Life After 60 (or so)

This morning I have a very long article from The Atlantic for you to read, if you're so inclined. Maybe read what I've written below the link (so you know why I've sent you to it), then go get a big cup of coffee and come back to read the article.

ARTICLE

I hadn't been thinking much about life or death recently. I did that 8 years ago, when death seemed to be a possibility. Then I just decided to get healthy and get on with it. As this author says, "Aware of our diminishing capacities, we choose ever more restricted activities and projects, to ensure we can fulfill them." Since retirement, I have cultivated avocational interests. In my case, working in the flower garden and showing chickens. Having already encountered what it's like to lose mobility (and then partially regain it) I'm working at getting the most I can from whatever years I have before "life comes to center around sitting in the den reading or listening to books on tape and doing crossword puzzles."

The topic of the link this morning has more recently become relevant, not because of what's happening in my own life, but because of friends and relatives who are going through periods of transformation and are contemplating what happens next.

I have cousins who have just dealt with losing parents, or who may be facing that soon. For them, I offer this quotation from the article:

"...no child wants his or her parents to die. It is a huge loss at any age. It creates a tremendous, unfillable hole. But parents also cast a big shadow for most children. Whether estranged, disengaged, or deeply loving, they set expectations, render judgments, impose their opinions, interfere, and are generally a looming presence for even adult children. This can be wonderful. It can be annoying. It can be destructive. But it is inescapable as long as the parent is alive."

I offer this not only as something to think about when we lose our own parents, but also as something to think about in our relationships with our own adult children.

I enjoyed this article. I think it pretty summarizes the thoughts a person goes through after 60. Maybe it will condense the time spent thinking about those things, and help others get swiftly on the way to enjoying their retirement years.

My recommendations from personal experience:

1. Forget about your previous capabilities, either physically or mentally. Pat yourself on the back for everything you accomplished, then set new goals that are realistic for your life NOW. You have no time for regret.
2. Do as many fun things as you can while you're young. Sometimes it's harder because you don't have the time or the resources, but if there's something you want to accomplish, just DO IT NOW. 
3. Retire as early as you can. If you haven't yet experienced physical or mental limitations, you have no idea how quickly that can happen. Don't wait until you retire at 65 and think you'll have the time. Several of my aunts and uncles were able to retire at 55. Those extra 10 years were glorious fun for them. 

There are lots of ways to continue fun times when you're older. Personally, I love to hear the younger generation talk about things they're doing. Bob and Anna went exploring in the lava caves up by Mt. Lassen this weekend. They spent some time telling me all about it. I love to listen to young parents talk about their kids, and things they're doing. I can absorb some of their excitement, with no personal responsibility involved. I also love to read everyone's blogs. What a great way to go traipsing through the woods in England, or catching a glimpse of life in other places!

Now, go read the article when you have some unhurried time. 

Chicken Wrangler

This week it was quite a treat to have someone come and help me evaluate my white Old English Game Bantams. This is Cali Miller, a former 4-H showman. She's a few years younger than Bob, so they never competed.

She has a good eye and helped me immensely as we caught all 30 of the young birds and decided which to keep and which to cull. As an added bonus (to me) Cali took some home with her.

There are two other reasons why I'm posting this picture. I also have a cousin named Callie Miller. Both ladies have Facebook accounts and I have to pay attention or I'll get them mixed up. So, cousin, here's the other Cali.

The second reason is I can't believe I didn't see that stupid mannequin head in the background when I took the picture. It usually lives in the crotch of the big Zelkova tree that shades the yard. At one time there must have been 4 or 5 of those dumb things decorating the back yard, tucked into places where they'd scare a person who discovered them. They were even worse than the fake rats I used to hide to terrorize my older stepbrother.

Just a note: the head does not deter hawks from trying to get at birds in the cages on the table. It doesn't work like a scarecrow. I can't leave the birds unattended.

Greasy Coffee

It's amazing how eating habits have changed over the years. I think I've finally found what works for me, and it involves starting the morning with a cup of greasy coffee.

