Traced Elements

Tag: michelle leroux

The trouble with procrastination
One thing I need to tell you right now is this – if you are going to go foraging for stinging nettles do not wear sandals. The other thing I need to tell you is if you want to go foraging for stinging nettles you may have to wait until the spring of 2019.

Which leads me to the point of this month’s post. Procrastination is not your friend if you want to forage.

I have been known to procrastinate, especially when it comes to anything I would categorize outside of “work”. This spring I enrolled in a year-long course designed by local Natalie Rousseau called 13 Moons -and I have been learning about foraging and “kitchen witching”. The recipes are so inspiring, and I am excited about deepening my connection to the land and the seasons by incorporating more native plants into my diet.

So far, I have been able to get out there for two stinging nettle harvests and one elderflower harvest. The nettles were steeped into teas and blended into smoothies that I believe have drastically reduced my usual hell storm of hay fever symptoms. The elderflower blossoms were infused into a delightful cordial that has been mixed with Pemberton Distillery gin and soda for drinks on the deck with friends, prosecco for an elegant cocktail at a Mother’s Day gathering and sparkling water for a refreshing lunchtime drink…all with delicious results!

I was hoping to get dandelions and lilacs for more cordials and tea infusions but fear I may have missed my opportunity…but maybe I can gather some this weekend? And therein lies the problem, the native plant does not wait for the procrastinator. It may be best to pin my hopes on the next round of edibles on my list – wild roses. I plan to use the petals to make a herbal honey, to infuse with oil for skincare, and to dry for tea blends.

If you go out foraging:
- Be sustainable and ethical – don’t overharvest or strip entire plants. Try to harvest small amounts from numerous plants so your forage doesn’t harm the plant and leaves plenty of food for the insects and animals that rely on it for a food source. Always make sure you are prepared to process your harvest properly so it doesn’t go to waste.
- Be safe – it is always good to cross-reference a couple of resource books and if possible, learn from a real life person who has been wildcrafting or foraging for a long time. Thanks to Dawn Johnson for taking me out on an elderflower adventure!
- Learn more about Wildcrafting and Foraging from 7song.com (thanks to Natalie Rousseau for sharing this great resource!)
May 24, 2018
Don’t date a farmer if you want to lose weight

Riley doesn’t know this, but when we first met, I thought dating a farmer would help me lose weight. I didn’t really need to lose weight, at the time, but I thought, “Oh yeah, this is going to be great…I’ll be eating all these veggies, and helping in the fields. By the end of the summer, I’m gonna be tanned, and I’m gonna be ripped.”

I was sitting on my butt at a desk in Whistler for over eight hours a day at the time, but a total body transformation over one summer seemed totally feasible.As our relationship progressed, my usual breakfast evolved from a green smoothie to fresh duck eggs fried with homemade bacon luscious and sticky from the maple syrup it was cured in. Life was sweet, was it love or the spoonful of brown sugar I started adding to my huge mug of coffee?

After work, I would change into some old jeans and head out into the field to help with weeding. These golden hours were half “drinks after work”, half chores as we moved down the row side by side, catching each other up on the day’s events, and swigging from cold cans of beer set, sweating, in between the beets.

Gone were my single-girl dinners of a chicken breast with steamed broccoli, or red wine and popcorn in front of the TV. Now I ate a proper plate, at the table, tucking into pasture-raised pork chops, roast chicken, or lamb burgers with a side of potatoes, beets, and carrots.

Anastasia Chomlack photo.

So, approximately four years here I am, a little “fluffier” than I was before I met Riley. I gained a lot by dating a farmer – a few pounds, a happy life, love and the ability to eat ridiculously well every single day.

For me, small changes like minimizing gluten and cutting out sugar move the dial in small ways. But this spring my goal is to move the dial in a big way, and I have joined the twice-weekly running club led by personal trainer Anngela Leggett of Evergreen Fitness and Yoga in an effort to get more fit. The women in this group are more experienced runners than I am, but I do what I can and managed to run 10.5km last week.I’m pretty sure running should work out as a better tactic for me to lose weight than dating a farmer. If it doesn’t, I’ll still value my gains as I get outside and explore Pemberton’s amazing trails with a diverse and inspiring group of local women.

April 21, 2018
Patty B, Pemberton Wedding Duck

The sounds of spring are in the air. Birdsong fills the yard, and the egg incubator hums in my living room. Every spring we carefully place colourful, fertilized chicken and duck eggs in the racks and wait patiently, until we can hear, with ears pressed to warm shell, the muffled rustles and faint peeps of tiny birds inside.

