This is the year that I can get back to work in earnest.  After I shattered my ankle almost 5 years ago (you know you “did it up good” when your orthopedic surgeon says it was one of the worst she has ever seen), it was a long road to getting back to the garden, animals, harvesting and everything else that goes along with the homestead. Although there is still a number of problems, and I will not shed the brace 100%, I can now seriously start looking at getting some small stock again, now that I know what I can and can no longer chase (goats and chickens are still in but, alas and disappointingly, pigs are out), I can put in dwarf fruit trees so ladder work is minimal, and gardens can be raised or they can still be traditional in style. Either is doable.

So, getting a bit excited, I put a few things in a wee bit early. It looked like the good weather was going to hold, so I put in my pansies (for salads and garnishes), a Cherokee Purple Tomato, Early Girl Tomato, Key Largo Pepper and a Hot Portuguese Pepper. I did a long-term weather check, and temps seemed to be holding for the next few weeks. Now, it looks like the cold is returning. (The changeable weather and short garden time in this area really can take some of the fun out of things. It really makes one think long and hard about someplace warmer, with a much longer season and much less changeable weather.) I just hope that if we get a really late frost, that the weatherman announces the warning that day or evening, not the morning after……….

The other fun activity as the gardens start going in, is keeping the barn cats from trampling seeds and seedlings. They are usually not too bad, only about a week before they realize that they can’t sprawl out in the garden area like they do in late fall and early to mid spring. But, I can plan on having to prop up at least one or two plants. And…here they are…. 

First Two “Cat Casualties” 

Little Grey, who had a paw in the pansy trample, and JJ. 

Well, I guess this year will be a bit busier than usual. Not only am I starting over in the farming department, I am also starting over at a new farm. I moved to my grandparent’s old farm. 1840’s house, more acreage, nice pond, but, I have to reclaim some of the land from over grown Christmas trees. It should be an interesting year! Stay Tuned!

   

I have a lot of hobbies. I play piano, sing, paint, make jewelry and masks, brew fruit wines and articulate skeletons. Homesteading, however, is my lifestyle. I didn't understand when I was living in large cities, going to college, and shopping at Whole Foods that these would all be elements leading me to a lifestyle, not a lifestyle in and of themselves. 

Then I started making my own food. I mean really MAKING my own food. I wasn't just purchasing ingredients anymore, I was planting seeds and hatching eggs and watching my future happen right before my eyes. My daily routines changed entirely, to revolve around seasonal cycles, feedings, plantings, trimmings and weedings. Slowly, I began to take root myself, to be more and more tied to the farm that was quickly becoming the center of my existence. Less and less time could be spared to socialize at the local watering hole or visit friends and family because once you start homesteading and growing your future, the cycle just snowballs. Chickens lead to ducks lead to turkeys lead to rabbits, a pig and goats... and all the work that goes into their upkeep. Twenty tomato plants turn into 600, and seed catalogs practically DEMAND you try at least ten new things a season. Gardens have a way of growing, in terms of both production, and square footage. 

There are other cycles too... canning, drying or otherwise preserving harvests, crop rotations, farmers markets, tourism... the list can be overwhelming. When starting out especially, and up until you get your systems down and *hopefully* somewhat automated, each system (garden, chickens, pigs, pastures, greenhouses, aquaponics, etc.) takes much more time and presents a much higher learning curve than later on in the game. This makes homesteading a 24/7 deal. Don't fret, and enjoy the process. As you get more comfortable with the schedule, you'll figure out ways to integrate your social needs with the needs of the ecosystem you're creating, and the lifestyle you love. This could be canning or planting parties (I love throwing these, and people from all walks of life get to meet each other and make unlikely friends), bonfires, dinners or horseback rides, on your own farm or on others. Remember, farms are bustling places, full of excitement. Let people enjoy it with you. Social problem solved.

Vacations for homesteaders are completely different than for everyone else. They're spent at home, in the quiet moments with a cup of coffee, watching your goats chew their cud, or admiring your blooming orchard trees. They're spent planting seeds with friends and family, chopping vegetables and telling stories, building community and memories. Life's a garden... dig it. :)

  

When we started the process of founding the Forgotten Forty farm back in 2008, we were, like most people beginning their journey into homesteading, worried about knowing where our food came from. We began researching and interviewing people who were ahead of us in that way, and reading every possible book on the subject. Feeling very confident in our "knowledge" gleaned from these second-hand experiences, we dove in... face first.

There is a big learning curve to this game. Looking back on our mistakes, they seem pretty silly, but that's only because we're looking back on them. At the time, they made homesteading seem like an impossible dream better left to episodes of Little House on the Prairie than attempted by us mortals. Who knew a single raccoon could wipe out a whole flock of birds in one sitting... for that matter, who knew they could undo latches like it's their job?

Those truths of farming are hard lessons indeed. When you spend so much time caring for a laying flock, or nurturing flats of tomatoes only to watch them die before your fist egg or blossom, it's very discouraging, to say the least. What we do when we plant a seed, hatch an egg or buy a chick is enter into a contract with nature, and nature plays by it's own rules. The best laid plans go awry. Predators happen. Animals get loose. Crops fail. Droughts and floods occur, and insects decimate. These are risks we take. Life itself is a gamble.

