…”Hayseed”.

There I said it.

Many of us “Oilseeders”  have been musing lately about the past (and future) of Oilseed Community. The original order with the cosmic waiter, as I understand it, was for our small community of three houses to demonstrate the feasibility of growing an oilseed crop as an accoutrement to country living rather than another golf course.

And so a crop was planted near the pink cinder-block house, over on the other side of the 83 acres. Matt, Lyle, and Kim (among others I’m sure), planted an acre of canola after tilling the pasture grasses under. Unfortunately, this trial helped support the notion that a single tilling of pasture grasses won’t keep the aggressive ones from coming back and choking out your canola. And so it was….

Then, without really knowing how it might relate to the initial goal set forth, that of coaxing an energy crop out of the red North Carolina clay, Greg contracts with a local hay farmer to come and bale about 75 acres of pasture grass, because as we learned above, that’s what grows well here. Oilseed has a hay crop taken off, dozens of 950 pound bales that provides part of the biomass required to produce beef and milk here in Chatham.

And a year passes by. And another hay crop comes ready for baling, and again Oilseed provides biofuel for Chatham cows and goats.  And this is why I’ve been thinking lately that Oilseed should change its name to Haybale. Clearly, growing hay has been a winner for our community – very little work on our part – and tons of hay roll off the line every year.

But now, a newcomer is emerging on the Oilseed scene, pushing its way up in the red clay, liberally amended with Amanda’s worm castings. This year I followed my first wheat crop with a crop of soybeans in two varieties.

So with an oilseed crop coming along this summer, that  puts the current iteration of our community’s name at Hayseed. And I for one, think it fits.

As a subscriber to “The Small Farmer’s Journal,” I was obviously already dreaming of life on a small farm. My attraction has always been the horses. I love them and need to breathe their aroma as surely as I need air.

Bob and I intentionally moved to North Carolina to get closer to the farming community. We have discovered that “Farmers Rock!” – something Bob often shouts out the car window when driving past our new farm buddies. We’ve even met Jen in Pennsylvania; someone who has actually farmed with horse power.

And now, Jack has expressed interest in learning the trade. This is exactly the catalyst we need to push us to the next step – find someone who is hitching up horses and using them and learn from them the ins and outs of planting, mowing, raking, logging and maybe even plowing. They say every journey begins with a single step and I want mine to be behind a horse with lines in my hands.

The high was supposed to reach 99 degrees, just like it has been all week and they had decided to get an early start to avoid some of the heat. So we found ourselves up an hour early after getting to bed an hour late, packing a lunch and some dry tee shirts.

They drove off and I went and lay down on the bed. I was looking forward to going for a walk with Dana and Jessi in three hours and had plenty of time for a nap.

Thirty seconds later, I got up to bring my phone into the bedroom. On my return, I looked down at the unmade bed, remembered today was laundry day and decided to strip the bed. I figured I could lay down on the comforter while the washer did its thing. And then I thought I’d take out the compost.

When I got outside, I decided to water the garden while it was still cool. By the time I finished the outdoor chores, the washing machine was ready for a second load. And so it went, right up until I found myself hanging clothes on the line.

That’s when I had one of those “Ahhhhhhh” moments. I had crossed over into the timelessness of an age old activity. I felt Amish. I was so absorbed in the process of picking up each pair of shorts, each tee shirt and pinning it to the clothesline that I felt like an artist.

The sun was warm on my shoulders, the sound of the birds chatting in the trees made me feel a part of nature and I was thankful that the sun was going to dry these clothes for me on this day. I live for the Ahhhhh moments and sometimes they are as simple as drying clothes in the sun on a hot day.

Every time I hop on my bicycle, I feel as if I am getting away with something! I really love flying down the street with my debit card in my hip pocket and my re-useable grocery bag tucked into the basket that hangs from my handlebars.

One side benefit of only having a small bike basket is that I can’t buy too much stuff at the grocery store. For example, the other day I picked a six-pack Coca-Cola off the shelf and then noticed that two 12-packs were on sale at a savings of $2 under the individual six-pack price.

I stood there for a while, trying to figure out a way to tie 24 cans of Coke on the bike and get them home. I would need to take a safer route home because it’s harder to make sharp turns when the basket is over-loaded. It would take us a month to drink a case of pop, so we’d have to store the case under the bed. And then there was the temptation to drink more of something we don’t need to be drinking just because we had a case of it under the bed. At this point, I decided we didn’t NEED a case of pop – for any price.

On the surface, it seems stupid to buy a 6-pack at the higher price, but in the long run I’m saving. First of all, we save on rent by living in 564 square feet. Second, we make our own iced tea and lemonade, which is a lot cheaper than soda. Third, we’re healthier because we don’t drink too much coca cola, and because we walk and ride our bikes to the grocery store. And fourth, we save money on motor fuel. (According to a study by the Transportation Department, the average American household makes 496 motorized shopping trips a year!)

By the time I got home, I felt pretty good about paying an extra 50 cents for that 6-pack!