Where the Wild Things Are

by Kate

Growing up, I was a wild child. All nine of us were fairly savage, often found barefoot in trees with uncombed hair, and it would be fair to say that we were a bit uncouth. My mother often said that her goal was to raise children who were free, and in that she most definitely succeeded. So have her free children, as they make their way into the world. Somehow the time we spent running wild though woods and pastures and the pages of a thousand books formed thoughtful, articulate, and hardworking adults.

I often think about raising free children, ideally with brushed and braided hair and decent table manners. So far, I am excelling at the freedom part, with a pretty spotty hair brushing record and a plan to implement better table manners very, very soon. My husband suggests that I learn some first, and I suspect he may be right.

Of course, unlike my parents, I do not live on a high ridge falling into a woods and a valley, with a huge willow sheltering a junkyard crick. I live in the heart of a city and glimpse skyscrapers through a canopy of branches. But I do live in a city of hills, ravines, and rivers, and when I have trouble breathing remembering the free feeling of running through the back pastures and hills of home, I head out to find the wildness hidden only minutes from my front door.

Outstretched arms and muddy hands and feet are not off limits for city children.

And a river anywhere is full of wildness and cannot be tamed. Ours is a gift full of mystery and wonder- along with some industrial debris, Canadian geese, and pairs of hungry ducks.

I am working out a theory that the most important thing is not living in the city or the country, but to open the eyes of your children to the wonder and the wildness of the world around them…

wherever that might be.

For here we are, and here we shall remain, looking for the wild places and trying to tame the tangles in our hair.

Wild Places

by Kate

My sister Mary loves her horse.

 

She loves our family, and the big white farmhouse high on a ridge where we grew up.

She loves sunlight.

She loves solitude and silence.

These pictures were taken a week ago by my lovely and talented sister in law Nicole, as Mary soaked up some of the last autumn sunlight in Wisconsin before boarding a train to the big city of Pittsburgh. The light of autumn is pouring down upon this city too, but the buildings are packed together and reach toward the sky, and the traffic roars down city streets.

For my solitude and silence loving farm girl sister, it’s a bit of an adjustment- even with an enthusiastic city bred niece ready and willing to show her how to embrace the world of the city.

I’ve worked hard to raise my daughter as a confident city child who is equally comfortable running wild in the country.

I know that Mary will never be a city girl, and I wouldn’t want her to be. But it is my hope that during her stay here (no matter how long or how brief) she can find in this stone city the wild places she needs to feed her soul.

Whereabouts

by Kate

This morning felt like fall. The air was chilly, the leaves scarlet and swirling down against a grey sky, and the park was full of small children in brightly colored sweaters.

It’s been a long hot entry into autumn here in Pittsburgh, but this morning it was clear that the seasons have shifted. I am adding extra blankets to the beds, drinking more coffee in the morning, taking more time to curl up on the couch and read to the kids while across the street an avenue of trees blaze into fiery color. There may even be more time to blog. Somehow this is preferable to other time consuming possibilities, including but not limited to catching up with the laundry. The laundry situation has hurtled out of control here in my home. Browsing through the photographic record of the past month or two, I begin to see why.

Life has been a bit of a roller coaster ride. There was samba dancing at Kennywood Amusement Park.

There was the addition of a brand new chicken coop and three elderly laying hens to our urban backyard, bringing a sweet peace to my farmgirl soul.

Speaking of farming, I’ve spent a lot of time with a camera around my neck…

at the farmer’s market and way out in the country, taking notes and photographing the Farm Kings for their new magazine, which you should head right over and subscribe to. They’ve been shooting the new season of their reality show, which makes things particularly interesting in their neck of the woods.

The day of the Farm Kings tomato field shoot, I sprinted across those hay bales to get some shots, jumped down, drove back into town, and got all gussied up in red lipstick and rhinestones to play the harp…

for a spectacular, high society style Downton Abbey fundraiser at the WQED Studios here in Pittsburgh. It was pretty stunning.

Watching young ballerinas from the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre rehearse quietly before the madding crowds arrived, dripping with jewels and sophistication, was one of my favorite moments of the night.

Earlier this month, I had the opportunity to dance myself at a huge party comprising the entire Cultural District of downtown Pittsburgh, to welcome the Giant Rubber Duck to the city.

It was a fantastic evening. The kids got to have a dance party in Katz plaza and see one of the largest Rubber Ducks in the whole wide world, and I got to work with some truly lovely women on a bellydance flash mob, and also had an excuse to wear bright red harem pants in public.

Here in my own neighborhood, I had the privilege of spending an afternoon in my neighbor’s sunlit garden, playing the harp for the Lawrenceville House Tour.

