Journal
Young Single Magazine Seeks Helpmate
For most of this first year of Taproot's existence, I have been performing my publishing/layout/design/marketing duties two feet from where I sleep. Naturally, this arrangement has its advantages (a short commute and convenient nap space are just a couple) but the time has come for the magazine to grow up a little and that means a proper (small) office and a bit of help are in order. In particular, we need some regular help with customer service (answering phone calls, emails and the like) as well as help with the miscellaneous tasks that want doing but never seem to get done. Truth is, Amanda and I have more ideas than we have hours in the day (or days in the week) to move them along. As my wife Rachael forever reminds me, even if something doesn't seem like it will take any time at all, there are only so many five minutes in the day. If you're wondering, there are 288 five minutes, but that assumes no sleep. And I've decided I need to sleep.
This is where you come in. Do you live in Hardwick, VT or the surrounding area? Are you interested in being involved in our plan to take over the world, one garden, sewing machine and contemplative moment at a time? If so, e-mail me at jason@taprootmag.com and let's talk.
-jason
Beyond the Pages :: Koviashuvik Local Living School
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After our interview with Chris and Ashirah Knapp in the latest issue, DREAM, we've been hearing requests for more information about the offerings of the Knapp family. Chris and Ashirah teach classes in traditional craft, folk arts, and sustainability both at their home/school Koviashuvik in Temple, Maine and at various locations in New England (we're excited to have them both teaching at our Taproot Gathering at Squam event in September!). Check out their website for their full teaching schedule, and to read a bit more about them. The above photographs are taken from a homeschool group the Knapps led for us many years ago now.
~ amanda
Beyond the Pages :: at Broadturn Farm
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In our latest issue, DREAM, contributor Stacy Brenner shared her story of the unique way in which she and her husband John Bliss have come to define "farm" and farm ownership through their work and lives at Broadturn Farm. I thought some of you might like this peek into their world, via Pull-Start Pictures as a part of the Meet Your Farmer series they created.
~amanda
and from the Soule Family Farm
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While I may not consider this nearly as exciting as the arrival of Nick and Nora over at Anthill Farm, my children would beg to differ. On the very same day Jason was delayed in our scheduled chat about the upcoming issue WATER by the surprise arrival of the twins, I was delayed here in Maine by the arrival of our spring chicks. Adding a few new breeds to our laying flock this year, we have some silver-laced wyandottes and black australorps, currently settling nicely into the farm by our woodstove, where the temperature is just right for them in this cold snap we're having.
~ amanda
Excitement at Anthill Farm
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Our family has kept a dairy cow for the last three years. We are new to bovines; both Rachael and I grew up in the city and next-to-no contact with an animal larger than a Labrador Retriever. So while we've been through the births of two calves on our farm, we would never venture to call ourselves experts in any sense of the word. Partly, this is the result of time, but it somewhat has to do with the fact that Violet (our dairy cow) is so totally self-sufficient in giving birth at the time and place of her choosing with no intervention on our part. Because of that, we've been spoiled into a kind of complacency, doing very little beyond making sure there's fresh bedding, plenty of water for her to drink and access to the barn when we know that the birth is imminent.
All of this to say that we weren't prepared for what awaited us when we went down for morning chores last Wednesday. As we left the house, I thought I caught just a snippet of Violet's gentle "get up calf" moo. I dismissed it as it was still a few days early for her to calve and she's always been late. Must have been road noise, I told myself. We walked down from the house, me with a pair of water buckets (since the frost-free hydrant down by the barn seized up over a month ago, a major bother at first, but now just part of our routine) and Rachael with some scraps from the kitchen for the chickens.
As I approached the spring gates that hold the cow in the paddock and field, I heard the "get up calf" moo again and I knew something was up. I called to Rachael, who was at the other end of the barn turning off the electric fence, so that she would hurry over. Violet was out of both the barn and the paddock and just far enough away in the new daylight savings time darkness (this was about 6:30am), all I could see was her outline and some lumps in the field that could have been piles of hay that she hadn't eaten. They weren't.
As we entered the gate and walked over to where she was, we saw them. That's right, them.
Two calves were laying out in what had been snow but was now ice. Never mind that we had purposely bought straw for the barn, an expense we hadn't allowed ourselves all winter, contenting ourselves with the absorptive qualities of third-cut hay instead. She had instead elected to give birth in one of the coldest spots of the field. Rachael, bless her soul, immediately decided on a course of action. It's important for me to remember at times like these what a great team we make, because once all the shooting's over, we have very different styles of dealing with stressful situations like this.