The ducklings and chicks we hatch are egg layers – we generally won’t eat these birds, but sometimes a male duck will find its way into the oven. Our layers are almost like pets, and those with standout personalities or traits often get names.

Last year, about a month before our wedding in September, we decided to incubate some duck eggs out of the spring season to bolster our flock after a lot of losses to raccoon and bobcat. Only one duck ended up hatching out, and since the little guy was going to be alone in the brooder, I decided to take the tiny duckling under my wing. We started calling the duck Pat since we didn’t know if it was a boy or girl. Then we changed tactic and tweaked the name to Patty B to help sway the universe into giving us a lady egg layer instead of another randy male.

We aren’t going to have kids, and you may laugh, but being a duck mom was super intense. I have no idea how mothers of actual, tiny humans do it!

When she wasn’t with me, perched on my shoulder, Patty B was in a large pen outside the French doors of my home office. Every time I put Patty B back into the pen after a walk around the yard, her frantic cries would break my heart and inevitably I would be back out there for another visit. In retrospect those regular walks around the yard, with the slapslapslap of her tiny feet windmilling behind me and our chilly wades into the backyard slough so she could dip and dive through the muddy water probably saved me from a total “crash and burn” in the lead up to the wedding.

As the big day drew closer and our walks got longer I hatched an idea – what if Patty B was part of the wedding procession? Training began in earnest with longer walks around the yard and then, eventually, forays across the small bridge into the backfield where our ceremony would take place.

Anastasia Chomlack photo

The wedding day finally dawned…and it was windy and rainy. September 9, 2017, happened to be the first time it rained since Patty B was born…actually, I think it was the first day it rained all summer! Luckily, we had a break in the weather before the outdoor ceremony began and as my wedding party and I gathered just across the bridge, my dad opened the door to the pet carrier to release Patty B. She dashed out onto the muddy path with excited chirps and peeps and began slurping muddy water up her bill. Mud! Worms! AWESOME.

It was time to start down the aisle, and my flower girl and bridesmaids began their slow march down the field. It was time for me, my dad and Patty B to make our way down to the rest of my life. But Patty B was having none of it.

I gave one last “C’mon, Patty B!” before sighing and giving up. The show had to go on. We walked down the field and suddenly as we were coming up between the rows of guests I heard a small boy cry out, “Is that a DUCK!?”

Anastasia Chomlack photo

YES. Patty B made it down the aisle with me after all.

Most of the animals we raise have a pretty low-key life compared to the wedding adventures of Patty B. But, we tend to every animal at Bandit Farms with care, love, and respect whether we are raising them for their eggs or to eventually harvest for meat. I’m not a duck mom to everyone but being close to our food sources is a privilege I will never take for granted.

Also, in case you were wondering, Patty B turned out to be Pat…but don’t worry, we won’t eat him.

March 22, 2018
The dirt on how the PR girl met the farmer

March 11 marks four years since I met the farmer that would change the course of my life forever. You see, that day I went on a date with “SnowboardingFarmer,” aka Riley Johnson, a Pemberton guy I met on an online dating site.

We won’t talk about how he postponed our date twice; once because his snowmobile broke down and the second time because his basement flooded and two baby rabbits died on the same day. Those things don’t matter anymore.

March 11 was the perfect day to meet him.

Perfect, because he called me that day to see if I would be able to get together – THAT AFTERNOON – for a drink after work. No notice, at all. So, I met him wearing an old plaid shirt with jeans, and unwashed hair frizzing in a ponytail. He showed up in a plaid shirt too and came clomping up the stairs to the Mexican Corner in Whistler wearing huge mud splattered work boots.

“What is THIS?” I asked myself as he sat across from me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Both of us showing each other who we were. Me, inadvertently, since I would have made way more of an effort for a blind date if I knew that it would be happening that day. Him, by design, since if any Whistler girl is going to embark on a relationship with a Pemberton farmer you might as well show her the dirt up front.

After eleven years in Whistler marching down quaint cobblestone lanes in heeled boots, working my way up the ladder in Whistler Blackcomb’s public relations department, and networking and attending special events like a fiend, finding myself falling in love with this muddy farmer was both the most surprising event in my life and the easiest thing in the world.

One of the first ways I acknowledged the significance of my new relationship was a call I made to SPUD organic produce delivery. When they asked me why I was cancelling my longstanding and recurring order, my answer was simple.

I fell in love with a farmer.

February 22, 2018