One afternoon last week, we took the car to Jenny, about ten minutes away, to help her to plant trees.
Since I arrived at their place, Peter and Julie have mentioned a few times this woman's tragic and amazing story. German, she was married to a French-English man. The two had also traveled through France to look for a place to settle, but in a little caravan trailed by two donkeys, with their sheep following them. Eventually, they settled on this place; about 20 hectares, a gorgeous farm, and a huge pond (which Julie calls a lake). They settled and started their project, which is to raise rare breeds of sheep (I gather). Thus the farm was called 'L'arche de Monterrand'.
But, one year after they settled, Jenny's husband got sick from cancer, and he died in a few months.
So Jenny suddenly not only had to deal with the grieve but also with being left alone with the farm. There are about 60 sheep, many goats, cows, dogs, cats, donkeys, one pig, and of course chickens. She decided to carry on, while she thinks about whether she should carry on or not. How she manages to deal with all this is a total mystery for us.
In Jenny's yard, came to greet us three dogs, goats, and a lovely ginger haired pig. The pig behaved really just like a dog, and delighted being pet under the belly. Jenny calls her Tamtam.
In the sheds, were the most amazing sheep that I could think of. They had soft, curly, shiny wool in all tones, from white to black and beige and brown, and long, twisted, gorgeous horns of all shapes. They were curious and sweet, and had nothing of the uninterested, stupid and nervous attitude of the regular sheep. Actually, they were, in their attitude and looks, much more goat than sheep like. One of them came to the door to greet us. An aura of peace and intelligence surrounded him. He smelled me, and I marveled at his shiny, bright, curly, white wool. For a moment I felt like I was standing in front of the fairy tale's Prince, transformed into a sheep by the mean witch.
Then Jenny arrived to greet us. She was young, pretty, lively, and had the most shiny and good eyes that one can think of, albeit certainly with a strike of great sadness in them. She showed us the animals, and one could see how much love and thought she gives and has for them. She talked about the pig's tail. Tam tam's tail is not cut as normally is the case for farm pigs, and it is about 20 centimeters long. Jenny explained how the state of the tail (relaxed or curled up) shows the pig's state of mind (relaxed or stressed or excited), very much like for most animals actually, said she. "Always watch for the tail", she said, if you want to know if your farm animal is happy.
Then we took off to the fields to plant the trees, Jenny pushing all sorts of small trees (noisetiers, pruniers, sapin, and others) in her wheelbarrow, sheep following us at a distance, dogs and pig running all around. Tamtam was curious of everything, and coming when called her name, just like a dog would.
Four of us at the job, it did not take long, and soon we were done. Jenny told us about the pond in the field, in which one can fish carp (which is very good if one soaks it in lemon, she said) and in which Austrian but not the French swim in the summer ("l'eau n'est pas assez claire pour se baigner", say the French).
On the way back to the farm, Jenny told us about her plans for the crop fields. She wants to split the field back into smaller lots again, with hedges, and grow oats, buckwheat, spelt, and I do not remember what next. The field is hilly, so she will have to figure out what grows better on which part of it.
We went to the house, and sat down on the German-style table benches in the kitchen (I love this design: have the kitchen table stand in a corner of the room, and the two walls in front of it be lined by wood benches topped with cushions, with chairs for the other table edges). Jenny prepared tea, and treated us with the apple crumble which she had promised (and which she for me made gluten-free, with buckwheat flour and hazelnut powder - the outcome is to die for). Her kitchen was full of nice practical and decorative objects, and had an incredibly warm and cozy feeling.
A catalog of bio vegetable and crops seeds lay on the table, and Jenny started to speak about them. She said that they are great but too expansive to buy in large enough amounts to cultivate. (as Peter said, "well then you just have to bulk your own."). She added that they are now becoming illegal to cultivate, because the government, talked into it by the big companies, is rendering illegal to sell seeds which are not patented (or something evil like that).
Patenting is just one of the many actions of big companies towards the monopole of seeds, such as selling hybrids which produce infertile seeds. Therefore little farmers cannot sell and propagate their seeds and new breeds. This is a disaster for diversity and ecology, and the future of human's ability to grow food. Because diversity is one of the best natural answers for diseases and environmental difficulties, whereas technology (that is, for me, a punctual, rapid and extreme change inflicted to an organism -such as extreme selection, or a transgenic-, or to its environment -such as extreme cultivation, or high levels of chemical products) is bound to be an eternal unfulfilled quest. Because organisms are not machines which parts can be changed. Rather they can only change meaningfully as wholes, and slowly. Nature simply doesn't like extremes. If you pull on the blanket too hard, it will pull back hard in the other direction. Just like a spouse, on a cold winter night.
Jenny then spoke about how the diet of an animal will affect the way it looks over just a few generations. "Yes, she said, I read an article about it recently, they find now that what you experience can change your DNA". I said that I think that it's probably more that what you experience can change your epigenetic markings - and the point is that these markings probably matter more than the DNA itself. Jenny continued by explaining that most farmed animals today, especially cows I guess, because they are given too rich diets (with grains, fermented hay, and over-enriched pastures, which are too sweet and too poor in fibers), have constant diarrhea, so they can't get to actually ruminate their food, because the food goes through the digestive system faster than necessary for the re-digestion of rumination. This permanent upsetting of their digestive system induces nutrient deficiencies. This in turn renders them unable to grow nice horns. "Feed your animals with their natural diet, and over just a few generations, you will see these long and beautiful horns emerge again." (Curiously, an animal which can grow horns being, Jenny taught me, also a ruminant.)
Jenny, Peter and Julie then discussed at length various questions concerning growing vegetables. Jenny impressed us all by the breadth of her knowledge, and the passion that she puts into it. Thinking back about it, she really had the passion of a scientist. Her farm being her laboratory.
Then the tea was drunk, and Jenny had to go take care of the animals, and we left.
