Bread from Le Quartier complimented nicely.
I put off the packing for too long, and once I finished that, I needed some more fortification. Late night rainbow chard from the farm!
Showing posts with label farm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label farm. Show all posts
7.01.2009
Late Night Greens
Whilst prepping & packing for Colorado (4:30 AM departure from Lincoln with Ms. Reddy to meet Ms. Hepburn in Ft. Collins), I made some killer garlic scape pesto with scapes from my neighbor Rich's yard. I used pistachios as the nut of choice, and pecorino romano & parmesan to cheese it up.
Bread from Le Quartier complimented nicely.
I put off the packing for too long, and once I finished that, I needed some more fortification. Late night rainbow chard from the farm!
Bread from Le Quartier complimented nicely.
I put off the packing for too long, and once I finished that, I needed some more fortification. Late night rainbow chard from the farm!
Annals of Cooking: Peas!
I had both snow peas and regular snap peas from the farm, so I flash-fried them with some garlic scapes from my neighbor Rich, and added some soba noodles and sesame oil to round it out.
The best thing right now is that when I take out the compost, the black raspberries that grow right by the compost pile are really ripe. Nice dessert!
6.21.2009
Smart Horse
My parents' neighbors have 3 horses. One is black. This black horse is quite intelligent, or totally off its rocker. It gets all the way into the pond and hangs out there all day, blowing bubbles. I'm not even kidding.
5.13.2009
4.12.2009
Easter Weekend in Photos
Jennie at the ride-up ATM
Theo handles guitar & bass in Columbia Vs. Challenger
Teal front and center as Dustin, Tom, and Jim (off camera) rock the Box, UUVVWWZ style. What a great band.
Cassidy the Grillmassidy
Niki successfully found that egg
Papi touching up the rosemary/lemon/garlic basting on the leg of lamb, last 30 minutes of 6 hours of grilling
A little Pernod to whet the appetite
Purple Cannondale from Jim
4.08.2009
Post-work Farm Ride
After a day of work that involved 3 hours of interstate driving, nice weather necessitated a longer ride. I decided to head out to the farm and surprise my parents with a visit. What better a day to really get some practice with my fancy new Sidis?
Hardly any wind, bright, clear skies, and just about perfect temperature. My cellphone camera wielding while riding is getting slowly better, too...
Riding home, mentally preparing for the Indian food (Sarson Ka Saag & [Reinkordt] Beef Madras) I was making for the neighbors...
3.20.2009
Spring, sprung
Today makes it official, but last weekend felt like the start of spring. Belatedly posted, above, my newest riding buddy & finest of neighbors, Gina, in front of the sadly not open Roca Tavern. Below, my dad grills a leg of kid from Green Glade farm.
3.18.2009
2.01.2009
Calving Time
A little early start this year, but as Mami said today, "At least now, it's February!"
Last Sunday, a first-time mother gave birth to a little bull calf. It was very cold, and beginning to snow, so my mom & Chris carried the calf into the barn, where we'd put down some straw. Generally, the cow will come right along, but this mother was preoccupied with trying to eat, and didn't follow her still-wet and becoming icy little one. My brother toweled off the calf as it tried to nurse on his knee. We tried for quite some time (about 2 & 1/2 hours) to get the cattle all to come into the barn, hoping to be able to separate the mother out and pen her in with her calf, to no avail. Finally, well after dark, well into the snowstorm, and after all we kids had given up, my parents gave up, too.
Monday morning, the first day of the Year of the Ox, Mami went down to feed and found cow with calf. There was another bull calf born this week, too, though thankfully, there was some warmer weather this weekend.
12.26.2008
Christmas on the Farm
physics with bells
cutest little challah
swedish breakfast
blue jays & lady cardinal
the barn & sheds at sunset
christmas sunset
the rattiest tree dad's ever seen
mom & i halfway through the obligatory holiday scrabble showdown
dad lets his true alliances be known
11.28.2008
Black Friday
Some people go shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. This morning, my mom and I rode bikes instead. Much better idea.
