Milkweed Mercantile Eco Inn Honors Veterans on November 10th

The Milkweed Mercantile Eco Inn has been open since April, 2010. While we haven’t yet done the official math, the Inn seems to be full a lot more than we were advised to expect. We, of course, are delighted. Not only do we get the opportunity to host the families of members of Dancing Rabbit and Red Earth Farms but a growing number of people we don’t even know (!) are coming to visit. We LOVE this!

Our guests hear about us in a number of ways, one of which is a website called bedandbreakfast.com. Through our affiliation with this website we heard about a promotion in November for Veterans Day. It’s not very complicated – we simply agree to make one room available for free to someone who is currently serving or who has served in the US military. Kurt and I decided that if we’re going to do it, we might as well do it right, and so are making all four of our rooms available on Wednesday, November 10th.

That we, self-professed left-leaning, liberal, anti-war eco-freaks are participating in a Veterans Appreciation event may surprise some. I imagine that many folks, both at Dancing Rabbit and in the wider Northeastern Missouri communities will be, well, shocked. So many assumptions are made about us – assumptions about how we must think, assumptions about what we must believe, and assumptions about how we act in the privacy of our own community.

So let’s just set the record straight.

I think war is the most supremely stupid way to settle a disagreement. I am furious that leaders of nations use the sons and daughters of others as fodder in games to increase the bottom lines of corporations.

From Rob Shetterly's Americans Who Tell the Truth series.
Click here to learn more.

I love that General Dwight Eisenhower said:

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. The world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hope of its children…This is not a way of life at all, in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron.” (Speech delivered before the American Society of Newspaper Editors, Washington, D.C. April 16, 1953)

BUT.

We support the troops – the men and women, the individuals who are doing a job that they may or may not believe in. We’d really like to support them by bringing them home, but until we can make that happen, we intend to build bridges. Kurt and I (and many others) are looking for ways to find things that bring us all together, places in which to begin conversations, areas of commonality where we can learn to see who each of us is, as an individual, rather than as a stereotype. If we, members of Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage, continue preaching only to the choir, how will we ever make any headway towards a more sustainable world?

This was really brought home to us a few months ago when a couple from St. Louis came for the weekend. She was a rabid "tea party" believer; however, in one of the first Tea Party meetings she went to she was poo-pooed for her concern for the environment, for her enthusiasm about her compost bin and home garden, for her willingness to walk rather than drive every where. So she started her own sustainability study group (it was up to 80 people in just a few months). And she came to us for help. How cool is THAT?

All are welcome here at the Milkweed Mercantile. We do not have to agree on politics, religion, or lifestyle choices. All we ask is that we all remain respectful of the choices of others, and we will participate, as much as we are able, with kindness, compassion and an open heart. It’s the only way that change is going to come.

If you are a vet, or know someone who is give them our number: 660-883-5522. We still have three (free) rooms open for Wednesday, November 1oth. A valid Military or VA ID will be required for each reservation.
NOTE ADDED 10/13/10 - ALL OF OUR ROOMS FOR VETS ARE FILLED. Please sign up for our mailing list to be notified about next year's event by clicking here and entering your email address in the box in the top right. Thanks!

Honey Curry Bread or, Relax Already!

My poor Kurt. He gets really nervous when, an hour or so before we serve dinner to guests, I look up from a cookbook and squeal “oooh! Doesn’t this recipe sound GREAT!?”

He figures that if people are paying us for dinner that we should serve them something we have made at least, oh, I don't know, maybe once before. Me? Well, I figure a life without adventure is not worth living. And I’ve discovered a lot of fantastic recipes this way. Take the Honey Curry Bread for example. It’s an idea that could go either way – either delicious or dreadful. My gut instincts said “yummy” and fortunately, so did the dinner guests.

What you may not be able to tell from the photo above is that the bread is bright gold from the turmeric in the curry. It smells sweet and spicy and is fragrant and flavorful without being overpowering. It is, as they say, a little slice of heaven.

