Archive June 2009

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How Sweet it is

While we are on the topic of honey, I just want to put it out there that NOT all honey is equal. I am frustrated with the “business” side of the industry that chooses to market the processed stuff as natural, when in truth there is little left that is natural about it.
Like all living food, heating it to about 117 degrees kills all the enzymes along with many of its health benefits. The USDA and others have made us afraid to eat raw foods, which to me is crazy. And I get particularly nuts when I run into some poor unsuspecting mom who is spending a little more in her already-tight budget for processed honey, thinking she is doing right by her family. I’m not upset at her; I am upset at the machine that markets in a way that deceives her into spending her hard-earned dollars.

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Honey, ah Sugar Sugar

This song by the Archies played loud in my mind as I received my first bee stings of the season. They got me while I was reaching my hand into my beautiful lavender bush. Luckily, I am not allergic to the little guys. Dancing around in pain, I found myself scolding them. “Hey! Don’t you know that I am on your side? I planted bee-friendly plants just like MaryJane, Burt’s Bees and the rest suggested! I even follow the bee project, reading all I can on the plight of you guys. Did you not get the memo?”
While watching my finger swell, I was reminded of the scene from Bee Movie where Adam is lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to honey after stinging the mean lawyer guy. Somehow my anger dissipated at the thought that now I too have an injured bee on hand.

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But, I dont want to be Maxine~

I have a very special place in my heart for my grandma Doris. And while I don’t tell her often enough, the fact that my eyes can well up with tears at the very mention of her name should speak volumes.
I am adopted, and at the age of eight I became a part of her family. I knew her before she became mine, since she taught Missionettes at a local church. The Missionette program was a program that helped to teach young girls the art of being “ladies.” I was a “bus kid,” bussed to church from the wrong side of the tracks. My grandma Doris, Auntie Wanda, Shirley and Harriett all had special strengths – characteristics that I aspired to as a young girl, and admire now as a woman. I was a good student, I think. I was focused, wanting so much to be like these amazing women.

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The Cost of: Re-fueling.

Last week I was given the most amazing gift – time away camping on the Spokane River. Many times during my mini vacation, I found myself totally mystified that with all the things I had going on in my life, I was still able to just sit and relax. There is something about fresh air and bonfires that lend themselves to relaxation. I caught myself sitting by the fire literally thinking about nothing. I can’t remember the last time that I just sat and pondered air. There, I was content to listen to the water rushing, the talking and laughing, of the fellow campers and the occasional mosquito buzzing around my head. Even with the company of the mosquito, I sat there totally relaxed and happy. I melted into the scene as a bystander.

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Friends~ From Rags to Riches.

 

I have heard it said, “If you want friends, show yourself friendly.” I am blessed to say that I have never found it particularly hard to make friends. I do, however, feel that I have “realms” of friends. I have those that are acquaintances and those that are more than acquaintances but not best friends. Then there is my “inner circle,” that smaller group of gals that I will let my hair down with. It is with that inner circle of friends that my melancholy side can show, where I don’t have to be “on,” and my nerdy alter ego (who I call LaDonna), seems to feel so comfy that she takes up residence when they are around.

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Kids will be Kids

I genuinely love watching kids be kids. There is a sweetness and innocence in their inquiring minds. I love that they are not bound by the restrictions of time and don’t feel the need to worry about what someone might think; they aren’t willing to carry the weight of the world’s politics. As parents, having a little girl with a pink sundress stained with Kool-Aid, piggy-tails undone and misplaced shoes exposing dirty feet are the best testimonies to a great day and time well-spent.

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First Loves

They can reveal so much about us—not only to others, but to ourselves. The first time that our eyes met, I knew I was a goner. His big brown eyes, blonde hair and bad boy behavior had me. He spoke to my inner wild child, and I knew that if I stepped into this relationship I would spend the rest of my life captive to it. Yet I also knew that there was no holding back, and it was a leap I was all too willing to take.
 There isn’t a farmgirl I have talked to who doesn’t have a similar story.

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Lessons from the Garden

Lessons from the garden
 
I have often considered writing a book entitled “Everything I Need to Know About Life, I Learned in the Garden”. It is true, really. I would have chapters like Everything is a Weed if It’s Growing In the Wrong Place, Proper Planning Makes Things Easier, Oftentimes You Just Have to Pull the Weeds to Make Room for the Good Stuff (And the Ones That Refuse to Leave May Need a Little Hoeing), Proper Soil Leads to a Healthy Crop, Wild Oats Always Leave Residual Work (But the Memories Make You Smile While You’re Tending the Mess), The Right Tools Make All the Chores Easier, and Grow Where You are Planted.

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Libbie Zenger in fields of iris

Libbie Zenger,
Our Current Rural Farmgirl,
is a small town Farmgirl who lives in the high-desert Sevier Valley of Central Utah with her husband and two darling (“if I do say so myself...”) little farmboys — as well as 30 ewes, 60 new little lambs, a handful of rams, a lovely milk cow, Evelynn, an old horse, Doc, two dogs, a bunch o’ chickens and two new little kittens. She lives on a 140-year-old farm, in a farmhouse built by her great-great-grandfather, and tries to channel her grandmothers, HD Thoreau and Auntie Mame (and not necessarily in that order!).

“When I found MaryJanesFarm, I found a new sort of sisterhood — one in which hard work, ‘heart’ work and handwork are truly valued, appreciated and shared... not to mention all the great times that farmgirls have!”

Column contents copyright © 2010 Libbie Zenger. All rights reserved.

Little Farmer Girl

Farmgirl
is a condition
of the heart.

Portrait of René Groom

René Groom
Previous Rural Farmgirl,
April 2009 – May 2010
René lives in Washington state’s wine country. She grew up in the dry-land wheat fields of E. Washington, where learning to drive the family truck and tractors, and “snipe hunting,” were rites of passage. She has dirt under her nails and in her veins. In true farmgirl fashion, there is no place on Earth she would rather be than on the farm.