She grabbed the goading stick (a sawn off piece of shovel handle) and held off Violet while I grabbed each of the two calves and carried them into the barn. Don't get the wrong impression; the stick is just intended as a way to even the odds with the Violet, who has her horns and doesn't hesitate to shake her head and waggle them if she is upset. After she's given birth, upset is a bit of an understatement. She is fiercely protective of her calves and probably tired and hopped up on hormones. All of this is completely understandable and part of what makes her such a great mother.
That said, nobody needs to get hurt.
Once the calves were successfully moved, Violet followed along into the barn and proceeded to lick the little heifer. The bull (now named Nick) looked pretty bad. He wasn't moving much and we feared he wouldn't make it. Nora (the heifer) looked pretty good, though she wasn't making any attempt to get up and nurse either. After letting things ride for a couple of hours, our friends Ben and Penny came over with a five-gallon bucket filled about half full with colostrum. After Ben pushed Violet out of the barn, we fed about half a bottle to each of them and dried them off with towels. After that, everything has looked up. By Thursday afternoon, as you can see above, they had perked up considerably.
I say everything looked up, but there is a downside to having a heifer and a bull as twins and it's called freemartinism (a funny word we can't find the origin for). Basically it means that there's a 90% chance the heifer will be sterile. Our elation at having a bull to beef in the fall and a heifer to train to be another milker was dashed. Not all is lost though; it just means there'll be a little more meat in the freezer this year.
-jason
All of this to say that we weren't prepared for what awaited us when we went down for morning chores last Wednesday. As we left the house, I thought I caught just a snippet of Violet's gentle "get up calf" moo. I dismissed it as it was still a few days early for her to calve and she's always been late. Must have been road noise, I told myself. We walked down from the house, me with a pair of water buckets (since the frost-free hydrant down by the barn seized up over a month ago, a major bother at first, but now just part of our routine) and Rachael with some scraps from the kitchen for the chickens.
As I approached the spring gates that hold the cow in the paddock and field, I heard the "get up calf" moo again and I knew something was up. I called to Rachael, who was at the other end of the barn turning off the electric fence, so that she would hurry over. Violet was out of both the barn and the paddock and just far enough away in the new daylight savings time darkness (this was about 6:30am), all I could see was her outline and some lumps in the field that could have been piles of hay that she hadn't eaten. They weren't.
As we entered the gate and walked over to where she was, we saw them. That's right, them.
Two calves were laying out in what had been snow but was now ice. Never mind that we had purposely bought straw for the barn, an expense we hadn't allowed ourselves all winter, contenting ourselves with the absorptive qualities of third-cut hay instead. She had instead elected to give birth in one of the coldest spots of the field. Rachael, bless her soul, immediately decided on a course of action. It's important for me to remember at times like these what a great team we make, because once all the shooting's over, we have very different styles of dealing with stressful situations like this.
She grabbed the goading stick (a sawn off piece of shovel handle) and held off Violet while I grabbed each of the two calves and carried them into the barn. Don't get the wrong impression; the stick is just intended as a way to even the odds with the Violet, who has her horns and doesn't hesitate to shake her head and waggle them if she is upset. After she's given birth, upset is a bit of an understatement. She is fiercely protective of her calves and probably tired and hopped up on hormones. All of this is completely understandable and part of what makes her such a great mother.
That said, nobody needs to get hurt.
Once the calves were successfully moved, Violet followed along into the barn and proceeded to lick the little heifer. The bull (now named Nick) looked pretty bad. He wasn't moving much and we feared he wouldn't make it. Nora (the heifer) looked pretty good, though she wasn't making any attempt to get up and nurse either. After letting things ride for a couple of hours, our friends Ben and Penny came over with a five-gallon bucket filled about half full with colostrum. After Ben pushed Violet out of the barn, we fed about half a bottle to each of them and dried them off with towels. After that, everything has looked up. By Thursday afternoon, as you can see above, they had perked up considerably.
I say everything looked up, but there is a downside to having a heifer and a bull as twins and it's called freemartinism (a funny word we can't find the origin for). Basically it means that there's a 90% chance the heifer will be sterile. Our elation at having a bull to beef in the fall and a heifer to train to be another milker was dashed. Not all is lost though; it just means there'll be a little more meat in the freezer this year.
-jason
Beyond the Pages :: A Bit More about William Coperthwaite
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After we went to press with DREAM, I had this middle-of-the-night fear that not all readers would be aware of who William Coperthwaite (interviewed by Rachael Miller in the piece, Community, Coöperation & Craft) was. To alleviate my worry, I thought I'd share with you a little of his story and suggest that if you're interested to learn more that you take a look at his book A Handmade Life (Chelsea Green, 2007).