9.07.2008
8.26.2008
Big Brother's Portfolio
Triple Canopy's Andrew Ti examines Google Street View and the art of photography.
As I do not live in one of the major metropolitan areas, my neighborhood has not yet been "street viewed." I was surprised to find out, however, that the farm has.
And on a perfect summer-stormy-sky day!
As I do not live in one of the major metropolitan areas, my neighborhood has not yet been "street viewed." I was surprised to find out, however, that the farm has.
And on a perfect summer-stormy-sky day!
3.10.2008
Böögg
In Zürich, Switzerland, a large, stuffed (with fireworks, among other things) snowman is burned in effigy to end the winter. My father burned his 20+-year-old coveralls, stuffed with hay, baggies of gasoline, sparklers, and matches. Man's Last Great Invention was on hand for a live soundtrack.
Böögg from nocoastfilms on Vimeo.
Böögg from nocoastfilms on Vimeo.
11.17.2007
6.18.2007
Birds, or a childhood memory becomes a sort of father's day tribute
I meant to publish this yesterday, but then I was actually out helping my dad with the haying. And, without fail, the baled snake prophecied in this did indeed arise. Photos forthcoming.
There exists a tape recording of a two-year-old me whistling too closely into a microphone. I had recently learned the song of the bobwhite, a meadow bird that heavily populated my grandparents' farm near Denton, Nebraska. I start out far enough away, my father holding the microphone and asking me questions about my day. "Was haben wir heute im Museum gesehen? Sahen wir die Mama im Bett?" I had spent the morning, it seems, at one of my favorite haunts of the time, the Sheldon Memorial Art Gallery, the Lincoln Center of the Great Plains. No, I'm not kidding, it was built by Philip Johnson and looks just like Lincoln Center. See? I had become convinced that Lillian Westcott Hale's The Convalescent (Zeffy in Bed) was in fact a painting of my mother in bed. There happens to be a photograph of my mother, not long after my birth, in which she is similarly posed, thus rendering this slippage decidedly more astute.
I spent most of my pre-school years with my father, who at the time was teaching night classes at the University of Nebraska so that my mother could work full time as a high school teacher. He often boasts that I learned to walk in the Sheldon, and that I would plop down in front of my favorite -- Mark Rothko's Yellow Band -- with quite the toddler's reverence. Outside of our gallery time, my father and I spent days going to the hardware store, where I'd often want him to buy me a nut and bolt combo, just because. We also frequented the John Deere implement dealer, where a miniature die cast tractor was almost always in order, until the inevitable point at which I had them all -- antique to modern, balers and plastic straw bales to boot -- and had to grumble that the only and completely unfeasible alternative was moving on to collect Massey-Ferguson or Case models, something that would have killed my grandfather then and there, too soon to ever meet his namesake.
Though we had a house in Lincoln, on most weekends and for the majority of the summer, we spent our days on the farm, taking care of the cattle, helping my grandmother garden, and putting up the hay. It wasn't until I was at least ten or so that my father put fenders on the main tractor, so until then, riding along meant being small enough to fit on a lap, or just in between the driver's legs and the big vertical steering wheel. Part of the joy of driving the tractor (other than of course the monumental power felt in driving several tons of machinery) during hay cutting and baling is being out in front of the other machinery that is scaring up the wildlife from the deep grasses. When you're on the hayrack, it's sweat and existentialism all the way, but in front, you see the snakes slither out from under the tines of the windrower, the groundsquirrels and such scurry into their burrows, and the swallows swoop like kamikazes this way and that, gorging themselves on all the stirred-up insects. You're also generally the first to spot a circling hawk or a family of deer in the pasture, and maybe if it's early enough in the morning, a coyote. My mom spots these things from the rack, but she's the exception, an incredibly efficient bale stacker who can take the time to spot wildlife. (And, to be fair, occasionally, on the hayrack, you get the ultra-metal experience of seeing a baled snake.) My grandmother was the ardent bird watcher of the family, but once you got him on the tractor, my dad made sure to point out every last animal he saw. The only problem? You had a hell of a time trying to understand what he was saying over the rhythmic cacophony of all the tractor and baler's parts; a finger repeatedly more vigorously pointed in the same general motion path of the animal would have to do.