Many new homesteaders give up in the first few years because of issues like this. Early on, they seem overwhelming, and invariably seem to occur right on top of each other. Sometimes it's enough to make a person spill their marbles all over, but NEVER GIVE UP. The only way to learn how homesteading works for you is by figuring out what doesn't. Each farm is different. Each animal is different. Each growing season is different. Adaptability is the farmer's shield. One batch of pigs never tests the fence, perfectly content to sunbathe in the pasture, and the next batch delights in running amuck anywhere but where they belong. These things happen, but you can't let it discourage you. No one who homesteads can be called lazy. We are a tenacious, resilient bunch by definition. Never a dull moment.

Baby chicks are fluffy little balls of hope.

The next time your goat gets stuck in the fence while your neighbors dog is killing your chickens and your cow is booking it down the road, don't forget to breathe. Every farm has it's horror stories, but every farm has it's wonderful memories as well. When you see the new chicks in the brooder, peeping and flapping their itty bitty wings, full of optimism and wonder, it becomes easier to forget about the ones you've lost.

Americauna chick enjoying life on the farm.

Homesteading is about the future, and the future is full of bright possibilities. NEVER. GIVE. UP.

My family not only homesteads, but we also homeschool. I got to thinking the other day how very closely related these two "homey" things are.

Homesteaders are working towards self-sufficiency. They aim for self-reliance. They've moved away from the institution and are real live do-it-yourselfers.

 

 So are homeschoolers. 

 

Homesteading requires the ability to seek out answers for the many questions that come up. A homesteader quickly figures out what resources are at their disposal, and what ones they need to add.

 

Homeschoolers need to be willing to seek out answers as well. They become experts at figuring out where to find the information they want, whether it's from a book, a person, a website, or an experience along the way.

 

As a homesteader and a homeschooler, I've been able to show my children I don't know everything. I'm always learning, always having to re-figure something, always having to try again. I can't tell you how beneficial this has been to my children. My kids have grown up in a household seeing that their parents are still learning, everyday, and that makes it easier for my kids to admit they don't understand something or need help or need to try again. 

Homesteaders aren't quite mainstream. We do things differently than "everyone else out there". And because of that, it is important to have a community of like minded folks that you can go to for help, support, or just general understanding.

The same is true of homeschoolers. We're not mainstream, and even though our numbers are growing, we're still a very small percent of the population.

 

Being involved with our homeschooling community helps us because we know we're not alone in what we are doing. Sometimes just having someone who can say "Yep, been there...done that...survived..." helps a ton.

Homesteaders and homeschoolers truly live a life of learning, and have opportunities to get their hands  and feet in the dirt of real life.

 

How many times have you done something on the homestead that you knew you couldn't have learned from a book? I've lost count on this end, both as a homesteader and a homeschooler. And I'm glad for every single one of those lessons learned. :)

To read more about Amy's farm life, go to A Farmish Kind of Life. 

To read more about Amy's homeschooling life, go to The Hmmmschooling Mom.  

"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.

Some time ago I read that the Cooperative Extension services in some areas were falling by the wayside.  

As agriculture has declined, a domino effect has caused the Extension services to lose both audience and political support and funding.  

In my mind, this is a great loss for those of us who like to live close to the land and grow our own food.  

Cooperative Extension agents are among the greatest resources available to help us. Along with books, magazines, and websites such as GRIT, Extension offices offer support with both traditional and alternative methods for agriculture and rural living. Much of the information is offered without cost, while a reasonable fee is charged for some publications and courses.

Cooperative Extensions are unique in that they offer information tailored for their specific regions in addition to general resources. Face-to-face classroom experience and phone consultations are available from many offices. Some are even able to send agents to a home, farm or ranch to assist with assessments or answer questions.

Decades ago, Cooperative Extension services were established for the purpose of teaching agriculture practices and passing on results of research projects. Education in home economics was integrated, and in recent years, services have expanded to include topics related to health, business, the arts, and recreation. 

No longer just for rural education, Extension offices offer resources in urban and suburban areas as well. There is at least one Extension service in each state of the U.S. and some provinces of Canada.

Our family has personally benefited from the Extension services in three counties of two states. Our youngest daughter was involved in both dog and horse 4H programs, and I was a volunteer leader in both programs as well. 

Living in town, we first sought out 4H as a social connection for our homeschooled daughter. But we discovered that it was so much more than social. We’ve found 4H to be one of the best youth organizations around. Young people learn not only about their specific areas of interest, but also about community service, leadership, and public speaking.

The Cooperative Extension offers a lot for adults, too. Jim and I have taken several short and long courses through our county Extensions. We’ve studied livestock care, horticulture, small farm and ranch planning, forest stewardship, and land succession processes. Some of these classes gave us a head start and kept us busy learning while we waited to move to our farm. 

These days we continue to attend Extension classes and summits in our current county, learning a great deal and contributing as we can. Recently we’ve been involved in community discussions about beef marketing, commercial processing kitchens, and nonprofit organization structures. 

While the Extension services have always given face to face assistance and education, the Internet age has opened up a new way they can share information. Many county Extensions have their own websites, while state and national websites connect the county offices.

