Shearing Day

Valley View Ranch on the Lower North Fork Mattole River, in Petrolia

Just before our vacation, I was called for shearing day at the Sweet family's Valley View Ranch. It takes a lot of hands to complete all the work needed to complete the annual clip. The sheep are sorted and gathered before the crew and shearers show up. 

Ewes gathered and ready to be sheared.

Brian shearing one of the 120 he sheared that day.

Brian, from Ireland, arrived without his shearing partner, who had had a livestock emergency and had to return home. Once he got started, we had plenty of people to keep up with the skirting, which is the cleaning off of the really funky and gross wool on the edges of the fleece: poop, brambles, insects, seeds, leg hair, and sometimes, even pieces of barbed wire. Shearing day this year was hot and dry, but it's fun work, full of a lot of teasing and camaraderie, as we wade through piles and piles of wool.

After skirting, the fleeces are bundled up in a baler that stuffs them into a bag for transportation to the wool pools, where they will be sorted and sold.

Brian single-handedly sheared 120 sheep that first day. Hats off to Brian!

Before the fleeces go to the market pile, if, as I'm skirting I find one I like the feel of, I pull it aside. I select fleeces that appear in good condition that also feel soft. It's a very qualitative process. Some of them feel coarse and dry, while some feel buttery and light, and these are the fleeces I want to turn into yarn. Next week, I'll begin working on the more detailed skirting, to prepare for sending the fiber to the mill.

Skirting fleeces in the shade.

Ewes finished being sheared. They always seem traumatized, but once they get let out, they frolic and jump,
and are so happy to be done and, I think, relieved to be free of their winter coats.

Pesky-But-Nice Scotch Broom

That pesky, pesky scotch broom, it's so pervasive, and abundant, and downright invasive. Here is a clue as to why this is so: if you direct your attention to "Exhibit A", above, you will notice that this small sample of scotch broom (Cytisus scoparius) branch is literally covered in flowers. There are probably more than a hundred blossoms on this one little piece.

Each of those flowers forms a seed pod, which, given the general characteristics of plants in the Fabaceae (Pea) family, contains approximately 6-10 seeds. After the seed pods mature, they dry out with the cessation of the rain. On a hot summer day, if you listen carefully to a hedge of scotch broom, you can hear a crackling that sounds curiously like a grass fire. The pods burst apart, throwing the seeds away from the plant. In this small sample in the photo, if there really are a hundred flowers, this little tiny branch will make 600-1,000 seeds!

This may have something to do with why our property was about 40% covered in scotch broom when we bought it! We are now nearly 10 years into managing this invasive plant on our place, and are clear it will be an ongoing project throughout the rest of our lives.

Fortunately for us, there are a few redeeming qualities of the yellow scourge. For one, the plant fixes nitrogen, which is a great boon for our wind-deposited soil. If you don't mind all those seeds spewing forth, it makes a great windbreak, and this time of year, it's like sunshine on a gray and cloudy day. And I have also discovered that it makes a decent yellow dye for my yarn project, Lost Coast Yarn. Scotch broom is closely related to French broom, a traditional yellow dye plant. It doesn't take much material to create  a good yellow. Though I won't be harvesting enough to make a dent in the crazy quantity of broom all over our land, I am clipping the most flowery branches to dry and to use as dyestuff. Here's to turning our waste-products into resources! Cheers!

Stinging Nettle Pesto

Tonight's dinner: Cabbage noodles with stinging nettle pesto, miner's lettuce salad with lemon-mustard viniagrette, and grilled grass-fed local beef with lime garlic rub...mmmmm.

About a year and a half ago, I embarked on a new food journey. I wasn't happy with my health or weight, and someone recommended the blog of Maria Emmerich, called Keto Adapted. I did some reading, and was very intrigued with her perspective, and the results her clients claimed. So I dove in, headlong.

The basic idea is to eat a high fat, moderate protein, and low-carb diet, and this is supposed to put your body in nutritional ketosis, a state where your body burns fat for energy instead of carbs. Maria's blog is full of delicious and delightful dishes, as well as keto-adapted takes on standards, such as stroganoff, or granola. It has totally changed the way I eat, and in general, I feel a lot better than I did when I began, and I lost about 15 pounds to boot. I've since then also explored the Paleo philosophy, and found a lot of really interesting reading about how humans are meant to eat and live.

