We have officially been here on the farm for two years now. In some ways the time has flown by, and in others it seems a lifetime ago. When we began our farming adventures here, we thought we knew what we were getting in to. We had some experience, spent countless hours researching and planning, and had a network of friends and family to talk with if we had a problem. No matter how well you prepare for it though, the farming life can certainly throw some surprise at you!   

Growing up I knew I wanted to be a farmer. My biggest dream was to live on a farm, have a big garden, beautiful rolling hills dotted with animals, the smell of flowers in the gentle breeze, as I walk through a perfectly clean barn on a bright sunny day. There are only a few things wrong with the scenario I used to play in my head:   

• 1) In my visions I was always clean!  
• 2) In my visions the barn was always clean!  
• 3) There were no dirty animals!  
• 4) The air smelled like flowers!  

 Do you see a pattern here? Not once in all of my day dreaming did I conjure up a picture of me splattered in mud in the pouring rain chasing an escaped dirty pig through the yard and back into it’s electric fence with lightening flashing all around. Reality is quit different from my childhood dreams, but it is also so much more exciting! The longer we are here, the more we realize there are many things we never knew about farming!    

Pigs are clean animals  

Really, they are! Pigs do not wander around in their own filth as many people think. In the wintertime, our pigs are usually spotlessly clean on pretty days. However, pigs can not sweat. So in the summer time when the temperatures climb, they must find a way to cool down. They do so by taking a mud bath! The cool mud serves two purposes. First it cools the pig, and second it acts as a sun block preventing their skin from burning. You will notice that when the temperature goes back down pigs will seek a source of water and take a bath. They enjoy being clean! In the winter when the weather is very messy and muddy, our pigs do their best to stay clean. Even if it means taking a bath in t heir drinking water!  

Roosters are not good alarm clocks

We have all seen the movies where the rooster crows at dawn to wake the family up for their daily farm chores. Either the movies didn’t do their research, or our roosters are defective! When we had only two roosters thing were pretty quiet. One was dominant, and the other was ok with that. Our problem began when we started hatching our own chicks. We soon found ourselves with roosters of all ages. As they matured, these roosters would begin to compete for rank amongst themselves. The result, crowing from midnight to 6 am! Now, we try not to keep more than a handful of roosters of a mature breeding age. Typically, we have 1 rooster for every 6-8 hens. At this ratio, we have cut out much of the all night crowing!  

During a drought, cut hay

During the summer if you find yourself going through a period of drought and you really need rain, cut hay. Ok, maybe this isn’t based on solid scientific facts but it seems to me that every time the weather report says it will be clear and we cut hay…. It rains! So logically I am thinking a good way to end a drought is to cut hay! So next time your garden is dry, cracked, and resembling the grand canyon just go cut some hay.    

Get used to dirt  

The first spring we lived here I tried in vain to keep the kids clean outside. I honestly thought we could all get through our daily chores without getting messy. Ha! If you want to farm, seriously farm with more than just a horse in a barn stall, you are going to get dirty! Best thing to do is just accept this, go buy a pair of rubber boots and a few pairs of blue jeans and get to it. Throw your hair up in a ponytail, dig out that old t-shirt you haven’t worn since college and enjoy yourself! Chances are no one will see you anyway, and who cares if they do? There are some advantages to being known as “the crazy lady.”  

Farms do not have to smell

Everyone always associates farms with bad animal smells. One of our family’s favorite movies is Nanny McPhee 2. I love the scene where “the cousins” come to visit the farm. The little boy steps out of the car into messy, muddy, manure covered ground and says, “We’re in the land of poo!”  Most people just believe that is expected. While it is true that most factory farms do stink due to the large concentration of animals in small areas, smaller farms and well ran large farms do not have to smell. Using proper land use ratios, adequate bedding, and good husbandry a farm can be pretty near odor free. So it may not smell like fresh flowers in a gentle breeze, but any properly ran operation regardless of the type of livestock raised can maintain a low odor, even on the hottest summer day. Joel Salatin, leading farm advocate and author of many books including Folks, This Ain’t Normal (one of my favorites!) covers this topic, and many more typical farmyard myths.    

Dirty Stalls are not a bad thing

Lets re-phrase that, deep litter stalls are not a bad thing. I used to believe that a properly cleaned barn or pen was spotless with a single layer of clean bedding on the floor. The more I am learning about natural farming methods though the more we are seeing this isn’t the case. The most efficient, healthy, and productive way of handling stalls and pens is to use plenty of bedding, and repeatedly layer new bedding on top of the old. Then, when you have accumulated several layers of alternating manure and bedding, it can all be removed and used as compost. For more on this topic, I would highly recommend Holy Shit by Gene Logsdon. We are currently using this method in our junior poultry pens. We now have a nice bed nearly 10 inches thick of manure and bedding! And guess what? In a pen of 37 birds there is absolutely no odor beyond the smell of hay and feed.  

Bet your daydreams never included this image!

My Dad came over two weekends ago to watch the kids for us on a cold, wet Saturday so we could get some chores done that required more than one able body at a time. Our list of things to do that day included: Worm, vaccinate and do toenail trims on 14 sheep then band one young ram. Castrate, worm, and vaccinate a boar pig. Move four sheep into a new pasture. And finally, band, worm, and vaccinate a 300 lb. Bull calf.  The weather was supposed to be over cast, windy, with a 20% chance of late afternoon showers. I headed outside in a pair of old jeans, hiking boots, t-shirt and light jacket. Things were going smooth and quickly for a while. Had a little trouble with a few unruly sheep but nothing major. All we had left was doing the bull and moving the sheep. We were congratulating ourselves on what good time we were making! Suddenly, a rain drop lands on my nose. Then another, and within minutes a heavy, steady rain.  The temperature quickly dropped and the wind picked up. Andrew is holding the bull while I have the unpleasant task of banding and vaccinating. As I am standing to one side with my leg bracing the bull and my head practically upside down trying to fit a band on a wet bull Andrew starts laughing. He says, “Bet you never thought you’d be doing THIS when you grew up!” I can only imagine what I looked like there at that moment with my hair plastered to me, shivering in my saturated jacket with sheep and cow crap down my pants and blood on my shirt (where did that come from?). In that moment I realized how strong my marriage is. If he can love me looking like that, then we’re doing just fine! And no, I can honestly say I never, ever, not once, thought I would be doing that when I was young!   