When it comes to research, keep in mind that on the Internet, anyone can present an opinion as fact. Often I find conflicting information on topics I’m studying. Personally I rely heavily on the Extension resources for their wealth of scientific research-based information. I trust in the accuracy and integrity of information provided by the Extension Services. 

This is especially important to me when it pertains to how I’m raising my family, my animals, and the food we eat. I frequently consult Extension articles when writing informative and how-to posts on our blog, Rural Living Today. We read newsletters from our local Extension office and make use of the education and publications offered on a regular basis.

Have you discovered what Cooperative Extension has to offer you in your rural living pursuits? Get acquainted with local programs and volunteer opportunities. Find out what you can do in your own backyard. If you’re waiting to make a move to the country, learn all you can before you go. If you’re already where you want to be, you can learn how to use your property more efficiently and productively. 

Since its early days, Extension presence has grown across North America. Perhaps your grandparents and great-grandparents were assisted by Extension agents. Today that help, training, and education is available to you and your family. We personally hope it will be here for our children and grandchildren too. 

Funding to keep Cooperative Extension going is determined to some degree by evaluation of resource usage and event participation. We encourage you to help keep the Extension services alive and well by getting involved on a local level. 

As you increase your knowledge base you will simultaneously be supporting Cooperative Extension services in your county and across the country. It’s also a great way to meet like-minded people in your community. 

To locate your county Extension office, see http://www.csrees.usda.gov/extension. Collective research-based information drawn from all U.S. Cooperative Extension offices is available at http://www.extension.org.

Hi all! My name is Callie. I'm a Maremma Sheepdog - one of the breeds called livestock guardian dogs.

This is me when I was a puppy. Everyone thought I looked like a little lamb. Wasn't I just adorable?

Last month my brother Augie was interviewed for our mom’s GRIT blog. Now it is my turn to talk!

Augie told everyone a lot about livestock guardian dogs, but what I really want to tell you is what we do all day.

First, I have to tell you that my day is not like the day of every livestock guardian dog. That is because we all have different jobs, depending on where we live and who we live with.

Most LGDs (that’s short for livestock guardian dogs) have more animals than Augie and I have. They also have bigger animals than ours.

Sheep and goats are the most common friends of LGDs. Some LGDs have horses, cows, pigs, alpacas, or poultry. Usually the dogs live with the animals and stay in the pasture with them. Those that have several types of animals to watch over may make their rounds from pen to pen.

Some LGDs don’t even have any animals - they just have people to guard. Augie and I know a nice retired mama LGD who now has the job of watching the farm owners’ children. She goes with them wherever they are playing around their farm.

See, there are two main reasons people get LGDs to live at their farms. One is to live with livestock and guard them from predators - that’s what most LGDs do. The second reason is to guard the property and prevent intruders from entering it. Augie and I? We do both.

Our parents brought Augie and me home because coyotes, bears and cougars roam through their property. Our job is to make sure those wild animals don’t come in our four-acre fenced area. Dad and Mom wanted dogs with courage to relentlessly keep those big predators away, whether or not we had livestock at our farm.

So Augie and I came here to protect our property, the people that live and visit here, and whatever livestock is inside our fences.

Here's another picture of me ... how did they know I'd been snooping in the fire pit ashes? I thought I looked totally innocent!

Before we arrived our parents got some chickens so we would have some livestock to guard. But we also bonded quickly to our human mom and dad. Don’t tell them, but we consider them our sheep.

Mom and Dad have eight grownup kids and thirteen grandkids. We’ve bonded with all of them, and now they are our sheep too.

There are some friends who come here a lot and others that have come only once. But we always remember them, even if we haven’t seen them for a long time. And when they are here, we will take care of them.

Sometimes new chickens come, and sometimes the ones we had will leave us. A few weeks ago Augie and I got some pigs to guard too. We are still getting used to them.

When I was little, I found some cool places to rest.

Well, let me tell you about my day now! It’s hard to say when my day starts, because LGDs are really on duty 24/7. We dognap (I don’t know why someone named naps after the feline species) off and on but we are always ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice.

But let’s start with the morning. That's when Augie and I are usually the most tired. We have been very busy during the night, so we rest a lot in the morning. One or both of us gets up now and then to patrol our perimeters, peek in on our chickens and pigs, and say good morning to any of our people that are out and about.

We like to walk around with our dad and mom (always hoping for a pat on the head, a scratch behind the ears, or a belly rub). We bark at the free-range chickens that try to eat our kibble. We sniff the air if an aroma is drifting by, and we bark if we hear a strange car coming up the road.

Many times a day we do our patrol routine. We walk along the fence line and mark it, if you know what I mean. This lets other animals know that we are in charge here. We cross our fenced area through the orchard and around the garden.

When we came to our new home, Augie taught me how to patrol our fences. We both learned from our moms and other Maremmas, but Augie continued to teach me.

We circle around the pig paddock and the chicken pen and make sure everyone’s doing fine. If there’s a problem, we take care of it if we can. When a chicken is feeling under the weather, we will lie next to it till it feels better. Sometimes a chicken just doesn’t get better and we wait for a person to come and take it away.

