmhouse.

Cute farm cats on the porch....

 

...and cute, shy farm cats in old metal bowls!

Cute henhouse with painted quilt pattern.....

 

...and chickens that live in the chicken coop! Note the old-timey galvanized waterer in the back, upper left!

 

Inside the Summer Kitchen. Note the cute wooden chicken atop the shelf: Miss Eff loves her chickens!

This is really her wonderful farm store, housed in another cottage outbuilding on her farm. There, she showcases most other farm artisan work. Local handmade goodies include hand knit scarves, jams, baked sweets, sewn bags, candles, and MUCH more. This was a continuing theme of Cathy's: giving opportunities and support to local farmers and craftspersons.

 More from the Summer Kitchen. I spied this beautiful tea cosy and eventually traded this for some beeswax ornaments!

Everything on her farm boasted true and original imagination. I could see it being part of a get-away retreat, or heck, I'd rent a place under the porch just to bask in such bucolic splendor.

Here is the room I was staying in! Oh. My. Stars. The old fashioned princess part of my brain was VERY happy.  I REALLY think Cathy should just RENT out this room!

Downstairs, Cathy also had an amazing kitchen with shelves of spices, all in jars. I was grateful to her, as she donated much of her foodstuffs to help me with a honey cooking class I was teaching at SLOW FOOD QUAD Cities (with big thanks to Linnea Crowther for organizing it!)

While I was checking out Cathy's wonderful spice stash, I was befuddled to see one of the glass jars with marbles in them. When I looked closer, here's what I saw! It quickly became my favorite "spice jar" of the bunch. I told you Cathy was one witty dame!
(CLICK TO ENLARGE)

While we were there, other fun happenings were afoot. We visited Cathy's "neighbor down the road," Corinne Rasso, who was curiously, if widely, was known as SHEEPIE to everyone she knew. Sheepie was her  given name for the obvious (or at least I'm HOPING, the obvious) reason that she raised sheep, mostly Shetland sheep, it seemed. So we went to her little farm to see her sweet sheep:

Mamas seem to keep their babies a healthy distance from us...

 ...while Corinne's llama scowled at us, as llamas seem wont to do....

 But this little munchkin was neither annoyed or afraid of us. She came right up and demanded to be petted. If we did not comply, she promptly started munching away at clothing. Here, she samples my dress...

Finally, I am forced to pick her up. Forced, I tell you!
This wee wooley definitely was very charming. Don't doubt that I didn't try to fold this one into my suitcase on my way back home!

 Of course, when I wasn't doing all of this, there were classes to teach!

(photos by Cathy Linker Lafrenz)

Beekeeping...

 

Honey Cooking Class

Cathy was (and is!) amazing. Her energy was boundless. She helped me do so many things--she provided food for our cooking class, helped with the beekeeping class, drove me everywhere, heck even drove me back to the airport in Des Moines, several hours away!

Never once did I get the feeling from her (or anyone in Iowa, for that matter) that I was an inconvenience, a burden, or a hassle to deal with. Everyone seemed to WANT me there and, as with everyone on my extraordinary trip, Cathy DIDN'T want my money, either!!
How impressed am I with Cathy's work and life? I'll be interviewing her for my farm radio show June 12th (one of MY long list of dynamo activities!)

Yes, I am still in the process of creating art for these wonderful folks, the only way I felt I could "pay back" these amazing souls, though not a one of them asked me for such a service. But I am simply humbled by the beauty of the landscape, and people, their good humor, good cheer and good will. These folks are amazing representatives for their state, a place I consider a second home. People seem to want to support each other and make an honest living, and I guess it says something when every single person agreed to host my teaching  without REALLY ever having met me.
Even the dance instructor, Connie, which I NEVER did get to meet (plane delays, which is another story for another time) was very sweet and gracious, but had no idea who I was!

As an aside I should say that these farmers who hosted, and came to classes, and met me in general, are trying to take back something from a state that has, like so much of America countryside, spent decades under big, governmental, highly industrialized farming that abuses the land and the farm food raised on it. Cathy, Maggie, and several brave folks have staked their claim in working the land as honestly as possible, while surrounded by so much over -industrialized acreage.

It was both hearfelt and heartbreaking to listen to beekeeping attendees ask me honest but tough questions. Things as simple as how to keep bees alive over brutal Iowa winters, to complicated things like "how can I keep my bees alive when my neighbors spray their 1000 acres with planes?"  That last one really punched me in the stomach, and I am still wrestling with an answer, but it made me realize how important my grandfather's teachings are, and how timely his ideas of natural beekeeping were.

How strange and magical that a man whose life work could now inspire some people who weren't even BORN when he was alive, and how they, in turn, could inspire his granddaughter!  Yes, I know I am painting in broad, hugely sentimental brush-strokes, but this is what this journey is about. Horse-drawn or not, this path is about those who are on it, not necessarily the destination. And this path has been met by smiling faces and warm greetings. It is a precious thing, indeed. One I wouldn't trade for the world.

IOWA: I HEART YOU.