Cats aren’t just cute house pets

Andrew is not a cat person. He never really has been, sure he has tolerated one here or there for my sake a few times during our marriage. That’s about where his relationship with them has ended. Until recently. Last year we found ourselves over run with rats in the garden, mice in the feed sacks, and moles all over the yard. We had not owned a cat in three years. Andrew agreed it may be time to call in back up. So we brought home our first two kittens Boots and Tiger. They sleep in the feed shed and enjoy their run of the place, coming inside to play with the kids in their down time. Things quickly improved, and we began receiving “presents” on the front porch when they were only three months old. Tiger is no longer with us, but we have since added Milo, Max, Jinx, and Stix to the line-up. Boots has trained them well, and we have not seen a live mouse or rat since last summer! The moles are fewer as well. I would much rather feed a few cats than be over run with rodents!  

Some things you just can’t learn from books. You have to live them, experience them, and learn as you go. While our life here doesn’t exactly match what I had pictured in my dreams, I wouldn’t have it any other way.   

Follow our farming adventures at “Ans Farms” on Facebook!  

"I feel like I've been taking speed all day every day," I said.

Justin said, "It's called happiness."

This afternoon while hoeing the garden, I thought how good it was to be in the earth, in the air, smelling and feeling everything. It's no stretch to say that sitting in front of a screen in a dark windowless office all day isn’t natural. It's depressing at minimum. Unhealthy too. Later after covering myself in dirt, I hopped in the shower, rinsing off the evidence of my efforts, and thought maybe I should decide how much I need to make each year and shoot for that. Working for “enough” so I have freedom to do what I want.

We call our place Soggy Island Farm, a name that came to me in a dream at the Mother Earth News Fair (along with a jingle!) But it's not really a farm. It’s a tiny 1937 Sears & Roebuck kit house sitting on a half-acre lot on Hatteras Island, forty miles off the coast of North Carolina in a place called the Outer Banks. It's as remote as you can get in a lot of ways and still stay in the lower 48, aside from some sort of mountain hut. If you haven’t lived out east, you probably haven’t heard of it. Hatteras Island is a barrier island with 4,000 total year-round residents, and in hurricane alley. But, during its lifetime our house has never taken water. His grandpa built the house and it's been in the family ever since, with Justin taking over eight years ago and myself joining him this year. In the backyard his grandpa tended a massive garden, which we’ve been working on restoring, as well as a lot of little projects, both of us crazy into sustainability and simple living. Justin's a graphic artist and works from home and I'm only doing fill-in stints (as an optometrist) which leaves us a lot of freedom to do what we want.

1937 Sears & Roebuck kit house  

The two of us came from rural families. He from the Outer Banks and myself from the Midwest. My mom and dad were both farm kids and instilled in us the value of self-sufficiency. Growing up, our side yard was a massive garden that we tended ourselves. Rows, straight as an arrow marked with lines of taut string over the crops: peas, beans, potatoes, carrots. We did a lot by hand- canning, homemade clothes, and solar panels propped up behind the house looking like abandoned box springs. During the summers my sisters and I spent our days biking and climbing trees, picking a carrot or raspberry from the garden when the urge hit us. To this day, I prefer a carrot with a little dirt on it.

It's thrilling to be back in the soil. Gardening makes me acutely aware of the changing seasons. Fall is the time of year I've traditionally reserved for dark thoughts of winter to come. The leaves crumpling up and drifting to the earth, leaving barren trees. The anniversary of my dad's death. Long dark days. But this year it's been different. This year, I'm ready for colder weather and the changing of life that goes along with the seasons. On the first of November, I'll be a permanent resident on the island of Hatteras. We've been working on the house for the last ten months, but now it'll be my home.

Justin and I are homesteading the house and our relationship. We are mostly kindred souls with strong work ethic and the propensity to eat vegetables and wear old clothes forever. We're pretty cheap, and have the same child-like wonder when approaching new projects. We like music and art and documentaries. After years of complicated relationships, this is so easy. Even with all this island chaos surrounding us and the threat of high seas and hurricanes, we are solid footing together and we'll weather the tests of time.

In this blog, I plan to chronicle our projects as we take them on, as well as offer up some writing on the feeling of life on the island. I welcome advice and comments, and hope to learn by sharing.

Justin and myself on the Carolina Coast  

Thank you for reading.

The following photo ©Wendy Piermat Mitzel

I live in Suffield,  Connecticut, a small, rural community with a rich, farming history dating back to the 1600s. Each year, the town  gathers to celebrate our past and commit to preserving the town’s agricultural legacy at “Farm Fest.”  This past Labor Day weekend, we participated in the 10th Annual Farm Fest at Hilltop Farm, the focus of which is clearly on entertaining and educating the children about the importance of respecting and caring for our farmland and community. Our children enjoyed activities from harvesting potatoes to shucking corn, milking cows to riding ponies, riding in a tractor parade and observing bees making honey.

Next year, I think I'll bring real chickens and eggs to give the town's kids the full experience.

 
The tractor parade is always a highlight for us.

 My friend, Lauren Hastings Kaplan, preparing for a milking demonstration.

 Digging for potatoes.

Being a backyard chicken-keeper has fostered in me a genuine sense of connectedness to the land, my food and my community that I had never previously felt. My hope is that in sowing the seeds of rural pride with our children, their appreciation for the land and sustainability will grow into a feeling of civic responsibility for maintaining it.  

 You know you live in a farm town when you can recognize the cows by name. This is Ginger (left). She lives at Hastings Farm, where I sell my fresh eggs.

 The Wingmasters, Birds of Prey demonstration was riveting. The Red-tailed hawk was once on the brink of extinction due to the use of DDT but is no longer in danger due in part to the efforts of raptor rehabilitators such as Anne Collier (shown).  This partiular hawk was hit by a car and cannot be released back into the wild.