Augie and I walk all around the utility barn where our parents live. No, they are not animals, but their house is inside the barn. We have never been inside our family’s house. Sometimes we look in the window to check on them. Once in a while if the door is open we will stick our heads inside and look around, but Augie and I always keep our feet outside on the porch.

We walk through the barn and check it out. If there’s a mouse we can catch, we will do it. If we can’t catch it, we will bark at it. A lot. Sometimes a pen of baby chicks is in the barn and we say hello to them. I know they feel safer knowing we are there.

In between patrols, we like to rest some more. We also eat our kibble when our dad brings it, and we drink lots and lots of water. But sometimes we’re just not hungry for dog food because we dined on rodents during our patrol walks.

Our work load is light during the day, because most of the threatening predators sleep during the day. Occasionally some deer or wild turkeys get close to our fences, but we bark at them. We also bark at the neighbors’ cows.

Here we are, a couple of sentries patrolling our perimeter.

When evening comes, Augie and I are well-rested and ready for a busy night. This is when we really shine. Nights can be exhausting, but they’re very exhilarating.

First of all, we pick up our patrol schedule during the night. We make more frequent perimeter walks, and we stop and bark at any smell or sound outside.

Almost every night, a pack of coyotes walks across our property down below our fenced area. We are always vigilant, visible and audible so they know we are the bosses. They keep on going but sometimes they pause to test us. Not for long though - they get the message real quickly. No free chicken dinners at this farm!

Though the coyotes still cross our property, our family has not seen any sign of bears or cougars close to our fenced area since Augie and I have been here. That’s because we do our job so well!

After a long night of patrolling and barking, Augie and I are ready for a break. That’s when our morning begins - and the daily routine starts all over again.

LGDs that live with sheep and goats have a similar routine, but they do some other things that are really cool. Some of them get to help when babies are born! They will stay near the mamas and keep other animals away to give her privacy. An LGD will help keep the first baby warm and dry while the mama is delivering a second one. When the babies get older, the LGDs watch out for the little ones and even let them climb all over them. So they get to be midwives and nannies.

Here I am all grown up, a fine example of a livestock guardian dog.

If you’d like to know more about livestock guardians, you can read about us at our family’s blog Rural Living Today. Here is a post on Livestock Guardian Animals (LGDs, donkeys, and llamas). And this one is about the fine, intelligent, hard-working, brave, beautiful, wonderful, charming, dynamic, modest dogs like me: Livestock Guardian Dogs.

Thanks for stopping by! I have to go congratulate that hen that is singing her egg song. Why do they always want to tell the world that they laid an egg? Chickens!

Two valuable members of our family are our Maremma livestock guardian dogs, Augie and Callie. They watch over our chickens and the people who live and visit within their assigned territory. Though coyotes, bears, and an occasional cougar traverse our property, none of those intruders are allowed within our fencelines. 

 

 

 
Augie and Callie are usually very busy day and night doing their patrols and checking on everyone and everything on the farm. But this week, Augie took the time to write a post for our family’s blog, Rural Living Today. After reading it, I asked Augie if I could interview him for this GRIT blog.

The huge fluffy dog agreed, and we sat down for a chat. Here is what he has to say.

Augie, we understand that the term “livestock guardian dog” applies to a group of dog breeds used for centuries to protect and defend flocks of sheep and goats. Tell us more about these breeds. 

Well, there are several breeds of LGDs (that's short for Livestock Guardian Dogs). Of course, I am partial to Maremma Sheepdogs, since I am one, but the others do a good job too! The most common in the western world are (in alphabetical order) Anatolian Shepherds, Great Pyrenees, and Maremmas. The Akbash, Kommondors, Kuvasz, and Tibetan Mastiffs are also becoming better known outside of the old countries.

How are the LGD breeds alike and different? 

We all have some basic instincts that are the same. We all work hard to protect and defend our stock and our property. But there are differences too. Some breeds bond more to the stock or people, and some bond more to the boundaries they defend. Some are more likely to grow fond of children, and some would rather not be touched and petted very much.

How are the LGD breeds different from other dog breeds? 

LGDs are wired instinctively to do whatever is necessary to protect our charges. We will even give our lives for our flocks and our people. We were not bred to be pets, though we are nice to have around and some of us really like people. We weren’t bred to be show dogs, as the focus on beauty and obedience could distract from our effectiveness on our jobs. We are not herding dogs, though we can herd our stock into a corner to protect them if need be.  

 
Can LGDs be trained for obedience? 

Why yes, we can be taught to sit, wait, come, stay back, and those kinds of things. If we know you are the alpha, we will obey. But our inner instincts will override our wish to obey if we feel there’s a danger. Don’t be surprised if I suddenly take off for the far corner of the property to scare off a coyote. If you tell me to get back when a stranger is there, and I sense you are in danger, I will want to stay at your side. I’m not being rebellious or disagreeable; I’m just letting my top priority and instincts take over until the danger is gone.

How do you LGDs learn your job? 

Well, first of all, we start watching our mothers when we are very young. We will go on patrol with them and they’ll show us how the LGD work is done. Later we learn from other LGDs how to treat the stock, how to be watchful for threats, and how to bark different barks. The other dogs will teach us, train us, and correct us.   

Do you need people to train you too? 

