Christmas Tree Adventures

The first rule of driving that I learned after moving to West Virginia was don't try to go somewhere without directions. I know that may seem overly simplistic since you obviously need to know where you are going before you go, but let me clarify. Here, on the rural roads of West Virginia, which is the vast majority of the state, there is no finding your way from point A to point B by figuring it out as you go. Looking at a map to navigate your path is not always reliable, and depending on GPS, Google Maps or other such navigational services is practically a guarantee that you will get lost.

No, when you need to get to a new rural location you have two choices. One is to get specific directions from someone who has been there. (Please understand that good directions likely will include more landmarks than road names.) Your other option is to follow someone who knows how to get there. If you are inexperienced with the winding hilly rural roads of our great state, you better ask them to drive extra slow so you can keep up.

Roads here do not simply go North/South or East/West. Often the same road will take you in a circle around the compass. Roads here often are not marked which is why landmarks make the best directions. Often you'll come to a Y in the road and have no clue which fork to take to follow the road you need. Sometimes you'll go straight only to find yourself on a new road, but you're just about as likely to do the same if you turn. Let's not forget my favorite idiosyncrasy of West Virginia roads. They change names for no apparent reason.

The road we live near comes into Ona as Fudges Creek Road. It crosses RT 60 and suddenly it is Howell's Mill. As the road comes to the ridge it is called Barker's Ridge. Travel a few miles and you'll come to a cross roads. There are four road names there, one for every direction you could turn. The only one of which I know well is Dudley Gap which winds back down off the ridge and is renamed Lower Creek which later (and I have no idea where the change takes place) become Newman's Branch and leads you back to RT 60 about 10 miles down the road from Fudges Creek. Confused? Yep, me too and I live here.

I know the rule. I know if I'm trying to find a rural location, I must call and get directions from someone who has been there. I have broken the rule, and suffered the consequences. Still every now and then I get a wild hair and think that I am above the rule. I can find my way. I don't need help. Such was the case last Saturday when we went to cut our Christmas tree.

Tim and I have had a fresh tree ever since we've been married. Almost every year we have cut our own. It is just a part of Christmas for us, and the kids look forward to the annual event. When we moved here, we weren't sure where to go. In Tim's travels for work, he found a tree farm in the next county. Since we didn't know where else to go that is where we headed.

The tree farm and its staff are very nice, and the trees are reasonable. So, despite the drive we went back to the same place every year. This year a friend shared a newspaper article about local tree farms. It included a tree farm that was much closer. So, we decided to give it a tree.

The article listed the farm as being on RT 60. Kellen googled the farm and found it was actually on Saunders Creek off of RT 60. Figuring "How hard could it be?" (ahem) we headed out for the tree farm.

We found Saunders Creek easily enough. We drove a little, and even saw a few trucks driving down the road with trees in their beds. We kept driving searching the hills for pine fields and the road for a business sign. The road narrowed. We kept driving. The road wound up over a big hill and back down. We kept driving. The road came to an unmarked Y. We opted to continue on the paved road instead of taking the gravel fork. We kept driving. Then the road came to a marked T. The sign indicated that we were on Left Fork Fudges Creek and had come upon Fudges Creek.

*sigh*

We turned around, and retraced our route to the Y. Still no business signs, still no fields of pine. We decided to try the gravel road. It went down. It curved. It went down some more and finally ended at someone's house.

*sigh*

We turn around again, and head back for the paved road to continue on our original route. The kids are getting whiny. The parents are getting irritated. Lunch time is upon us. Still no fields of pine. Still no signs for the tree farm. We are almost back out to RT 60, and I am thinking a tree from Home Depot sounds just fine to me, when I spot a name on a mailbox as we drive by it. It is simply a last name, not a business name, but it is the same last name that is included in the farm name from the paper.

We stop and turn around again, and go back to the mail box. The mailbox is at the end of a driveway. You can not see any buildings or houses from the road. More importantly, you can't see any pine trees either. The last name is fairly common here, but could this be it? Is this the tree farm?

We decide it is worth try. Best case scenario? We come out with our Christmas tree. Worst case scenario? We get shot at, but by this time we are close to desperate to have a tree strapped to the top of our van.

We drive around a bend and there it is, two hills full of pine trees. The whole family is doing the happy dance. Well, at least as well as it can be done while buckled into the vehicle. We barely get the van parked and the kids are jumping out and running up those hills in search of the perfect tree. We found it, cut it down, and had it tied to the van in about half the time that it took as to find the tree farm.

I guess all is well that ends well, and getting our tree this year certainly was memorable. But I think I would prefer the memory that would have been made had I called and got directions to the tree farm first.

The Early Christmas Present

Last night was a night of Christmas festivities for the Appletons. Every year the kids get to pick out an ornament for the tree. We mark it with their name and the year. The plan is to someday, when I can bear to part with them, to give each child their ornaments from childhood.

