The Larder

I seem to be having difficulty regularly posting here. It's largely due to the new habits of my three-year-old. She no longer naps in the afternoons, leaving me without my mid-day space out, web-surfing moment, in which I have written a lot of my posts. I also used to write a lot after she went to bed, or even in the evening while she was playing with her dad, but the computer is now occupied with her nightly obsession with Angelina Ballerina, or one of her other DVD's, until we are all dead tired at about 9 PM. That pesky time change leads us all to the barn earlier these days.

Anyhow, back on topic, the subject of my post today is the larder, particularly how excited I am to take stock of the wares I've canned, accumulated, dried, grown or otherwise stashed for our family's consumption between now and April and beyond. The weather of winter has fully and completely arrived, meaning very short days, regular cold, cloudy, and rainy days, and cold nights. I've noted over the years here that all growth of plants basically stops, or progresses painfully slowly, during these months. Even though many of our local plants don't die back as in places where it snows, many do, while others simply pause as if mid-sentence, and wait for longer days and warmer nights to begin to stretch again. Even the grass tends to pause.

While the garden and native plants are stuck in winter limbo, we still have plenty to eat, though not as great a quantity of fresh produce as in the summer. Here is a list of what I've canned up to line our (forthcoming) pantry shelves:
2 cases of tomato
6 tomato paste
10 zucchini relish
35 or so jars of jam (apple ginger jelly, blueberry, strawberry, peach, and blackberry)
16 quarts of apple juice
1.5 cases of red tomato salsa
2 cases green tomatillo salsa
~12 tubs of pesto (frozen)
about 30 winter squash
6-8 cups of dried white beans
dried herbs
two frozen chickens whole
a several month supply of cured garlic
about 8 cups of home grown wheat berries
frozen strawberries
locally-grown frozen beef


I still have yet to can/put up:
pumpkin
green tomato chutney
saurkraut

Even though it's winter outside, we're still eating:
fresh cabbage
fresh carrots
fresh broccoli
fresh greens
fresh beets
the dregs of the tomato, eggplant, and peppers

I don't think our garden produce will last through like I always try to manifest, but it will only be a few months where we won't have anything.

Days left until the first spring planting: About 90.

Reaping What We Sow

Yesterday was a harvest day, of sorts. It's one of those days when I become present to just what I've done by planting those little tiny seeds in pots back in February, or March. This year, I wondered if I should even do it at all, since we are so busy with our house. I am definitely distracted from our house during my Ella-free time by the need to put food up. But I can't really help myself, because when I contemplate the alternative, eating food that someone far away grew, I just can't quite stomach it. I truly prefer growing my own, and immensely enjoy the satisfaction of watching it emerge, bulge into ripeness, and disappear into my body, my cells becoming the very land we live upon. So no regrets here. Quite the contrary, I feel like dancing a little jig!

I'm glad I did harvest yesterday, because today it is raining and some of my produce would have been set back a little. Once again, my instincts told me to do it. I didn't realize the rain was coming. I was just guided to harvest. I continue to find that those little voices are worth listening to.

Ella and I descended into the garden with cardboard boxes, scissors, and clippers, picking ripe tomatoes, a flat of tomatillos, a bucket full of Bingo beans (like pintos), and about 13 delicata squash. I also canned some zucchini relish, something I've never done before. It's a recipe Deva likes to use. It's basically pickle relish, with zukes instead of cukes. What was so remarkable about the experience for me was that I grew all the produce: the onions, zucchinis, and the peppers. Usually, if I want to make something like that, I need to buy at least the onions. But not this year! It feels like a milestone for me.

There are a lot more tomatoes still to ripen, and more tomatillos than we could possible use or can. In fact yesterday I gave the tomatillo plant the name of "The Giving Tree". It just keeps on giving, and at this point, I'm confident we will never need to plant them in our garden again. I kept thanking the spirit of that generous plant, for giving us material to make salsa and enchilada sauce!

May we all experience the abundance of our own sowing seeds, real or symbolic...

The Downside of Animal Husbandry

When we brought home our chicks last April, we knew some of them would be roosters, but that only one could stay. Too many testosterone-touting red-combed dude chickens are bad news for the ladies of the house. They argue, and take out their frustrations at not being top dog on the hens, trying to prove who's who. And they all crow, which some feel to be a rather endearing and acceptable trait. But when you live 100 feet away in a tent, and one of them wakes up because the moon is full at 2 AM, let alone when ALL of them wake up at the crack of dawn like they're supposed to, the matter takes on a little extra urgency.