Oh yes, definitely. They should show us our area to patrol and introduce us to our stock and people in the family that we are to guard. They should let us know what is normal and routine around the farm so we will know what isn’t. As puppies we shouldn’t be left alone with stock that might hurt us, or with little critters that we might play too roughly with. If there isn’t an older working LGD to teach us, the humans have to do the training. We will instinctively guard and protect, but we need to know the rules of your farm. 

 
What are the basic requirements of a home for an LGD?

First of all, we work best in a team, so we prefer to have a partner or two. We need clear boundaries—good fences—that tell us what area we are to protect. We need a strong alpha human with time to work with us, making expectations clear and showing us what to protect. On a more practical side, we don’t usually like enclosed houses but we need shelter from extreme weather. We need lots of water and good food—plenty of it, because we are large dogs.

Is there anything else you’d like humans to know about LGDs? 

Yes. Please don’t scold us for barking. LGDs bark! We bark day and night. We bark to warn far-off howling coyotes to stay away. We bark to tell passing deer and bears not to come any closer. We bark to announce approaching vehicles and anything that is out of the ordinary or does not belong. Yes, we will even bark at raccoons and chipmunks. Now, I don’t mean we should be allowed to bark for no reason or taunt the livestock with barking. Correct us for that, but please let us do our job-related barking.

And that reminds me of some good names for LGDs. How about Bob Barker? Sir Barksalot? Barkley? Tree Bark? Almond Bark? Okay, now I’m getting a little out there with names. Better go do my patrol and stuff that I’m good at.

Thank you, Augie Doggie, for the enlightening interview! For more insight into the life of Augie and his sister, Callie, see Augie’s post at Rural Living Today. 

Marie and her husband, Jim, are developing a farm in the Pacific Northwest with their adult children and grandchildren. At The Homesteader Kitchen Marie and her daughter review kitchen equipment and talk about preparing and preserving delicious food. Along with other family members, Marie shares glimpses of country life at Rural Living Today and teaches practical skills at The Homesteader School .   

Never in a million years would I have ever imagined that we would be raising chickens but as I sit here and think about the 43 little fuzzy bodies that are cozily sleeping downstairs, I must say I’m ESTATIC!  I feel like a new mom again, checking to make sure everyone’s breathing, not too cold, and not too hot!!  They are absolutely amazing and a blast to watch.  I seriously think the girls would sleep with them if they could!

You are probably thinking, who is this crazy, chick obsessed woman?  I’m just a regular person trying to do what is best for my family.  My name is Jessica and I have been married for 9 ½ years to my husband, Chad.  We have been blessed with 3 beautiful girls, Eliza (8), Aurora (7), and Jorja (4).  They are the main reason that we have decided to embark on a little bit of homesteading.  Amazingly they love the fact that they know where their food comes from so why not embrace it.
 

Chad explaining to the girls how to handle the new peeps. 

Our first project of the year is chickens.  I have poured over magazines and the internet for months while the girls have looked over my shoulder.  My husband would say “so you have a breed picked out?” and I would answer “yes, definitely this one for sure,” only to change my mind the next week!!  Luckily, Chick Days finally arrived at Tractor Supply and Southern States making the decision making process a little less difficult.  Our flock will include 12 Barred Rocks, 12 Red Sex-Links, 5 Speckled Sussex, 2 Rhode Island Reds, and 12 Cornish X broilers.  Funny how I originally planned on having 12 layers and 12 broilers!

The chicks' first night in the brooder. 

So in last 24 hours I have learned that they sell those convenient feeders and waterers for a reason.  Rowdy little chicks quickly make a mess of open containers of food and water.  I have also learned that no amount of reading prepares you for having the real thing!  In another bout of unpreparedness we need to build another brooder for the broilers.  The next major project here on the “farm” is expanding the shed into a barn and coop.  Until next time!!

For me one of the joys of rural life is watching animals. Sometimes I'm very touched by what I see; sometimes I have a good laugh. I’ve also made some interesting observations about how animals entertain themselves, interact with each other, and respond to humans.

Horses play together and fight with each other. They will watch out for each other. In the wild, one stallion will lead and defend a herd of mares and young horses. A lead mare will be his second in command, and they will work together to manage the herd.

This is often seen in domestic herds as well. A stallion will usually have superiority over geldings (neutered males) and mares. However, if no stallion is present, a mare is likely to be queen of the herd. Geldings can also take a leadership role though. We had one gelding who was so protective of his favorite mare that we had him tested to see if any testosterone had been left behind.

The roles of horses can change as the grouping changes. For instance, at our place, when Star was around, King was submissive. But when Star left, King would take over the lead. But passive Bucky was always on the bottom rung of the ladder.

"Just act nonchalant like we don't know they're watching us."

 
Cows don’t really appear to play together much, except as frisky calves. Cows will fight on occasion, which can be complicated if they have horns. Cows don’t communicate much or show a strong hierarchy. Or so I thought.

My eyes were opened by "The Backyard Cow," in which author Sue Weaver reveals the social order of cows. In a herd of cows there is usually a head honcho, who may not really lead per se but gets first dibs at everything. And then there might be a morning hike director who leads everyone out to the pasture. A different evening coordinator brings them back to the barn at dusk.

