Meatball Trees and Pasta Bushes

Tortuga Thursday

In 2012, on the plains of Northern Arizona, two families joined forces and began the trials and tribulations of building a small family farm with nothing in the bank but love.

First, I have to give a shout out to all the readers of my blog from around the world. I'm not much of a statistics person, but today, I decided to look at the stats for this blog. I had no idea there were so many of you from Latvia looking in on my blog. I'd like to say hi to all of you who stop in from the U.S., Latvia, Poland, Canada, Russia, United Kingdom, China, South Korea, Columbia, Indonesia, Germany, India and Austria. I'm not sure blogger lists all of the countries so, if I didn't list yours, give me a shout back. I'd love to hear from you.

Picking beans, wading through grass

I'm writing this on Wednesday to post on Thursday. Here's what happened today on Tortuga Flats. Lance and I rose at 5:30 - not purposefully together. We just have similar body clocks. We drink different coffees so I made mine and he made his. While we drank our coffee, news and email got checked, mine on my laptop and his on his iPad. By 7:30, Christie and Sadi were up. Lance and I headed outside. Not too long after, Frank got up and after some breakfast he canned and canned and canned cucumbers. Meanwhile, I harvested today's garden peas and green beans. Then I edged the lawn, front and back. After that,

Cabbage

I pulled weeds from around the the outside of the yard fence. The last thing I did was pull weeds in the squash row. While I was doing those chores, Lance worked on the fifth wheel hitch and went for manure to compost. He had the lovely job of turning compost and mixing with the manure. Christie helped Frank by chopping garlic and adding the other ingredients to the pickle jars. As I write, Frank is still canning, Christie is cleaning and Lance is harvesting. A day in the life of Tortuga Flats Farm.

Squash rows

The hook worms are still munching on tomato plants, and we've found a few in the pepper rows. We've heard that in Chino Valley farmers are fighting blister bugs. Sure hope they eradicate them, and they don't move over here. Our biggest debate is the grass invasion. We've just not been able to keep it out of  some of the areas. Last year at this time, we'd all but given up on weeding. We were doing flood irrigation and with what was going on other than farming (like a wedding) we lost the battle. This year, with drip irrigation, we've been much better at keeping the weeds under control.

No meatball or pasta trees but the rest grows here.

But there are a couple of areas we were not on top of and now grass, looks like Bermuda, is a real problem. The debate is how to take care of it this year without chemicals so we don't have the problem next year. The debate rages on.

Sadi Belle is growing like a weed, too. And that's okay!

Pickles, Pickles Everywhere...

Tortuga Thursday

In 2012, on the plains of Northern Arizona, two families joined forces and began the trials and tribulations of building a small family farm with nothing in the bank but love.

Four hundred and eighty jars and growing. We have cases of pickles everywhere. It's a wild schedule around here during the day. Cucumber harvesting, washing, icing, washing again and processing goes on all day long. We're all involved in it in one way or another. I happen to be the least involved directly with the pickling. Add to that the other crops, maintenance, household chores, a new baby and a multitude of other tasks. In the middle of all this work, we each have our own projects. But whatever we're doing, we're constantly working on something.

Nicknames have been tagged by the chores we've each fallen into most commonly. Frank picked his up first - Pickles. He created the recipes and is the lead when it comes to pickling the cucumbers. Digger pretty much sums up Lance's activities. I wanted to call him Farmer since he's the one, but I was told that's a profession not a nickname. Christie is nicknamed Cookie. This is a dual moniker since she loves to cook and does a lot of it AND she bakes a good many cookies. My alias is Weed. Lovely, huh? But, dang, I hate weeds and I can't hardly pass one up. Takes me a while to walk across the field because I keep stopping to pull.

Cucumber 2 1/2 weeks ago

Once the cucumbers have slowed a bit, we'll get the labeling started.

Cucumbers today

Once we get the logo trademarked and labels created, I'll reveal the final product.

Someone asked me today if our experiment is working out. We've ironed out a lot of kinks, been through a great many changes over the last year and a half. Yes, it's working, it's enriching and there's still so much to experience and learn.

Me picking greenbeans

Grass choking the vegetables - the next big problem to tackle.

One Writer's Comfort Zone Is Another's Coffee Cafe

MUSE MONDAY

My current favorite corner

When I first began writing seriously, I had environmental limitations. Or maybe I should say ambiance requirements. I had a standard computer on a computer table in the corner of the bedroom of our townhouse. The room was bright, seaside decor and I looked out my window on green grass and the nicely landscaped yard of my neighbor. The house had to be quiet. My coffee cup sat to my right. I couldn't write under any other circumstances. I couldn't go longhand. I couldn't have music playing. I had to be in that room. A good deal of my writing took place in my head first - in the car. But when I put it to print, my room and my corner were the only way I could write.

