Thanksgiving 2010

A brief update on the happenings of my life and then I'll share something I wrote in December 2010.

Wow.  or Wowwy-wow-wow-WOW, as Christopher Walken would say with his bulging eyes and dancing hands.  This world is spinning, on a strange axis, and its inhabitants' heads are spinning too.  Three weeks after the earthquake and tsunami that shook the world and lent further evidence to certain gloomy theories and ancient prophecies, they begin to ship over concrete to help secure the nuclear power plant.  Three weeks!  Well, at least that tops BP's response time.  I could ramble here, but I'd rather take a different approach and share some stories that were told to me today at a Japanese Zen Mission in Paia right alongside Baldwin Beach.  

The Japanese and Tibetan Zen members congregated to celebrate the Buddha's birthday, right around 2500 years ago today.  One of the speakers was commenting on the initial shock and reaction on the day of the earthquake and how it wasn't chaos that ensued, but instead kindness, grace, and orderliness, three distinct qualities of the Japanese culture.  The speaker shared multiple stories, one of a convenience store that stayed open through the aftershocks of the night and had three clerks to serve each customer.  One to do the money exchange, the other to check the inventory of how much each item was priced, and the other to hold the flashlight, since the electricity had gone out.  There was another story of how patient everyone was in waiting to leave the city in the cars.  Even in a mass traffic jam, there weren't collisions and there weren't obnoxious horns beeping, except to imply 'thank you.'  This is a real admiral model for how to act if shit hits the fan closer to home.

In this very vulnerable time period, we must stay positive and excel and not sink.  It is a time where we need to help others because we will inevitably be needing help one day too.  It is a time for being grateful for what we have, even if it is meager, because whether we choose to believe in what our selective memory beckons us to believe, we can forget how far we've come.

The seed that was planted before my birth is growing and starting to mature in different stages.  This seed is  representative of my practice of Buddhism.  I am not on a path to devote my life to its calling, but I do intend to infuse it into all aspects of my life for calming purposes, to help ease my own and others sufferings.  I have fully evidenced the power of the mind to turn one's life around within oneself.  It was not a week ago that I was in a place in my mind where I was ready to leave this island.  Since then, I've had one of my best weeks on the island, maybe even a future blogpost.  I've slept in a different place on the island the last 6 nights, been around many fires and music and communal gatherings, and have been blessed with opportunities to live and work in many places.  The journey continues.  So here I reflect on another time of being grateful for what is at hand, what is given, and for the opportunity to have an impact on this world.

Thanksgiving Week at Quail Hollow Farm

I've not before celebrated this late November holiday with a tradition as rich as this year. Sure, I have participated in big meals, gotten together with my family, and have been grateful for all the gifts we've received throughout the year. It seems my life on the fourth Thursday of every November has been a slow, but necessary progression to really help me appreciate this year's special Thanksgiving day.

I have gotten over my youthful ignorant disdain for turkey, and no longer eat Chicken Parmesan and a blueberry yogurt. I escaped the cold last year and was thankful for my first Thanksgiving on a farm, being able to eat and prepare fresh produce. The food we ate was not what you would typically find on a Thanksgiving dinner table, but the abundance was awe-inspiring. We celebrated the day with friends and drinks and laughs and my belly has never been so expanded in its adult life.

This year was a different story. Let me preface with the facts. On Quail Hollow Farm the interns receive a book when we first arrive describing a year where a family eats local. All produce, from flour to vegetables to meat, are grown and harvested within a 100 mile radius of their farm in Virginia. In the winter, when the air and soil and weather aren't conducive to growing, they eat preserves. Here in Quail Hollow, they walk the talk.

In spring, the Bledsoes bought 30 day-old Heritage Breed Turkeys. Both Standard Bronze and Bourbon Reds. They were allowed to roam on pasture their first 4 months, and when the coyotes and wild dogs decreased the amount of birds from 30 to 15, we moved them to a pen and fed them organic grain and hay. This Monday before Thanksgiving is where our story begins.

We woke up to frost, only the fourth of the season. The hoses to hydrate the animals were frozen, and the air was bitter. I had an uneasy sleep last night despite my tasty dinner and decided to skip breakfast. I walked down to the farm as the sun was hovering above Virgin's Peak Mts. and little did I know, would not walk back up to the house until the light blue dissipated into a black sky. A desert black sky, sprinkled with yellow, like a child splattering paint onto an unreachable canvas. I was very aware of what the day was to entail, and knew well the reason for my uneasy sleep.  It was going to be a large meat harvest.

In September we processed 20 roosters, so this wasn't entirely foreign to me, but on that day I was strictly plucking the bird's feathers and cleaning out the innards. Today, I wanted to get closer to my food and, to me, that included catching and slaughtering the birds. We started straight after chores, and as soon as we prepared and sanitized the area, we were able to shed a layer of clothing. If the wind stays down, we would be very fortunate to have favorable weather on a day like this. And the day just got warmer as the sun grew taller.