And cows have a language all their own. Mooese consists of five main syllables used in combination to form six main calls, each of which has a different meaning. Ethologist C.J.C. Phillips has studied bovine communication in detail. (I had to look up the meaning of “ethology,” a new word for me. In case you, too, are in the dark, it is the study of animal behavior.)

"Psst...can you keep a secret?"

 
Chickens don’t appear to play, thought they sure like their dust baths. They will fight over food, roosting space, or for "just because" reasons not obviously apparent. The term “pecking order” came from the hierarchy of chickens. If roosters are present, one of them usually rules the roost, sometimes with the help of another roo or the alpha hen. Where there's no rooster, an assertive hen will take charge. The pecking order can sometimes be tracked from the alpha right down the line to the most submissive chicken.

Roosters have a few different voices for calling their hens to snack time, herding them into a corner to avoid danger, or warning off an intruder. Some roosters let their authoritative status go to their heads and become cocky (another term that came from the poultry world). And even a docile roo can overreact if you wear different boots or carry an umbrella.

Surprisingly, chickens also can have touching relational interactions. We have a pair of banties that are practically inseparable. One, the tiniest breed of the whole flock, is at the bottom of the pecking order. Her best friend, only slightly larger, is at her side day and night protecting and defending her. I have also seen a slender 4 pound hen spread her wing over a much larger 10# hen to protect her from perceived danger.

"In case any of you had a question about who rules this roost..." 

 
Horses, cows, and chickens…that’s about the extent of my experience with farm animals. In the next few months, with a new species on our farm, I expect to make some observations about the social life and communication style of pigs.

Do they utter assorted snorts? Can they wag their curly little tails? Do they share their food?

I’m eager to find out.

Marie and her husband, Jim, are developing a farm in the Pacific Northwest with their adult children and grandchildren. At The Homesteader Kitchen Marie and her daughter review kitchen equipment and talk about preparing and preserving delicious food. Along with other family members, Marie shares glimpses of country life at Rural Living Today and teaches practical skills at The Homesteader School .   

Jim and I have been starting some seeds indoors this month. We’ve always just done a few in a sunny window, but this year we hung some lights on the underside of a closet shelf to provide an area for several flats of seeds to get going.

Starting seeds indoors gives us a jump start on our growing season, which is a bit short in our region, with only four frost-free months. It will also save us some money if our tomato and pepper starts do well and we don’t have to buy nursery plants.

 

  

Last year we had our first garden on our property, and we planted only vegetables. As I was tidying up the veggie patch last fall, I realized that I had really missed having a flower bed. We do have beautiful wildflowers all around us all summer, but I would have enjoyed some color and variety in some of the “brown and beige” areas close to our home.

It kind of dawned on me … along with food production, the visual interest of flowers is an important part of rural living too.

So this year, in addition to a few flowers in our window boxes, we’ll be planting some annuals and perennials around the place. I have a personal priority of not introducing non-natives to our property, so I’m focusing on natives. This is especially important to me where the edges of our “yard” merge into natural areas of grass, brush, and forest.

Last fall I collected seeds from native flowering plants and scattered the seeds in large edging areas. The seeds slept under the snow this winter, and many of them should sprout this spring.

And along with veggie seeds, several packets of flower seeds were included in my seed order this year. Some of them are native varieties to supplement the seeds I collected. Others are favorite non-natives for a few selected beds and containers where I can control spreading.

 

Some of these seeds can be directly sown outdoors, but several varieties will soon be sprouting indoors right alongside our veggie starts. Hopefully we’ll have some fire red petunias, multi-colored cosmos, and Shasta daisies bursting from the soil to eagerly join the crowd.

Not only do I love the outdoor display of flowers, but to me, one thing that says “country kitchen” is my large white pitcher stuffed with multi-colored fresh flowers. So this year I’m determined to have that viewing and cutting flower garden!

If you’re interested in learning to start seeds indoors, hop on over to my family’s blog The Homesteader School and check out some of our “Learning to Garden” tutorials. Here’s a good one to start with! 

Marie and her husband, Jim, are developing a farm in the Pacific Northwest with their adult children and grandchildren. At The Homesteader Kitchen Marie and her daughter review kitchen equipment and talk about preparing and preserving delicious food. Along with other family members, Marie shares glimpses of country life at Rural Living Today and teaches practical skills at The Homesteader School . 

Here in our corner of the country, snow flurries are flying less frequently and we even have some frost-free mornings. It looks like spring is on its way! Our thoughts are going in two directions: getting the garden started and raising little livestock babies.  

In my planning and plotting, I came across this blog post about our first foray into hatching our own chicks. It was just last year, so this will be our second year. Here’s how I saw it last year - March 2011:  

A new adventure for us this spring is hatching our own chicks. Last year we raised 42 hatchery chicks, most of which were two days old when they arrived. We got that chick-rearing process down pat and decided to go a step farther this year. We bought an incubator.

 

We looked at the calendar to determine when the weather would be conducive to chicks moving outdoors at four weeks of age. Backtracking from there, we decided that a late March hatch date would be just about right. We collected a number of eggs and got them started in the incubator.