This year the kids wanted to go to the Pottery Place for the ornaments. This is a paint your own pottery place. You choose a piece. You paint it, and they fire it. Then you go pick it up. The cost is reasonable, especially when you consider it as a few hours of entertainment and the pottery piece to keep.

But the real highlight of the evening was the early Christmas gift. From the Pottery Place we headed to the mall, telling the kids that someone was getting an early Christmas gift. That, of course, got everyone's attention. I think by the time we got there, the kids were convinced that we were getting a video game or something along that line. They weren't even close.

We ate dinner at the food court, and then ducked into the first store that would provide what we needed. The boys looked around at all the glittering and shiny items, and asked, "Why are we here?"  The girls however were fascinated with all the bling.

I led Lydia, the intended recipient of our surprise, to a small table with a chair, bottles of cleanser, and a display of stud earrings. She looked at the display, clearly not understanding our intentions. I asked, "What do you think about those earrings?" Her face turned red, she stammered a minute, and finally got out, "Is this what we are here for?"

She has been asking for years to get her ears pierced. To be more precise, she's been asking for years for her ears to be piered. It has only been in the last couple of years that she has gotten the term right. In a phone conversation with Grandma recently, she said she wanted earrings for Christmas, but didn't think we would let her get her ears pierced. Never mind all of that. When I asked her if she was ready to get her ears pierced her reply was, "Can I go to the bathroom first?"

I had a moments panic that our great surprise was going to back fire and turn into a bad childhood memory for Lydia. She was so nervous. You could see it in her face. You could hear it in her voice. She said her stomach was doing flip flops. She asked me if it would hurt. But you could tell that she was trying to pull it together because she really did want her ears pierced.

We walked around a bit, and stopped at the bathroom. It was enough for her to gather her resolve. We stopped at one of the booths, and picked out earrings. She chose her birthstone, a garnet. Then it was time. I think she was still a little nervous. What do you think?

She was so proud and excited after it was all done. She just kept saying how she couldn't believe that the surprise was for her. She was certain it was a video game for the boys. She came home and admired her newly decorated ears in the mirror for awhile. Then dutifully cleaned them and got ready for bed. It was a memorable night for her and for us.

You Never Know What You Might Find

Before I transfer the pictures from the camera to the computer, I try to remember to look through them to delete any we don't need. Quite frequently I forget to do so, and occasionally when that happens, I find that some little hands have had my camera. They like to have their own little photo shoots. I found these unexpected pictures this morning.

Do you know your chicken breeds?

Our little chicks are all nicely feathered in now. I love seeing all the variety of pullets. we bought these birds in a mixed grouping. They send you a variety of breeds, but don't let you know exactly which breeds they are sending. Some breeds I can easily identify. Some I have a pretty good guess about, but there are a few breeds I have no clue about. How about you? Can you identify the breeds in the picture?

The Cutest Baby Animal Ever!

You may realize that I'm kind of partial goat kids. They are simply adorable, and playful, and fun. Oh I just love 'em!

And it is highly likely that I've already posted a picture on this blog with a baby animal saying that it was the cutest ever. Even so, here I am again to submit, the cutest baby animal ever.

I'm not sure what I like best about her. Maybe it is her sweet little face. Maybe it is her unusual coloring. Maybe it is the way she prances around the goat pen like she is a princess. Maybe it is the way she takes on the older and larger bucklings as if she has the upper hand. Or maybe it is how when she is done with the play and the show she hides under the goat shed where no one can get to her.

Lydia has taken to calling her marble because of her unusual markings. She really shouldn't have any name because we will not be keeping her, but it sure is tempting. After all she is the cutest baby animal ever!

And now we are farmers - Part Three

I'm sharing the story of how we came to live on our homestead. If you missed the beginning, And now we are farmers - Part One and Part Two.  

Property: check. Job for my parents: check. House for my parents: check.

This is where we last left the story in the year 2005. My parents were on the their way to West Virginia, and working hard to clear a spot for their mobile home, and to get the driveway in shape so the house could be moved onto the property.

My brothers and I are still all in Northern Ohio thinking that we will move to West Virginia someday, but not really expecting it to happen anytime soon. Then my brother sent Tim a couple of want ads that he thought might be interesting to us. Kind of on a whim we put together a quick resume and sent two off to West Virginia. Tim got interview calls from both places.

July 4th weekend we came to West Virginia for a visit, and for Tim to have two interviews. One interview was with a private school for a music teaching position. The other was with Sweetman Music, a company that supplied local schools with band instruments and supplies. Both interviews went well. A week later Sweetman offered him a position. The catch? He had to be there by August first.