I've been eating low carb for 8 years, since being diagnosed with T2 diabetes. It's quite easy to keep your blood sugar in control when you're not fueling it with the thing that made it go crazy in the first place...carbs. I'm not just talking about nasty carbs found in muffins, cake, pie, cookies and other stuff we all know is bad for us. I'm talking about the supposed "well balanced diet" carbs that people eat in pasta, rice, and fruit, for example, thinking that's healthful. For a lot of us, a number growing every day, it's NOT healthful. If you monitor your blood sugar, you already know what I mean.

Don't take my word for it. Read Primal Body, Primal Mind by Nora Gedgaudas for a scientific analysis of why this is so.

Anyway, I've had good success with my blood sugar for years (most recent A1C 4.8), but had trouble keeping the weight off on a primal diet. My primal friends kept saying, "you need to eat more fat." Well, okay, but that totally goes against what I have heard for years, and, frankly, fat is ooky. Also, if you can't put it on carbs, how do you eat it?

A couple of months ago I read about Bulletproof Coffee. It involves putting some MCT oil (medium chain triglyceride) along with coffee in a blender. Start the morning with this, and your body immediately goes into fat burning mode and you won't need breakfast until almost lunch time. Sounded weird. But I finally tried it.

You know what? It works. I've managed to lose almost 45 pounds. I do have to watch the calories. Athletes on a primal diet can eat lots of nuts, avocadoes, and other high fat things. I have to keep the servings small. But even at 1000 calories a day and low carb, I had gained weight in the past couple of years. If I'd been trapped with the Donner Party, I'm sure people would have pointed their fingers at me and whispered behind my back about who they suspected was eating the dead.

MCT oil, or even straight coconut oil, is fairly tasteless. With coffee in a blender it makes a foamy drink that's easy to consume, you don't have to gag it down. The fellow who "invented" Bulletproof Coffee has an elaborate recipe for it that involves special coffee and a lot of equipment.

Sorry, but I'm not going to make a big mess in the kitchen every morning just to get a cup of coffee. I'll bet his wife cleans up after him. And so far my plain coffee and plain MCT oil are working just fine.

If you're addicted to carbs (and if you're still eating a lot of them, you ARE addicted), don't drink greasy coffee, it won't do you any good. But if you're trying to go low carb and are having problems with it, I'd recommend this.

Poor Wesley

I was away from home for a day and a half during the Heirloom Show, but that was too much for poor Wesley. When I came home and found 4 days worth of cat food totally gone, everything on the kitchen counter (except the blender) and everything I'd left on the dining room table knocked onto the floor, and a cat with a panicked expression on his little face, I realized he'd never really been left that long by himself.

Last year Bob was here. Also Velcro was here.

This year, when I'm gone, Wesley is in charge (because Gollum takes no responsibility for anything).

All of last week, the poor baby was at my heels constantly. And sometimes under them, he has a hard time remembering to keep his long, long tail out of the way. When I sat at the computer, he slept as close to it as he could, keeping his eye on me.

"I'll just be right here, don't go anywhere."

When I tried to put the luggage away, he was on top of it.

"I'm ready to go. Don't leave without me!"

So, for the rest of the show season, or at least until the cat becomes accustomed to being in charge, I need to procure a cat sitter. The 200 chickens are fine by themselves for a week at a time. The horses are fine, even the feral cats can go for several days on what I leave them.

But poor baby Wes can't live for a couple of days without having someone to bite and scratch. He evidently cannot survive without a daily taste of human blood.

Want to cat sit, anyone?

One more....

then onto the next show, Paso Robles.

This was the official Heirloom Expo photo.

More Expo

When I took the birds to Santa Rosa, I encountered Bay Area traffic both ways on the freeways. When I went back to pick up the birds, I got to take a different route. I picked up my friend Julie in Vacaville. She's a very trusty navigator, and she carried directions from her husband Larry. He had driven the commute to Santa Rosa daily before he retired.

We took scenic backroads where there was less traffic and nicer scenery, and came out right at the fairgrounds at least 30 minutes earlier.

Julie is an avid gardener, so I think she enjoyed seeing all the squash and tomatoes and other things.

I get to see a squash mountain at Davis Ranch every year, but I think this one has more variety, and isn't covered with a coat of dust. Everything in Sloughhouse is covered with dust this time of year.

The big pumpkins were pretty impressive.

My cousin Ken wants to grow a giant pumpkin to take to the contest at Half Moon Bay next year. The primary consideration is not fertilization and watering techniques, but how you're going to get a forklift into your backyard to carry it off. I think Ken is mostly looking for an excuse to go to Half Moon Bay.