Honey Curry Bread

from Hollyhock Cooks

Makes 1 loaf

¼ cup warm water
1 ½ Tb. Yeast
1/3 cup honey (divided)

2 Tb butter
1 tsp salt
1Tb curry powder
1 cup buttermilk
1 cup whole wheat flour
3 ½ cups white flour

1 egg, lightly beaten
Handful of slivered almonds

1. In a large bowl, dissolve just 1 tablespoon of the honey in warm water and sprinkle the yeast over this. Allow to sit for 10 minutes until foamy.
2. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, melt the butter with the remaining honey, salt and curry powder. Add the melted butter mixture and the buttermilk to the yeast sponge and use a wooden spoon to stir in the whole wheat flour.
3. Add the white flour. When the dough is stiff enough to handle, transfer it to a lightly floured surface and continue to knead in the remaining flour until the dough is firm but remains sticky.
4. Shape the dough into a ball and place it in a slightly oiled bowl. Cover it with a damp towel and allow it to rise in a warm place until it has doubled in size, about 1 hour.
5. Punch down the dough, shape it into a loaf or divide it into 3 equal pieces and braid it and put it in a lightly oiled loaf pan. Cover it with a damp towel again and allow it to rise for another 45 minutes.
6. Preheat the oven to 375. Beat the egg and brush the loaf lightly with the beaten egg. Sprinkle with slivered almonds. Bake for 40-45 minutes, until golden brown on top. Allow the bread to cool in the loaf pan for 10 minutes before inverting it onto a cooling rack.

Happy Mary Oliver's Birthday

(I accidentally posted this on the wrong blog - it doesn't belong with the seminars! So while not a new post, it's new for here...)

In honor of the birthday of poet Mary Oliver, the Milkweed Mercantile is giving a free beer to anyone who brings a copy of one of her poems, and reads it for those who happen to be here, especially the Proprietor.

Fortunately for our budget, most of you reading this are far, far away and can only dream of that free brew, dripping down your throat and quenching your insatiable thirst.

Fortunately for me, the humble proprietor, three folks so far have taken me up on my offer. Oddly enough, none wanted beer. Two asked for (and received) Santa Cruz Orange Mango Organic soda, and one requested Earl Grey tea. Perhaps the poetically-inclined are delicate sorts, but I don't really think so.

Meadow, our beloved tea drinker, brought a really lovely poem, which is her favorite poem of all poems, not just Mary Oliver. However, it is now raining cats and dogs ("don't step in a poodle!") and so I cannot run back to the Mercantile to retrieve it.

Among the poems recited was Wild Geese

And then there are these:

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

© Mary Oliver.

The Swan

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

© Mary Oliver. From The Paris Review # 124, Fall, 1992

Sending love to Tamar, Sharon, Amos and Eva today and always

Good-bye Tamar

Working her magic in natural plaster and tile mosaic on a wall at the Milkweed Mercantile.

I'm not sure how exactly to write about the death of a vibrant, talented, intense, blue-eyed 32-year old woman without sounding trite and cliche; besides I'm still so damn angry and hope that someday I'll understand the things in life that just don't make any sense that I can't really write very coherently (that last sentence proves my point).

Today the photos will have to do the talking for me. Our beloved friend (and Dancing Rabbit member) Tamar Friedner died today from pancreatic cancer. Our love and prayers go out to her family. We will miss you Tamar.

(Thanks, Liat, for the use of your pictures).

Fiddling around...

Sandwiched between Ziggy & Liat on Vista de la Moo

Swing that hammer, girl!

With baby Aurelia at Halloween

You gotta love a girl who knows her way around power tools!

"Fashion is my life."

My YoYo Life

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
Got a call from the husband of a high school friend saying he'd like to attend our cheese-making seminar, loved his friendly attitude and dashing accent - up, with a smile.