I am both exhausted and exhilarated by the various gigs I’ve had in the past few months, but it is possible that the most tiring thing I did was go on vacation for three days, with four women and six (small! loud!) children. Here is a picture of the sweet peace and sunlight that actually eluded us for the entire three days we spent laughing and snorting, occasionally crying, staying up far too late, and shivering because those were the only FRIGID three days of the entire fall. Holy cow was it cold.

Also? I am shockingly inept with a rowboat. It was still great though. And I saw Lake Erie, and heard the thunder of waves upon the sandy shore.

Back in Pittsburgh, there have been impromptu picnics….

many wagon rides…

and a lot of walks.

Back in the park with the leaves swirling down, something about the change in the season makes me realize I am ready to sit down on my wooden stool and spend a bit more of my time here, on this blog. Come on over- you may just find me here. And then maybe, just maybe, I’ll get started on that laundry.

City Chick Chick

By Kate

I spend a lot of time with a crown of bright blue plumage on my head.

Dancing with the Pittsburgh Samba group has given me the opportunity to wear these feathers performing at the Carnegie Music Hall, the spectacular Point State Park Fountain, and the rollercoasters at Kennywood. Let’s face it. I’m a girl who has always wanted to wear a two and a half foot high feather crown in public as often as possible, and every time I put that costume on I am grateful I live in Pittsburgh. Not only is Pittsburgh stunningly beautiful, it’s full of interesting people from all over the world who are teaching samba, learning aerial silks, composing music, designing robots, and raising chickens.

Oh, chickens. I may wear golden heels and a feather crown, but at heart I am still a barefoot country girl. Last weekend a big truck pulled up in my driveway to deliver a little chicken coop and three chickens to my backyard.

Due to a recent change in Pittsburgh’s Urban Agriculture Code, residents on a 2000 square foot lot are allowed to keep up to 3 chickens. This change in ordinance has allowed me to feel truly at home here in the heart of the city, minutes from downtown. We moved into this house in part because of the generous (for a city!) backyard, which allows me to grow giant sunflowers…

and tiny strawberries, a variety that bears from spring through fall to the delight of my three year old.

It is important to me that my children run barefoot, hunt for berries, experience both the wildness and inherent in the natural world. There is a fence in my backyard, but there is a lush profusion of blossoming spearmint growing against it.

There are bees pollinating on a daily basis. There is room, in this small space, for these small kids, to live like farm kids.

Especially now that there are chickens to take care of.

We are all happy about that.

More about the blue feathers, you say? See my posts on dancing here:

Fine Feathers at Carnegie Hall

Finding Balance

A Teenage Dream…The One Direction Way

By: Clare

Believe it or not, there’s not a whole lot of large social activities in Middle Ridge, Wisconsin, my home sweet home. That being the case, its been a joy for me to be able to spend time in Pittsburgh, which for a country-grown girl like me seems a bit like the land of opportunity. The street aren’t exactly paved with gold – those are just 19th century cobblestones – but I’ve been able to experience things that I never thought I’d get a chance to do.

If you’re not a teenage girl, you may have no idea who these guys are:

If you were a teenage girl your heart would have just skipped a beat. You would’ve let out a girlish squeal, because, who can’t resist those suspenders, those too tight jeans, their styled hair and sultry stares? No? This is having no effect on you? It’s okay, I’ll pretend it doesn’t affect me either.

The hints are all there in the above picture. Those five boys have made up their own British boy band they call One Direction, which has quickly developed a LARGE cult of teen and tween girls, and has become the first British band to ever break through to the top of the American music charts with their two first albums. Ah, the power of teen love.

For a teenage girl, the pull to become a fan, or a “Directioner” as they call themselves, is strong. Imagine yourself swimming in  large river, and suddenly a huge wave comes barreling towards you. The current is strong, and suddenly you’re pulled under by the mighty force of the rushing river, and there’s no hope of escape. Can you blame me? Hey, I’m no Olympic swimmer, but I do draw the line when it comes to calling myself a made-up noun.

When my trip in Pittsburgh was prolonged and I realized I would be in town at the same time as One Direction I, being the determined young lady  that I am, decided I was going to latch on to this opportunity. And so our search for a concert ticket began. After several days of searching we finally found a reasonable ticket to purchase two days before the concert. Now that’s what I call cutting it close – Slattery style.

The day of the concert soon arrived. Kate and Francisco came with to drop me off, dressed in style of course.

I was ready. I could face all the hordes of teen girls, right? Maybe. The girls were a bit vexing, because where I come from, in the small country area that I traverse upon, I’m usually one of the most stylish people. In the big city of Pittsburgh, EVERYONE had cute clothes. Every other girl was wearing a crop top, the latest trend, but I was happy to be wearing stripes, which seemed pretty fashionable and classy next to what looked like the lacy bras the other girls were wearing.

This was before I had to stand in line for about 45 minutes all by myself. Well, except for the all the cliquey girls in front and behind me.

It was a looooonngg line.