So at last, today, our three "extra" roosters met their maker. Neither of us thought it was a good idea to let Ella witness the actual slaughter (though we could have an interesting discussion another day about whether or not this is so), so I took her out visiting, while Drew stayed home to operate the guillotine. Which brings me to the "downside" of animal husbandry. The remaining chickens are terrified of us.

Many people try to intimate that "lower" beings have no feelings, don't think any advanced thoughts, or grieve, etc. There are many variations on this theme. But the mood in the chicken pen this afternoon is decidedly morbid, as though they are mourning for their lost comrades, even though they were a pain in the rear. When I went out with a bucket of kitchen scraps, they all took cover under their trailer. Ordinarily, the moment they see the silver bowl from a long ways off, they come running to the door, eager to see what goodies I have brought. Not today.

The problem, for me, is my ability to empathize with their grief and discomfort. If someone came and mysteriously removed several members of my family, I probably wouldn't feel comfortable either. I might not have an appetite. And yet, we need to eat. I have dabbled in vegetarianism, for many years, and find that my body cannot adequately do what it needs to do without meat. I have been buying chicken from the store, but I would rather grow it here, on our own land, and treat it right until the moment of its death, than buy the meat from a bird that never saw the open sky, even if it was allowed to "free range" shoulder to shoulder with thousands of other chickens in a barn. The obvious choice is to raise the chickens with integrity and love, and offer them an honorable passing.

I've roasted one of the three for our dinner this evening. For me, it always causes a more measured pace and style of eating, to eat what you have known when it was alive. We will surely honor tonight's rooster, in the many ways it has enriched our life, and the ways in which it will allow us to continue to enrich our own lives. I give thanks for the multiple ways in which the land continues to feed us.

Incidentally, as the photos show, when Ella and I returned home, Drew had finished plucking the chickens, but had not yet gutted and cleaned them. I set to work immediately removing pin feathers, while Drew did the butchering. Ella was not in the least bit disturbed by this part of the process, and we had a very real and hands on kind of anatomy study. She asked about why we were eating these, and were these our roosters? And we explained that too many roosters aren't good for the flock. She wanted to try touching the chickens. She wanted to hold the feet. I guess we'll cover the earlier part of the process when she's older.

Canning Moments

Collect jars and pots, large and small;
Slice, pitch, slice, pitch;
De-top, slice, slice, pitch;
Wash jars, squeeze lemon juice,
Consult with Carla Emery.

Wonder if women
Did this work together,
Or if they did it solo, in their own kitchens
As I
Slice, pitch, slice, pitch, slice, pitch.
Wonder how many jars this will fill.
Wonder how many jars my garden will fill.
Think of lasagna in January,
Of white bean and sausage
Stew
With canned tomatoes.
Wonder about the sanity of
This.
Homesteading. What does this mean
For us still living between modern and not?
When I run out of tomato jars,
Because I didn't grow enough,
I run to the store,
Filling up on tin cans.
Slice, pitch, slice, pitch, slice, pitch.

Realize that every pizza I've ever eaten
Has contained tomatoes that someone canned
Even if it was a giant machine;
A tomato that grew in the sun somewhere,
And was bottled up, and shipped to the Italian restaurant.

But now I eat my own.
Slice, pitch, slice, pitch.
Stir.
Squish.
Stir, squish.
Boil, scoop, cap, ring.
Sputtering pressure canner, steamy house.
Clattering stainless bowls and knives.

Silence in the pantry.
Hush.

Alliums

At long last, I harvested my garlic and onions today. I planted the garlic last October, and the onions I started from seed last August. Wow, talk about long-term commitment! Overall, it feels really nice to have produced these lovely bundles of storable food, but I would like to strive for more consistent and ripe results. The onions and garlic both vary greatly in size, and one of the garlic varieties would have liked to be harvested a few weeks ago. The outer paper skin was nearly rotten all the way through on most, and all the way through on a few. They kind of look naked, without the skin, their cloves bulging out at odd angles.