Recently, my daughter Ella has become fascinated with natural history and indigenous living traditions. She is curious about edible plants and mushrooms, and interested in how to build her own bow, wants to hunt animals with snares, make fire with a hand drill, and build debris huts and live in the woods with only a knife and a pot. Drew and I are so thrilled with this development, because we are both very interested in the same skills, and have each, on our own terms, spent time in our lives studying the natural world.

Last year, Drew carved a trail through our unique and unusual swamp, that lies down the hill from the yurt. Before then, this area was impenetrable. Now, there's a quite pleasant little walk one can take, even with the kids. Yesterday, Drew and Ella did some woods clean up on part of this walk, and created the beginnings of a little wilderness camp, where Ella is planning to carry out her survivalist experience. Today, she wanted to go back down there to work on fire drills, and also harvest wild edibles. I'm always into that idea.

We collected cattails tubers and stems from the marsh (Typha latifolia), though I'm actually quite inexperienced in how to make use of this plant. We then collected a large bunch of stinging nettles (Urtica dioica), and some miner's lettuce (Claytonia perfoliata) to use in our dinner. I also collected some chickweed (Stellaria media) because I wanted Ella to know the plant. While we were doing our walkabout, we managed to sneak up on some deer, who didn't notice us for a while, until our little dog dashed across the meadow!

Once home, I steamed the nettles to prepare my nettle pesto, and cleaned the miner's lettuce and added some sliced avocado for a salad. I cooked up some home-grown cabbage "noodles" for my low carb noodle portion (Drew and the kids had regular noodles), made some dressing, and we grilled some grass-fed T-bone steak that was grown across the creek on our neighbor's land. Now that's "paleo".

Stinging Nettle Pesto Recipe
~ 4 cups, loosely packed, nettle leaves, steamed
2 cloves garlic
2 cups walnuts
generous salt
olive oil

Mill the walnuts, garlic, and salt in the food processor until the walnuts form almost a paste. Add the steamed nettles, and pulse until well mixed. Add olive oil to create your desired pesto consistency. Add to the pasta of your choice and enjoy.

A Use for Scotch Broom

The stuff in the bucket is the scotch broom plant material after being cooked for dye, and the yarn above is the finished product.

Those of you who live close by know that we are slowly reclaiming our property from scotch broom (Cytisus scoparius), an invasive plant that inhabits the west. When we bought our 50 acres, maybe 20 of them were covered in various-aged stands of this woody perennial. It can be anywhere from 3-15 feet tall, and each individual plant produces maybe tens of thousands of beautiful, brilliant yellow blossoms during it's season in April-June. Each flower produces approximately 10 seeds that eject from their pea-shaped seed pods once they dry out at the end of the bloom. In June and July, when the bulk of them explode, it can sound like a fire is crackling in the stand near our house.

Although we are working each year to decrease the prevalence of this noxious plant, I have found a verifiable use for it: dye! Scotch broom is closely related to French broom, also called Dyer's broom (Genista tinctoria). I suspected I could get a dye, using the same instructions, and found that YES! I can! I collect branches during the height of the bloom and strip the blossoms off, and then dry them, and I can use them to create a pale, slightly green, yellow color for my yarn. Now that's local!

Yarn in front is first dyebath, yarn in back is second dye bath.

It's Hand-Dyed, Natural-Dyed Farmstead Yarn

Yarn "cooking" in the dye vat

Since I've been away from the blog, a funny little thing has happened. I have become obsessed with fiber, yarn, and dye. I started buying local fleece, and turning it into yarn, and researching ways to transform that white stuff into lovely colors using natural and wildcrafted dye. It's turned into an actual thing! In November of last year, I officially launched Lost Coast Yarn with my own Etsy page. I'm pretty excited about it, and excited for the knitters of Humboldt County to have access to locally-grown and -dyed yarn.

Today, I was busy dyeing my first batch of my 2014 clip. This is a 75% wool, 25% alpaca sock or fingering weight yarn. Today's dye was made using black walnut hulls. My neighbors, Gail, Harold and Mimi, and Jane all gave me a collection of walnut hulls in the fall when they were harvesting their walnuts. I put the rotting brown outer shells into buckets of water, put a lid on them, and forgot about them, till yesterday.