There were huge exhibits of heirloom tomatoes.

These looked pretty good. A distinguishing feature of organic, heirloom tomatoes is often that they're misshapen and ugly. Some of the tomatoes have interesting names.

There were booths selling tomatoes as well. At this price, I probably wouldn't eat many.

I get mine for free, right out the back gate.

One of my favorite booths was a carver fellow.

He made interesting artwork using melons and vegetables. Like these:

If seeing all the produce inspired you to start your own garden, there were several booths selling seeds.

I've saved the best part of the Heirloom Expo for last. I took 7 birds to the show. My white Old English pullet was Best Game Bantam.

Her tail is a little raggedy because she hasn't molted those feathers yet, but she's comfortable at a show and always looks spiffy. The bird behind her is another of mine, a Dominique bantam hen. I couldn't take my good bird, #33, because she had just started molting, so I took her sister #31 instead. This one had never been to a show, her job this year was to raise chicks.

So I was really surprised when #31 won Best in Show!!!

What fun!!! Because the Expo is a big deal, I had my picture taken twice with #31. I missed the reporter from Huffpost, but that's okay, I heard later she was a little flakey anyway.

The second time I got my picture taken, they presented me with another surprise...a check for $250.

That's the check in my pocket. It was a great trip home.

Heirloom Expo

Those of you who are organic backyard farmers probably know all about the National Heirloom Expo. Those who do not can google it and learn.

This past week, I went to it. It's in Santa Rosa, which is a 2-1/2 hour drive from my house. Except the last 30 miles involve Bay Area traffic and it takes an hour. So it was a 3 hour drive one way. I went over on Monday afternoon, stayed that night at a hotel, waddled around the Expo all day Tuesday, came home Tuesday evening, then went back on Thursday. Not because organic vegetables are my passion, but because there was a poultry show in conjunction with the Expo.

The Expo is held at the old fairgrounds, where there are several large buildings that have vendor booths and displays. The roadways between the buildings are crowded with more displays and with food booths. The best way for you to experience the flavor of the Expo is to see some of the sights I photographed for you. We'll start with booth signs.

Who knew you could drink beets? 

Vegan fare was popular, but so were grass-fed meat dishes.

I especially love the note on the bottom of this sign.

There were a lot of these women at the Expo.

In addition to the booths, a couple of buildings were reserved for ongoing lecture series. Here is a sample.

Demeter's series reflects a lot of Waldorf philosophy.

I didn't attend any of the lectures. I don't grow vegetables, that would be a waste of time living where I do. I can take my golf cart and go pick whatever I need from the 400-500 acres of row crops that grow in the neighborhood. Or, I can just walk out the back gate to the Davis Ranch stand and pick up what I need for dinner. Their produce is not certified organic, but they don't spray anything except the sweet corn, and then only when there is an invasion of silk worms.

The people in attendance were wonderful. Unlike our California State Fair, which is a freak show, the Expo was attended by predominantly healthy-looking people who were peaceful and happy, polite, and having a good time visiting with each other. This was a common uniform.

I have never in my life seen an actual farmer wear bib overalls, but they seem to be the approved uniform of organic farmers. If you want to instantly become one, you don't need to buy a pair of new ones and wear them out to proclaim your experienced status, you can buy pre-worn clothes.

I didn't see how much these cost, sorry.

You know why real farmers don't wear these? Because they are god-awful uncomfortable. If you're tall, they ride up your butt area (see the guy in the previous photo, above). If you adjust the shoulder straps to alleviate that annoying feeling, then the straps are constantly falling down. The pockets are handy, though.

Some signs were more subtle, but still reflected the flavor of the Expo.

Marin and Sonoma counties are home to some of California's most liberal citizens, so you'll see lots of long hair (some of it matted in rasta style), and the scent of patchouli wafts through the air. This sign, however, reminded me that liberalism and conservatism meet at some points.

I donated to this cause, and bought some smartass bumper stickers for my friend George.

I'll tell you more about the Heirloom Expo later this week. For now, I'll leave you with another common sight at the Expo.

Beautiful flowers for sale.

September Scenes

September in many places is a time of transition from summer to fall. In my area, it's usually just an extension of summer. The trees aren't turning color yet. They only do that for a week or two, anyway, as a ritual acknowledgement more than from necessity.