 This 33 year old Golden Eagle named Dakota weighs 17 pounds and has a wing span of 7 feet. She used to be able to fly at speeds up to 100 miles per hour and take down an adult antelope until someone shot her in the wing, permanently disabling her.

 This Barn Owl is not indigenous to New England and despite having found his way here, is not cold-hardy, which explains why he and his friends can be found in barns seeking warmth.

A little bit about the history of Hilltop Farm: George M. Hendee, of Indian Motorcycle fame, founded Hilltop Farm in 1913, completing his “Monster Barn” at the beginning of World War I in 1914. Two years later, he retired to this 500-acre farm, raising a prized herd of Guernsey cows known as Hilltop Butterfats, which became well-known throughout the cattle breeding industry. He also established a model poultry plant for the breeding of White Leghorn chickens. Hilltop Farm became an important producer of milk, dairy and poultry
products. 

The Hilltop Farm property:

 

In 1940, Charles Stroh, a prominent Connecticut attorney and public servant, bought the farm from Hendee, who died in 1943.
Over the years, Stroh downsized operations and subdivided the farm. After Stroh died in 1992, farming on the remaining 250 acres soon ceased. In 2002, the Town of Suffield acquired 117 acres and “The Friends of the Farm at Hilltop,”a non-profit, all volunteer organization, was formed to save George Hendee’s 20,000-square-foot dairy barn from sale and possible demolition. 

The vision of The Friends of the Farm at Hilltop is to help people connect with the land and learn from it. They believe there is nothing that can’t be learned on a farm: caring for the land, growing food, building and repairing, responsibility, creativity, leadership, recycling, teamwork and more.  It is for these reasons that The Friends work to rehabilitate structures and bring the farmland back into production with crops, animals, conservation areas and hands-on learning opportunities. Personally, I'm looking forward to the day when this chicke coop might be restored to its former glory. It was a beauty in its time.

 

 For more images and information about this historic property that is the heart of the place I call home, please visit:   http://www.hilltopfarmsuffield.org/ 

I invite you to follow my blog, http://www.The-Chicken-Chick.com, to get the latest posts delivered directly to your email inbox, Google dashboard, by NetworkedBlogs on Facebook or RSS feed!  

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Today, I'm supposed to be at class number four of the Central Illinois Farm Beginnings program. But I'm not. I'm at my kitchen table, writing this blog, and feeling surprisingly OK about it.

The combination of a wonderful but demanding promotion that caused work to bleed into my weekends and my dire lack of knowledge about farming led me to the conclusion that I need to step back, reassess, and rethink the order in which I'm doing things. So the farm class is on hold. I'm not really a drop-out, I've just deferred continuing until next year, but "drop-out" made a better headline. 

I have this tendency to run headlong into things. Once my mind is made up, it's like the starting gun has been fired and I GO! This has served me well so far. After three months of dating, my husband and I decided to get married, and we did so just three months later. Next fall, we'll celebrate our 25th anniversary. When I decided it was time to move from our last house, we had our property on the market and sold in about two weeks, and bought a new house just a week after that. So when I decided that it was time to learn more about farming, I didn't hesitate to plunge into a class aimed at starting a farm business. I thought I was ready. But I'm not. Or maybe I was just on the wrong track.

I am ready, however, to get my hands dirty, and that is exactly the place I need to start. I need a season of planting something in my backyard patch of clay, of learning to make and use compost, of building a coop and getting a few hens. I have to start somewhere, and I've recognized that the place to do it is on this suburban plot I call Half-Acre Farm. Now I need to dig in. 

After my first day in class, I wrote about the irony of learning to farm in a windowless classroom—the very environment I'm seeking to escape. I still think there's a place for what I was learning there, I just think I need to earn a place in that classroom first. As a wise farmer friend said to me, "Courses are great fun and very helpful, but learning by jumping in is exhilarating." It's funny—I was thinking that by taking a class in the business of farming, I was jumping in—but maybe I was jumping around the fact that no matter how much I learn about farming, there's only one way to become a farmer, and that's to do it. So, deep breath! Time to plunge in.

The goal now? Chickens. I've been talking about it forever. Time to do. Time to GO! Let's see if this time, I'm on the right track.
 

Ah, reality. At this weekend’s Central Illinois Farm Beginnings class, it made a strong appearance.

In the previous two weeks, I’d spent time pondering the vision and mission for my business, with the help of worksheets provided by Purdue Extension. It was time well spent.

I clarified my overall goals and values, deducing that I want to connect people to their food in a meaningful way and create a unique, engaging, and educational experience around my farm. My “farm enterprise,” I’ve been calling it, because it has taken on dimensions beyond farming.

What I envision is not just land that I farm, but plots that I rent to people interested in growing their own food but who might not have access their own land, and who would enjoy learning to farm within a community of like-minded people. The enterprise will include raising livestock for meat and dairy. We’ll have a commercial kitchen for baking, canning, and cheese-making, and a climate-controlled room for aging cheese and sausages. We’ll have a retail shop on premises to sell all that we produce. And, since my husband is an artist, we’ll also have an art gallery—and since he has trained as a barista, maybe even a coffee shop! 

But wait, there’s more! We’ll bring in young chefs to give cooking lessons. Once a month, we’ll host fabulous dinners featuring food from our farm or other local farms. It will be a destination, a magical place that makes visitors feel warm, welcome, and part of a terrific community. 

Don’t you wish you were there right now?

Excited about having this big picture in place, and buoyed by the fact that there is a couple successfully combining farming and art at the Wormfarm Institute in Wisconsin, I headed off to class feeling good that I know what I want to do. The topic of the day was doing a SWOT analysis, identifying the Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats to our farm business ideas.

Strengths came first. I had a list of about 20 or so, from having strong communication skills and marketing experience to knowing when to ask for help.

Then came weaknesses. A much shorter list, but the items on it revealed serious issues: No farm. No farming experience. No experience with livestock. No money to buy a farm in the near future. Debt.

Then came the assignment: Have a proposal for our farm business ready to share with farmers for evaluation in two weeks. Two weeks!  