I caught the first turkey and brought it over upside down by its talons, stuck its head through the hole in the bucket, and used wire to strap its ankles in. This bird was heavy. As you may know, birds do not die after their throat is slit, so it is essential to tie their legs together tight, or they will flutter out and run around nearly headless dripping blood for a good 30-90 seconds, depending on how clean your cuts are. Strapping a turkey in is much more difficult than a rooster, mainly due to the size and weight. Our turkeys were enormous. They lived on pasture and also lived longer, healthier, happier lives than your grocery-store bird. They weren't injected with water, or hormones, and were able to grow to their full sizes in time (without speeding up the process).

Our first bird was a big one, though not the biggest. We expected it to be around twenty pounds, but it felt heavier. The feathers were still on, and when we lifted it from the scalding water to pluck them off, we figured this bird was 30+ pounds. Then we dressed the bird. We cut off its feet and head, took off its feathers, and removed the liver, heart, intestines trachea and gizzard. We bagged the liver, heart, and gizzard for the buyers, and fed the rest to our extremely fortunate pigs, who have doubled in size since they arrived. Our first turkey weighed 25 lbs. We had 4 others who were 30 or 31, and our largest bird we cooked for ourselves on Thanksgiving, a 32 pound turkey that barely fit into the oven.

After the first five birds that Monte slaughtered, I found the courage to take the burden off of his hands and kill my first bird. We do it fast and humane and control the blood to spill in a small perimeter. I understood that the slaughter is an integral part of eating meat. I thanked the bird for its life and its flesh and let the bird fly away to its next one.

After the 15 turkeys, including a wild one which was fun to corner and catch since it could run nearly as fast as us and could fly, we moved onto the geese. The bane of our existence on our otherwise, lovely, serene farm filled with pleasant animal noises. (On Tuesday, when we walked down to do our chores and harvest, the mood was so pleasant and I couldn't place it until I realized the geese weren't interrupting our thoughts and rhythm.) Lark caught the first one by the neck, and I caught the next two on the run with my bare hands. This was my fist personal revenge animal and I didn't want the chicken hook to interfere. This wasn't necessarily a satisfying kill when I cut its neck, but it was an easier task than the other birds.

After the 3 geese, one for christmas and the other going to the sicilian head chef of Nora's Wine Bar in Las Vegas, we had to gather up roosters. We anticipated there would be 6. There ended up being 19. When the slaughter was over and the animals were processed and bagged, we hardly had light to clean up the area and I had not eaten anything except a pocketed oatmeal cookie all day. Fortunately, Stephen, Laura's brother had come to live on the farm for a little while and had arrived this past weekend.

Stephen had been living in Paris, playing Bach on the street on guitar every day for three months. He is a true artist, and practices in the house 2-6 hours a day. His robust laugh, great stories, and views on this world make for an incredible presence. He had prepared dinner and after I showered and cleansed myself of the morning and afternoon figuratively and literally, we sat down and ate his meal, all harvested from the farm. Porkchops with an apricot-maple glaze, sweet potatoes, apple sauce, swiss chard and melons. All prepared wonderfully. After dinner, when our bellies were extremely content, we set our first fire of the season in the fireplace (and it feels like it hasn't diminished since), and gathered around it on couches and chairs and rugs and lay there. Basically immobile, utterly exhausted. This is when Stephen brought out his guitar and played Bach, and though he plays it every day, Bach's music runs through his blood and he lives it. This paticular performance, for us, was pure magic. He played pieces that he also performed in a 5th century church in Paris, and we were put into a trance. On Thanksgiving day, this moment passed through my mind as one of the things I was most grateful for this year and it happened just a mere three days ago.  I didn't fall asleep until 1 am that night, thoughts bouncing and dancing around my head like the feathers currently engaged in child's pillow fight.

Tuesday. Woke up at 6 and felt great. Ate breakfast today. We had a big harvest planned for our thanksgiving baskets. There was a great vibe in the air, maybe due to the holiday spirit, our bountiful harvest this late in the year, and the quiet tranquility on the farm. We speak about the eerie calm before the storm, well there is also the calm afterwards, and this specific calm was palpable and soothing. We had more help today as the Bledsoe family began to arrive, and finished in daylight. One of the Bledsoe children brought along their year old Golden retreiver named Walden, and it was great to play with a puppy again. This week our baskets were overflowing. We had a mix of golden delicious and winesap apples, two giant sweet potatoes, a quarter of a large musque dei provence pumpkin (heirloom variety), mesclun lettuce, arugula, radishes, pomegranates, sage, anaheim peppers and broccoli or cabbage. Our shareholders did not go hungry this Thanksgiving, and neither did we.