I poured some of the fermented brew into my dye pot, and boiled for an hour or two, and then strained the dye. (I put the hulls back into the bucket to soak some more, there will be plenty more dye from them.) Then I added my washed and soaked yarn to the dye, and simmered at 170 degrees or so for about 90 minutes. The color came out a lovely coppery brown today. I was aiming for a little lighter, but hey! It's always an adventure with natural dye. I think it's quite lovely. 

 Skeins of Sock Yarn, Dyed with Black Walnut

Living Foods

My Lacto-Fermented Sauerkraut...Mmmmmm

Last year, I was having a health issue, and one of the things I did to improve it was to delve into the world of raw and living foods. We sprout our breakfast cereal grains (spelt, kamut, rye, and wehani rice), we got into sprouting mung beans, lentils, and alfalfa. And we got into raw juice, especially the juice of greens like kale, collard greens, and bok choi, mixed with healthy doses of carrots, beets, celery, and apples for sweetness. (For a great website on juicing, check out Juice Feasting. I haven't ever done it, but may some day).

Around that time, I got turned onto a cookbook called Nourishing Traditions, by Sally Fallon. Sally is a champion of living foods, whole foods, and something that I learned a lot about from her book was about the benefits of truly cultured and raw dairy products. I'm not talking about Yoplait yogurt, filled with sugar (or maybe corn syrup?), and flavorings and thickeners, I'm talking about kefir, homemade yogurt, homemade cheese, and whey. I've kind of programmed myself against dairy products as mucous-producing foods best left to infrequent use. Our family meals use dairy as more of a condiment than a main ingredient.

But now we are trying some experiments, as our neighbors are milking a goat. Besides having fresh, raw goat milk to give our daughter when she wants milk, I tried making some kefir last week, and some goat ricotta. The kefir was super easy. If I had real kefir grains, it would have been even easier. I used some commercial culture that comes in a little packet. You heat the milk to 180 degrees, let it cool, and stir in the culture. Then, leave out at room temp for approximately 24 hours, and you have kefir. Kind of like liquid yogurt. SO good with a little maple syrup to sweeten, or in pancakes. I also made goat ricotta, by pitching lemon juice into 180 degree goat milk, and straining the curds through cheesecloth. I added salt and garlic into the cheese, and enjoyed it on crackers. Yummmm.

Making cheese leaves whey behind, and I have been dying to try making sauerkraut with whey, which I have heard makes amazing kraut. I used the recipe from this website. It's supposed to be ready tomorrow, and I can't wait to try it.

And finally, we've been given a kombucha scoby, and I've got our first batch of kombucha fermenting on the counter. I am really excited about this, because even though I love the product, it kind of feels like those kombucha companies are gouging us, given that it's made with plain old black tea and white sugar, and a reproducing culture. It's not like it costs anywhere NEAR $4 per jar to produce. So I'm happy to make my own at home.

Looking forward to sharing the fruits of these labors when I get to try them...hmmm, what do I tag this post with? Maybe wildcrafting, as these foods are about nourishing wild little critters?

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 Edibles

Stinging Nettles Along the Creek

Late winter is one of the most difficult times of year to eat off the land, whether you are a homesteader or native person. But now that we've got a little more possible daylight, and we have passed Equinox this weekend, there is an abundance of wood element, spring tonic, yummy native wild food available for grazing.

Today, with our pour nearly all ready, approaching rain, and Saturday laziness, we all decided to go for a creek walk after a late breakfast. The first plant we encountered was our veritable Stinging Nettle (Urticaria dioica) farm, all along the creek bank. There is so much, we could certainly go into business selling dried herb product, tincture, and the like, all wildcrafted, while not at all diminishing the stocks. It is truly amazing and prolific. Though I didn't harvest any today, Nettles are a fabulous food, rich in vitamins and minerals. You may wonder, HOW do you eat nettles, if they sting you? Well, you harvest them with gloves (or very delicately), and then allow them to wilt. This usually renders the little stingers inert, and those that don't quite get there are destroyed by cooking. You just steam it like spinach. It's delicious with lemon and olive oil. Your liver will love you!

Next plant I saw an abundance of was Cleavers also called Oatstraw (Galium aparine). Not overly tasty, but a good tonic steamed up or ground up or turned into tincture. Right along with it is Chickweed (Stellaria sp.), which is in a similar boat, but is just fine raw. Add to a salad.

