Seriously, Taste the Difference...

We practice what we preach.... which, as you can see, isn't too torturous.

Just an average lunch. Organic, homemade hummous; homegrown sprouts; garden veggies, and homemade bread... and perfect, organic heirloom tomatoes. Seriously. Best tomato ever.

...Until this:

Fresh basil from the garden, red and yellow heirloom 'maters, mozzarella, and balsamic vinegar (the good stuff, of course).

It's still a toss-up between the yellow and the red/green oddity above... but I know I'll probably never taste another like 'em!

Food Ain't Free...

Shop farmers first!


Ok, I'm not saying any decent person should get 100 percent of his produce from the market. It is possible, of course, if we re-learn the old skills of "putting things up." But that's for another day. For now....

What Lies Beneath

Well, a lot has been going on, so catching up may be tricky. How about I make the 4-hour epic into a miniseries.

Let's start with worms. There were a lot of them.

As invasive grasses like Johnson and Bermuda tend to stretch deep, much digging was in order to prepare the garden for winter (and hopefully for a more weed-resistant future). The deeper we dug... the bigger the bug.

This is a grub. Apparently, they live most of their life in this form and then become this:

A green june bug.

We love to hate em.

Chickens love them, too - but once they have wings, you gotta catch em!


This guy must have been in there a while. Gross? Maybe. But actually pretty fun. Deep weed roots and huge grubs may not be as familiar a sight for those who till mechanically. But, as you can see lots is going on about a foot under the surface. By hand-digging the soil, we not only can deal with those problem-causers but also can protect the beneficial creatures. Like earthworms! And spiders. And all the microorganisms that make "soil" much more than dirt.

Another fun one to catch? My friend the hornworm...

Organic Weed Killer

It's damp. It's chilly. And it's September in Texas. (what?? I didn't even bring long sleeves...)

In other news, I forgot to mention another by-product of rain - weeds. Though I can't recall the names of the two I find most often, the ones I worked on today, bermuda grass, were the most invasive. It stretches out and sets roots most anywhere it touches soil. And the roots go deep, which means digging. And digging means... worms! The chickens ate well.

The bermuda is so persistent, it broke through fiber cloth and even black plastic ground cover! Bad stuff, it seems...

Water, worms, and where burgers come from...

(hint: not a burger)

NOAA is usually afraid to pass its bright green/yellow crayon over our area. This weekend, though, the radar showed a creative streak. And it rained!! ...And rained! ...and rained.... and... 3.5 inches later, it stopped.

Most of the areas hit by this weekend's slow-mover would probably laugh at that. But here, it was perfect!

Lost some tomatoes when the rains split them, and some pepper branches broke under the water weight. Meanwhile, the salad greens are thriving! The okra is multiplying its spiney-covered, gooey-centered self. The rain also set into the compost, giving us hope that the soil may really be getting there. And nutritious soil means nutritious veggies that resist bugs and disease (which is the way to go when you don't use chemical pesticides).

The rain also brought a few stowaways out of hiding. I was not really one of those kids who dug in mud looking for worms. Cool rocks and broken glass, maybe. But not worms. Somehow, at age 28, I've become a bona fide worm wrangler. Grubs, which live a few inches under the soil, grow up to be pesky beetle-like lovers of squash, eggplant, and so much more. Hornworms, a green, horn-tailed cousin of the adorable caterpillar in "A Bug's Life," have a thing for tomatoes. Luckily, chickens have a thing for them. Throw in a few grubs, and you've got some protein-rich eggs!

Setting down (...and feeding, and pulling up, and eating....) roots.

The time finally came where handing over dollars for a bite of food no longer felt nutritious. Around the time of my last post, it dawned on me that though I may have never had an answer for "what I want to be when I grow up," I DO have a dream. Taking care of myself. To own a modest piece of land (or amazingly breathtaking, depending on what I can afford) where I will grow my own food, catch rainwater, and produce my energy - to be completely independent... Or at least know HOW to be...

How far can you go on a tank of Swagger?

There's got to be something under this thick, crusty skin... besides chicken. We Texans are a people stewed in contradiction, both reckless and traditional.

My friend calls it "swagger"... and not of the Jay-Z brand. We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and raise our young'uns right. A true Texan is rowdy, rough, and knows how to rock a porch swing. And pride? You'd never beat it out of us.

Neither friend nor foe will take our state's rights - not without a fight. No, if the two years' minimum state history courses in primary, junior, and senior high schools have taught us anything, it's to say to those who directly challenge our freedom: "Come and take it."

Have we forgotten what we’re made of? In the past, we have learned how to make the land (and, sadly, our fellow man) work for us. Oil has been a doting mistress. She's brought us company and comfort, and even in hard times, she stuck with us.

It was good - real good - while it lasted. But the writing is on the wall, and she's packing her bags. How will we react to life without her? Does the unsinkable Texan turn to the Man solve his problems for him? Or does he grab some self-respect and try to confront a new frontier?