The Year of the Goat(s): Unemployed and Homeless in Washington

It’s been about one year since I donned my purple graduation cap and gown. At the time, I had no job prospects; my immediate post-grad plans were to travel to Europe for three weeks and deal with the realities of adulthood after a binge in the French and English countryside.

One year later, I’m living in an a-frame  studio apartment above a shed in Washington state; from our porch door I can see the summit of Mt. Rainier peeking above the tree line of the field across the street. I’m surrounded on all sides by goats, alpacas, hens, and cawing roosters.

Our set-up is not too bad. Of course this is only after a minor life crisis: a week and a half ago Noah and I were literally homeless and unemployed in a state unfamiliar to both of us. We drove all the way across the country with our belongings in tow to begin the second installment of our farm apprenticeship, only to experience something like anaphylactic shock at seeing the disarray that ruled our newest farm-stay. We lasted six days, the whole time cringing at the mal-treatment of the animals, the disgusting condition of the cheese room, and the complete battiness of the farmer. That’s what we get for taking an apprenticeship on blind trust. Early on a Saturday morning, we broke our six-month contract just in time (we were still within our week-long trial period), re-packed our car and headed to the nearest cafe to begin our research. Adrenaline pumping, we remained in a state of hazy disbelief until the following day. We camped that night in the Wenatchee National Forest (gorgeous), drinking beers by the fire and having minor existential frets. Both of us college educated, largely cordial and cooperative, and passionate. What the hell were we doing living out of our car in the middle of Washington state with no income and nowhere to call home?

What followed was a Jack Kerouac-esque adventure, with us sleeping every night in a new place, camping or motel stays. We spent our days surfing the ATTRA Internships and Apprenticeships and WWOOFUSA at cafes in random Washington towns, making phone calls, and visiting farms. Our friends and family all offered us the names and phone numbers of anyone they knew on this side of the country. We were determined, though, to make farming work. If all else failed, we were headed to Portland (I’m totally not kidding). In five days, we toured four farms and crossed the Cascades three times.

We ended our adventure here, at Left Foot Farm on the Western side of the state, only about an hour outside of Olympia, Tacoma and Seattle. We’re charged with evening milking, chores, and feeding kids. We’re also gardening a quarter acre lot on the farm – we’re both super pumped to finally be getting our hands in some real dirt, but there’s a serious learning curve as the largest garden we’ve worked was our tiny porch in Brooklyn last summer. Nonetheless, we’re ready for the challenge. Pictures to come soon.

I’ve started reading Margaret Hathaway’s The Year of the Goat (given to me by the wonderful farmers at Willow Spring Ranch in Montana). It’s the story of a former Magnolia Barkery manager and her photo-editing boyfriend who leave their comfortable life in Brooklyn to travel the country for one year visting various goat farms and dairies. It’s refreshing to know that we’re not the only ones totally insane enough to leave behind our former selves, all in search of the perfect goat farm.


A Grand Change

It’s been almost 6 months since my last post, and in that time I’ve managed to quit my full-time job, buy a car, rent our Brooklyn apartment and pack our most necessary belongings into the trunk of our Subaru Outback. It was about time that Noah and I began realizing our dream of starting a farm: post-grad life in the city was making us restless. We said bittersweet goodbyes to all of our closest friends and moved our lives (temporarily) to the great state of Vermont where we begin our farmer training. Of course, we threw ourselves a bangin’ goodbye party in our gutted apartment for all of our friends. Balcony, keg, beer pong, good company, what more?

Our journey began here, interning at Consider Bardwell Farm during their busiest time of year: kidding season, when all of their 92 milking does give birth.

Sadly, our time in Vermont is already coming to an end. We’ve fallen head over Muck boots for this tiny village called West Pawlet and of course, the farm. We’ve met some pretty incredible folks during our time here, not the least of whom are the farmers. It’d be impossible to sum up all that we’ve learned in just a single post. Instead, I’ll offer a video of what fills our days:

Next up? Grand ol’ Washington state. Barring any more car trouble (check engine light blinked on yesterday), in four days, we’ll be packing up our lives once more and trekking it across the country where we’ll be interning at Pine Stump Farms. I’ll be posting a map of our route later this week; we have just 10 days to get ourselves across the continent!

English Country Living

{the ladies}

Hiya, from England! The past two weeks have definitely been the more relaxed leg of our European journey; we’re doing much less of the whole-day sightseeing we did in France and instead more long strolls and bike rides through the English countryside. This is our  setting: sprawling fields scattered with sheep and cows; a converted cow barn which my family calls home; thatched roofs; pubs; and chickens. Four chickens, to be exact, who putter around my aunt’s garden squawking every so often to either 1. tell us she’s laid an egg, or 2. cry for help in fear of our family’s two black labs. Really the labs are harmless, and are actually a good line of defense against the ever so sly foxes that roam the area in search of an unsuspecting chicken.

{Meg, always a sweetie, mostly smelly}

Since we’re spending so much time just relaxing around the garden, I’ve made a significant dent in the first book on my “Books I Want to Read When I Actually Have Time to Read After Graduating College” – Bill McKibben’s Deep Economy.

Deep Economy is not exactly a beach-side page-turner. McKibben begins with the heard-it-all-before doomsday preaching about the imminent demise of man in his abuse of his environment, food system, economics, and fellow man. McKibben’s basic tenant: the developed Western world is based on hyper-individualism, where society promotes the furthering of the individual and the individual alone. Despite having more stuff and more “free-time,” members of the developed world are dissatisfied and unhappy in the deepest way imaginable. But it’s McKibben’s solutions that I find so valuable. He discusses the need for a return to localized economies, and a greater emphasis on community investment as opposed to the current fervor around individual investment and betterment, an idea that we all danced around in school but never really investigated. And the kicker? McKibben centers his argument around food. It’s a good read for anyone interested in another take on local food economies and communities.

On the lighter reading side, I’ve taken to flipping through my aunt’s old UK Country Living magazines. They’re my new guilty pleasure, perfect for a break from the more heavy stuff (because everyone needs to clear their minds once in a while). The magazine includes scenes from British country life, recipes, craft projects, floral guides, and just good ol’ country decorating aesthetics.

We’ll be home in three days time (after an overnight in Iceland on Thursday; they only get one hour of night this time of year!) In the meantime, we’ll keep eating classic English grub: meat pies & fish and chips (for Noah of course), jacket potatoes, cream teas, tea cakes, and room temperature bitter beer.