In any event, next time, I would feed them more regularly, and make use of the automatic water, which I set up a few weeks ago, after they were nearly done. But really, who can argue with over 70 heads of garlic, and approximately 50 onions? This year we won't need to buy garlic for our pesto, so long as our basil makes it through, which I'm sure it will.

Seaweed in the Bowl

Seaweed-covered rocks south of the Mattole mouth




Sea Palm, far out on the rocks




The Catch- Drying on screens in the garden




Close up of the lovely colors



Though we live very close to the ocean, I often forget to visit it frequently, or just how abundant of a resource it can be for us. This morning, I rose at 5:15 AM and fixed a very light, quick breakfast so I could leave for the beach. Last night's full moon brought a -2.1 foot low tide this morning, and right now is high seaweed season. Our seaweed stash is rather low, since Drew and I haven't made the half-hour trek south of the Mattole mouth to collect it since before Ella was born.

It was a lovely, if cold morning. Being a parent of a late-sleeping child, I rarely see the pre-sunrise day in all it's shape-shifting glory. The birds' morning chorus was in full effect, a sweet cacophony of melodic tunes overlapping. This birdsong is made even sweeter by the fact that it is so short-lived. We will really only be graced by it for another month or so. The moon was hanging low in the western sky as I drove away.



I stopped to photograph the Mattole River as I crossed the Hideaway bridge. There was mist hanging around, the greens of the riparian forest were so vibrant, and the river was reflecting the sky. The swainson's thrushes were singing in the brush by the parking lot, and I hoisted my empty pack and headed south. What a treat a solo walk in the early morning by the ocean is!

It's probably a mile to the third collection of rocks, that jut out from the continent into the Pacific ocean. This spot stretches out the furthest into the sea. On my approach, I startled a family of sea lions, who were relaxing on the rocks. I imagine they would have been long gone had I been with someone else and talking. I timed my arrival perfectly. I made it out to my farthest reach just as the tide began to shift. I was surprised that the turning was such a palpable feeling, but I was way out from shore, and everything was calm and still, pulling away, quieting, and then suddenly, it wasn't anymore. The swell seemed a little more urgent, and the waves began pressing inward again. Time to begin my return, picking carefully over the very slippery rocks, collecting various kinds of seaweed as I go: wakame, iridescent seaweed, and unidentified green seaweed, sea lettuce, and so on. I tried to remember what nori looks like, but embarassingly, I couldn't remember. I think it's been four years since I last collected seaweed!

On my way home, I practiced some tracking in the sand and low light conditions. On my way out, I had noticed one and then two trotting tracks of coyote that basically stretched the entire way out to my destination, and continued on. They were fresh, having been laid while the tide was on its way out, evidenced by the erasure of a few of them. I caught this image of the animal clearly stopping to look over its left shoulder behind itself. I've always wondered how you would see that in tracks, but here is a clear example.


Coyote turns to look over his left shoulder before continuing down the beach




Close up of Coyote's over-the-shoulder glance



A nice direct-register gait, "making tracks" while conserving energy



I also followed a series of raccoon tracks, one and then two (and then one again) trails winding their way through the sand. They were perfect raccoon tracks, and I photographed a sequence of the four feet, as well as its trail, which looks like two feet side-by-side, but is actually left hind next to right front, and the opposite. They seemed to like to travel along the surf line where there is a lot of debris. Presumably, they were looking for a tasty morsel.



Two side-by-side Raccoon trails



One set of all four raccoon feet



I returned home, and cleaned the seaweed with Ella and laid it out to dry in the sun. It's now almost dry and ready to put away. And then, I moved right on to canning strawberry jam! It's a food preservation kind of day! I feel so grateful that the seaweed resource is available to us just down the coast in a short walking distance...

Spring Cleaning

By the time winter rolls around, I tend to be completely over gardening. I am fed up with chasing gophers, feeling overwhelmed with a constant list of to-do's that are often late, racing against the inevitable passing of time. I am ready to let the grass take over, and put the garden to bed. But sometimes, I don't even quite get there, and tasks remain unfinished until spring.



Take these black beans. I labored long and hard with the harvest, painstakingly laying the cut plants out to dry on a tarp, moving them in and outside to prevent dew moisture from getting on them, shelling them out of their dried husks, and collecting them in a plastic bin. And then they became forgotten and forlorn, languishing in silence in the shed. But yesterday, as I was in search of a tarp to cover some garden beds, I not only remembered them, but decided to deal with them, once and for all!

