I am sitting here enjoying my supper of home grown purple potoatoes, organic broccoli and asparagus and home raised roast goose and thinking. I am finding it easier to give without concern as to where the giving is going. I used to care more, but I have come to realize that those who are incapabale of growing potatoes are also the ones going to the food bank. It is not that they do not have the land, for one only needs some buckets to grow root crops. Nor is it for lack of money for seeds, because potatoes will grow from peelings. It is that they ...well, I just don't know. But I do know they often have children, kids who innocently had to be part of that family and have no real food. My own brother was that way. There was no food in the fridge or cupboards ever, but there was always booze and cigarettes. His drinking eventually did him in at the ripe age of 52. How sad. I should have helped more than I did, but I was angry with the parents, my brother and his wife, for doing what they were doing. Their daughter, my neice, passed away very young from a mismanaged life too. So very tragic. 

I did not have much money as a younger person, being a single parent to three. We gave what we could, but never money. People were nice to us too and we were the recipients of several Christmas hampers, mostly from the church we then attended. I felt it was necessary to give the kids the grounded religious education so they could make a proper choice in their lives later. At that time, I also needed the family of the church. 

But now, I am able to give more freely. It still bothers me that people have a huge sense of expectation. They feel they deserve to get. I never did feel that way. I was grateful and humble upon recieving anything at all. One time, when we were struggling very hard, one kind couple included ice cream for the kids and coffee - a container of coffee. I cried. Mostly people were concerned with the children, but those givers were concerned about me! That was a humbling experience. 

So this year, I have come up with a new scheme. I do not have cash to give, but I do have resources, mainly trees! There are many many spruce trees growing on my land. Why not sell them as Christmas trees, cut your own, bring hot chocolate and sing while chopping the tree down? Make it a memorable family experience! I would charge 20 dollars a lineal foot, and all the money can be donated to the food bank. There. 

And that is what I hope will happen. I have a few people interested and even a few is better than none. They get to have a great time and a live tree, fresh from the farm. I get to see the joy on their faces and to sing and laugh a little with them. What a great reward! And those who are not able to get their lives together for which ever reason, will have a little brighter holiday. What do you think? I wish you were here too.

Living in a tiny house is not all it is cracked up to be. Tiny houses are for people who do not DO anything, for every hobby requires supplies which occupy space. In my tiny house, which is really about 750 square feet, so not too tiny, there is not enough space for stuff. I have three main hobbies currently: making soap and personal care products, working with wool which includes raw wool processing equipment, and farming with small animals. I have an arsenal of farming necessities, from medications for the critters to shears for the sheep and they have to go somewhere. Fermenting food and canning what I grow is not really a hobby, but there are tons of Mason jars to be stored somewhere too. I used to play the piano every night and sing, but since selling my acoustic piano, I just have not been so motivated, even though it was part of my life forever previously. I have two keyboards, benches and lots of music books, plus 2 guitars, all of which I am not ready to let go of just now. 

But I cannot figure out what to do with the winter clothes. Winter outerwear in Alberta is big and bulky. One pair of insulated coveralls takes up a whopping lot of space, plus need to be stored inside where they will dry overnight for the next day's chores. Winter coats and jackets also require space, as do the heavy sweaters and pants and boots. Even my robe for winter is big and bulky. 

In my room there is a small closet full of clothing I likely am not going to wear anytime soon, but also that I am not likely to part with just yet in case I become a lady again. Buying that amount of quality clothing would certainly require a bit of a bankroll, plus time and somewhere fashionable to shop, which there is nothing akin to that here. So, most of the clothing in the closet should not be there, but has nowhere else to be and is there, though it prevents the clothing frequently worn from being anywhere. So, I wash the laundry, fold it and stack it ON the dresser or night table or on more laundry and it is around the room rather than away from sight. I would dearly like to have one of those quaint little farmhouse romantic bedrooms, and I do, except it is encumbered with winter clothing currently. 

And my living room is tiny as well. Currently it houses one loveseat, two rocking chairs and one upholstered chair, which is one rocking chair too many. There is a small coffee table and two very compact side tables as well, but the living room also holds two sideboards, because there is no storage space in a tiny house. One must create storage space. I required a place to put some family photos rescued from the flood that happened recently, and personal papers and also my copious wool projects being working on in the winter while I sit by the woodstove and contemplate life. Only this winter, thus far, there has been no contemplation time yet, no fires because the weather is so mild (it was plus 1 yesterday with a little freezing RAIN), so I have not been doing my wool projects yet. They are housed in the second sideboard by the comfortable chair, my chair. 

I know in order to maintain a home that is not cluttered, one must rid oneself of the clutter, however; that means ridding myself of the hobbies I love. And ridding myself of the clothes I just cannot yet bear to part with for reasons mentioned, and saying so long to the animals too. Since those things are not about to happen at this time, I am resigning myself to my cluttered home with winter clothes piled in my room and a happy heart instead. OK with you? 

