I roast your coffee!

This is where things get complicated with the blogging, suddenly.....we've launched the Forest Voices website, so I'll be writing some things for that in the coming weeks and months.  Of course, there's some overlap (some people might have perfectly clear divisions between 'home' and 'work' lives, but that's probably never going to be the case here).  So, for the whole story of how I introduced myself with that line "I'm Mary, I roast your coffee!" to completely the wrong person, I'll send you to the Forest Voices blog entry.  

I'm gearing up for a solo coffee roast tomorrow, to get our next round of shares delivered, while Noah's in Indonesia.  They'll be ready for the Friday morning delivery.  This photo is from our last round of deliveries, the first in Missoula--crossing Higgins Ave in Downtown Missoula with a box of coffee for members to pick up definitely was fun.

The Durian Has Landed

I spoke to Noah on the phone last night, and got the first report from Indonesia:  lots of good conversations, great ideas and enthusiasm from Eko, our Indonesian collaborator.  He showed a slideshow on his laptop to the women sorting coffee in the co-op's warehouse, which they loved, recognizing many of the faces he'd captured on his last visit.  He also mentioned cupping three kinds of coffee, and a late-night feast on durian fruit.

This was not exactly the original plan.  But given multiple layers of bureaucracy and delays in our attempt to have this course listed for university credit, we have somehow arrived at the point of launching course announcements and student recruiting at the point when...well, it might already be too late.

After talking with some of our advisors, just days before we were both scheduled to leave for Indonesia, we faced the hard fact that if at least one of us didn't stay on the ground here in the US trying to get the word out and find students, there would be no chance of finding enough people to make the actual course run.  It's a big gamble, here--of course most people need more than a few months to make a decision (and, likely, save up for) such a big trip.  We're going to have to get the word out to a LOT of people in order to find the magic number that will make it go.

We are, admittedly, not in a great position, time-wise.  It's not going to be easy, but we're also, of course, stubborn.  I've left dozens of phone messages with professors, despite how much I hate cold-calling.  We've run the numbers and figure that with seven people, we can at least break even.  With twelve people, we could even get paid for the weeks in the field.  We'll run the trip even if we just break even.

In terms of recruitment, we've put everything on the table.  And thrown in the table.  We (ok, I'll admit, it was me that started it) had a harebrained idea over lunch one day last week, to make something akin to a kickstarter campaign--but that instead of asking for cash donations, we would ask people to help us find students.  If you aren't familiar with Kickstarter, it's the "crowdsourcing" funding model where people pitch their idea for a project, investment, business, etc., and try to get it funded by donations of various sizes from supporters.  There is usually a graded series of 'rewards' depending on the size of the donation, and a key part of the model is that if the project doesn't get fully funded (i.e., reach whatever goal was set at the outset), then no one is charged.

An example of a great kickstarter:  last spring, my friend Theo, an excellent and generous chef who simply loves to feed people, wanted to start a mobile food cart selling Indian food in Missoula.  He ran a Kickstarter campaign asking for $9,000 to purchase and transport a used commercial-grade food cart to Missoula.  I donated--enough to get a couple of gift certificates for dinners at the food cart.  Theo got to start his business, and loads of us here in Missoula get the benefit of being able to buy dinner from him at summer concerts in the park!

Back to our non-kickstarter, campaign, though....we decided we didn't want to just ask for money.  What we really needed was people--students to come with us.  And we need at least 7.  So we thought of 7 prizes or rewards we could offer anyone from Missoula who either signed up or recruited someone for us.  They run the gamut, from a couple of our chickens to perhaps our most-treasured thing:  the barnboard kitchen table.  Truth is, neither of us wants to see that go, but at the same time, we are kind of hoping to have that problem!  (besides which, we are feeling a bit more confident in our building skills, and could probably make a new one in a lot less time now--maybe whoever got that prize would take pity and let us build them a new one to fit their space).  But we're putting the video out soon to the Missoula community, and really have put it all on the table.

We're brainstorming ways to generate some scholarship funds too, but are going to have to kind of keep that on hold till we have a sense of whether there's any chance of having students to use them!

The smell of mud and big plans

It's a bit of a spring whirlwind here.  While the ground is thawing a little more each day, with each afternoon a little bigger hint of that muddy smell that means planting season is imaginable again, we've been holed up in the office, working like mad all day, and trying not to let the thoughts of how to start our seedlings keep us up at night.