Here are some September photos taken from my house.

There was a wreck out on the highway. The sound of the crash indicated something worse than what actually occurred. No one was hurt. Here is farmer Jim with two of the wreckees.

And here is the other participant.

I don't know whose fault it was. I was told it had something to do with the turn lane that CalTrans abruptly ended just before my driveway, and the guy in the pickup trying to use it as a passing lane. But does it really matter, after the fact?

That same day, Uncle Jim and Cousin Ken were out to wash the tractor and drive it around.

My favorite thing about this picture is the butt cushion.

I have a dilemma in the yard. The camellias in front of the living room window are growing a bit too tall.

I'm not sure what to do. I love it when camellias turn into trees, but these are pretty close to the house. I've been considering chopping off the tallest one and letting the smaller one (second from right) grow into a tree. Mostly I'm concerned about branches rubbing on the roof line.

Biscuit watched me taking pictures, then met me on the steps.

"Put the camera down and FEED me!!!"

There are only three cats left outside now, Biscuit who still comes and goes, Wesley's mama Linda, and poor whiny Rosie who misses her mama and sisters and can't stand Linda. Rosie would like to be friends with Biscuit, but he barely tolerates her. I hope these three can keep up with the rodent population, and I truly hope I can find a way to keep the coyotes from eating my outside cats.

Too Far

I occasionally wake out of my own cozy world and get irritated with people, mostly on Facebook, but also in real live person. Someone will post news about an upcoming event. A few people will ask questions, but at least half who post anything immediately moan that it's "too far."

Mostly these will be people are from Southern California, which is a quarter the size of the rest of the state. The problem is not actually distance, we in Northern California have to travel a much longer route to get to almost anything. (What we do is study a transportation challenge and make a plan to deal with it.)

The real problem is that there are too many people crammed in down south (and also in the San Francisco area up north) and you can't get anywhere on the freeways in a timely manner unless it's at an odd time of the day. So, no, it's not too far, it just takes a long time and people may not want to spend their time that way.

I was amused by all the Southern California poultry people who commented "too far" about the Victorville show I went to last year. I'm an old, crimpled lady and I passed most of their houses on my way. And that was after traveling 4 hours just to get to Bakersfield. There are only two shows in Southern California and they could both use attendance and assistance from the people down there.

One lady from San Diego asked online, "Why aren't there any shows in San Diego?" She asked this as if some corporation like Costco had avoided putting a store in her neighborhood. Well, poultry shows are put on by regular people, and if no one in an are will support them, why have one there? If there was a show in San Diego, most of the exhibitors would be from Northern California because it would be "too far" for people from other areas of Southern California.

The "too far" comment is a passive aggressive downer. If I sponsor an event and it's too far for you, what do you expect me to do about that? Do all the work to produce a similar event in your personal neighborhood? Pick you up on my way? How do you expect ME to make it close enough for you to not whine about it?

When the whiners make their comments, other people who are considering attending think, "Oh yeah, it IS a long ways, maybe I shouldn't go, either."

Another class of whiners often say things like, "Oh, I really want to go but my hubby thinks that's too far." So? Sounds like he wants to stay home. Let him do that. Aren't you both adults? Please don't make it seem like your husband is your daddy and doesn't allow you to do things. I don't want to go away with the impression you're a weenie who needs a scapegoat.

Example:

1. "My partner won't let me have a duck."

2. "My partner doesn't like ducks, so we choose to live without one."

If you answer #1, I probably don't have much in common with you.

But I digress.

Why, I wonder, is it too far from one area to another in one direction, but not in the other direction? Why is it too far for someone in Sacramento to drive to a show in Ventura, but not to drive even further south to Disneyland? Why is Disneyland never "too far"?

What sparked all this blather? This morning I commented on a FB page about going to the Heirloom Expo in Santa Rosa and how nice it was. One lady replied simply, "too far." I lectured her about changing your personal perception so you won't miss out on things. She answered with a litany of her terminal medical problems that prevent her from traveling and suggested I was insensitive.

Maybe, I can be that way. But the problem was not distance to the event, was it? It's that she was "too far" gone to get there.