That threw everything into high gear. We started making preparations to move from Ohio to West Virginia. My parents started looking for a trailer to move onto the property that was large enough for my family. It was a blur of activity, and in the middle of that Tim and I had some more news. 

My dad and I were talking on the phone about the preparations, plans, and potential houses. I broke the surprise to him over the phone. Causally I asked him, "Do you think there is room for one more there in West Virginia." He hesitated, but it only took him a minute to realize what I meant. Appleton baby number four was on the way.

There was no way we were going to get everything figured out and ready on both ends in time for us to move by August first. Tim moved in with my parents in their trailer, started the new job, and helped try to get the property ready.

They did find us a house, an older double wide for a great price. The catch? (Why is there always a catch?) The owners were purchasing a new double wide to put in the same place. So, any option of us being able to stay in the house, where it was, until the driveway and the property were ready for it to be moved, was ruled out. Things had to move fast. 

Meanwhile in Akron, with three kids and one on the way, I was trying to finalize things and pack. I got our house rented for September first. I knew we had to down size. The new house was about the same square footage, but there was no basement or attic to store all the stuff we had accumulated while living in Akron. I gave away truck loads of items on freecycle. I threw out a ton more, and then tried to get everything else into boxes hoping it would all fit on the truck and into the new house.

Moving day came all too quickly in some aspects, but with our family separated it also seemed to take forever. I remember when Dad and Tim came with the truck, I still had a lot to pack, but was so proud of the whole wall of stacked boxes waiting for them. I think it took them all of an hour to stack away my month of work onto the truck.

The rest of the day was a constant struggle of trying to get things packed fast enough to keep the loading moving. Friends came over to help with the heavy items. Every inch of the truck was packed, and there were still a few things in the basement we had to come for later. Dad headed home. We went to a friends for our going away party. After the party Tim and I went back and cleaned the apartment.

Did we drive to West Virginia that night? Where were the kids? Did we have two cars? For the life of me I can not remember. Also, I have no pictures for several months during this time. We'll have to chalk that up to sheer exhaustion.

Oh, but I didn't tell you the best part of this story yet. Dad and Tim moved fast for sure. The drive was ready for the house movers. The spot for the house was cleared, leveled, and the footer was poured. In fact, the house was moved into its spot. But on the day we moved from Ohio to West Virginia the house was in two pieces.

To be continued. . .

It takes a family. . .

Raising animals and raising gardens are no easy tasks. It takes a lot of time. It takes a lot of muscle. It takes everyone's help from the oldest to the youngest. Even the youngest child can fill the dog food, gather the eggs, or be taught to pick a few berries. Some tasks can be delegated to one person. Others, like baling hay or picking strawberries, are best done in a group effort.

In the years that we have lived here there is no doubt who did the most farm work. Dad was the farmer. It was his full time task even when he worked elsewhere. Without him here we've had to make a lot of adjustments. We've had to fill boots none of us were ready to fill.

We've downsized our livestock quite a bit, but even so there still is a lot to get done. Everyone has had to step it up, do a little more, and push the boundaries of our comfort zones. We are all doing more than we did before the events of this past summer.

I have been especially proud and surprised at how the two twelve year old boys have taken on responsibilities here. They are doing man sized jobs often alone. Kellen has been a huge help with feeding animals. He has learned to check fluids and tire pressure for the vehicles, and has just been a general all around huge help to Mamaw and me.

He and his cousin, Miles, have become quite proficient at electric fencing. They tore down the temporary fencing around the hay fields, and have also built quite a bit of fencing for the cows and pigs. Of course, we have our suspicions that they are eager to help with just about any job that involves driving the four wheeler.

Animals and gardens are a lot of work, but the rewards are worth all the effort. When we all pitch in it makes the load lighter and the tasks more enjoyable. After all, it takes a family to run the farm.

Guest Posting Today

The Cupp Family blogs about their farm at T. Cupp Miniatures & Cupp Family Farm. Each Friday they feature another farmer. Today it is our turn. Find my guest post today at Friday's Featured Farmer. Enjoy it and the rest of their blog.

Consider sharing your farm experiences with their readers. You don't need a blog of your own to share your story. Find the details at Tell Us Your Farming Story.

Have a great Friday!

After the Storm

Yesterday afternoon a storm passed through. It didn't last long, but it was powerful with strong winds and heavy rain. After the storm passed, the skies cleared quickly, and the sun after the storm gave a strange eerie beauty to the woods and hills. I wish I had a better camera to capture it.

And now we are farmers - Part Two

I'm sharing the story of how we came to live on our homestead. If you missed the beginning, And now we are farmers - Part One.

Buying a property was a big step, and one that happened rather quickly. Turning that property into a homestead, well, that involved (and still involves) a million little steps and a whole lot of time.