The bobwhite's song was my favorite, perhaps only for its ease of imitation. "Bob-White, it says," my mother would encourage, "listen." And I would whistle along, breathy at first, then growing in tone and confidence. I sat at the crest of the driveway, overlooking lake and trees on the other side of the highway, hiding in the tall prairie grasses on the hill below, listening and calling back, listening then calling back.
The Audobon Society is reporting that the common bobwhite is now the Number One Common Bird in Decline, dropping in population a whopping 82 percent in the last forty years. And seeing as though within the last year there have been signs advertising a new housing subdivision next to the farm, somehow, I'm not surprised.
There exists a tape recording of a two-year-old me whistling too closely into a microphone. I had recently learned the song of the bobwhite, a meadow bird that heavily populated my grandparents' farm near Denton, Nebraska. I start out far enough away, my father holding the microphone and asking me questions about my day. "Was haben wir heute im Museum gesehen? Sahen wir die Mama im Bett?" I had spent the morning, it seems, at one of my favorite haunts of the time, the Sheldon Memorial Art Gallery, the Lincoln Center of the Great Plains. No, I'm not kidding, it was built by Philip Johnson and looks just like Lincoln Center. See? I had become convinced that Lillian Westcott Hale's The Convalescent (Zeffy in Bed) was in fact a painting of my mother in bed. There happens to be a photograph of my mother, not long after my birth, in which she is similarly posed, thus rendering this slippage decidedly more astute.
I spent most of my pre-school years with my father, who at the time was teaching night classes at the University of Nebraska so that my mother could work full time as a high school teacher. He often boasts that I learned to walk in the Sheldon, and that I would plop down in front of my favorite -- Mark Rothko's Yellow Band -- with quite the toddler's reverence. Outside of our gallery time, my father and I spent days going to the hardware store, where I'd often want him to buy me a nut and bolt combo, just because. We also frequented the John Deere implement dealer, where a miniature die cast tractor was almost always in order, until the inevitable point at which I had them all -- antique to modern, balers and plastic straw bales to boot -- and had to grumble that the only and completely unfeasible alternative was moving on to collect Massey-Ferguson or Case models, something that would have killed my grandfather then and there, too soon to ever meet his namesake.
Though we had a house in Lincoln, on most weekends and for the majority of the summer, we spent our days on the farm, taking care of the cattle, helping my grandmother garden, and putting up the hay. It wasn't until I was at least ten or so that my father put fenders on the main tractor, so until then, riding along meant being small enough to fit on a lap, or just in between the driver's legs and the big vertical steering wheel. Part of the joy of driving the tractor (other than of course the monumental power felt in driving several tons of machinery) during hay cutting and baling is being out in front of the other machinery that is scaring up the wildlife from the deep grasses. When you're on the hayrack, it's sweat and existentialism all the way, but in front, you see the snakes slither out from under the tines of the windrower, the groundsquirrels and such scurry into their burrows, and the swallows swoop like kamikazes this way and that, gorging themselves on all the stirred-up insects. You're also generally the first to spot a circling hawk or a family of deer in the pasture, and maybe if it's early enough in the morning, a coyote. My mom spots these things from the rack, but she's the exception, an incredibly efficient bale stacker who can take the time to spot wildlife. (And, to be fair, occasionally, on the hayrack, you get the ultra-metal experience of seeing a baled snake.) My grandmother was the ardent bird watcher of the family, but once you got him on the tractor, my dad made sure to point out every last animal he saw. The only problem? You had a hell of a time trying to understand what he was saying over the rhythmic cacophony of all the tractor and baler's parts; a finger repeatedly more vigorously pointed in the same general motion path of the animal would have to do.
The Audobon Society is reporting that the common bobwhite is now the Number One Common Bird in Decline, dropping in population a whopping 82 percent in the last forty years. And seeing as though within the last year there have been signs advertising a new housing subdivision next to the farm, somehow, I'm not surprised.