The proposal should include our vision, mission, and personal goals; a map of our proposed farm; rough estimates for one or two enterprises (such as selling eggs and/or selling chickens for meat); and a rough plan of how we will market our products.

Ah, reality. Hello. 

On the drive home, I couldn’t decide if I felt like a deer in headlights or a deer who can’t stop herself from leaping onto the road and into the side of semi. Either way the fate of my dream seemed bleak, mirrored in the long, dark-red streaks I kept seeing on the highway.

Lucky for me, my list of strengths also includes determination, not afraid of hard work, and embracing creative problem solving.

I thought over my lists again, and moved one of my listed weaknesses to my strengths: the half-acre lot we live on. It’s mostly wooded, shady, and half of it slopes sharply down to a creek, but work with what you’ve got, I told myself. Figure out how to turn this far-from-ideal-for-farming suburban plot into a mini-business, and scale it up to farm-size when the time is right.

So.  

Welcome to Half-Acre Farm. 

I’m now researching what might grow in this space, starting with the 12-by-24-foot garden that gets maybe four to six hours of sunlight. (Skip the fruit-bearing vegetables like tomatoes and squash, I’ve already learned, but greens, herbs, and root vegetables might do OK.) 

I had already planted winter rye in an attempt to improve the soil (clay fill that was packed in—and I mean packed in—after the in-ground swimming pool was destroyed last summer.)  

The rye will grow through the winter, and I’ll cut it down and till it in come spring. I’ve also started composting, creating a bin for us and one for our neighbors, who are happy to contribute.

I need to plan for chickens next. Where this shed is located seems like a perfect spot for a coop that I could keep fairly secure from raccoons, coyotes, and foxes.  

But as I learned today from John Franzese, who provides the most excellent Fran’s Farm Fresh Eggs to our South Suburban Food Co-op, it’s not enough to have a secure coop. I need to consider, too, how to protect chickens from hawks, which are in abundance in these woods. He keeps a couple turkeys as deterrent, although he said owls are not afraid to take those bigger birds down—and we’ve got lots of owls, too!

I’ve also started looking into mushrooms, since this environment seems like a natural (wild varieties are always popping up in the yard.)

Suddenly, what seemed like the easier solution—working with what I’ve got rather than creating a hypothetical, non-existent situation—is seeming not so easy at all. Which is good. (My optimism is out of control.) I believe that if I can work this out and actually create a feasible, profitable business, no matter how miniscule that profit may be, I’ll be better prepared for full-time farming than had I worked with an imaginary, idealistic setting.

Reality, bring it on! I'm ready for the challenge.

I think. 

I hope. 

Can I do it?

I’ll keep you posted. 

Eleven inches.  That's how much snow I was under this last week.  It's definitely a change for southern Tennessee.  Just thinking about it makes me want to stay inside all day, but when there's work to be done, what can you do?  Well here are a couple of tips to make your frostbitten toes feel a little better:

1. Don't calve in winter.  About three days after the snow fell, I checked on the cows and found a cow with a new heifer calf.  I purchased the cow bred last year.  She calves just before Christmas so I expected another new arrival about now.  The rest of my cows calve between March and May, when it's much warmer.  Since she calved in winter, and there aren’t any growing grasses, I have to purchase alfalfa pellets to supplement her increased nutritional needs.

2.  Metal water troughs freeze faster than rubber or thick plastic.  Thin plastic troughs break too easily.  Your best case scenario is to keep a dark colored trough (or stock tank) out of the wind, but where the sun hits it.  The sunlight comes in from the southern part of the sky this time of year (as opposed to nearly directly overhead in summer), so blocking the wind on all but the south side of the tank is best.

3.  If possible, fill water bowls and stock tanks with just enough water for a 12-hour period (daylight).  It doesn't matter how much water your dogs or sheep or chickens have if the excess is covered in two inches of ice.  Whenever possible, ice skimmers or water warmers (or anything else that keeps the ice thawed) is best.

4. I have three words for you: Deep, dry, bedding.  If you keep bedding deep and out of the wind and rain, most pets and livestock do quite well.  If possible, try to avoid solitary animals.  Animals buddy up to keep warm.  Just don't go overboard and board up every little nook and cranny of your barn.  The moisture from the animal’s breath, urine, and feces needs to escape to keep everything dry.

5.  Use electricity wisely.  More than one barn has burned to the ground by a well-meaning farmer who plugged in a heat lamp.  Remember to keep cords away from animals, and use safety cages so if the light falls, a hot bulb won't be sitting on dry straw.  Personally, I only use heat in extreme cases.  Keeping livestock out of the wind and in the dry eliminates the need for extra heat most of the time.

GRIT Guest Blogger Evan Blake Welch hails from Louisville, Colorado. He’s interning at GRIT this summer with plans to attend college at Ft. Lewis College in Durango, Colorado, in the fall. A young, promising genius, he’s yet to decide on his major.

Life in my 19 years of existence had been the prescribed suburban Walmart and IHOP cookie-cutter neighborhood experience. I grew up in the same generic town as many Americans. Occasional field-trips to my uncle’s hobby farm was as far as my farming experience went. I knew I wanted a life closer to nature, and frankly I wanted to know where my food came from. A trip to Chile seemed like a perfect opportunity to step out of the mold and live off grid.

Situated in the foothills of the vast Andes 60 miles south of Santiago, Chile, sat the Acevedo compound. A backdrop of vast vineyards, palm trees, and happy residents was the norm in the suburb called Buin. Parakeets, chickens, horses, cows, pigs, and wandering dogs could be heard from any vantage at my new home.

Corn, tomatoes, squash, and onions were grown there, and potatoes supplemented income for a seemingly lazy but satisfying lifestyle.

A self-sustained lifestyle was a natural choice for my new family.

Irrigation ditches were a common sight in all of the suburban yards, and chickens were sprawled throughout the town often scratching beside the highway. Closeness to nature and farm life was easy to find in spite of the urbanities nearby. Most everything was made by hand, with what ever supplies were readily available, including the house being built for the daughter and her husband-to-be. The builder in the neighborhood built a house alone with help from his two sons (9 and 12 years old). Work certainly came second to friends and family. They were content with less stuff and more free time. It was a slower pace of living for sure.