When the property, here in West Virginia, was purchased, my parents were living in North Carolina. My family and both of my siblings were living in northern Ohio. None of us had jobs here.

The property was 100% wooded. There were no houses or buildings, no electric, and no running water or septic. The actual property begins over half a mile from the road. The legal right of way to the property was impassable.

Thankfully, there is another way into the property. There is a tower road that comes through the neighbors property to our property line. From that line we were able to drive further into the property on old logging roads, as long as the weather was dry. If it was wet, it was a big old mess. The soil here is predominantly clay. Wet packed clay is slicker than ice. So if your tires didn't get stuck in the mud, they just spun and slid all over the place. I speak from experience.

Using that way in, we came when we could to work on making this place liveable. A permanent campsite was established. We had tarped tents and cook stoves, and all the camping gear. A "composting toilet" was established. It consisted of a five gallon bucket with the end cut off, set over a small hole in the ground. For your comfort, a toilet seat sat on the top of the bucket. The trick was to sit on the seat without it sliding off. After you did your business with the bucket, you threw a little dirt on top. The bucket was moved every few days.

The tasks at hand were getting the driveway open, and clearing trees for electric lines and houses. My parents schedule was such that they had a ten days off at a time each month. They spent them here. My brothers came down to help some. We came down to help some. 

In my mind, it was a long process. My first thought was that two full summers were spent camping and working before anyone lived here. But thinking through it, and marking it the way any young mother remembers those blurred years, by the births of her children, I realized that it really was a relatively quick process. The dates on the pictures confirmed it.

The property was purchased in the summer of 2004. My parents were looking to move as soon as possible. They began looking for jobs here, and put the house they still owned in Ohio on the market. We were not really expecting to move for some time. We browsed through want ads, but didn't make a big effort.

There is a Toyota manufacturing plant near here. It is considered by many as the place to work in this area. Though I understand that the hiring practices have changed, at the time hiring started through a temp service and required a lengthy process of skill testing. My mom made it through the entire process, and she was near the top of the waiting list. Their house in Ohio sold, and they bought a trailer in West Virginia.

The trailer was in a trailer park not far from here. The plan was to live in the trailer park while getting the right away ready, get a spot for the house ready, move the trailer, and keep working from there. Dad hired some to work on the front part of the driveway, but he wasn't satisfied with outcome. True to what Dad always said, "If you want it done right, you have to do it yourself." He began buying equipment for the driveway, and other tasks.

This is the driveway in February 2005. 

 
Dad and his equipment. He bought a lot of it off eBay. It was all old. He got it all for dirt cheap. Sometimes I think he spent more time repairing it than using it. In the long run, it did take more time, but the cost was far less than hiring the work done. Besides, he got to do it his way, which of course was the right way.

Right before my parents moved here, the temporary agency pulled the rug out from under them. They decided not to hire Mom for Toyota because of carpal tunnel. My parents moved anyway, and luckily Mom was able to find a job at Appalachian Electric Power shortly after. That was not the end of the surprises for the future residents of the 100 Acre Wood. 2005 still had a few things to show us.

To be continued. . .

Red and her Kids

If you've ever raised animals, you know how hard it can be to keep a male animal from a female in heat. Obviously,  we failed at that task over the summer. Dairy goats giving birth in November is less than ideal. We are not set up for winter milking, but I guess we are going to have to figure that out, or pass on months of milk. Most of you know that I am just frugal enough and stubborn enough that I will make it work. Somehow.

Though it wasn't what I'd planned it is hard to be frustrated when the end results are two simply adorable Nubian/Boer bucklings, and fresh milk for us. For now, those bucklings will get all the milk, and I will enjoy watching them. Enjoy these pictures from when they were only hours old last Friday morning.

Hit By a Wave

I think about my dad everyday. It would be hard not to with all his equipment, projects, and dreams around staring me in the face. I wonder what he would think about some family situations happening now. I try figure out his opinion about different plans we have for the animals. I remember all the work he did here every day, and occasionally remember how we would often butt heads on certain things. I think about how he died, and still find it hard to believe.

Hardly a day passes that one of the kids don't mention Papaw. They talk about running errands with him and getting treats. They remember stories like how he talked Lydia into going to Bob Evans instead of Mc Donalds by calling it Mc Bobs. They remember all the the things he did here. Sometimes they ask to stop by his grave, and we do for a few minutes.

Most days those memories and thoughts are just part of the day. They are normal, and don't cause a great deal of emotion. Then other days, for reasons I don't understand, I am hit by a huge wave of emotion. These waves seem to be triggered by the most unlikely things.

Last weekend we attended a local farm and food conference. One of the classes I took during the conference was farm record keeping. Seems an unlikely topic to illicit much emotion doesn't it? And it didn't until the end. The last topic was "Who Feeds the Cows when the Farmer is Gone?" The instructor briefly talked about having a will and a plan for the farm in case something should happen to the farmer. Honestly, I can't remember what all he said. I was too busy trying to keep myself from sobbing.

