Formal in the Field

By: Mary

This is the story of an arsenal of a closet stocked with a vast array of bridesmaids dresses that was made into a useful costume collection to bring forth a highly impractical (but may I add hilarious) photo shoot.

This collection of dresses started about 30 years ago when my mother wore the blue silk number Kate sported as a maid-of-honor in her sister’s wedding. The pink dress came from our sister-in-law, Nicole during a phase in which she was a consultant at a bridal store and was able to bring many a bridesmaid dress home for free with price tags that were still in tact. She also donated the aqua dress that Colleen wore after it sat in storage for many years following a high school prom. Colleen begrudged Clare the high honor of wearing a dress that she pulled out of the play clothes last summer and has since intended to wear next month during her first stint as a bridesmaid.

It just so happened that the talented Tara Schwab was visiting and graciously agreed to document us with her camera. Tara is a former roommate of Kate’s and has moved to Wisconsin for a flute professor position at a university in the northern part of the state.

Free spirited and happy in the cool evening light, we took to the field by foot.

The asparagus field seemed an ideal place to stop from striding for a moment.

And then… an apple tree seemed to be beckoning. So just like that, I scrambled up. This turned out to be a problematic decision. I know, I know- it does seem like such a sweetly quaint scene. However, nobody else wanted to climb up and none of the sisters realized why I was laughing. This was because the pungent smell that was drifting up was coming from the composting hide of Silly Spots (remember Blizzards and Beef?).  At this very moment in time, Silly Spots’ hide from lasts winter’s butchering is resting, or I could say, composting in a less than aromatic way under one of our many apple trees. 

After choosing a new tree without the remains of a cow underneath, Clare was game to scurry its low branches. All was well until the jump down.

And then all was really not well…this was the point in time in which a literal falling out took place.

RRRRIIIIIIIP!

Lesson to be learned: no apple tree climbing in bridesmaids-to-be dresses.

Colleen is typically pretty sweet, BUT when she’s not she’s not, and the girl really can get into a catfight. Her reaction to this tear was a quick yank on Clare’s red tresses. While Clare stood her 16 year ground, during this sister spat, she watched with pleasure as Colleen then clumsily tripped on her flowing aqua train and tumbled down to meet her end with the emerald grass of the field.

At this point my reaction was to suggest we link arms as then I could take custody of each of their arms to separate them from throwing fists at each other.

Aren’t we happy?

*Please do not look too closely at Colleen’s unhappy face*

By this time, Colleen and I were totally over being stalked by the paparazzi…okay, that might be a slightly embellished truth. Colleen needed some condolence from our mom, and I needed to get ready for an old church lady meeting at St. Peter’s Church (more about that later). Anyhow, our last photo turned out to be a pretty special one, because it includes our mother who was at a corner of her garden babysitting Kate’s youngest.

I’m glad the dresses got some extra use, and I hope you enjoyed the folly of our dramatic dress up segment. I’d advise that if you are going to do one yourself steer clear of composting dead calves, bridalwear, and fist fights.

My Fresh Farmhand Friend

By: Colleen

There’s a new member of the motley crew that sleeps under the roof of the Slattery homestead in Middle Ridge, Wisconsin.  My good friend and compatriot, Killian Beeler, recently drove up from hot and dusty Texas to dig in the muddy Wisconsin fields (and believe me, with all of the recent rain, mud is all we have!) with me for the month of June.  I sat down with him after day one on the farm to get his initial impressions of life on the farm.

Q: Tell us a little about yourself!

A: Well, I’m a handsome, young…ha, ha, I’m just kidding, just kidding!  I’m a 20 year old, Catholic male, single (playful laugh).  But seriously, I’m from Texas, and I go to the University of Dallas with Colleen.  I like a nice pair of slacks (another laugh).  I enjoy history, politics, music, and playing bass guitar.

Q: Why did you choose to come to work on Sweet Ridge Farm?

A: Well, I really like the area; I think it’s very pretty.  I enjoy the Amish culture that permeates the area.  I am very interested in the idea of a society based on agriculture, so I came here to get a small idea of what it is like.