Asked to help research options for transporting a friend from Massachusetts back home to Dancing Rabbit after her death, which seems to be near - down, with tears.


Trying to type with a cat on my keyboard - up, with abiding patience.

Friended on Facebook by my first love (in 1975 we were both 19). Perhaps in the spirit of Rosh Hashanah this will be a good time for introspection, looking back at the mistakes that I made and apologize for being such an utter, complete, self-absorbed, angst-filled blond (although in all fairness, it was 35 years ago!) - up, with laughter.

IM'd with Danae, Kurt's niece - up.

Spoke with the remarkable people at Funeral Consumers Alliance - up, with gratitude, down, with sadness.

Developed a deeper understanding of the power of love and touch in the face of death and despair, and renewed my respect and admiration for the folks who are bringing dying back into the hands of families and friends, knowing that it is possible to prepare those we love for burial ourselves - up, down, up...

Had breakfast with delightful guests (relatives of Rabbits) who ABSOLUTELY LOVED everything about the Milkweed Mercantile - a big up, with a grin

Attended an introduction to "co-counseling" (aka re evaluation counseling) and was warmed by the love, understanding and compassion that filled the room - up


Came home and embraced the true love of my life and soaked up all the good things he has brought into my life; I feel incredibly fortunate to have found him - up.



Looked at Facebook and saw that our friend Julie has posted a photo of herself as a child, with stunning cat's-eye glasses - up with a giggle



Looked at my poor allergic dog who is beginning to look like a hairless chihuahua - down.

Took him for a walk, which made us both feel better - up.

Heard back from the rep for Eternity Enviro Casket, a company which makes caskets out of cardboard. No local vendors, must be drop shipped from St. Louis - down

Time for a nap. Thanks for reading.

LIvin the Good Life, and sweating a lot

Hi all. It's time to play catch up. So here is my life since April, condensed:

We opened the Milkweed Mercantile, and have been having a great time.

Anthony, our friend who happens to be a chef (or a chef who happens to be our friend) thought that this might be the time to finally make the move to Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage. He arrived with a truck load of kitchen gear, set up an uber professional kitchen for us, and taught us lots of tricks. But alas, the joys of life in Rutledge, Missouri

could not compare with the glitz and glam of Las Vegas, and he left June 18th.


Go figure. Regardless, we're so happy for the time that he spent here, and for all that he taught us. And also for the most important lesson of all - "never underestimate the power of crispy fried potatoes." Here here.

That was the middle of June. Then the Mercantile and friends went up to Stevens Point, Wisconsin to participate in the Midwest Renewal Energy Fair. I especially enjoyed getting to finally meet Pam Wheelock of Purrfect Play (the world's best pet toys, which have, for some odd reason, disappeared from our webstore. Hmmmmm). It was good.

Came home in time to welcome Kurt's niece Dana'e for an all-too-short three-week visit.


With barely time to catch our collective breaths, we prepared to host Cecil's 40th birthday fest. A bunch of folks descended upon Dancing Rabbit over the July 4th weekend and we all had a great time. Yehaw!

Cecil and Katya sitting at the Mercantile bar, consuming the 'buckets o' frosting' that Cecil requested with every meal. Seriously.

The Mercantile was full and hosted a vegan dinner for 21. We had a blast!

We continue to meet the challenge of exquisitely white sheets line-dried in the sun. Doesn't sound so difficult, but try to explain that to birds feasting on PURPLE mulberries. I may have to change the text on the Mercantile website to include something about "please don't be alarmed by strange dark stains on your sheets..." because I'm not sure just how sustainable it is to be washing towels and sheets TWICE because of bird poop. Thankfully, mulberry season has finally passed, and a storm blew over a tree that was overhanging our clothesline (yay, nature!), partially alleviating the problem.

In true Dancing Rabbit form, our clothesline is also where we store construction materials. Isn't that a permaculture principle?