Yesterday, on my way to work, I was writing in my head. I was thinking about a local history story that involved our property. I was trying to remember the details, and work out the wording. Then I remembered when Tammy of the Unusually Usual Farm Chick was here in the spring making a video of our farm and sheep shearing. While shearing, dad shared a bunch of stories about this area. Most of the stories I had never heard before. Sadly, they could not be heard on video over the clippers. As I was driving, I remembered that Tammy mentioned she'd just have to come down and get those stories on tape later. And it hit me; that will never happen now.

I can't remember the stories either. Certainly, I could hear them from John, the same place Dad heard them. I'll never get to hear Dad tell those stories again, or the gazillion stories that we all heard a gazillion times about him growing up Amish. How many times did we hear about his first pizza or his first ice cream cone? Then I realized that many of the important details about his early life are fuzzy to me. I'll never get to hear him explain exactly why and how he left, and what happened in those years.

I don't understand why these seemingly innocent topics hit me out of the blue and turn me into an emotional wreck. It really is frustrating to me. Why can't these waves of emotion hit when I am home and free to throw myself on my bed and cry?! I don't understand it, but I do know I miss my dad.

Their Ruby Red Lips

No, we don't put lipstick on our sows. 

 

If you caught yesterday's post, I mentioned that I had fed the pigs some beets from the garden. I went out a few hours later, and they were still chomping away at them. They had the prettiest red lips. I tried hard to get a good picture of one of them. Do you realize how hard it is to get a picture of a hog's lips when all they want to do is keep their snout to the food? This picture doesn't even do it justice, but trust me, it was quite comical.

Certifiable

If Einstein was right and the definition of insanity really is to do the same thing over and over again expecting different results, then come take me away because I am certifiable.

Every year spring and summer come and go in a blur of gardens and farm projects. Every year early fall is gone in a blink of the eye while Tim works crazy hours and the garden is harvested and preserved, and we begin to feel the pressure of getting buildings and animals ready for winter. And every year we look forward to the months following Tim's busy season telling ourselves that things will be calmer, quieter, and that we will enjoy a restful season. HA! We are certifiable.

Things don't ever really slow down here, they just change. Here we are well into November, well past Tim's busy season of work, and the to do list is longer than ever. Here are some of the things happening around the farm now.

Deer season is here. Tim never did get out last year, and frankly the odds of him having time to hunt this year are not looking good. Terry, a family friend, is here frequently to hunt though. He does the hunting. Tim helps with the processing, and we end up with most of the meat. It is a win win situation.

Then there are those darn pigs.  Mostly, I enjoy our pigs. They are fairly low maintenance most of the year. Fall is prime time for them in the woods. They feast on the nuts that have fallen, and require very little attention from us.

But pigs can also be very destructive. They are strong and will tear up fencing and gates. They also will tear up the earth where they are by rooting for nuts and other food. This is all fine and well if they are in a place you'd like to have rooted up and cleared a bit, or if they are in an area devoted to them. It isn't so good when they are where they are not supposed to be. Say, like your neighbors' hay fields.

A couple days work were spent building a new and smaller fenced area for the pigs, and repairing the damage that was done. And more fence needs built to move them into a fresh area. Good thing those pigs are so cute now, and so yummy later.

The garden is not yet put to bed. Today we dug about half a feed bag of sweet potatoes. Two thirds of them still need dug.This was our first year trying sweet potatoes. Mom actually bought the slips on a whim at a produce auction last spring. I am very pleased with how they produced. Besides planting and digging them (plenty of work for sure,) they required no other care.

We also had a garden surprise this fall, potatoes. Yes, we did plant potatoes this year. We harvested them back in August when the plants died off. To those of you who helped me with the digging, it will be no surprise that we missed a few potatoes. The surprise is that they started growing again.

We let them grow until the frost killed off the plants. Then we dug again, and found a sink full of potatoes. We had some for lunch today, and you just have to love that freshly dug potato flavor.

I pulled the remaining beets today. I'm almost embarrassed to say that I fed them to the pigs. I like beets, but the family isn't so crazy about them. Normally, I would pickle them to enjoy later, but right now I don't have the time. So, the pigs are enjoying them.

The Swiss chard is still producing like crazy. I don't think I've ever had more prolific plants. I've had the kids cut it down to the nub, and it still comes back. Today I pulled a feed bag of it for the chickens. They will be getting a lot more of it in the next few days.

But don't think our chickens are spoiled lazing around getting fed Swiss chard. No, they have their own work to do in the fall. They have been put to work in the garden spot that we are done with. They have done an amazing job of digging up bugs, spreading the manure piles, and turning the dirt. Good girls.