All that was required was a brief winnowing, to remove the remaining debris away from the beans and a second container to pour them into. I found a bucket, and stepped out onto the porch, where there was a varying strength southwest breeze, perfect for the task. By pouring the beans between the two containers, the extra stuff blew away. I had to do it three times, and pick out the largest stems and such, and then I was able to put them into a plastic bag, and tuck them into our pantry drawer. Now they lie in wait to be used. I'll post a recipe sometime.



And this afternoon, I decided to pull up the last of the winter carrots, lest the gophers get them first. They are really going for it out there, I discovered today that they ate the entire two rows of pea seeds I planted last week. It's time to get serious on them. I set two traps, and hauled in the carrots, double pointed, stumpy, and all.

Apple Time

Washing the Apples and Grinding Them

Grounds in the Press

Racheting the Press, It's Old School Mechanics

One thing for sure is that the old-timers and settlers to Petrolia recognized the place for ideal apple growing climate. In addition to newer fruit orchards on the newcomer's places, there are a lot of old, old orchards around here. There's even a locally developed variety, called the Pink Pearl. It was "discovered" by Mr. Etter (of Ettersburg), the Luther Burbank (renowned plant breeder) of the north.

Being that this is fall, there are a plethora of apples to harvest, everything from juicing globes, to sweet, crisp fresh eating fruit. Some of my favorite varieties are Fuji, Yellow Delicious, Macintosh, and Gravenstein. I do like the Granny Smith's, too, for baking and juice.

Last weekend, we pressed juice at our previous residence, on the banks of the Mattole River near the old Hideaway. Several of us gathered to collectively harvest, grind, and press apple grounds into the luscious, amber elixer. It was an overcast morning, threatening rain, but we pressed around 30 gallons of the good stuff to take home and make into goodies. Drew and I used ours to make hard cider, which is happily bubbling away in its primary fermentation jug as I write. We also took home several gallons of apple grounds to make applesauce with, which we canned that evening. I'm looking forward to sharing our home brew with you in several more weeks, or longer, for a nicer finish.

Black Beans and Winter Squash

I'm not sure what possessed me this morning, but after a lot of hemming and hawing about whether my beans and squash were ready to harvest, and wondering how to go about harvesting the beans, I decided this morning that the time was NOW. After the several inches of rain the other day, the bean understory had become dank and slimy, with all the dead leaves turning into compost. I was afraid the bean pods themselves would begin to rot, and compromise the viability of the beans. Or maybe it was the fact that I kept seeing the hint of gopher activity in the bed, like gnawed pods, and snipped stems. And the squash, having grown themselves into shady tall-grass (weedy) spots around their bed, were nestled into moist retreats without hope of drying.

I clipped all the bean stems in my 20-foot by 5-foot bed, and laid them on a tarp. With all the forecasted dry weather, they should air dry and then be ready for shucking soon. This action reminded me of the saying, "Make hay while the sun shines," or do things when it makes most sense to do them. Some individual vines had 20 or more pods on them. I felt excited seeing all those future beans. I'm not sure about quantity yet, but I am sure that I out-produced last year by a long shot. I plan on weighing my harvest, so I'll post it another time, and compare with what John Jeavons says is possible in a 100 square-foot bed.

I also had the pleasure of conducting a winter squash scavenger hunt, digging through the understory of grass, cornstalks, pole beans, and squash vines to find all the lovely mottled and swollen fruits. I knew there were a lot of them, but I was surprised, even so, by the quantity: 12 butternuts, 6 spaghettis, 10 or so acorns, 4 delicatas, 6 kabochas, and 3 of an unknown buttercup-type. Wow! It's a decent amount of squash, certainly all we need for the season, enough for us to eat squash when we want it, up until the fruits go bad. Some of the butternuts are truly large, probably 5 pounders! (All the spaghetti squash are that size, but we both find them less desirable...) I became further enamored with our squash because of the fact that this same 100 square feet has already produced a delicious and abundant corn harvest, and an ongoing supply of string beans. Now that's stacking functions!

On to the winter garden projects...tomorrow I will plant my garlic in the raised beds around the patio. And we received our RainTree Nursery catalog today. It's already time to dream about long-lived perennials that we will plant next spring.