I had friends who loved to write in coffee cafes, or to music or in airports. Of course I couldn't try that without a laptop. And I couldn't create writing longhand.

Eventually, my restrictions took a toll. When I traveled, no writing got done. Making notes on paper were possible but no real progress. My book would never get done. I got a laptop. Theoretically, I would now be able to carry it everywhere and write anywhere. It didn't work that easy for me. Noise bothered me. I was easily distracted. I was working full time outside the home at that time. My opportunities to write were few - fifteen minutes before I left for work and a couple of hours on Sunday.

A company in trouble changed my writing hangups. Work became so slow, I'd sit for hours with nothing to do. I'd offer to help others, but everyone was in the same situation. Total boredom drove me to emailing myself chapters from home to work. Within a few days, I found I could write, answer the phone and get right back to the story. People would be walking back and forth in front of my office, talking, laughing, whatever and I didn't hear a thing. Salesmen would come in to tell me something and I would answer with glazed over eyes only half hearing them. "Are you writing again?" was a question I heard often.

My favorite places to write nowadays are my corner in our bedroom or in the RV. But at least now I can write anywhere, for any amount of time with almost any noise, except for football. Something about the constant roar of a football game on TV drives me crazy.

Although I ended up out of work when the company folded, I'm pretty happy they trained me well for my writing career. Sick, I know, but I do have my priorities.

Reminder: I put out a Quarterly Newsletter about my writing and books. If you'd like to receive it via email and have a chance to win gift cards (next one in September), go here to join: http://www.brendawhiteside.com/contact.html#newsletter 

Green Slime On My Face

Tortuga Thursday

In 2012, on the plains of Northern Arizona, two families joined forces and began the trials and tribulations of building a small family farm with nothing in the bank but love.

Nasty tomato worm

When I was young, maybe six years old, I asked Daddy at least twice a week if we could live on a farm. He humored me. "We might do that some day." I'm sure he didn't want to spoil my fantasy, but he knew I'd outgrow my farm dream. I'm not sure I outgrew the dream or shoved it to the bottom of my wish list. I think he'd get a big kick out of where I've ended up: farming with my child and, eventually, grandchild. And weeding row after row of veggies, crawling in the dirt to harvest green beans, or squishing giant green worms.

Not all golden zucchini are created equal

Giant green tomato worms! This has to rank as the nastiest thing I've done yet. They're huge and the first one I cut in half squirted green slime on my face. My technique needed improving. Organic farming means no poisons and some of these pests can only be handled one on one. Three of us entered the tomato rows with knives and clippers to do battle. We've declared war for the rest of the summer.

If Daddy were alive, I'd also have conversations with him on my daily struggle to balance my writing with farming. My old dream of farming is my son's passionate dream which I'm happy to be a part of. Writing is my current passion. But how cool is it that I can do both?

Cucumbers chilling before pickling

Around Tortuga Flats Farm, Frank is known as Pickles.

Healthy cucumber plants

The cucumbers are now harvested everyday, some times twice. Pickles is canning twenty to twenty five jars a day of pickles and relish. He's been experimenting and tweaking since last summer. His perfected recipes are now going into jars and will be marketed come fall. More to come on that!

Monsoons, Mud and Muck

Tortuga Thursday

In 2012, on the plains of Northern Arizona, two families joined forces and began the trials and tribulations of building a small family farm with nothing in the bank but love.

Potatoes in the distance

After whining about no moisture this year, other than a little snow in January, I'm sorry I complained. The monsoons were pretty much non-existent our first year, but they've made up for it this second year. Our fields have been ponds and our roads rivers at time. The rain has poured so hard we couldn't see to the end of our property. We need to take the RV in for some repairs but we've had to cancel twice because we can't get it out without fear of getting stuck.

Sunrise

The cloudy, stormy skies do give us great sunrises and sunsets.

So far, the abundance of water has not damaged any of our crops. In fact, the potato rows are bushy. Of course weeds are bushy too. They aren't too bad in the fields since we've kept them pretty much cleared. But around the house, greenhouse and beyond our fences out front they've gone out of control.

We've been harvesting dill weed and various other herbs, cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, a few tomatoes, radishes, blackberries, jalapenos, peas, and broccoli. Also, all of our greens from chard to butterhead lettuce have been flourishing for well over a month.

My new favorite way to fix veggies is in the wok on the grill. This wok has holes in it and the veggies get grilled. So good.