 

We also have some new little girls. We ordered two batches of mixed chicks. They arrived last Saturday. One group is Rainbow Layers. There should be colored, white, and brown layers in the mix. The other group is Mixed Brown Layers. It consists of a variety of brown laying breeds. I have no idea what all we have, but am having fun trying to guess while watching them start to feather in.

The above babies were planned for. The ones below, however were not. Apparently, Red and the Billy did not share my vision for their family planning. She is ready to pop any day now. Truly, I did not want her to freshen now, and I am still undecided as to a milking plan. Milking through the winter is not appealing, but it looks like that is what I'll be doing. Even though this is a surprise, I'm excited for the kids to arrive. Baby goats are my favorite. I just wish she would hurry up and get them out this week while the weather is so pretty. 

Ever thinking that this time of the year will actually be easier, slower, or quieter, makes me insane by definition. There is no slow season on the farm. The work just changes through the seasons. But please don't come and take me away. I am enjoying this insanity far too much.

And now we are farmers - Part One

It all began one holiday meal. The extended family was gathered and some how the conversation turned to spacious yards, large gardens and tending a few animals. Some of us had once been farmers. Some of us had fond memories of a childhood in a rural setting. Some of us were fans of Mother Earth News. But that day we found that we were all current city dwellers longing for more space, more air, more quiet, and a degree of the self sufficiency that can be found in living off the land.

For most of us sitting around that table eating pie, the talk was of dreams and of some days and of wouldn't it be nice ifs. For my dad that that talk was an idea to grab a hold of and run with. It wasn't long until he had a radius plotted on the map to begin the search for land. He and my mom would spend their free time driving to different states looking for land that would fit the needs of the family and their budget. That spring he had a place in mind.

Our third child was only a few weeks old. At the spur of the moment, we packed the kids and headed four hours south to meet dad and the potential land. We parked our van just a little off the road at the top of hill. We looked over the hollow and as far as we could see. None of this was the land that was for sale. No, this was the right away. It was an old logging road. It was overgrown in spots. It was swampy in other spots, and it would eventually become the road to our home.

We hiked over half a mile, Kellen walking, Lydia in a backpack, and Nolan in the sling, until we came to a small ridge which is where the property began. We walked along that ridge discussing possible sites for houses, buildings, and what it might take to make it all happen. The property was nothing but woods. There were no buildings. There was no water or electric, and the right of way was impassable. Yet, it was beautiful. You truly felt like you were alone in the world as you walked it. At the same time, the property was within twenty minutes of any service, store or restaurant you could want. We fell in love.

My parents purchased the property that summer. The neighbor showed us another way to get vehicles a little closer to the property. Soon family members were camping at the property on a regular basis, and the work began.

To be continued.

The Complete Book of Butchering

I was planning to give you a thorough review of this book. The trouble is that I'm having a hard time getting it away from my husband, Tim, our resident butcher. I have been able to sneak a few peeks at the book, albeit mostly over Tim's shoulder.

Look closely at the rather long title. This book is about much more than butchering. It is also about smoking, curing, and sausage making. Butchering includes your common farm animals from cows to chickens. Wild game is also covered from Elk to fish. 

Each butchering chapter takes you step by step through the process. The pictures are detailed, but not for the weak stomached. Of course, if you have a weak stomach, you may want to reconsider the idea of butchering your own meat.

In addition to how to cut up your meat, the book provides detailed information about preserving it, using a variety of methods. I noticed Tim spent a lot of time looking at the diagrams and information about building a smoke house. He has been talking about building a smoke house for at least a year. Perhaps there is a smoke house in our near future?

One part of the book Tim was eager to point out to me was the recipes. After the butchering of each type of animal is discussed, numerous recipes are shared. Tonight we will be having roast leg of lamb, using one of the variations suggested in the book. It involves mint and grape jelly, and my mouth is already watering. 

From what I could gather from over my husband's shoulder, this book looks to live up to its title. It would be extremely helpful to those just learning the process, and obviously it is also interesting to those, like Tim, who have processed a few animals over the years. 

Fall = Comfort Food

There is so much that I love about fall. I love the cooler crisp weather, especially the cooler nights. Nothing is better than snuggling under a thick comforter to sleep for the night. I love the harvest abundance, and the fully stocked shelves that are the result of a summer spent gardening and preserving. The burst of color from the woods around us is simply breathtaking. In fact, about the only thing I don't love about fall is that winter is just around the corner.

Of all the things to love about fall though, what I love the most is the food. After a summer of eating grilled, raw or other foods that don't heat up the house, it is comforting to come back to our warm family favorites. There is time (and desire) to spend in the kitchen. The oven is cranked, and the food abundant. Chili, casseroles, soups, and baked goods rule our fall menu.