The gestation time for chicken eggs is 21 days, but it’s suggested that eggs be “candled” early on to see which ones contain viable embryos. Candling involves shining a light on the egg to show the air cell, blood vessels, and even little chicky eyes. It’s also possible to see the embryos moving around and tiny hearts beating.

So at one week we candled the eggs and removed several undeveloped ones. Again at two weeks, we took out a couple of eggs. On the 18th day, when the eggs should be “locked down” and undisturbed, we had 12 viable eggs.

 

An interesting thing had happened early in the month. A few days after we set the incubator eggs, one of our hens went broody. This means that she focused on becoming a mother and glued herself to a clutch of eggs, leaving the nest only about once a day to eat, drink, and take care of other business. She had no idea that since the rooster didn't visit her coop, her eggs were not fertile and would never hatch.

Tiny Pigwidgeon (“Piggy”) is our smallest hen, a petite Dark Brahma banty. She was faithful and determined, and in three weeks I saw her off the nest only one time for a brief jaunt outside. Hopefully she took a break at least once a day. But a broody hen lives for one thing only: to hatch and raise some baby chicks.

We decided to give Piggy half of the incubator eggs in hopes that she would hatch them. So on Day 18, we removed her clutch of infertile eggs to replace them with 6 viable incubator eggs. What a shock to see that she had accumulated 13 eggs in her nest, stealing the eggs her roommates had laid on the other side of the nestbox and hiding them all under her fluffy body and wings.

 

Day 21 came and went, and by Day 23 three chicks had hatched in the incubator. But not a peep came from Piggy’s private nest. Unfortunately by Day 26 she hadn’t managed to hatch any chicks. Perhaps she was off the nest too long, or the coop was just too cold, or maybe all six of her eggs just happened to fail in the last days of gestation. We didn’t do eggtopsies, so we’ll never know for sure.

Since Piggy had been brooding for weeks, with very little exercise and less food and water than normal, we removed her from the nest and took her private little brooder box out of the coop. We told her to go be a regular chicken for a while, scratching and pecking outside and regaining her strength. Reluctantly, she complied. It didn't take her long to remember the joys of fresh air, sunshine, and treats to be discovered in the great outdoors.

Hopefully we will experience both natural and mechanized hatching and brooding and have the joy of watching some of our hens putter around with little chicks toddling after them. Today we’re starting our second incubator batch but won't be surprised if spring weather also brings on the broodiness in the henhouse.

 

Update from later in 2011: Spring weather did indeed bring on the broodiness! Two of our hens, Silkie Hedwig and Buff Orp Yolk, successfully hatched chicks the old-fashioned way — and it was a delight to see the doting mamas teach their little ones how to scratch in the dirt and take dust baths.  

As for Miss Piggy, she again went broody and again sat on eggs--just a few this time. But again none of them hatched. Maybe she’ll give it another try next year, having learned some secrets from her hen sisters.   

Hopefully 2012 will see us hatching chicks both in the incubator and under fluffy mother hens - perhaps even Piggy will have her dreams come true!

Marie and her husband, Jim, are developing a farm in the Pacific Northwest with their adult children and grandchildren. At The Homesteader Kitchen Marie and her daughter review kitchen equipment and talk about preparing and preserving delicious food. Along with other family members, Marie shares glimpses of country life at Rural Living Today and teaches practical skills at The Homesteader School .

Today I’m sharing something written by my husband, Jim. He has a great perspective on this life we’re living together. Here he shares a bit of history and how he really feels about living the rural life!

Here I am, living on our rural property and real jazzed about it. I’m jazzed at night looking back at the day, and I'm really jazzed when I wake up!

I remember one day years ago in my corporate life. I was in a meeting discussing TPS report cover designs and found myself daydreaming. I can’t even recall what I was dreaming about, but it was pleasantly distracting. Then the person addressing the meeting woke me up when he said that when he got up in the morning he was "jazzed" about life and ready for the ups and downs of the day. I could see his genuine excitement and enthusiasm. But where in the world did he get it?

  

Comparing that guy’s feelings to my sense of life, I realized I was just going through the motions. I had a great job and a great family ... but something was missing. Maybe a lot was missing. I didn't even like lots of things about my life - and I definitely could care less about TPS cover designs. Why was I dying on the inside, even when things were going well on the outside?

I knew I needed to wake up and understand what was missing in my life. Maybe then I could rediscover the excitement and passion of life that I’d once had.

Thus started my journey to discover what was really going on with me. Along the way, I took a trip with my elderly father back to his home roots on a large farm in the Midwest. He had left the farm when he finished high school, but I suspect he really never really left in his heart. As we walked around the eight square miles that was the original family homestead, I saw firsthand what a farm was, or more accurately, what LAND was. I found myself getting pretty jazzed up internally.

It wasn't living in that specific place that was the exciting part; it was seeing with my own eyes what was involved in a new kind of life - one that was connected to the land. It was the rural lifestyle that really got me going.

I remembered my happiness in years past when I’d spent my weekends mending fences and doing other routine chores on our 5-acre gentleman’s farm. My wife, Marie, had been in her element raising kids, baking bread, growing food - even chasing escapee cows back into our pastures. Our kids were constantly outdoors, happily playing on their rope swing or munching veggies in the garden.