Q: What has your initial impression been of life on the farm, Slattery style?

A: It’s great!  I have already managed to meet Amish families, trim blackberry bushes, and plant and learn about shallots.  The experience really does go beyond my expectations so far.

Q: Why are you interested in farming?

A: I believe that a healthy, ordered society should make and know, to some degree at least, the food that it consumes.  When it becomes disconnected from the complex process behind the production of what it comes into contact every day, there are real problems.  In other words, Monsanto sucks!

Q: What are your expectations for your stay?

A: To enjoy the summer, work out in the fields, and enjoy evenings spent reading in the company of great people.

Well, Killian, I am quite certain that you will enjoy your stay on Sweet Ridge Farm, if I have anything to say about it.  Welcome to the great State of Wisconsin, my friend!

Indian Nights

By: Clare

Spring is turning to summer, brown is returning to green, and the world is glorious again. This was the case last Sunday night, as a warm breeze softly caressed the seemingly endless fields along our high hilltop home. My parents were away in Dallas attending my older brother’s college graduation, and  Mary and I were left to ourselves for a weekend. This got old quite fast, and so we eagerly agreed to babysitting our nieces and nephew. Someone came up with the idea to play Indians, which seemed like the perfect game for three wild children to play. First, the proper wardrobe and makeup were needed.

Adeline chose her dress carefully. It may not have fit very well with the Indian theme, but it definitely worked with the Adeline theme..which is DRAMATIC.

Claire fit perfectly into the Indian dress Mary was as a girl, handmade by our “crafty” mother.

We couldn’t resist putting Thaddeus in Robert’s old Indian boy outfit. And of course, Indian war paint was completely necessary.

Watch out. He’s feisty.

While Thaddeus went with the tough guy attitude, Claire stayed in a more melancholic mood.

I can’t wait for summer and more Indian nights.

Country Girl in the City, Part One

by Kate

I was born and bred on a farm. I climbed a grain bin barefoot on my wedding day.

And then I moved into the heart of a great grey city of steel and iron and statues and stone.

But I am still a barefoot country girl, although I also have a pretty fabulous collection of sky high heels. I think that many people assume that simple sustainable living is a country thing. I know I did. I was wrong. I’ve learned a lot in the past few years, and I want to share some of them with you. These are some of the things that I do that remind me of home and have helped me to create a beautiful and sustainable life here.

I hang my clothes on the line.

I’ve got a bed of strawberries under the laundry line too. I grow garlic, enough to last all year.

I use cloth diapers as much as I can. These cheerful ones were a gift from a blog reader. (Thanks again, by the way. I love them.)

I bake bread, and cookies, and cake, and I teach my children to bake too.

These are some of the things that make me feel at home. Bake bread, grow garlic, hang clothes. Keep a compost pile. It turns out that some of the things that made country living enjoyable for me weren’t contingent on living in the country. I plan to keep sharing these things in an occasional series. Kick your shoes off, and join me on my country girl in the city adventures!

Sunday Sisters

By: Mary

There is no time of the week as pleasant to bake during then Sunday morning, and there is no day of the week better to eat doughnuts, then on a Sunday morning as well.

Wait, that’s a false statement.  Any given day is a great day to eat doughnuts!

Colleen and I have experienced many a Sunday morning baking session together as you may remember from the post Sunday Sugar Doughnuts. Today I brought a substitute baker into the kitchen to help mix the dough and fry the batter in oil.

My eight-year-old niece may just end up being quite the baker.

She’s a precious gift in my life and I’m glad to have spent this spring morning in her company.

In just once week, though, my ” Sunday sister ” (Coleen) will be traveling back home from college in Dallas. I can hardly wait to spend early mornings baking with her and be forced to go on excruciating runs which I protest half-heartedly. Her trademark ugly apron is ready and waiting for her in an old farm house kitchen far away from the the biggest and proudest state in the union. Welcome back Colleen and best of luck to you as you cram for finals. Ace them before coming back home to your sophisticated ridge roots!