Last night's meal was a particularly good one. All the main ingredients came from right here on the farm. Let me tell you that feeding the family from things we've raised ourselves is a comfort in itself. On the menu were sweet potato fries, green beans, and the star of the show, Meatloaf.

Meatloaf
2 pounds ground meat (last night I used one pound lamb and one pound beef.)
3/4 C crushed saltines
2 eggs
1/2 C ketchup
1 onion chopped fine
2 small green peppers, chopped
1/2 tsp salt, pepper, and garlic powder
1TB Worcestershire sauce
Mix all together, frost with additional ketchup if desired, put in a loaf pan, and bake at 350 for one hour.

Maybe I just enjoy food too much, but there is something about fall comfort foods that warms me body and soul. Bring on the soups, the breads, and don't forget the desserts. I am ready!

Dear Six Year Old,

Dear Six Year Old,

I love you very much, and am happy to grant your requests with in certain guidelines and boundaries. Your latest request, alone time, fits well into the category of things that I am happy to give you. It is a big place out there. Please go find some space, and be alone for awhile. I will gladly keep your siblings from following you and disturbing your peace.

Please note, however, that when you request "alone time" which includes playing with one sister while excluding the other, you have gone beyond the boundaries of requests that I am willing to grant. By definition, my young son, that is not a request for alone time. The request is to leave out your younger sister. It is not a request that I will support.

You may scream, "It isn't fair" as much as you like. I never said I was able to give you fair. You may throw yourself on the floor. You may cry. You may kick and punch the floor or other things that you can not break, but you will do so away from me. You will do it alone in your room. As I said before, alone time I am more than willing to allow you.

I hope you enjoy your alone time. I wish you could take advantage of it without the current distress that it seems to be causing you. Alone time can be a precious gift. It is one that I wish I had at this moment.

When you are finished with the screaming, kicking, and crying, you are welcome to come and join us again. You may choose to play with all your siblings who want to play, or you may choose to seek a place for a more peaceful time to be alone. The choice is yours.

Love you,
Mom

If you don't have anything nice to say....

I haven't had much to say here on the blog lately. It isn't that there isn't anything to say, it is just that I've been in a bit of a funk. The thoughts running through my brain are grumpy and negative. I'm trying hard to keep it to myself. I've been pretty successful, at least here on the blog. In person? Well, my apologies to those who have been on the receiving end of my grumpiness and occasional rants.

I've let myself get irritated and frustrated by other people. As ridiculous and irresponsible the actions, or in actions, of people may be, they should not steal my peace and my joy. I've let self righteousness and probably envy creep in. And many days I just want to stomp my feet and scream, "It isn't fair!"

And maybe it isn't. But do I really want it to be?

The fact is I work incredibly hard at home and at work. The fact is that many days I am incredibly tired, but I remember that this is what chose. We chose homesteading and homeschooling because it is the kind of life we want for our family. I have no regrets.

I chose to go back to work because we previously did not choose to manage our finances wisely. I chose to work all weekend at a physically demanding job because it it the best fit for our financial goals and our lifestyle. I work hard there, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I couldn't stand myself if I didn't.

The fact is that my rest, my peace, and my joy don't come from myself or from anyone else around me. Those things only come from the life of Christ in me. No matter how lazy, annoying, and selfish the people around me are, I do not have to be irritated and frustrated. Focusing on them is keeping my focus from where it should be. And that only makes me grumpy. It certainly isn't fixing them.

My Little Farm Hands

Last week the older two children were on vacation with my mom. You can read more about that on Kellen's blog, and Tim and I had a day off together for the first time in months. So, how do we enjoy our "almost" family time? By working of course.

There were too many roosters in the chicken house. For you chicken owners, you know what that means. For everyone else, let's just say that the hens were not happy. The roosters had to go.

Funny, when Kellen and Lydia left for Canada, Nolan was very excited to be the big kid in the house. It didn't take long for him to realize though, the big kid does more work too. Nolan and Vivian helped us pluck (a few of ) fourteen roosters. They weren't too thrilled about the wet feathers. I can't say that I blame them. What a mess!

Don't worry we did not over work the kids. They had plenty of rest breaks and play time.  What could be better than laying on a stack of feed lovin' on a kitten. The stuff childhood dreams are made of.

 

Now, that Tim's crazy schedule has come to an end and the entire family is home together more evenings and days, I imagine that there will be lots more family work projects. There is plenty to do around here before winter.

Farm Work Beats Housework

I've been procrastinating.

There has been a dirty task that needed my attention. I just didn't want to do it. The chicken house was in desperate need of a cleaning.

The chickens have a huge run and access to the woods. The layers take full advantage of this. They explore the full range of their territory thus leaving most of their droppings out there instead of in the chicken. When it is just the layers, the chicken house stays relatively clean.