My favorite of favorites, which is delightful as a salad green, either alone or together with regular garden or grocery lettuce, is Claytonia perfoliata, Miner's Lettuce. Early miners and settlers used this as a salad vegetable, with good reason. It tastes great! The lovely round, disc shaped leaves are carpeting the creek bench, and Ella really likes them.


Skunk Cabbage with Flowers


Skunk Cabbage Emerging


Skunk Cabbage Forest

A plant we are seeing a lot of right now is the Skunk Cabbage, Lysichiton americanum. In January and February, it begins shoving these large and vibrant green leaves above the soil in our swampy places. There is no other plant like it! And right now, it has exposed its glaring yellow half-shell lily type flowers all over the marsh, permeating the air with a rather lovely floral aroma. Who thought it warranted "skunk"? I looked it up, but apparently, it was only edible as a last resort, when other food was in short supply. The Native Americans did use it as basket liners. It's just so cool, I wanted to share it with you.


Last Year's Cattail Stalks

Last, but not least, is the common Cattail (Typha latifolia). I have long known that cattails are edible, many parts of the plant, in fact, but I've never tried eating it. Today, I noticed the small shoots beginning to emerge from the swampy water, and decided today was the day to explore it. I picked three shoots, and then reached under the water to find a tuber, which my memory told me was the best source of food. When I got home, I looked up how to eat it. The young shoots are simply edible at the base. I took a tentative bite, and found the flavor quite mild and pleasant, and the texture very agreeable. With the tuber, you peel it, soak it in cold water to separate the starch from the fiber, and then pour off the water to harvest a flour. Maybe it's not the right time of year, but based on my experiment today, this would take a tremendous amount of material to produce even a cup of flour. I'm willing to try however, to see what it tastes like...look out Mattole potluck!

Finally, here's a few bonus photos of our walk...


Drew Stands by our Only Old Growth Tree


Ella Explores the Creek

Country Christmas Tree Hunt

It has been something of a tradition to seek and collect a Christmas tree on my birthday, which is December 20th. But this year, since Ella is old enough to be excited about trees and ornaments, I couldn't wait to venture out to find one early. Our lovely neighbor, Deva, offered up her large knoll, which has a spontaneous eruption of small fir tree acne on its north side.

We left the yurt in the late morning, wearing rain coats and boots, and carrying no less than one large tree saw, a rainbow umbrella, a dog, and a toddler. The moment we left, it began to rain. It's been an on and off affair of showers, snow, sleet, sunbursts, and rainbows, as of late. Down the hill and across the creek and up up up, past the spring, coming into sweeping vistas of our flat, Apple Tree Ridge, other people's burn piles, far away cows, and amazing, fluffy cloud-scapes. We met Deva, who joined us for the wet walk. As we reached the tree area, we noticed a buck at the ridge, who uncomfortably strutted away, hoping to evade the dogs.

At last, we selected several trees, and asked Ella to make the final choice: "Dis one, no. dis one, yeah yeah yeah..." Drew and I each took a turn with the hand saw, and then we collected our harvest, and began the trek back. It began raining harder, and was a pretty steady downpour most of the trip home, until, of course, we arrived back at the yurt. Ella was rather non-plussed, but she made a valiant effort nonetheless, hiking in her non-waterproof blue poncho and pink rain boots.

In the fading afternoon light, after the tree dried off a little, I brought it inside and set it inside a white bucket with rocks in the bottom to stabilize it, and dug out the tree ornaments. Ella LOVED this part, and has been so delighted to play with and talk to the animals now inhabiting the tree. She even played peek-a-boo with the raccoon this morning during breakfast! With Ella being older this year, things are setting up for a really fun holiday, full of new family rituals and traditions.

Local Foods Potluck

Petols: Local Mattole Currency


Beets Extraordinaire: Beets with Lemon Zest, Peppermint, and Roasted Sunflower Seeds


Blueberry Puree with Filbert Milk


Native Grass Seed and Home Grown Corn Crackers with Dipping Sauces


Ahhh, just my kind of public event. Today was the Mattole Foods Potluck, a friendly competition to make the most complex and delicious dish of food possible with exclusively locally grown or gathered foods. Folks congregated at the Mattole Grange at noon, and paid their fee for voting rights in "Petols", our local currency created by resident Ken Y. (Petols are minted in silver, and therefore their value fluctuates depending on the current value of silver.)