Wednesday. It was an effort getting the baskets and our extra produce and Turkeys loaded up to go to Vegas for Market and deliveries, but we ended up on the road just before 8:30, starting at 5. Once we set up our stand at market, we went to pick up our new WWOOFER, Nella, hailing from the center of France. It's been a pleasure having her around and to discover all the amazing things she has already done in her life. She is in the middle of a world tour, starting in America and then going to Australia, New Zealand, China, and Southeast Asia next! How the beautiful world opens up when you quit your job in an office. Nella will be here for three weeks and picked a great time and place to enter Quail Hollow Farm. The rest of the day went off without a hitch and we picked up some essentials such as cranberries and nuts for the big meal tomorrow. The rest of Monte and Laura's kids arrived that night, and we had a nice talk by the fire when we got back. Two of their son's brought out night vision goggles and we checked out the view from the backyard. The most incredible part of looking through them was the stars. You could pick up galaxies hidden from the human eye. When most everyone went to bed, I stayed up thinking about tomorrow's dinner, which we were to have at 1:00 pm, hosting 27 people. Laura baked some pies that night, and more were to be cooked tomorrow. We manipulated the 32 pound turkey, basted with rendered goose fat, in the oven at 12:30 am for an overnight slow-roast.

Thursday, Thanksgiving Day!  For the meal, I contributed a cocunut sweet-potatoe pie with a spiced graham cracker crust, a salad from the farm including lettuce, arugula, spinach, walnuts, radishes, feta, onions, radishesand peppers, tossed with a pomegranate viniagrette. And most importantly, a goose. With the help of Stephen, who has managed multiple restaurants, and Julia Child and Irma Rombauer, I prepared the goose I slaughtered for the Thanksgiving table. The candied lemon and fig chutney rubbed on before browning gave it a great flavor. I was very happy that I was able to deliver a flavorful well cooked bird. The project felt like my responsibility and I was proud to see the smiles on the guests faces. After all, it was my first goose. We also had stuffing, pomegrante jello, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, pecan/apple/pumpkin/ sweet potatoe pies (totalling over 12), some of our preserves (pickled okra, dilled green beans, bread and butter pickles), and a 32 lb turkey. Stephen and I also made Turkey and Goose gravy from the innards and juices. Needless to say, 27 people with full stomachs, and still leftovers, though nowhere near the amount we predicted, which means everyone ate well!

A Thanksgiving meal from the farm is a very full experience, but one from the Bledsoe farm, which has such a long-lasting wonderful tradition, is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. After the meal begins the competition. We split up into teams picked out of a hat, with each of the children as a captain, and everyone participated in one of the four events. The didn't do fire starting with a flint stick this year, nor riflery, but the event ended in a tiebreaker, so rockclimbing was involved. Our first event was horseshoes, followed by archery, blowdarts, and wood-chopping (the main event). Two minutes to cut as much wood as you can, that isn't too large, or it won't count. The winner is the one with the most weight. Jimmy, the oldest son, won this year with an incredible 170 pounds chopped in two minutes. The children (23-31), totaled 660 pounds this year in just 10 minutes. There were many other small traditions that they carried out too, such as exchanging christmas ornaments at the end of the day. During that time, we were all thoroughly full and exhausted, but we managed to cut into some more pecan pies by the fire.

Thanksgiving this year was incredible and I slept like a log that night, because Friday was going to be another special day, a day of firsts. We woke up early, did our chores, then bundled up with all the layers I could find, because we were going christmas tree hunting in Cedar Mountains in Utah. This marked my first time in this special state, and I plan to explore more in the future. We spotted one beautiful tree about 100 ft or so off the road, and found another 4 in the area. Monte used a chainsaw and Jimmy used his axe, seemingly his weapon of choice, and we carried them to the trailer one at time with all six hands on some of the big ones. We were trekking through about 3 feet of beautiful dry powdery snow. I had never gone christmas tree hunting before, and I've never been in such deep fluffy snow. It's been about three years since I've played in fresh snow too. I had a blast throwing snowballs at the grandkids and getting tackled by them too. It was another special day, to conclude a special week. But not put a bookend on it, because I'm hoping to ride this holiday train and spirit all the way to the new year.

So now I sit next to the fireplace, grateful and satiated,

Next to a 16 ft. tall pine tree,

Grateful for the balance that exists in this world.

Grateful for the times when I find it.

Coming in from a cold night and sitting next to the fire

With warm cocoa, hot tea, apple cider.

I am grateful that I have found a lifestyle that is nurturing to me

And allows me to be outdoors most of the day.

I am grateful for my family and the friends I have made and wish them well

In their adventures throughout the world.

With every trial you face and every darkness you encounter,

Be aware that there is a light.

Though it may appear dim now,

It grows brighter in the future,

Happy Holidays!

Matthew K.

(I am without a computer so I'll be either trying to update this at friend's places or taking advantage of accessing the the internet through the local library.  I apologize if the posts are a little more infrequent, but I am continuing to write, just now doing so in a more three-dimensional historical sense of ink and paper and not just adding my ideas to the world of cyberspace, where nothing is secure.)