The meat birds, however, are another story. They too have access to the large run and the woods, but they choose to spend the vast majority of their day situated as close as possible to the feeders. I bring a variety of food to them in the chicken house, but generally they are just too lazy to venture outside to find greens and bugs like most chickens do. So, as a result, these birds leave almost all their droppings in the chicken house. And boy do they make a lot of droppings, a lot of very stinky, gross, droppings. When we have a batch of meat birds, the chicken house really needs cleaned daily.

It had been a little longer than that.

Oh, I had lots of excuses. There was the selling and distributing of a small amount of hamburger. There was the fact that I started school with the younger two. There was work to be done in the garden, laundry to do, hot weather, and list of 100s of excuses that I made to not deal with that stinkin' mess out there. Today though, I determined, was the day to get it done.

It was hot today, around 95. I had other things that had to be done in the morning. So, I didn't get out there until after lunch. It was hot, but not too bad. The chicken house is in the shade and there are fans in there. It was stinky, but really you adjust. I dug into the task.

About half way through, I had a sudden realization that cleaning the chicken house wasn't really that bad. Why had I put it off?  I was pleased with how the chicken house looked, and with the fact that my garden was getting huge nitrogen boost from all the droppings. I realized, with some surprise,  that I'd rather clean the chicken house, than do dishes, laundry or pretty much any other cleaning in my house. Yes, I'd pick farm work, even shoveling stinky chicken poo, over house work any day of the week.

My house shows it.

When I have time to work around home, I invariably pick a farm or garden task. Really, I will pick just about anything over cleaning. Somehow that little revelation, while shoveling chicken poo, gave me a little freedom. I can't be everything. I can't do everything. I do what I have to keep some semblance of order and cleanliness in the house, but the animals and the garden are what I enjoy. They are what I'll choose any day. (Well, any day there isn't company coming over that is, or at least company I don't know well.)  And that is just fine!

In fact, it is a privilege to do work that I actually enjoy, instead of work I feel I am supposed to, or work I need to do in order to earn cash. It is a joy, and I need to stop beating myself up (and comparing myself to others) about the things I don't get done, and enjoy the blessings that come from the things that I do get done.

Now, I am hoping that one of my children discover they enjoy cleaning the house.

From Their Perspective

My kids never cease to amaze me. Admittedly, in the past few months of craziness with our adjustments here and the normal hectic fall schedule, I have not spent much one on one time with them as I would like. This week Kellen and Lydia are in Canada. They went with my mom to visit my Aunt Nancy. It is a great opportunity for them to spend time with family, and to see many interesting and educational sites.

But it is also good for Nolan and Vivian. I am amazed at how well the two of them have been playing together. It has been refreshing. It is also a great time for me to spend a little extra time with each of them. Something they both need, but Nolan especially who has been acting out a bit lately.

This morning we worked in the garden planting some fall crops. (A little late, but I'm hoping for the best.) We chatted, and they played, and they came back to plant a little more. It was an enjoyable morning. Conversations with a six year old and a four year old are funny sometimes, and sometimes their perspective on things catch me by surprise.

As we were digging holes, Nolan asked me where a friend of his kept his garden. When I told him that his friend did not have a garden, Nolan's eyes got really big and he asked, "But how do they grow their food?" I responded, "They don't." He was shocked, "Where do they get their food?" I told him that they buy it. For some reason, I don't quite understand, it was like a totally new concept to him. Really, we do go to the grocery store. We do buy food there, but I guess to him we've always had gardens and raised our own meat, and that is how everyone gets their food too.

I told Nolan and Vivian we would start school this week (finally.) Well actually I was just planning to start school with Nolan. Since she is only four, I really didn't plan on school for Vivian this year, but she is insistent that she gets to do school too, and how do you say no to a kid who wants to learn?

All morning Vivian was asking to start school. While we were in the garden, she asked about school for the 100th time. I said to her, "Isn't working in the garden school? Aren't you learning how to plant?" Truly, that is how I feel about school. Everyday really is school. Everyday they are learning about animals, plants, the Lord, cooking, cleaning, being polite, or a hundred other life skills that they will need later. In the elementary grades, I am primarily concerned that they learn to read, write, have basic math skills, but most of all learn to love learning. Though we do use books for some of that, much of our learning comes through everyday life experiences. Vivian, however, does not share my educational philosphy.

In response to my, "Isn't working in the garden school?" comment. I got a perturbed look and a firm, "No." I asked her what school was, and she responded, "You have to do papers." She might as well have added, "DUH." to her statement according to the tone of her voice.

So after finishing our lunch, which consisted almost entirely of food grown here, (How do families with out gardens eat?!) we are pulling out the "papers" and officially starting school.