My dear Uncle Joe passed away a week ago and today was his funeral. He was the last of the Wosnack brothers, Joe, John, Stan, Walter, and my father, Peter. They were great men. They do not make men like them anymore and today, it was hard to say goodbye to a man who exemplified the epitome of what a man should be. It was double tough because he was part of my father too, and so much reminded me of that strong and great man whom I miss every day. 

There were some cousins there at the funeral. It was held at the Roman Catholic Church in the small town of Redwater, where Uncle Joe had lived his entire life. He never wanted to move on to greener pastures, for where he was, was always the perfect place for him to be. Uncle Joe was a highly intelligent man, as all the Wosnack brothers were, and all were successful in their endeavours together and also later when they parted ways and semi retired. Each one had many gifts, though the greatest of all was their indomitable spirits . They simply never gave up. They were good for the soul. 

Most of my cousins, the children of these great men, are also highly successful. Some were CEOs of large companies and have now retired. One cousin drove his brand new Porsche to the funeral. Too bad it snowed. Even the females, the daughters of these men are successful business people with personal acumen that is enviable in any realm. It was not just the intellects that were great in the Wosnack brothers, but they could think. It is one thing to be smart and a whole other to be able to solve problems. Not long ago, I brought a toaster to Uncle Joe that had lost its plug and asked him if he would mind fixing it for me. He laughed good naturedly , as he always did, and asked why I had not fixed it. Typical. But he did accept that minor challenge and I picked the antique Sunbeam toaster up from him on the next visit with a new plug, or rather a plug that he saved from some other project which was new to the toaster. That was how it was in life too.

I am proud to be a Wosnack. We are not perfect, however, we have good genes I think. I saw it today again and it was reinforced when I sat with my cousins, two highly successful people who were also benevolent with their volunteer time, great parents and very compassionate and kind people themselves. It was wonderful to sit with them and reminisce and chat. Old times are never far from the heart. 

And so it is in life. Some people touch our lives and hearts in remarkable ways, ways that we wish we could emulate. Some people never do, but perhaps for another they are just as effective. Each will resonate with those who need to hear and share the gifts the soul has to offer. It was that way today. It was that way with Uncle Joe. Last time I saw him, he asked me why I chose to farm at this juncture in my life when most are retiring and taking it easy. I said I was trying to keep the good Wosnack name going and he laughed, that warm, encompassing, hearty laugh, then in a soft voice, asked me if I would stay for supper. It was our last one. Goodbye Uncle Joe and thank you. Thank you for being part of the Wosnack brothers and sisters that made the clan what we are today. The legacy continues and the heritage goes on. Thank you so very much. 

A few days ago I wrote about my feelings of failure surrounding being forced to purchase conventional grain to feed the birds, bunnies and piggies on the farm. What surprised me was the folks who shared my exact feelings and contacted me privately to tell me so. 

They also said they feel very bullied by local grain producers and did not want to come forward to mention anything in public, so they would not severe ties with them, since the grain was the only supply currently available for most. That really disturbed me. Why should those of us who want to farm naturally, without pesticides, herbicides, fungicides and any other chemical inputs, have to hide? There is something definitely wrong with that entire scenario. 

Natural farming was the only way farming was done not that long ago. 
Because farmers have been led by the big chemical companies, they are now hooked into the chemical methods of farming and believe 1. that the chemicals are harmless and 2. that there is no other profitable way. No matter what anyone tells them or what they read, their minds are not going to be easily swayed, despite tons of evidence against chemicals and their terrible effects on the world. And many of them are sick! But, us poor small minority farmers who really do want to have natural food, can not speak up or hard feelings arise. That is just plain wrong. 

On the internet for every argument, there is enough information to support both sides of the question. But, I think we need to look even further. Why is it that entire countries have banned Glyphosate? Surely because it is harmless? Why is it the people living in those countries do not suffer a lot of the health issues found in North America? Is that because conventional, which NOW means with chemicals, farming is so great? 

I have given my critters the last of my natural grain and in a different bowl, the sprayed grain. They will NOT eat the sprayed grains if they have a choice. I have seen it right here on my own farm. I do not want to either, nor eat the eggs from my chickens or the meat from the pigs or birds or rabbits if they are fed chemically treated grain. Do I respect the right to farm of my neighbours? Yes and NO! I want to help them, to educate them, to teach them and show them why chemicals are killers and why birth defects are so high in areas where they are used and why Alberta has one of the highest incidences of Multiple Sclerosis in the world.  (http://www.health.alberta.ca/documents/The-Way-Forward-MS-Partnership.pdf), but they do not want to listen. 