I made a black bean stew for the potluck. Here is the list of ingredients:
Home grown:
Black beans, Amish paste tomatoes, mixed peppers, summer squash, sweet corn, home ground coriander (cilantro seeds), oregano, and basil.

Gathered: Local seaweed, collected at summer solstice low tide south of the Mattole River mouth.

Collected from other local sources:
Ground Beef from my neighbor Dick S.
2005 Pinot Gris from neighbor Bob B.
A white onion from the Little Dipper Farm (our CSA farm)
Apple Cider vinegar from neighbor Seth Z.

I thought it would be a rather impressive list of ingredients, and it truly is, considering how much stuff we normally buy at the store, but it turned out my chili was one of several bean soups. Local food advocates Merlin and Ken have been growing their own beans, and made black bean soup, white bean soup, spicy mixed bean soup, etc. So my dish wasn't so out of the ordinary. Not to mention that there were two other meat stews that were simply delicious, even more so than my own, oh well.

But the most delectable, difficult, and fascinating dish was made by Jen H., who concocted homemade crackers, made with ground native grass seeds and home grown grinding corn, and she also provided three delicious toppings to go with them. Wow. They were nutty and impressive. There was also an interesting invention involving "filbert milk" mixed with pureed blueberries, which won for best dessert. My friend Seth had created a brilliant sweetener by reducing home pressed apple juice into syrup, which I had the pleasure of trying before the event, and found it quite tasty. He used this to sweeten an apple tart, whose crust was made with homegrown and ground corn and home-rendered duck fat (Seth raises ducks). And alas, even my idea of growing wheat this fall is not so original, as one contestant used their own home grown wheat to make pasta noodles, and topped it with a very delicious mixture of summer vegetables.

What a fun experience, playing with what we have, and leaving out what we don't have. With the exception of the noodles, grains and dairy were conspicuously missing, and I think all of us, if my guts are any indication, are probably suffering from a stinky bed tonight after all the leguminous offerings. Definitely, we're gonna have to tackle the grain and dairy issue to be eating locally and nutritionally correct, while avoiding digestive disturbance.

I'll post some photos another day, when my camera is living inside the house again (I left it in the car!)

Wildcrafting with Ella

We've been blessed with some really nice, warm summer-like weather at last this week. While passing through on our driveway yesterday afternoon, Drew noticed the wild blackberries (Rubus ursinus) had ripe fruit on them! So this morning, I thought Ella might want to help me pick some yummy wild treats. After sunscreening up, putting our shoes on the wrong feet intentionally, and finding our berry-picking basket, we set off down the road.

Our first stop was for "sides in da gass, mama" (sides is what Ella calls nursing), so we sat, and I found us in a patch of wild oats (Avena sativa). Call it obsessive, but I like picking apart the ripe seed pods to extract a very sweet, tiny oat groat. Fresh with it's own oat milk, they are delicious. I carefully dissected one for Ella, who, once she finished eating it, said "mooore". So we ate wild oats for a while, and harvested some in the basket to take home.

Finally, I reminded my small companion that we were on our way to find blackberries, so on we walked, finding deer tracks in the dusty dirt of the the driveway. At last we arrived at the patch, and there were a surprising number of ripe berries. Wild blackberry is rather fickle, seeming to require specific conditions for fruit that often are not satisfied in most of the places the plants grow. The berries are small and tart compared to the Himalaya Blackberry, but their flavor has its own advantages, and is worth seeking out. We carefully extracted about a cup of berries from thorns and poison oak, snacking and putting aside as we went.

We walked along the creek at the bottom of the hill, and had a detour at the gravel pile by the old, haunted, yellow ranch house. Ella picked out some favorites and added them to our basket. At last, we headed home across the pasture. Near some of the old, old oak trees, we found a half of a turkey egg shell. I hope that it represents a hatched turkey, but it could be the spoils of a wayward raven. Another 50 yards farther brought us to the native hazelnut (Coryulus cornuta) tree, which is also fruiting right now. Small nuts in pairs with red, rough paper covering are sparse, but yummy. I suspect that with a bit more management with fire or coppicing they would produce far more nuts each year. For now, they are a rare and yummy treat with unique flavor.

At last we complete our walk, and arrive home with our spoils. We eat, share with daddy, and enjoy. What a lovely summer morning. On days like these, I think to myself that we will all be just fine, peak oil or not...