After a light breakfast, a fresh avocado ham and cheese sandwich, I would start my chores. Simple mundane work, it was perfect. I fed the chickens (there were forty-some for eggs), cleaned the modest stables, and weeded the nearby potato field, then siesta. The family’s main income came from transporting workers to and from the neighborhood vineyard. I rode along with them, then siesta. Some more farm chores came soon after, and then, yes, more siesta. Watching the horse-driven plow was something I won’t soon forget. Other than futbol the main recreation for the family was spending time with each other, and it was the farm lifestyle that made it possible.

Most of what we ate came from either the backyard or farms no more than 5 miles from the house. An assortment of tomato, watermelon, peach, and corn farms decorated the countryside.

I’m sure towns like Buin can be found in the U.S., I know there are great communities that come together, but the coolest thing was the that the close proximity of massive cities didn’t hinder the choice of living as they wanted to. The farm existed because they wanted it to, they didn’t need its sustenance. They most definitely didn’t have to wage war against any city council for a few backyard chickens. I learned that a homestead style of life was as satisfying as I imagined it. I brought back with me a dream of having an American homestead, in laid-back Chilean style.

Here in the southeastern states, the pine trees are abundant – which means so is pine straw.

Pine straw comes from several different species of pine trees. The pine trees drop their needles naturally throughout the year. Once the straw drops to the ground, it can be baled, used for mulch and many other uses, without ever having to cut down a single tree.

The pine trees also produce pine cones.

Baling and selling pine straw is a large industry here in Georgia. (Bale modeled by Lionel the cat)

The Loblolly Pine tree is one of several native pine trees and is the most important commercial timber tree in the southeastern United States.  There are also Long Needle, Short Needle, Slash, Spruce and I am sure other varieties of Southern Yellow Pine trees growing everywhere in rural and not so rural areas of Georgia.

We planted about 15 acres of Loblolly pine trees 14 years ago. The trees are now bearing and shedding enough pine needles to use for mulch around the farm. We use the mulch in the raised beds and garden.

The pine straw doesn't float and wash away. It breaks down more slowly so it doesn't need to be reapplied as frequently as other mulches. The pine straw mulch also helps hold in moisture in our long, hot, and usually dry summers here in Georgia.

We pile the pine straw heavy around the tomato plants.

It makes great mulch for my flowers.

We use pine straw in the nest boxes.

Pine straw is great in the brooder. We found it better than wood shavings because the biddies (baby chicks) can't eat the pine straw.

We use this pine straw baler my husband made to bale pine straw.

How to make a bale of pine straw.

We store the bales in the barn loft.

Where the bales of pine straw sometimes serve another very important purpose. A nest to hatch more barn banties.

What do you use for mulch? Do you have other uses for pine straw?

We are still decompressing from the MOSES Organic and Sustainable Farming Conference. On Wednesday of last week, we sent the kiddos over to Grandma's house and headed to La Crosse, about a 3 hour drive. We rented a room at a B&B about 45 minutes north of La Crosse. We got there just before 4 pm and checked in. It is a lovely little farmhouse out in the boonies owned and operated by a nice couple. If you follow the link, our room was the "English Country" room. We got a nice deal because it's the off season and took advantage of a stay away from the standard hotel.

The next day we had a wonderful homemade breakfast and headed off to La Crosse. We were going to a full day of a single class called Organic University. This is extra aside from the main conference itself and we each took a class that interested us. Andy went to Dairy Herd Nutrition and Rations. I went to Understanding the Biological Connection between Plants and Soil.

Now, I could talk about what we learned, which was vast. But I'm going to focus on the people that we met and things that we learned from them. In my class, I happened to sit next to a man in his 60s from North Dakota. He and I got to talking about what brought us here and our farms. He is a certified organic crop farmer but wasn't always that way. I asked him why he decided to go organic back in the '80s.

He said it was a culmination of a lot of things, but one instance stood out for him. He had originally gone to school to be a chemist. He'd had to learn all the root words of a lot of the chemicals we use. One of them was the Latin word "cide." He asked me, "What do you think 'cide' means?"

I didn't know where he was going with this, so I said I didn't know. He continued, "Think ... homicide, suicide ..."

I chimed in, "Pesticide, herbicide ... does it mean death?"

He said. "Yes, 'cide' is Latin for kill. So after 20 years of farming, I suddenly remembered my schooling and asked myself, 'What am I doing, spreading death all over my farm?'"

I found that statement so profound, I had to write it down with my notes from the plant class.

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After our daylong class ended, we had a dinner set up with all the 2010 MOSES Mentors/Mentees. You see, we applied for the opportunity to be set up with an existing organic farmer doing a lot of the same things we are doing and to learn from them over the following year. The cost is $200, but that includes one free ticket to Organic University ($150), a free ticket to the organic conference ($175), and a free ticket to the Organic Conference in 2011 ($175)! On top of that, you get free lunches/dinner each day and a whole year of applied mentor training as intensive as you need it. Unfortunately we applied late and missed the deadline in December. Because of that, we applied for a scholarship to help offset both of us attending (a potential $650, plus $300 for hotel, $50 for gas and $60 for help back at the farm).

In January we learned that we had been awarded a scholarship for Andy, taking care of his conference fees completely. I had been awarded a scholarship that covered half of my conference fees. It was a complete blessing and sign that we should go through with this. We still wanted to attend Organic University, but the extra $300 seemed a little daunting yet.

Then we got a call from one of the MOSES directors and she had good news. A few people dropped out of the mentoring program and they had a spot open just for us! And we were going to be paired with a farmer from Fond Du Lac that is part of our Local Foods Network, Robyn Calvey of Park Ridge Organics. Hooray! So after shuffling the money a little bit, we were both going to the conference and university on only $350. It was amazing.

And on Thursday evening, we got to meet all the other farmers lined up in the program. It was a good meal and we enjoyed hearing the experienced mentors' stories of years passed. Now we look forward to learning as much as we can from Robyn, who runs a 70 person CSA and does farmers' markets every week.