For the record, if I had previously thought of myself as a fan of One Direction, these girls blew me out of the park. Their conversation of how often they listen to the songs, how many of the words they know, and just why THEY LOVE THEM SO MUCH made me feel like…

Ack!

Almost there. Just stand and smile.

When we were finally ushered in a semi-organized fashion and I found my seat, I waited for another 45 minutes. After this relocation I sat down and tried to make friends. Attempt failed. Grrrrr girls. I decided I would much rather be hanging out with a bunch of boys at a Miami Heat game.

But I waited.

The stadium slowly filled up.

I passed the time by listening to the surrounding girls’ conversations. My reaction was this.

After a few attempts at conversation, I gave up.

I couldn’t do this. Can’t we just talk about something a little more interesting? Like basketball? Or the most historic battles of the Civil War?

Finally, the introductory band came out…a band who I had no idea even existed. The other girls did though, and my ears, which were not yet accustomed to the feverish screams that would go on for almost four more hours, suffered dearly. And so did my mood. Of course, I was seated next to the loudest screamers in the stadium, not to mention the girl who would regularly start weeping at the mere sound of her favorite member of the band’s voice.

When One Direction came out, I finally got interested.

The wait was definitely worth it.

I had a clear view of the stage, even if I was pretty far away.

The band did their best to include the whole audience, no matter how far away you were, and eventually made their way to a small stage in the middle of the stadium.

They all boarded a platform that carried them over the masses of crazed girls begging to be acknowledged by one of the famous boys and through the air towards the back and then back to the front.

The show presented some pretty impressive light effects

and throughout the 22 songs that were played the fans remained the same: extremely loud and devoted as always.

In the end, if you weren’t a teenage girl, the show wouldn’t have been for. Of this I am certain, because the two moms I saw seated around me did not look very happy as they covered their ears and watched their young daughters try to catch their breath as they jumped up and down and sang along to the poppy music that was almost completely foreign to the women.

As for me, coming from having five older brothers and tons of guy friends myself, I had trouble dealing with the thousands of girls standing in masses around, and would have much rather have hung out with boy band members and not their screaming girl fans (a girl can dream right?) but all in all, I think it was pretty darn worth it for the once-in-a-lifetime experience of seeing One Direction.

Thank you Pittsburgh, for all the fun you’ve given me, and thank you, Kate, for hosting me.

Capturing the Kings

By: Clare

As you may already know I am currently visiting my oldest sister, Kate, in Pittsburgh for several weeks. The city is full of places I want to go and people I want to see. On the list of people I decided I must see were the Farm Kings, who star in a GAC reality TV series that follows their big family’s farming life. The Farm Kings just happen to live in the country outside of Pittsburgh, and even better, Kate happens to have a job writing and taking pictures for their new magazine.

Calling me a fan of a reality show about farming (because we all know how much I love farming) would definitely be stretching the truth, as in, stretching the truth about, say, as wide as the Grand Canyon, but I was excited to see how the Farm Kings live their life when the cameras aren’t around.

So one early morning Kate and I hopped into her city car for a jaunt in the country. And although I love the city, I must say that it was fantastic to be out in the country for a while.

I stood by holding a grinning (but heavy!) baby Francisco

while Kate questioned the King brothers on the current topic – chicken butchering.

While I watched Francisco, I also observed the Farm Kings’ system of butchering which I found to be much more organized that any Slattery chicken butchering system has ever been. Kate and I noted that the six-year-old present was playing in the dirt instead of participating in the chicken butchering process, whereas I began chicken butchering as a four-year-old. But it can be noted that I have always been a chicken butchering pro.

Then, being the expert assistant that I am, I read through her notes and found that Kate is a journalist through and through, because she’s really mastered the journalist scribble, which is only legible by the writer’s eyes.

More pictures of the farm were needed for the magazine, so Kate and I set out to capture the best shots of Freedom Farms. I was even able to use my photography skills to take some pictures, two of which will be included in the next issue.

Kate went into super-mom mode, climbing a steep hill with a thirty pound baby weighing her down, while taking pictures.

While everything was beautiful and organized, we did note that the King brothers’ carpentry skills weren’t as high end as the Slattery brothers’.

We had a great time capturing the Farm Kings. To get the full story and the pictures, you should definitely go ahead and subscribe to the Freedom Farms Magazine. You can sign up here.

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!

Sunlight and Forsythia

by Kate

In this grey stone city, the forsythia has burst forth into belated flame.

It’s difficult to trust the thaw after such a slow and frozen spring, but if the peach blossoms can open to the new warmth so can I.

Goodbye, socks. Hello, swing.

Hello, sun. So good to see you again.

Thank goodness we can leave the huge heaps of coats and sweaters at home when we head out into the city.

The sunlight opens wide the great world outside our tiny home. I can’t wait to explore it.