A

On To State!

By: Clare

When the majority of your neighbors are cows, and horse and buggies don’t cause a second glance as they wander aimlessly through your local town, its a nice treat to have the opportunity to  visit a city full of culture and urban life. This was the case as I traveled to Madison last Friday to participate in State Forensics.

Although I didn’t quite manage to get away from the cows (we are America’s Dairyland, so I guess I’ll allow it)…

I did have the chance to see plenty of other things you wouldn’t normally find on the Ridge where I live or the village of a little over a thousand where I go to school.

Most people get to shopping as soon as they arrive in Madison, but my friend and I decided we were there for strictly sightseeing as we ambled along State Street and stared into the colorful, assorted storefronts.

A quick stop at the Cold Stone Creamery was necessary, however.

Turns out, no matter how delicious the ice cream, eating the cold dessert on the freezing streets of Madison with a vicious wind chilling you to the bone is not quite as enjoyable as you would hope, so we proceeded onward in search of a more warm adventure. What we found at the end of State Street was just the trick…Wisconsin’s majestic, sprawling Capitol Building.

I was delighted at the idea of warmth AND a historical building.

So through the old revolving doors we went.

Our quick impromptu tour inside (conducted by myself..I took us wherever my heart led me) involved a lot of responsible and practical acts on the part of my friend and her chaperon father, and a lot of wreckless, Slattery-like acts on my part. This involved trying (unsuccessfully..dang) to find a way up to the balcony of the Capitol, sliding down multiple banisters, and sneaking into the Hearing Room, which may or may not have been a place that I was allowed to be in. But it’s all good, me and Governor Walker are like besties.

I quickly got a picture and then ran soundlessly out after I was reminded that this is the 21st century, and there were probably several cameras trained on me in that room.

Despite all my messing around, I was reminded of how beautiful Wisconsin’s Capitol building is. There’s an amazing amount of symbolism involved in the architecture and artwork, it’s a shame I don’ remember much of what they taught me about it in the 4th grade.

Once we left the Capitol, we made a quick random detour into a Wisconsin apparel shop, to look at unoriginal, insanely overpriced t-shirts. I tried on a cheesehead just for the heck of it, despite my extreme disdain for all things Packer-related.

Pretty soon we had spent enough time fooling around, and made our way back through State Street to the UW-Madison campus, where we were to perform that night.

Night fell over the city.

I performed, earning myself a perfect score, and then it was time to get back to good ol’ rural Wisconsin. And, although I do love experiencing the hustle and bustle of Madison,

I’m just fine with my Ridgetop view.

A Wish To The Moon

By: Mary

Cold rain battered down in intermittent frigid cycles all of yesterday. This morning the white powder of snow has been layering the ground as it falls from a grey and windy sky. Everybody is talking about the weather as it continues to become more difficult with week after week of dismal conditions. My laughing line that I have shared with friends, family and even cashiers at my favorite food co-op is “well, I am starting to understand why they drink all the time in Russia.”

Laugh as I may when sharing my observation, I have been thinking back upon my time in Vladivostok.

Vladivostok is a sea city. It’s a big city with about 5 million people getting through life in the commotion of it’s city boarders. The city is next to the sea. Because of the proximity to fresh water, many fish are sold at markets, or even on street corners heaped upon a pallet.

One dear sight to me was on Saturdays when a man would come to the orphanage with a black gym bag packed with presumably fresh fish to sell to the nurses on duty.

The city of Vladivostok is many things other than just a sea city: It’s cosmopolitan in part, and impoverished in part, and it’s also very sad.

The parks in Vlad confirm this. I do believe that I took these pictures on a random weekday afternoon. Drinking in the parks during daylight hours is common as it is even on a bus or sidewalk or in a grocery store.

Sunlight is strained and smiles are seldom, but there are still so many beautiful faces.

Sunny skies and the beginning of fresh growth can’t solve all problems.

However, it’s one heck of a good jump-start into positivity and production. I wish to the moon for sunlight and the freshness of spring brightness in both Russia and here, in the Midwestern states.