Dana'e and I went blueberry picking, and it was a revelation. Not the picking itself, although that was fun. It was the berries. It is amazing how, well, blueberryish they really taste. Not at all like the pale, dull specimens one finds in the grocery store. These were huge and plump, and just fell off the bush into our hands and buckets.

We came home and made pots of jam, Dana'e for the first time. We're all very proud.


THEN I went to Chicago for the Memorial service of my friend Marvin Geier. It was at Old St. Pat's and was just lovely. The soloist gave me goosebumps, the art all around the church was stunning, and the curvy wood benches were beyond beautiful. It was a marvelous tribute to Marvin.

The trip involved staying in a couple of hotels, where there seems to be an obsession with playing with copious numbers of pillows, and windows that don't open. I'm all for air conditioning, but jeez - it WAS NICE OUTSIDE! LET ME OPEN THE DAMN WINDOW!

How many pillows does it take to make customers happy? Apparently, nine.

Then hopped in the rental van and scooted up to Elkhorn, Wisconsin for EcoFair 360. Not as many attendees as we had hoped but we met a lot of fabulous folks.

Now I'm back home. It's raining, again, unsurprisingly. Tomorrow I'm excited to be teaching a canning workshop. Unfortunately it's been such a wet, awful year that the gardens (and gardeners and farmers) are all struggling. It's been a challenge to find enough produce to put up. It's wicked hot and humid, and as the furniture melts I begin to understand why we don't have a lot of reservations in August - even I don't want to be here in August. We had thought that this would be our busy season, but perhaps next year Kurt and I will take August off and go somewhere cold and foggy. Oh, that sounds GREAT!

Time to go bake cookies for Saturday. Kurt's tending bar at Happy Hour, so I will go on over and lend some moral support. Now that we're all caught up, perhaps I can keep up!

Thanks for reading!

PS to all you lovely folks leaving comments in Asian languages that I cannot read: I'm not going to post them, so save your time.

On a Lack of Blog Entries, and Other Earth-Shattering Matters...

Writing a blog is much like keeping a journal, at least it seems that way in my fevered mind. When you miss a day, do you catch yourself up? What happens when another day goes by, and then another, and pretty soon you’re a month behind. Do you fill in the blanks? Or just take off were you are, leaving big gaps and questions in the minds of your readers (or yourself, if we’re still talking about journals…).

Amazing journals by "trumpetvine" who not only journals daily but paints beautifully and blogs. I was about to get a real complex until I realized that her last blog entry was in 2008. OK, I might just cut myself a little slack...

I’m facing that problem. During each day I’ll think of one scathingly brilliant thing to blog about. Before I have time to sit at my computer, though, life intervenes. Someone books a room at the Mercantile and I have to get the room ready because it’s Amy’s day off, I have to do another six loads of laundry, I have to zip into Memphis to pick up our beer order (they won’t come down our road). Or it’s time to make breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. Or whatever. The blog simply doesn’t happen.

Compound time constraints with the problem of writing envy. One of my friends on Bookmooch.com listed David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest as her all-time favorite book, which made me curious. Sleuthing through Amazon’s listings and reviews I came upon this paragraph:

Amid the screams of adulation for bandanna-clad wunderkind David Foster Wallace, you might hear a small peep. It is the cry for some restraint. On occasion the reader is left in the dust wondering where the story went, as the author, literary turbochargers on full-blast, suddenly accelerates into the wild-blue-footnoted yonder in pursuit of some obscure metafictional fancy. Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, Wallace's latest collection, is at least in part a response to the distress signal put out by the many readers who want to ride along with him, if he'd only slow down for a second.

And my only thought is “Holy Shit!”

How on earth can I keep up with THAT? I can’t even scrape the muddy boots of writing like that. And it’s only the description of DFW’s writing.

So I writhe in my vat of inferiority, and get no writing done. Instead I read still more books, and surround myself with glorious writing, and compose unposted blog entries in my head. Sigh…