Mr. Coperthwaite lives a simple life on a wooded 500 acre spread on the Maine coast that is now owned by the organization he and friends created called the Yurt Foundation. For many years, he has promoted the yurt as an ecologically responsible form of housing. Indeed, he was instrumental in the popularization of this traditional building form, though the wooden yurts he has helped people build over the years (over 300 at last count) are sturdy wooden structures a far cry from their vinyl brethren.
Beyond yurts, Mr. Coperthwaite has spent much of his life traveling and learning from different cultures, always with an eye to understanding the basic needs of people and how tools and social structures can create and foster sustainable, cooperative and democratic societies. He shares what he knows in workshops that help to give people the encouragement they need to become more active participants in their own lives with something as prosaic as a handmade spoon.
A true elder statesman of the sustainability movement, I encourage you to learn more about Mr. Coperthwaite. It was a joy and an honor to be able to meet and visit with him. If you know of other folks like him who we might interview in the future, please let us know at ideas@taprootmag.com.
-jason
Mr. Coperthwaite lives a simple life on a wooded 500 acre spread on the Maine coast that is now owned by the organization he and friends created called the Yurt Foundation. For many years, he has promoted the yurt as an ecologically responsible form of housing. Indeed, he was instrumental in the popularization of this traditional building form, though the wooden yurts he has helped people build over the years (over 300 at last count) are sturdy wooden structures a far cry from their vinyl brethren.
Beyond yurts, Mr. Coperthwaite has spent much of his life traveling and learning from different cultures, always with an eye to understanding the basic needs of people and how tools and social structures can create and foster sustainable, cooperative and democratic societies. He shares what he knows in workshops that help to give people the encouragement they need to become more active participants in their own lives with something as prosaic as a handmade spoon.
A true elder statesman of the sustainability movement, I encourage you to learn more about Mr. Coperthwaite. It was a joy and an honor to be able to meet and visit with him. If you know of other folks like him who we might interview in the future, please let us know at ideas@taprootmag.com.
-jason
From DREAM :: The Voices of Vermont Beekeepers
Writer Schirin Oeding contributed to ISSUE 5::DREAM an article about the struggles that honeybees face. In her research for the piece, she spent a considerable amount of time visiting with Vermont beekeepers to hear their perspectives on the way forward for these creatures so vital to our agriculture and our culture. She put together a lovely collection of their voices that we are pleased to share. Please take a listen.
-jason
DREAM, in the wild
From our end, there's such a feeling of anticipation in the window of time between sending an issue off to the printer and seeing it in the hands and homes of readers. The first sighting of an issue out in the world is a particularly exciting moment for us, each and every time. Our friend Elizabeth Duvivier snapped this view of a bookshelf at Brown University - the first spotting of DREAM in the wild!
We hope your copy is in hand soon too, and that you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed making it!
~amanda
ISSUE 5 :: DREAM available now!
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It's that time again to keep vigil by the mailbox for the next issue of Taproot. If you've subscribed, you should see your copy soon, if not, or if your subscription has lapsed, there's still time to subscribe or renew and get your copy.
It might seem incredibly corny to have the theme DREAM for our spring issue, but I'd like to suggest that it's anything but. Emerging from the depths of winter, we can use plenty of inspiration as we prepare for the mad dash that is the all-too-short growing season, at least here in the Northeast.
And this issue is filled with all manner of inspiring contributions sure to get your own juices flowing and imagination soaring with the possibilities that spring always brings. Kicking off the issue is Schirin Oeding's piece about the plight of honeybees. Hopefully you'll come away committed to lending a hand by setting up your own hive. Push a few pages in and you'll find Stacy Brenner suggesting an alternative to traditional farm ownership that could give aspiring farmers access to land and engage local communities in securing open lands for future generations.
We'll not shortshrift our Hands or Heart sections either. Following on the heels of her wonderful piece from Issue 4 about home cheesemaking, Louella Hill takes us on a journey to pick up some raw milk and then prepare kefir and spiced ghee (yummy!). New contributors Bridget Rose McKeen and Amy Thompson provide with us with ideas big and small for sharing the joys of family and commmuity, all while living closer to the ground. Regular contributors Ben Hewitt and Meredith Winn also add some heartfelt thoughts that will give you something to think about as you wander the rows poking your seedlings into the ground.