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On Friday, we attended our first session together. It was about unconventional farmers and talked about some farming history as well as showcasing a farm family from North Dakota who buck the system and save seeds professionally. Theresa Podoll spoke for her family and was very inspiring with regards to her journey into organic life and being self sustaining. There is a book published about her and some other farmers bucking agribusiness called "Deeply Rooted."

She showed a plethora of photos, including a lot of the varieties of veggies she grows for various organic seeds companies. Many of them are named with the word Dakota in them.

One of these was a small popcorn variety called Dakota Black. I couldn't believe my eyes! WE had grown Dakota Black just last year! And we saved a bunch of seed for this year because it was such a good crop. I was giddy. It was a weird feeling. I mean, you order from a catalog and you never think about where the seed comes from. That it is individual growers who make the catalog possible. And I can admit that I've never thought about that even once before. Suddenly, right in front of me is a living, breathing person who had an intimate role in our garden last year...and I never even knew she existed before.

I had to go up to her after the session ended and tell her about our popping corn. Am I a dork? I could hardly contain my joy! I walked up to Theresa and explained to her that we had grown that corn for the first time and even had a photo on my computer of a cob in the field. Her face just lit up and she asked a bunch of questions about the crop and our farm. She vigorously shook my hand and stated that it was so wonderful to hear feedback and meet the people planting the seeds she grew.

Isn't that funny? Here I was all star struck because I was about to meet the "author" of our corn seeds and she was just as excited to meet someone face to face who grew her precious seed "offspring." VERY cool.

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In the trade show we ran into several friends from the Farm To Consumer Legal Defense Fund (of which we are card carrying members). It was great to meet these folks in person after months/years of email and phone conversations. We also met a young couple that started their own business helping farmers make websites.

Naturally we were drawn to the idea of a user friendly web builder, as we don't have one for ourselves just yet. We chatted with Simon and Melanie for quite awhile on the capabilities of SmallFarmCentral.com. They had an informal meeting set up for 6 that night after the last session and dinner. We decided to go check it out. More on that later.

After our lunch and two more sessions, we went into the large hall for dinner. We sat with a couple that we knew and a couple that we did not know. They were young and, we learned, still in college. Both had dreams of owning a farm and selling direct to consumers. We got on the subject of obtaining raw milk in Minnesota, where they live, and Andy and I remembered a wonderful store in the Twin Cities. This store is members only, like Sam's Club and brings in only locally produced food. Not just milk and eggs and meat. But produce, canned goods and homemade wines, jams and bread. Seriously, it's like the grocery store of old with everything locally sourced! Somehow the rules are different in MN and they can do this on a large scale.

This young pair had never heard of it, though they live in St. Paul. We happened to know that the owner of said store was at this very conference, manning a booth in the trade show. We quickly wrapped up our meals and headed to find Will Winters.

Will is a tall farmer/salesman, unashamedly wearing his greying hair unkempt beneath a black cowboy hat. His eyes sparkle with life and he dishes out jokes and down-home truth with every breath. We first met him about this time last year in Green Bay. He was giving an all day talk on alternative health. Andy and I attended his talk with a tiny Ethan attached, barely a month old. After the riveting lecture, we had a chance to talk more with him about his basic mod us operand us. This is when we first learned that he co-founded Thousand Hills Cattle Company and this Minneapolis buying club. At the time, it was not even 6 months old, but he said people were beating down his door looking for more.

We had not seen him since, but when we walked up to his booth, he showed a glint of recognition. He was selling products for his other company Agri-Dynamics which services beef and dairy herds with alternative nutrition options. As the four of us walked up, not at all looking like cattle ranchers, he kindly asked "What can I do for you?"

Andy wisely took the reins and explained that this couple from the Twin Cities was looking for a source of raw milk, but didn't know where to go. Without missing a beat, Will grabbed a flier for the store (which was cleverly hidden behind some product) and his card and began telling them all about the club and how it works. They hung on his every word, growing visibly more excited with each statement. By the end of the talk, we all knew they'd be at the front doors of that warehouse within days, signing up and basking in the loveliness of a true home town grocery. Will said that they don't advertise, and yet each day they get 3-5 new families seeking them out. They now source milk from over 10 dairies! That's incredible! I am not giving out the info on here publicly, but if you live in the area, contact us, and we'll hook you up as well.

I was actually envious because Wisconsin wouldn't stand for that sort of store. If someone cans tomato sauce in their own kitchen and tries to sell it, they are committing a crime. If they bake bread without an inspected kitchen, they could pay a fine. If they sell unpasteurized milk to the actual part owner of the animal from which the milk came, they could go to jail.

But I digress.

Friday evening we jetted upstairs to hear more about this web builder. Simon was serving free beer as an incentive and it was nice to kick back with a cold one after such an intensive day. After about an hour, the rest of the people had trickled out of the room, but Simon and his wife Melanie and us stayed in that little conference room talking and learning about each other's lives for the next few hours. Before we knew it, a band was playing from some ballroom nearby and there was a lot of loudness from the hallways. We decided to trek out at roughly 9:30pm and see what all the noise was about.

Now, I'll tell you. I was not at all expecting to see what we saw. Here we were, a bunch of hippies, farmers, students, teachers, USDA specialists; congregating all at once to learn and teach and make connections.

I had no idea that would mean, come night time, it's time for a regular HO DOWN! The band was a rock/bluegrass mix called The Pheromones. The drinks were being served cheap and even in some cases, free. The farmers were kickin' it really old school. I mean, this was a huge PARTY going on in the top floor of the conference center! Our jaws dropped at the scene, especially when we saw MOSA directors, keynote speakers, vendor reps and session facilitators completely loosened up and not nearly ready to hit the hay. Eventually we joined in the fun and the four of us hit the dance floor, gyrating like the white folks we were. We were amused by the tall, wild haired figure in a black cowboy hat kicking his heels up in the center of the ballroom. Those farmers sure know how to party!

At roughly 11pm, Andy and I called it quits, though it seemed the place had barely cleared out. We had a 50 minute drive just to get to the B&B, not to mention that we would have to be up by 6am in order to be packed up and down for breakfast in time. But it was worth it, no doubt.