Food Revolutionary

The other day as I was placing sealing lids on my hot jars of pear butter, it occurred to me what a revolutionary act it was. I was thinking through my reasons for why I was doing it. And I thought to myself that most people would scoff at the sweat and dirt, mussed hair, and heavy breathing necessary to grow the food, let alone to process it while standing over boiling water in the middle of August. I imagine lots of folks wondering, well, why don't you just buy it at the store, for a convenient, low price? Why all the sticky bother?

In these moments, I remind myself, first of all, that one cannot FIND pear butter at the store, or if you happen to find it, say at a kitschy, specialty shop, you will pay a dear premium for a product that likely has sugar and other additives together with the pears. The kitschy pear butter may not be local. And besides these groovy food quality, price, and local factors, it is worth it to have our own pear butter because it is delicious on pancakes in February, when fresh, ripe pears are a distant memory (unless you are lucky enough to have a root cellar or an electrical cold storage!). Besides, it's much more exotic than applesauce, though we make some of that, too.

But what's really radical about it is just the unplugging: unplugging from a disposable waste stream (no throw-away container), unplugging from far away, trucked-in food, unplugging from the distance between grower and eater, from the need to go to the grocery store to purchase the food we eat, unplugging even from the idea that one must spend cash money to eat. It's simple, clean, delicious, saves resources, and is therefore healthier for everyone involved. So I feel good when I am canning and sweating, despite 90 degrees, in the kitchen, in August.

Quick Pickles and Pear Butter

It really is fall now. So much canning to do! I thought I would provide our quick pickle recipe for the benefit of anyone else wanting to try them. We've had good results in terms of crunchiness with this recipe, from the Encyclopedia of Country Living.

Quick Dill Pickles

4 lbs. pickling cucumbers
14 cloves garlic
14 heads dill
28 peppercorns

Brine:
3 cups water
2 3/4 cups vinegar (5% acidity)
1/4 cup pickling salt

Wash your cucumbers. Slice the blossom end off, and slice lengthwise into spears, or leave whole (if small enough). Sterilize jars. Boil salt, water, and vinegar together. Place two cloves of garlic, two dill heads, and four peppercorns in each jar. Pack the jars with cucumber slices. Pour hot, boiling brine over the cukes, leaving 1/2 inch headspace. Place lids and screw on rings, and water bath for 10 minutes. Let sit for a few weeks before opening. Yum!

We like to add to salmon fish salad, for sandwiches.

Pear Butter

Quarter your ripe pears, and place in a large kettle. Place over low heat until softened. Run through a food mill to remove stems, seeds, cores, and skins. Return to heat and cook down slowly (a flame spreader or double boiling helps prevent burning and sticking) until the butter thickens where you want it. This can take several days, and may attract yellow jackets! Pack hot into sterile jars, place lids, and water bath for 10 minutes.

Use on pancakes, waffles, as a stand alone treat, in yogurt, etc. It's sweet, thick, and yummy!

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Fall

Aside from today's 90+ degree temperatures, several key changes are upon us...shorter days, a noticeably earlier twilight (before Ella's bedtime!), cooler evenings in general, and a garden producing crazy quantities of delicious foods. Oh, and the stack of fruit boxes piling up, begging for processing. Drew bought a lug of peaches last weekend, and we've been gorging on the sweet, juicy, "slurpy", delicious orange fruits ever since, and a handful met their maker as peach jam this morning. Our neighbor gave us a box of fresh, ripe Gravenstein apples, the first apple to ripen around these parts, last week, and I plan on making applesauce soon. Another neighbor called this morning to say, "Come get pears, they are starting to get ripe, and they won't wait long!" Pear butter will be their fate. And our CSA farm called to say they will have our share of pickling cucumbers this week too, so we'll make quick pickles to add to our lunchtime favorite, salmon fish salad.

As I speak, Drew is working on some salsa fresca. Here's our favorite method for making it. Note: quantities and ratios are relative and vary depending on what we have!

SALSA FRESCA

A few pounds ripe red tomatoes
Several sweet peppers
1 Hot Pepper of your liking
A handful or two of tomatillos
1 onion
Fresh cilantro
Lemon Juice
Garlic (optional)
Salt and pepper to taste

Turn on your gas burner, and sear the peppers on all sides until blackened. Place in a paper bag to steam. When cooled a little, rub the blackened skin off and top and seed. Place the roasted peppers, onion, and tomatillos, and garlic in your food processor, and puree until very finely ground. Transfer to a bowl. Put your tomatoes in your food processor, and pulse until chopped but not demolished. Add to the other mixture. Season to taste with cilantro, lemon juice, salt, and pepper.