So, maybe I have failed. Maybe not. Maybe I should keep on plugging a little longer, like a fish swimming upstream, because behind the scenes there are followers, those who also do not want anything to do with chemical farming, but cannot come out in the open and say so in case they might offend their farmer neighbours who still believe that is the way, the only way, to farm. Maybe I need to concentrate on that group and find ways to expand the safety of discussing our needs and not concern myself with the other farmers. I wonder if the natural farmers will come out in the open then. Canada has a ban on using Glyphosate in public areas (http://www.pan-uk.org/attachments/507_Glyphosate%20restrictions%20Dec%202015.pdf) though it is not much enforced, but many countries have banned it entirely. Let's come forward and make a stand against chemical farming in the open. We do not need to hide. Right?

My sojourn into organic permaculture is a failure. With a very broken heart today, I had to succumb to buying grain from the seed plant. The early snow here in the first week of October left so many farmers unable to harvest their own grain, so they are hoarding whatever they have left from last year. Last year, there was a terrible hay shortage and prices were driven to over 100 dollars per large round bale, from $40 the previous years. They prices continued to skyrocket and in some area topped just short of $200 per bale. I did have hay, but there was marginal nutrition in it and I ended the season having to feed the ewes grain from the seed cleaning plant. 

The problem is  the farmer's in this area spray the grain up to 7 times with Roundup and other chemical herbicides, pesticides, fungicides and so on. Today when I picked up the grain from the seed cleaning plant, and opened it to feed the animals, I burst into tears. My heart was heavy. I am poisoning my animals - the beautiful geese, the quirky ducks, those chickens who provide me with such wonderful free range eggs, the pretty innocent bunnies and the pigs and piggy babies. The stench of chemicals from the grain overwhelmed my senses, burned my eyes and took my breath away and I have no choice but to feed this to the animals. I want to shake the farmers up and scream at them and somehow make them understand that what they are doing in spraying GMO grains with those harmful chemicals is killing us all, including their children and themselves. Yet, they do not care and the ranting would fall on deaf ears. The grain I had been getting all summer was not sprayed, however; that farmer is not willing to sell anymore this year due to the harvest difficulties. Sad me. 

The man at the seed plant was kind to listen to my heavy heart. He agreed that the farmers will not believe that the chemicals are harmful and that they can grow grain and hay without chemicals. Farmers did, even not so long ago. 100 years ago, everything was organic. In the grand scheme of time, that is really not so much in the past. 

So, for the second year in a row, my dream of an organic permaculture farm is smashed to smithereens. I did find organic grain, but it is forty cents a pound and the farmer does not even feed it to his own livestock because he said he cannot afford to - me either! Small farms are doomed. I wanted to make a difference, to reach the unreachable, to help to change the world, or at least my little world, and I have failed. Now, I will continue to work on selling the animals. The pigs are the next to go and by the second week in December, there will be none left. The birds will follow. What is the point of keeping them when the government recently put a stop to government inspected processing of waterfowl in Alberta, at least for small farms who raise the birds naturally? Factory farms who keep the birds in buildings are still permitted to process their wares. And if the birds have to eat that grain that has fumes so strong it burns my eyes, what will it do the birds and in turn to my stomach when I eat the eggs or the birds themselves? See the conundrum? 

This is not the place to be an organic farmer. I have learned that location does make a difference. One must be yoked with like minded people and there are few in this area who even seem to care. The fibre farm idea did not work either, because the sheep have to be fed hay for such a long period of time and it gets into the wool and contaminates it. I love my farm and I love my animals, especially my sheep and of course, the dogs. But, I admit defeat. 

Now, the liquidation of some of the animals will be easier than for others. I will continue to work on the opening of the bed and breakfast and coast for the next few years as the market continues to improve. A few sheep and goats will remain on the farm- just my favourites really. This venture began in 2010, my year of retirement. It was a ten year plan and 2017 is fast approaching. The next three years will pass quickly and if the market has not improved enough to sell the farm and recoup the investment, or at least a good portion of it, the plan is to rent the houses employing a property management company and still have the opportunity to move on. 

I have learned a great deal in these years, and the venture was not in vain at all. Many of my goals have been met and what I set out to achieve has been done. It is just the wrong place. I am wiser now and when I do relocate, the first thing I will do is find out the mindset of the general population prior to settling down. Possibly, I will not settle down though. I will tell you more about that in the future. Thanks for staying with me. My heart is heavy tonight. 

In this day and age of cookie cutter homes and lack of uniqueness, people are painted with the same brushes, with expectations that we are all the same, or we want to be. There is a lot of truth to that, but why? Why are people wearing the same styles, decorating their homes with the same colours, and following the same rituals? What happened to the celebration of our uniqueness?