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Saturday came in a blink of our dreary eyes, but we pulled ourselves out of bed because, honestly, our customers helped donate money to get us there. We couldn't let them down. (Though I did have Andy drive and crashed almost the entire way to La Crosse). :-)

We took in another full day of conferences and hit the dusty trail to meet up at Andy's folks' house. There, we would find our babies playing in the living room, totally unaware of our entrance until ...

... Ethan caught sight of us from behind the couch. In a shrill, but ecstatic voice, he yelled "HI!!" and proceeded to toddler stomp all the way around the living room, past the couch, past Daddy, all the way into my waiting arms ... the entire time screeching "HI! HI! HI!"

We felt very welcomed home and had a wonderful meal made by Julie (Andy's mom). Then we packed up the kids again and drove the extra hour and half all the way home. We finally reached our own beds by 9:30 that night and slept soundly.

It was a great weekend for all!

I was trying to figure out what I could raise on such a small farm besides the normal chickens, rabbits and pygmy goats. I do not want a bunch of hogs to worry about. One or two meat hogs are ok but any more than that and I create fencing and odor problems. So I figured why not Miniature Cattle?

Mostly kept as a hobby and only measuring under 42 inches tall, miniatures do have many advantages:

• Small efficient beef for “backyard beef.”
• Good pets to keep on small acreages as little as 1/2 acre.
• Use to qualify property for agriculture use status.
• Use for investment groups.
• Great for 4-H or FFA projects.
• Good potential to develop a gourmet meat market.
• Most breeds eat 1/3 the food of large breeds.
• Not as harsh on the land and the fencing.

As in large cattle, miniatures have many different breeds. Some of the more popular ones are:

Miniature Zebu

Miniature Zebu, LLL Twister, photo courtesy  Lipperts Exotics .  

Miniature Zebu are one of the smallest breeds, and the only true miniature breed that has not been bred down to get their size. However, Zebu cattle are known to be one of the oldest breeds of cattle, possible dating back as far as 6000 B.C. Mature cows should be 300 to 500 pounds; mature bulls from 400 to 600 pounds, and are still extremely rare (about 550 purebred animals in USA) They come in gray red black and the painted color pattern like the bull above, and the babies are a sight to behold looking a lot like a little fawn at birth weighing from 12 to 22 pounds. The advantage of the miniature zebu is that they are better adapted to heat and have a high resistance to disease than most European breeds (they come from India). The maximum allowable height is just over 42 inches behind the hump.

Miniature Longhorn

Miniature Longhorn, LLL Royal Flush, photo courtesy  Lipperts Exotics .  

These attractive little cattle stand just under 42 inches at the shoulder in a mature bull. They are horned cattle, which, after all, is one of their breed features. They also come in any color pattern you can think of from solid to spots. The horn span can very from 30 to 50 inches wide. A good rule of thumb is the cattle should be the same height at the shoulder as the length of their horns from tip to tip or less. These animals take a considerable amount of time to raise to get the perfect little cow, and all that horn is quite the thing to see in person.

Miniature Hereford

Miniature Hereford, photo courtesy  Point of Rocks Ranch . 

The cows are about 42 inches tall, and their average weight range is 650 to 750 lbs. The calves have a birth weight of around 57 pounds and at weaning the average weight is 375 pounds. The advantages of this breed are the smaller cuts of meat, the higher stocking rate per acre, high feed conversion rates, less damage to pasture, especially on wet soils, easy calving, and excellent weight gains.

[If you're near Austin, Texas, and would like to see a few Miniature Herefords in person, check them out at the Star of Texas Show March 12-27, 2010. The Miniature Hereford Sale is March 19, 2010, at 11 a.m. – Eds. ]

Dexter

Photograph by Patrice Lewis

Dexters are a hardy breed of small mountain cattle, originally derived from the Celtic cattle of ancient Ireland. They are the smallest British breed of cattle with a cow being from 36 inches to just over a 42 inches at the shoulder. An average cow weighs about 775 lbs. The coat is usually black, but it can be red or dun brown. They are very hardy, requiring no pampering, yet remain efficient converters of feed to meat. Like most small breeds, they require only half the space a conventional animal would take. Pasture fed animals can finished early, at 18 to 24 months and 775 pounds live weight, without supplementary feeds, and still have good marbling and meat flavor. Heifers are precocious, and can be mated at 15 to 18 months. The Dexter is noted for easy calving, and the breed is known for the long useful breeding life of the cows – up to fourteen years, sometimes more.

This is just to name a few of the breeds I have been researching and noticed a popularity trend among them.

I have found that even though miniature cattle are small in size, the price tags for these little grass eaters made my heart skip a beat. It seams the smaller the cow is, the more it costs. I am leaning toward the Dexter breed due to their hardiness, easy calving and of course the cost.

References:
American Minature Zebu Association, www.americanminiaturezebuassociation.org
American Dexter Cattle Association, www.dextercattle.org
Lipperts Exotics (Miniature Longhorns and Miniature Zebu), www.lippertsminiaturecattle.com
Point of Rocks Ranch (Miniature Herefords), www.minihereford.com
The Natural Food Hub, www.naturalhub.com

My neighbor and I had been talking about getting chickens. Although we live right in the city of Detroit, there is an abundance of space, and urban agriculture has caught on here like wildfire. Communities of would-be farmers have crystallized around movements like the Garden Resource Program, which sponsors plant distributions, farmers market participation, gardening classes, bee-keeping groups and more. Over the last several years, Phil and I have (re)established home gardens and worked to keep them active around the year. We have had plentiful yields, even selling occasional overflows of organic produce to local shops and at market. Expanding into poultry would be an exciting move towards self-sufficiency. We were acquainted with an underground network of chicken keepers (poultry are illegal within the city limits) who were eager to share extra chicks as well as wisdom. Once we vocalized our interest in a flock, the pressure was on to get started. A friend had a new batch of baby chicks and was ready to send some our way.

