So here are a few outdated pictures from the nursery. I'm returning to the farm this weekend and plan to take a few updated pictures.

This is a blurry angle on the nursery, just to give you an idea of the scope.

The seeds started in a mulched bed of rice hulls, burnt corn cobs, riverbed sand and topsoil. The seeds were allowed to sprout until they nearly stood up straight, at which point we pulled them up and inspected the roots. Root behavior is established early in the coffee tree's life and will affect the way it draws water and nutrients for up to 100 years (sometimes longer). Trees with crooked, puny or otherwise undesirable roots were discarded. It was hard to convince Niti's brother that we needed to throw away more than a quarter of our sprouts. We already have more than we can handle... might as well focus on the good ones.

After sorting, they're transplanted to rows of seed bags.

Then the cotyledon brakes through the hull ...

...and fan out into sails that gather the first scraps of sunlight .

Once the roots acclimate to the new soil, secondary leaves start to sprout. These actually look like real coffee leaves.

The secondary leaves keep stacking up in pairs. Now most of the trees have four pairs. We hope to get everything in the ground by early August.

Kittens Roasting on an Open Fire

If I sent out Christmas cards, this would've been the picture on it. This is Crusty, a sickly little kitten that stumbled bleary-eyed into the village and took up residence at our place. He loves heat in all its forms. When we cook in the fireplace, he sits so close that his whiskers curl and his fur mats up. When I'm on the computer, he sits on the warm adapter pack. Needless to say, Crusty's always on the lookout for a warm lap.



This is my neighbor whom I caught in an unlikely moment of paternity. I think he's about five years old. I've been pushing for a birth control campaign to stop just this sort of madness. You know what I always say: "If you can't stop them, you might as well educate and protect them." I'm surprised you don't remember my saying that.


This is what Christmas looks like in Southeast Asian jungles. You can identify the Christian kids by the Santa suits. Christmas also looks like this:


The day after New Years, the men played 'Tops', a game that involves slinging a top at wrecking speeds and crashing it into other tops that are already spinning on the ground. I don't think there was an outright point system, but winners occasionally emerged. Scoring and winning did come off as secondary to smashing tops into each other.


This man is laying out a top to be fired upon.


And this is my brother-in-law firing away. When I tried to sling a top, it looked like I was having trouble standing up. And then the top sort of hobbled around for a moment before taking its own life. There was no need for anyone to sling upon it.

I like to say "sling upon it." I also like to point out things that I like to say.