Eat with lots of chips, or on burritos, scrambled eggs, zucchini pancakes, or ... you get the idea.

Let the Canning Begin

Filling the jars with beautiful purple jam


Finished sealed jars of the lovely stuff, delicious on almond butter sandwiches!

I made my first batch of 2008 preserves this morning, blueberry jam, while Drew and Ella were at the beach playing. Though not a complicated project, it takes a little bit of focussed time, and I finally had it!

The first step involves unearthing the canning gear, which was spread out in various localities around our property: the canner itself was forlorn in the garden after being used for a misguided cooking project in February, the rack and lid were in the shipping container, some jars were in the shed, while others were in a cupboard, and I found the fancy hinged tool that allows one to remove boiling glass jars from scalding water in the drawer with the plates. (Someday, all these items will be stored in an actual pantry, and this annual act of scavenger hunting will be a thing of the past).

Once I began heating sterilization water in the canner, I remembered that we are low on propane. Since I didn't have the car, I prayed that I wouldn't run out mid-project. (Prayer was answered).

For those interested in the process of canning, it's really not so hard. Basically, you make your jam by following your recipe, mixing berries, lemon juice, calcium water and bringing to a boil; mixing your sugar and pectin together dry; pitching the sugar/pectin mixture into the jam; heating glass jars and caps to sterilize; filling your jars with the hot jam; placing caps and rings on the jars, and then placing the sealed jars into the water bath and boiling for 5 minutes. Voila, JAM! An enjoyable treat, especially in December or January, when fresh blueberries (or whatever else) are a distant memory of summer.

Here is the recipe I used, from Pomona's Pectin insert. I doubled the recipe:

Blueberry Jam:

4 cups mashed berries
1/4 cup lemon juice
2 tsp calcium water (follow directions in the Pectin packet to make)

Place in pan together. Bring to a boil. Mix together in a bowl:

3/4 cup sugar
2 tsp. pectin

Add to the boiling jam. Stir rapidly for two minutes, return to a boil and remove from heat. Ladle into sterile jars, wipe rims, place caps and screw on lids. Boil in a water bath for 5 minutes (if you live at 1,000 ft elevation or below).

Solstice BLUEBERRIES!

Oh yes, I look forward to it every year, the U-Pick Blueberry Farm in Honeydew (upriver a ways) has opened for the season, Saturdays, all day. Drew and Ella and I were the first customers of the year! It was a hot, overcast day after nighttime lightening storms, and we arrived with a large pot and little yogurt containers with strings for picking. And pick we did, 12 pounds of the lovely blue globes, while eating probably 2 more on the side while we worked. Ella enjoyed the experience, and as in the children's story Blueberries for Sal, hardly any berries made it to her basket, while most made it to her mouth.

Blueberry picking at this time of year has become a tradition in our little family, as Drew is particularly fond of the berries, and his birthday is always right around when the farm opens. This year, I am planning a blueberry cheesecake for his eating pleasure on his special day. If we're lucky, he'll share some with us. Blueberries also always make me think of my grandfather, Ed Kachik, who passed away this past January 7th. He LOVED blueberries, and each year, I imagine sharing some with him while I pick.

Besides the cake, I will make a double batch of blueberry jam to put up, we froze some for smothering bowls of vanilla ice cream, and set aside still some more for fresh eating and smoothies. I hope we'll go pick more on another Saturday to increase our freezer stash.

To celebrate the solstice, the longest day of the year, we gathered with friends at the Mattole Valley Community Center for the first ever Solstice Celebration, to raise funds for the Center itself. There was a dance performance, market, puppet show, shish-ke-bob dinner, silent and live auctions, live music, and just general merry-making. It was a really fun time. We rode down there on our bikes, with Ella in the little trailer.

This morning, I finally planted our black beans, with seed I grew last year. I will cross my fingers for a huge harvest. I also began dreaming about our winter garden, and realized that it IS time to start thinking about it, and to place a seed order. I hope that in the not too distant future, we will be saving our own, but for now, a few favorite seed companies get my business and help us grow what we eat.