3.11.2007
on this weekend
a lovely precursor-to-spring weekend, indeed. in reverse order:
i just came home on my bike, and it was too warm for my hat and my bare feet are fine. at the sun mart parking lot, i got chased down by some dangerous looking kids squeaking their newly purchased squeaky toys at me, then complaining that i was too fast. before that, i was drinking wine in adam's very hip, very urban apartment with the windows open. meggan, ande and i almost drank that wine in public, because all the nice bars were closed on sunday, so we bought the screw-top bottle from jake's. that was after espresso that followed eating outside at the oven. meggan and i wanted to eat outside after biking down from ben's apartment, where we met his parents. kaleb and i found the eiffel tower on google earth.
i had a really nice time on the farm with the family, and played basketball with bicho (my parents' border collie/blue heeler mix). the cats let me sleep in a little, since they knew nothing of the time change. i slept hard.
i met ben's really great cousin miranda. after a long hiatus, i rolled a 160 and a 163 at hollywood bowl while admiring kaleb's skills at bumper bowling. i had some terrible chinese food, after discovering that vietnamese restaurants close early. kaleb got some slip-ons, since his other shoes were wet and dirty after searching out clam shells at the lake while ben dug for antique cans of high life and coke. we rode bikes and played basketball after a snack of fresh-baked bread and homemade jams, which kaleb declared the best he had ever had. we got some serious quality time with stewarts' horses, and played hide-and-seek near my favorite tree. dad showed us the calves -- 4 so far with one more on the way, 2 heifers, 2 bulls -- and kaleb made friends with the world's best cat. i had a delicious machiato at cultiva. i threw darts for the first time since ande's dui scare night over 2 years ago. i enjoyed another saturday morning on the sofa with npr and both cats on my lap.
i was at o'rourke's, owing no one my attentions, happily floating from one conversation to the next. i hugged anna. i sat outside at yia-yia's for the first time this year. i got picked up from work in todd's gloriously deep red caprice, with the windows rolled down. i knew it would be the start of a good weekend.
tomorrow, i'll develop the four rolls of film.
i just came home on my bike, and it was too warm for my hat and my bare feet are fine. at the sun mart parking lot, i got chased down by some dangerous looking kids squeaking their newly purchased squeaky toys at me, then complaining that i was too fast. before that, i was drinking wine in adam's very hip, very urban apartment with the windows open. meggan, ande and i almost drank that wine in public, because all the nice bars were closed on sunday, so we bought the screw-top bottle from jake's. that was after espresso that followed eating outside at the oven. meggan and i wanted to eat outside after biking down from ben's apartment, where we met his parents. kaleb and i found the eiffel tower on google earth.
i had a really nice time on the farm with the family, and played basketball with bicho (my parents' border collie/blue heeler mix). the cats let me sleep in a little, since they knew nothing of the time change. i slept hard.
i met ben's really great cousin miranda. after a long hiatus, i rolled a 160 and a 163 at hollywood bowl while admiring kaleb's skills at bumper bowling. i had some terrible chinese food, after discovering that vietnamese restaurants close early. kaleb got some slip-ons, since his other shoes were wet and dirty after searching out clam shells at the lake while ben dug for antique cans of high life and coke. we rode bikes and played basketball after a snack of fresh-baked bread and homemade jams, which kaleb declared the best he had ever had. we got some serious quality time with stewarts' horses, and played hide-and-seek near my favorite tree. dad showed us the calves -- 4 so far with one more on the way, 2 heifers, 2 bulls -- and kaleb made friends with the world's best cat. i had a delicious machiato at cultiva. i threw darts for the first time since ande's dui scare night over 2 years ago. i enjoyed another saturday morning on the sofa with npr and both cats on my lap.
i was at o'rourke's, owing no one my attentions, happily floating from one conversation to the next. i hugged anna. i sat outside at yia-yia's for the first time this year. i got picked up from work in todd's gloriously deep red caprice, with the windows rolled down. i knew it would be the start of a good weekend.
tomorrow, i'll develop the four rolls of film.
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