Tomato

Frank has a couple of cases of pickles already. Christie has been freezing blackberries and zucchini. Although I complain about harvesting the blackberries because I always get pricked, I do enjoy snacking as I go!

Will My Readers Believe It?

MUSE MONDAY
I've been mulling over, fretting and brainstorming my latest chapter of my current work in progress. I've asked critique partners and family members for advice, and I'm getting differing opinions. Southwest of Love and Murder is the second book in my Love and Murder series. In case you think you missed the first, The Art of Love and Murder, you haven't. I'm waiting to hear back from a publisher.

I don't want to give away the story, but let me say this, someone gets shot. The story necessitates that the shooter think he's killed his victim and the reader thinks he might be dead. I needed a wound to fit the story. After research both online and with a former trauma nurse, I chose a head wound - a gunshot to the head.

Here's my worry: will my readers buy it? Will they think there's no way he can get shot in the head, be dumped at an abandoned site for around twenty-four hours and live? Just because I've done my research and know it can happen doesn't mean a reader knows that. So they have to buy into the way I write it.

A big part of writing fiction is getting readers to believe whatever we write. How a character reacts to a situation might be fantastical in the real world, but if an author has done their job building his personality then a reader accepts it. If a love story is against all odds, it's that much sweeter if the author can present it to the reader so their cheering for the unlikely. But when it comes to a fact based event, I'm not sure what will take the reader to the right conclusion.

I tried rewriting the scene, but I can't. What happens has to happen the way it's supposed to happen. LOL I have to write it the way it feels right. Wish me luck!

By the way, I got a release date for my short, a Rosette, from The Wild Rose Press. Amanda in the Summer will be released in December. But look for it to be available on Kindle Select a couple of months before that. I'll be sure to announce it.

Three generations of women…and the secret that strengthens their love.

A line of women, all named Amanda, stretches back for generations. Each with her hopes, her joys, her pain—each pouring out her heart in correspondence with a dear family friend who shares their lives, understands their loves, and joins in their sorrows.

But within the correspondence lies a secret. And as the youngest of the Amandas retraces the journey through the years—beginning in post-war America and following through to modern day—the letters reveal, layer by layer, the Amandas who came before her. Soon, the truths and lies hidden in the letters lead her down a path of self-discovery that forges a bond between her past and future.

Wow! What Happened in 2 1/2 Weeks

Tortuga Thursday

In 2012, on the plains of Northern Arizona, two families joined forces and began the trials and tribulations of building a small family farm with nothing in the bank but love.

Checking for cucumbers

There are twenty pictures I'd like to share with you, but loading that many would take more patience than I possess. The crops have shot up both inside and outside the greenhouse. Frank and I were gone two and a half weeks on our maiden RV voyage, and the rows of veggies filled out in our absence.

There are two phenomenons of farming that will probably never cease to amaze me. When the seed goes into the ground and pushes up to display the plant to come is amazing. But more amazing to me is a whole field of tiny little things that seem to blossom and bear fruit overnight. I'm not sure why it hits me that way - I obviously watch them grow. Now the work cannot be stalled. No more vacations from the farm until harvesting is over. We can't put the cucumbers on hold.

Dill before we left

Dill two and half weeks later

After complaining about no rain, we've had so much I can't get in the field to weed. It's making harvesting very messy. We skipped a day, but it rained again, so Lance and a friend slugged through the mud to get the cucumbers before they were too big to pickle. 

Me, weeding potatoes before RVing

Two more purchases - another canning pot and a bag freezer. We're doing so many pickles this year, one pot is not going to cut it. We also learned that no matter how careful we were, grocery freezer bags do not prevent freezer burn. My tip for the day: spend the money on a proper bag freezer. It will save you on your food bill.

Organic farming is not only hard work (as all farming is) but it also requires the farmer to be on his toes and one step ahead of - if possible - of Mother Nature. Lance bought and released bugs that eat bugs in the greenhouse. I have to think they're doing their job by the looks of the plants. His vigilance this year before the plants began bearing in the fields has been successful. Last year, we lost plants due to nasty pests or had small veggies in some cases because of pest problems. He

Cucumbers and tomatoes flourish

sprayed early on with a natural spray of neem oil.

Just a note: Our trip was great fun and we discovered all kinds of things about RVing. I posted some pictures on Facebook if you'd like to check them out. Thanks to our lifestyle, multiple generations living under one roof who share the workload, we are able to do what we've always wanted - on a smaller scale but rich with fun.

Chamomile ready to dry

West Indian Gherkin plants

Ready to harvest at 1 1/2 inch