We're also releasing signed prints of art in Issue 5 from Clayton Thompson and Phoebe Wahl. Take a look below to see them or visit the Print Shop for our full selection. [gallery ids="439,437,440,438"] In other news, full details of the inaugural Taproot Gathering are now up, including class teachers and the full schedule. Head over and take a peek, won't you? We're really excited to see it all come together and hope to see you there. Remember, registration opens April 8. -jason
It might seem incredibly corny to have the theme DREAM for our spring issue, but I'd like to suggest that it's anything but. Emerging from the depths of winter, we can use plenty of inspiration as we prepare for the mad dash that is the all-too-short growing season, at least here in the Northeast.
And this issue is filled with all manner of inspiring contributions sure to get your own juices flowing and imagination soaring with the possibilities that spring always brings. Kicking off the issue is Schirin Oeding's piece about the plight of honeybees. Hopefully you'll come away committed to lending a hand by setting up your own hive. Push a few pages in and you'll find Stacy Brenner suggesting an alternative to traditional farm ownership that could give aspiring farmers access to land and engage local communities in securing open lands for future generations.
We'll not shortshrift our Hands or Heart sections either. Following on the heels of her wonderful piece from Issue 4 about home cheesemaking, Louella Hill takes us on a journey to pick up some raw milk and then prepare kefir and spiced ghee (yummy!). New contributors Bridget Rose McKeen and Amy Thompson provide with us with ideas big and small for sharing the joys of family and commmuity, all while living closer to the ground. Regular contributors Ben Hewitt and Meredith Winn also add some heartfelt thoughts that will give you something to think about as you wander the rows poking your seedlings into the ground.
We're also releasing signed prints of art in Issue 5 from Clayton Thompson and Phoebe Wahl. Take a look below to see them or visit the Print Shop for our full selection. [gallery ids="439,437,440,438"] In other news, full details of the inaugural Taproot Gathering are now up, including class teachers and the full schedule. Head over and take a peek, won't you? We're really excited to see it all come together and hope to see you there. Remember, registration opens April 8. -jason
A Taproot Gathering at Squam
Cheesemaking! Rocket stoves! Packbaskets! Poetry! Photography! Thrift shopping! Natural Fiber Dyeing! Farm visits! Papercutting! Oh my....we could go on and on with all the wonderful offerings that have been pulled together from our East Coast Taproot contributors and the Squam community of teachers for our first ever Taproot Gathering at Squam. Classes during the day, a beautiful environment in which to enjoy and relax, and evening activities to keep you entertained and engaged. Oh! And let's not forget the food! All our meals will be lovingly and locally prepared by Bread and Butter Catering, the latest project from Josh and Katie of One Fifty Ate and Pocket Brunch fame.
Our Gathering will be happening September 11-15th in Holderness, New Hampshire and you can now find all the nitty gritty details over on the Squam website. Registration opens on April 8th, giving you lots of time to mull it all over and plan and prepare for all the goodness that's sure to happen there.
We hope you can join us!
Tracks
Snow captures and holds for our future inspection the movements of the creatures and machines with whom we share our land. Here are just a few from this winter.
Moose!
We noticed these down in the field outside our bedroom one morning. Rachael went down later in the day for a closer inspection and found where the big fella (or missus) came up a pretty sheer rise from the ATV/snowmobile trail, tore down our electric cattle fence, ambled across the field, and then took out another of section on the way back down. Looks like I'll be replacing some fence come spring, once we need to run the cow down that way. In case you don't see how big those prints are, here are a few more shots for scale.
And here are a few more reminders that our neighbors are everywhere:
Birds (a grouse?) and a snowshoe hare.
A mouse who has made a winter home in our greenhouse.
A fox who went across our upper field and, I think...
may have found something to eat, if the tracks indicate a conflagration, as I think they might.
Snowmobilers roam the trails around our house. Except at night when we see their headlights flash by, they are not often noticed.
My son walks in circles through the snow, creating spirals that he returns to, all through the season. I believe he finds walking through them meditative. Whenever fresh snow falls, filling in the trails, he comes back out and recreates the path.
-jason
from Providence
I'm just home from a whirlwind trip down to Providence, Rhode Island where all sorts of Taproot dreaming and doing happened. Elizabeth and I put some final and exciting touches on the Taproot Gathering at Squam, I chatted with contributor Christine Chitnis about the good things she's cooking up for future issues, and I spent some time with illustrator Phoebe Wahl, just months away from her RISD graduation. It was a delight to see more of her work in person, including these sweet creatures (above) brought to life in three dimensional form. I traveled home with a big box full of Phoebe's prints for our Print Shop, now signed and headed next to Vermont where they'll be packed and shipped out to you very soon!
~ amanda