We launched the official Forest Voices website last night, hoping to get the word out to people who might participate in our May course, and also just to have a place to share our work, projects, and vision with people who are interested.  You can see it here :  www.forestvoices.org

We'll leave for Indonesia in just a few days, on the trip to work out logistics for the course, meet potential host families, settle all the small but so-important details for taking other people along with us. Everything from good guesthouses to stay in while in the city coming and going from Sumatra, to where exactly all the closest health clinics, hospitals, embassies, airports, etc., are in order to have a solid plan for any potential problems.

It's a bit funny to be down to the devilish details, without yet knowing if we'll have they key element:  people to stay with those host families, participate in activities we line up, or need (or even better, not need) to access medical care, transport, etc.. It's a big gamble.  We've put our time and savings into this, we've give up other work that actually pays, and there's no guarantee that it's going to pay off.  We're reaching out to friends to ask for help finding students and people to participate.  And we are just going ahead, too, pitching in and doing whatever we can to try to make it fly.

It can be a little crazy--maybe more than a little crazy.  And we take on risks and challenges all the time, but this one is a whole new scale.  As crazy as learning to ride the tandem bike was, this takes it to the next level--or several levels up, perhaps.  We've written a bit about the feeling here, on the new website, too.

Growing up fast

Remember the chicks, brand-new and fluffy?  I'm afraid I've done what most people raising baby chicks end up doing, in terms of pictures and documentation.  Dozens of photos of the first few days, then a long gap, and suddenly they look like chickens.  Full-grown chickens!

"the girls" have grown up a lot in the last few months.  

Well, they are still quite a bit smaller than our big old MaryLou, but they are decidedly not chicks anymore. The good news is, they are in fact friendly and pet-able, making them great for visiting friends.  This morning our two-year-old neighbor Will got to get right up close and personal with MaryLou and one of the Buff Orpingtons (the yellowish ones in this picture), petting and clucking right back at them.

The Chicken Channel

The first eggs from our Thanksgiving chicks are still at least a good month or more away (I don't know how many times I've counted out on my fingers "let's see, end of November to end of...December (1), January (2), February (3), March(4)..." figuring that they won't start laying till at least 12 weeks old.  We'll see.  I have high hopes for those thin flighty white leghorns (in our last flock, back in Oregon that was who laid first and most often.  That is, until she met a most unfortunate early end.)

But, as I said before, while we wait for them to begin, we are grateful that our secondhand chicken, MaryLou, has been gifting us an egg every day or two.  We still aren't sure what her breed is, but here is is in all her shiny black glory.  

Noah left a while ago with a cup of coffee and the bucket of kitchen scraps for the girls, and hasn't returned yet...I have a strong suspicion he's savoring that feeding and taking a little time to wake up with the chicken channel this morning.  

Invitation: come to Indonesia!

Things have been quiet on the blog lately, because they have been anything but quiet on the work front.    We are in suspense for an unknown time, waiting to hear whether the University will grant academic credits for our proposed course.  At the same time, we've decided that even if they don't, if we can recruit enough students to have it at least break even, we'll run it just on our own, as a Forest Voices program (8 students would do it....with 10 or more, we'd even get paid a little bit).   

Since here it is February, and the course is scheduled for late May, there is suddenly a shocking lack of time to actually find and convince those theoretical 8-12 people to come with us.  And that is how there has been no time to write of chickens or thawing snow or even the neighboring we've been doing as we continue to try to make connections here.  That will come, hopefully, in time, as things settle.  

In the meantime, most energy will continue to go towards getting the word out, trying to find people to help us recruit students, and to planning the details for the course.  Next week, on the 20th, we will leave for Indonesia to settle the final details with the coffee farmer groups who will host students there.   

In Each Hand

A few days ago, I checked the chickens' water fount on my way back to the house from the toolshed office.  It was empty, needed filling, and some days there simply isn't time to switch gears between the work of writing grants or course proposals and tending the growing things.  And that's how I found myself suddenly picking my way carefully across the ice-rink the yard has become, balancing a 3-gallon chicken waterer in my left hand and a messenger bag containing books and a macbook over my right shoulder.

I knew it would be an image that stuck with me--late afternoon light sliding through the treacherous footing, me with my strange load hurrying just a little, and working hard for the balance.  It feels like that a lot, lately.  No one doubts we have too many projects in the works, but stubborn as we are, we try to keep hold of the whole load anyway, and stay upright on the tricky footing.

It's a balancing act.  Carrying in each hand the aprehension and excitement, hope and terror, the work of thoughts and learning and the work of endless details that are needed to make them happen.  The poetry and compost, we hold all together in one awkward load, just trying to stay upright and move forward.