 

 

Castles and Kings, Galoshes and Spring

By Kate

At midnight, my sister Mary will board a train.

Like Cinderella she will vanish from this city of stone castles, though she’s not likely to leave a glass slipper behind. No, I’m sure the galoshes she liberated from my closet will be firmly laced up on her feet, headed back to the muddy fields of Wisconsin in the spring.

I promised Mary spring in Pittsburgh, a respite from the long shivering wait for warmth to thaw the frozen Wisconsin soil and the pipes in her renovated barn apartment. Snow fell to herald her arrival and snow is falling on the city this morning of her departure. Still, Mary has brought so much warmth and brightness into this cold grey city during her visit this past week.

She carried spring with her and gave it to me.

Heading out into the city with two small children in the cold is so much easier with a sister to share the journey.

As you can see, we wore bright colors and dramatic prints to combat the cold.

We explored the city, ate Indian and Vietnamese food, perused the spring 2013 offerings at Anthropologie, and attended a Brazilian carnival. I’m pretty sure Mary had plenty of urban living, and is ready to return to her free spirited rural life on Wisconsin soil. However, we did have one city adventure perfect for a farmgirl in the big city. On Saturday, we visited the Pittsburgh Children’s Museum. We loved this installation of pink ribbons cascading from the high domed ceiling….

…but as an added bonus, we found farmers on display as well.  A number of local farmers had set up shop near the restaurant of the museum, offering CSA shares for the upcoming season. The event was sponsored by the Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture, which is a great resource for farmers and consumers in Pittsburgh and all across the state. If you are living in or near Pittsburgh and still looking for a CSA, you can still contact the participating farmers from the CSA Fair here.

I have an urban garden complete with strawberry patch in my backyard and I wasn’t in the market for a CSA this year, but Mary quickly realized that the fair had something else to offer- a chance to meet a bona fide King of the farming world.

As you may remember, Mary is the Queen of Brussels Sprouts, so meeting Peter King was a real highlight of her urban Pittsburgh trip.

Pete King is one of the (many) famous King brothers from Freedom Farms. I was unaware of this fact, and I’m pretty sure that the most of the people milling about the Children’s Museum were too. I’m not sure how many Pittsburghers watch the Great American Country network on cable, so they may be unaware of the bronzed shirtless young men gleaming like sun gods under a deep blue sky. The second season of their show is premiering April 11th on GAC. The King brothers are perhaps best known for their torsos, but they also have a striking optimism about the future of agriculture, a great work ethic, a deep sense of family loyalty, and a whole lot of high quality local food to offer to the Pittsburgh community.

We had the opportunity to do a brief interview Peter King about fame, family, and farming. I’ll post the interview tomorrow. In the meantime, you can learn more about Freedom Farms on their website here.

For more stories about our farming adventures at Sweet Ridge Farm, check out these links:

My Garden, My Canvas

The Queen of Brussel Sprouts

The King and Queen of Brussels

The Red Vegetable from Hell

Putting the Lug in Luggage

By: Mary

When looking for a means of transporting an entire set of china that was left to Kate after the passing of my grandmother, I decided to find a new use for a sturdy cardboard box that is used to pack pie pumpkins and cabbage when shipping organic produce to Organic Valley.  Okay, I know that lugging about a produce box is not exactly the most hip (or practical) way to travel, but I formulated a plan that included getting two boxes of china, to my sister along with a few fur coats, some blackberry jam I made that is a fleeting commodity at this time of the year, a few purses, and of course a  ballgown that Kate wanted back after an extended loan back to the farm so it could be used as a prom dress.

As you may remember, Kate is quite comfortable with train travel in an heirloom fur…

though in my opinion it makes her look a bit like a gigantic mother hen.

Because I was traveling on the train, I hoped with optimism that my plan of checking the two boxes could go off without a hitch. Well, the plan did work… but only with a LOT of lugging. The first setback was that I was told I couldn’t check the boxes because they were not fully sealed. I knew that the only way I could handle taking Kate her “stuff” was to just start consolidating as much as I could into only one box. When boarding the train, the not so hip me ended up with my luggage bag checked under the train, and a roughly 75 pound produce box bruising my hip, which was beginning to strongly resemble the blackberry jam.

Due to an early spring snowstorm from the never-ending winter I was trying to flee, my train got into Chicago several hours late. I missed my connecting train to Pittsburgh, but got in plenty of exercise lugging that heavy box through Union Station, into a cab, onto a Greyhound bus, and through the bus terminal in Pittsburgh the next morning.

Thankfully, my farmgirl strength and a winter full of kickboxing classes had me in fine form for heaving produce- or China and ballgowns. Still, I was happy to arrive her for some much needed Porch Time with my sister.

For more about the fur coats and recent and past travels, check out these links:

Furs on the Farm

Train Travel

The Slattery Oklahoma Suburb Rush

A Saturday Away