On the farm, within the sheep and the goats, or all of the animal groups, there is one that stands out. She is different, nonconforming, and usually troublesome, the one that other farmers would be rid of much sooner than later. Nix, the goat, does not think fences are for her, for example, and can easily escape from any I have put her in, including the 4 foot high wooden fence. She is just a little smarter than other goats, but she is exactly what farmers do not want. I think we should breed for this primitive quality of innate intelligence, not cull it. 

We do cull uniqueness, disdain and shun it, in our own human community. Kids who are like Nix, the goat who does not abide boundaries, are drugged to conform, sit still, pay attention, stop dreaming and come back to reality, and so on. It comes down to a case of management. It is much more taxing to look after a goat like Nix, or an autistic child with different limitations, than it is a 'normal' one. Society has been conditioned to prefer sameness. Since the industrial revolution and the institution of schools, people are trained to sit in rows, raise their hands, think the same and never interrupt. Kids are focused on getting a career and becoming self sustainable, instead of using their gifts to change the world. Nix does not want to get out of the fence to go anywhere, but just to see what is on the other side. Most of us never look that far in our own lives. We just go along with those current styles and buy the pretty things in the stores, discarding last year's items that are slightly out of style. Who says we need to do that?

I used to be stuck in that continuous roller coaster of buy, buy, buy, consume, consume, consume. Though I still did not fit the norm dictated by society and managed to fit in highly creative and unusual occupations or occupations in which creativity was encouraged, if not required, I still succumbed to fashion and style. So, I opted out of polite society and became me again, that little unique soul connected to my animals and nature, growing gardens and eating food as it was intended to be, I am no longer lured by fashion and style. I get out of the fence to see what is on the other side and I like it. My farmhouse is a mix of antiques and unique things and they are not painted white simply because the style says we need to do that. I must say, I sleep well, eat well, am working hard and am very content. It is so wonderful to be me. I bet, I know, it would be equally freeing and wonderful for you to be just you, that unique beautiful person you are. Like my Nix, the goat, step over the fence and see what is on the other side and for goodness sake, don't let society paint you white!

Blessings to you dear friends. As Christmas approaches, the hearts of folks in many places, will not be elated and joyous, but rather sad and desperate. First, November 11th, proceeds the Christmas season and those who are sensitive to the losses of others or of their own, will be heartbroken all over again. War, and its senseless, horrific death, killing, maiming and dismembering, not to mention the side effects of the men and women who were involved both voluntarily and involuntarily, compromising their mental states for the rest of their lives - well, war is the most barbaric undertaking that civilized man has ever created. Those with empathetic natures will be drained of energy in the attempt to save face and keep smiling through the approaching time of remembrance. 

But, then follows the holiday season, a time of joyous celebration or is it? Christmas time also brings desperation, impending sadness, loneliness and pain for those who do not have reasons to celebrate. Regardless of the holiday, whether it is Diwali, Yule or Christmas, or whatever, people will rush around attempting to choose appropriate gifts and many, also will also enter into huge financial debts requiring the remainder of the year to pay off. There is anxiety over decorating and the homes, malls and even the schools are filled with plastic finery and cheap replications of what was once a real holiday. Fake trees of every colour, size and shape, pre lit with fancy coloured bulbs, will grace every window. Old trees, made of wire and plastic, will be discarded in favour of the new slim styles with the bulbs already permanently in place. New colour schemes for decor will replace last year's red and green. And it seemingly never ends.

Yet, those in need, those without, those living on the street or on their own in tiny hovels they call home, those without jobs, and those without money - they will become more despondent and desperate with each approaching day of Christmas. Not only can they not partake in the madness, they also have no one to share the holidays with. Alone in their homes, they turn to their televisions and are bombarded with more consumerism and lunacy. Is there an end?

Dr. Suess was trying to tell the world something when he wrote the book about the Grinch Who Stole Christmas.   The season is not about the trappings and trippings. It is about sharing and love, that is if one has something to share or someone to love. In his book, Christmas was stolen, yet it was in the hearts of the folks from Whoville and came anyhow. Would it come to your house without the decorations? Without the dinner? Without the presents? Would it? Christmas means different things to different people, but the original celebration prior to the coming of Christ, was to bring back the light of the world, for winter was dark and desperate and hard in those long days eons ago. It is still that way today. 

We are entering the time of sadness. Suicides are prevalent during this time of the year and hearts are heavy and laden. My wish for you is that your spirits be lifted, your burdens be light, and your joy overflowing without the commercial aspects of the holiday. My wish for you is that all you need comes from within your own heart, from your love and your gifts that are truly unique and yours to offer to others. Please think about sharing your blessings rather than spending your dollars on trinkets made in China that do not satisfy the spirit at all. Please consider giving the gift of yourself to others in so many ways as you only can, for you are blessed and beautiful. 

Be filled with compassion, kindness and love as we enter this time of sadness. Blessings to you, my dear friends and family.