Although I am a powerful magnet for wayward animals and would normally have jumped at the chance to house a group of fine, feathery ladies, an upcoming commitment required me to avoid any dependents upon which a landlord might look askance. Phil, on the other hand, was ready to commit. The flock would therefore be located at his home, situated on a lush city property of very generous proportions. These would be happy chickens, and I would be able to assist with their care. We agreed to take some of our friend's chicks knowing that they would not be moved for several more weeks. This left plenty of time to design and build the chicken coop, a step which turned out to be deceptively simple.

One dark and rainy Wednesday we set out to measure the far corner of his yard. It is bounded by two 10 foot high walls of cement block that have foundations approximately four feet in depth. The area is graded with course stones. An avid salvager, Phil had already located fence pieces that might be incorporated into a pen. He mocked up a rectangular enclosure of about 14 by 18 feet and proposed a coop tucked into the corner of the cement walls, covered by a roof that sloped down towards the gently shaded outdoor run.

Upon saturation from the pouring rain, we retreated to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee and transfer our soggy measurements onto something more substantial. He stood at the window as we drew, checking to see that the pen was positioned for optimal visibility from the kitchen table. Those in a rural setting may find it odd, but in this urban context, the visual accessibility of the chickens was almost a quality of life concern. By looking past the pond full of golden fish, past the leafy garden plot, and into a picturesque yard of chickens about their business, one might occasionally forget that he or she is surrounded by a troubled city. For Phil, a homicide detective that works nights for the Detroit PD, this was an unspoken but understandable priority.

While we had both the knowledge and the materials to start construction on the coop immediately, it didn't happen. The plan became more and more elaborate (although charming and nearly maintenance-free, at least in theory), and our time to build was constrained by other projects. The keeper of the chicks reminded us once or twice that they were getting big enough to move to their new home, but still we took our time with plans for the coop and avoided a committed date to pick up the chickens. Avoidance does not work well in this city; suffice it to say, we all frequent the same restaurants. Sure enough, sooner rather than later, we had to take the plunge. On May 21st at 10:30pm, as our friend was cheerfully departing town for a holiday weekend in Nashville, I found myself standing outside her house with a pet carrier full of little chickens.

Today is May 22nd, and as I am typing this, I can hear them chirping in my bathroom. The cats and the dog, normally adversarial, have taken a united interest in getting inside the room. They have been camped outside the door since the chickens arrived. Each time I pass through the hallway, I receive very earnest looks regarding their need for thumbed assistance in the turning of the knob. This weekend, the chicken coop will rise to the top of the Projects list.

It's here. It's finally here. That fabled "farmer downtime" that the experienced folk have been telling us about. Andy and I have been blessed with an incredibly busy last year and now ... we have the time to sit down, sip some green tea and think about it all.

Of course, everyone gets a little reminiscent near the end of the year and this being the end of the year today, I figured I would share a little from my heart.

Except, I'd like to look back two years; starting at November of 2006. (Don't worry, this won't take all day!)

Two years ago, Andy and I had just unpacked our moving van in time for Thanksgiving and were beginning anew in Wisconsin. We had just left jobs, our lovely home (above), friends and family in Colorado Springs for this vague dream of revamping the family farm. I was 4 months pregnant with our first baby and planning a new career as a stay-at-home freelance designer. Andy had taken a sales job in a city 40 minutes north and rejoined the corporate race.

We lived comfortably off my random income and his small wages, passively reading about farming and beginning to take an interest in locally grown foods. Our interest grew and expanded into other areas of our lives. We looked into sustainability, certifying organic and the Slow Food movement. We also joined a birthing class that taught us to have our first child without the aid of pain medication. That philosophy, called the Bradley Method, woke us up to the importance of nutrient-dense, healthy, raw foods in a woman's diet (and everyone else's)!

In May of 2007, we gave birth to little Eleanor, free from drugs and with a new determination to eat healthier for her sake, and ours.

Farm plans were really still a distance away, as my parents still lived and worked the farm themselves, and we were a 25 minute drive from them. We were beginning to feel like ... why did we move back in such a rush?

Then in August, my folks announced that they had found a house in the small town near the farm and were moving there by October. And, they wanted us to rent the farmhouse and start participating in working the farm. So, on the same day in late September, we moved them out and moved us in. Suddenly, we were right there!

But Andy was still working 50 hours a week now nearly an hour away and there were only the weekends for him to learn the ropes. I had a very young baby to watch and was still freelancing, so the farm wasn't at the forefront of my priorities either.

In February of 2008, after many prayers, promptings and signs from God, Andy resigned from his sales job. He began working part time with FedEx in the very early mornings (think: 3am to 8am) for a residual income, and we began plans for our first family garden. At the same time, we decided to try and resurrect an old income source for the farm: Pumpkins! (You know that story.)

Andy began learning the ins and outs of late winter farming with my father. I enjoyed the much increased family time, and Elly was finally responding to Andy because she saw him for more than two hours a day.

As spring came to us, the work days were longer and more intense. Andy found that working at FedEx was draining him to the point that he couldn't put in the time needed on the farm. In June of this last year, he unofficially resigned from FedEx. This meant he was welcome to come back whenever he wanted (he was their best worker) and was "on call" for times when they got shorthanded.

Suddenly, we were all about the farm. On faith and prayers, God provided enough income to pay our bills each month. Sometimes, the money would come in the day before a bill was due, for the exact amount needed. We were literally living on "daily bread," and our faith was increased ten-fold in having to rely solely on God to get us through. My freelancing increased directly proportional to Andy's resignation and continued to keep me busy well into the fall.

About this time, we began blogging about our lives and detailing our intense learning curve. And that's when we invited you all to share in our experience.

I am sitting here typing all of this out and still can't believe how far we've come in two years. It has happened so fast! We went from the typical young couple to the typical young family, then shook off the stereotypes and dove into sustainable, agrarian life. We dove in, alright: head first with no arm floaties into an uncharted lake.

It has been scary. It has been frustrating. It has felt like we were stuck on a treadmill.

And it's been intense, uplifting, and beyond our wildest dreams. As 2008 ticks away on the clock before me, I can't help but tear up at the road we've traveled. We have so much to be thankful for! And then I think...

2009, BRING IT ON!! We are so ready to begin this brand new year!

Blessings on you all and have a wonderful celebration of this past year.

Becky