Sloughhouse Hops

Hop Kilns, Signorotti Ranch in Sloughhouse

Today's blog post was written by a guest writer, Rick Grimshaw. He posted this on his Facebook page recently and gave me permission to use it. Rick is one of the owners of Davis Ranch.

Hops were introduced into the Cosumnes valley area sometime in the late 1800s. They remained an important crop grown here until about 1979, when some corporate breweries decided to grow their own in Washington state, planting 11,000 acres at one time and screwing up the market for hops. Most were pulled out and the ground used for other purposes. With the exception of George Signorotti, all the hops were gone after the early 1980s around here. Now there are some small growers taking a stab back at it, like Dave Utterback on Meiss Road. 

But just today, while I was traveling down highway 128 in Boonville Ca. what did I see? Hops! Hops being grown for a micro brewery by its owner! And the picture of this field taken from the highway? Interstate 80 in Dixon, CA, more hops! 

A new hop field

No, it seems there will no longer be a strangle hold by the corporate growers on all hop production as long as there are small growers willing to do it for the micros. It only takes a small amount of hops to give beer that distinctive bitter bite! 

When I was a kid growing up in Sloughhouse in the 1960s Signorotti’s hops grew just 40 feet from my bedroom window. All during the growing season from May to September the smell of hops permeated the house, but nowhere near as much as when they were being harvested.

Hops require quite a bit of hand labor all through their growing cycle. They are vines, so they are trellised up hemp rope tied off to heavy wire stretched across the tops of redwood poles about 14 feet in the air.

This is how it was done in the old days of Sloughhouse. This picture comes from my own archives. You see, it was some of my own family that brought the Bavarian hop strain to the Sloughhouse area all those eons ago and started growing them here on the old Mexican land grant! This is our history here.

In the spring, a tractor would take two men in crows nest baskets along at a slow pace through the field so as to allow them to tie these pre-cut and prepared hemp ropes bought from a manufacturer in India to be tied off to the overhead support wire as others walked behind and poked them into the ground at the “crown” of the emerging hop plant. As the hops began to grow, workers would “train” them to be sure they started to grow up the rope right away. 

Working with hops at daybreak

Irrigation was done by “berming” a small dam around a block of vines and flooding the area until it was about 10 inches deep in water and thoroughly soaked, before breaking the dam and allowing water to move to the next block. 

All during the growing season a keen eye was kept on the plants in case there was the need to spray for control of “red spider” and a host of other pests, (spraying sulfur was common for control of these type of pests). 

In the fall, when the hop “bud” or “flower” was mature harvest would begin. It is this bud that the grower was after to be used by brewers for the flavoring of beer although it did have other purposes as like in some dyes too. 

The harvest was done by another set of men in a crows nest, being towed by a tractor, this time through the field, cutting loose the hops from the overhead wire after they had first been cut loose at the plant at ground level. The whole rope vine was draped onto the back of a flatbed 2 1/2 ton truck and brought into the processing yard once full. 

At the yard, the truck backed up to the machine building, (like the long barn building that we still use today at Davis Ranch). 

The long, narrow building was used as a picking shed.

There the hop vines were hooked onto a chain conveyor with a clip to hold the vine at the top where it was previously attached at the wire. The conveyor took the vines into a stripper where the buds and leaves were stripped off of the plants and the trash and buds were separated. From there a conveyor moved the buds into the drier kiln. Hops need to be dried so that they will not rot when stored. 

These kilns are the big red buildings you see today along Jackson Highway, with the little second building at the very top where the heat release was controlled from. (Refer to the picture at the top of this post.) After drying, the dried hops were then conveyored over to the press building barn. Here they were stored until they met their turn to be pressed into a 300 pound bale for shipment to the brewery buyer.

Something to note here is the weight of a bud before and after drying. There wasn’t a bunch of difference between the before and after weight. They were so light that it is hard to imagine how many had to be pressed together to make 300 pounds! 

Hops on the vine

And those kilns! They ran day and night, 24-7 until everything was processed. That big propane tank that is still in Signorotti’s yard is a stark reminder of how much was needed for all of this!

And now here are a few more things to ponder: the new hop growers don’t have the huge machine buildings that were used when I was a kid. They are harvesting all by hand, the very old way!

Following is a news clip of an interview of our new Sloughhouse hop grower, Dave Utterback.

Hops in the News