Over the years, circumstances had taken us back to city and suburban neighborhoods, but my excitement started growing as I started thinking about living on acreage again. Marie and I agreed - we were both happiest and most “at home” when living the rural lifestyle. As we talked about making a change, I started seeing some possibilities for moving back to rural life. But then came the doubt. The realist in me challenged my thoughts.

Could I really make such a major change ... or any change at all? How could I really leave my current corporate life? I couldn't afford it. There were too many obstacles. A part of me said I should just keep doing what I was doing. But the other part was starting to soar ... becoming excited ... getting jazzed about the possibilities of a change.

I was tired of just existing. Of going through the motions. Would I continue for the rest of my life this way? Nope. Couldn't do it. For me and my family, change was required, and for us it involved moving to some acreage and living a whole new way of life. I just couldn't pretend that I liked my life and satisfy my longings by playing Farmville on Facebook. I needed the real thing. Not a picture or game of the real thing.

  

For others, contentment might mean something else. They write their own stories about their journeys. But for my family and me, this life is very satisfying - and it suits us.

Marie and Jim are developing a farm in the Pacific Northwest with their adult children and grandchildren. Together they share glimpses of country life at Rural Living Today and teach practical skills at The Homesteader School .  

Many years ago our young family took a trip to Disneyland. We had the free use of a motor home that would sleep our family comfortably, so we decided to drive.

We packed up the motor home with basic cooking equipment and groceries, bedding and enough clothes for the trip. Each of us brought along some things for entertainment, from books to cassette tapes (remember those?) to toys and games. I even stashed my sewing machine in the shower so I could finish up some clothes I’d been making for the kids.
 

  

As we drove away from home, I looked back at our two-story house. I thought to myself, we have everything we need right here in this little motor home. Why in the world do we have such a big house and so much stuff?

Of course, when we returned from our vacation we went right on living in our big house full of stuff. But that kind of thing has repeated itself over and over in our life. We moved overseas, taking very little—but we accumulated a houseful of stuff again. Five years later we returned to the U.S. with very little and … yep, we accumulated another houseful.

Several years ago, when we lived in a suburban neighborhood, Jim and I realized that we spent 80% of our time at home in just a few rooms. The other space was used just occasionally. We slept in our bedroom and used our master bathroom. We cooked in the kitchen and ate in the adjoining dining area. Though we sat in the living room once in a while, we really lived in the family room. I admit we did have an “everything room” that stored a lot of stuff but was really not used much.

That’s when we started re-evaluating our plans to build a large house on our acreage. Not only do we not need the space most of the time, but maintaining a large home is not very high on our list of favorite things to do.

  

So we decided to build a small home within our utility barn and live in it for a while, building the larger house later. Our new home takes up one long side of the barn. It’s cute and cozy and just right for the two of us. We built a little home office in the “barn” side. We’ve lived this way for over a year—through two winters—and so far it hasn’t seemed too small! It even looks promising for a permanent situation.

Less of a house to clean and maintain gives us more time for our other projects. We never have to search more than a minute to find each other in the house. And no matter what room we're in, everything else seems to be just steps away. 

Downsizing so drastically really forced us to weed through our belongings. We decided we’d keep things that were meaningful, useful, or otherwise important. Now when we look around our little home, every piece of furniture, every picture on the wall, and every decorative item has a connection to our family or our experiences.

Would we like a bigger house? Sometimes. We can’t squeeze big groups or crowds in our living room. We don’t have an extra bedroom for family and friends to sleep in. The kitchen table always seems to have something on it. Once in a while there’s even a line for the single bathroom.

But so far we’ve tweaked things to be pretty comfortable. We have plenty of storage space in the adjoining barn for off-season clothes and things we need to access occasionally. We could build an outdoor studio cabin if we needed more space. For six months of the year we can have oodles of people sitting in our outdoor "living room," dining at our patio tables, and sleeping in trailers and tents.

Stay tuned ... we may just never build that larger house. 

 

Marie and her husband, Jim, are developing a farm in the Pacific Northwest with their adult children and grandchildren. At The Homesteader Kitchen Marie and her daughter review kitchen equipment and talk about preparing and preserving delicious food. Along with other family members, Marie shares glimpses of country life at Rural Living Today and teaches practical skills at The Homesteader School . 

When my kids were young, I was one of those moms that just loved doing all sorts of domestic and creative things. I have been called “June Cleaver,” though I am not fond of wearing high heels or pearls or even dresses for that matter. (In one episode, the dedicated June wore pearls even with her bathrobe! I saw it on a rerun!)

I always made a point of taking time for friends, church, and community. I had other pursuits, hobbies, and interests. But there’s no doubt that my family was my first focus. Caring for my kids and participating in their lives was a major part of my life.

 

  

When my oldest kids started leaving home, I knew I was in for a tumble down the empty nest syndrome spiral. I could see the writing on the wall: one day all of my children would be out on their own. So I took the bull by the horns and started preparing for that day far in the future when I really would be an empty nester.

I thought about things I’d like to do when all the kids were grown. I knew I’d relish more time to write and follow other creative pursuits. I could get a job in publishing. I could go back to school and finish my degree. And I expected to someday have grandkids to coddle, spoil, and enjoy.

My hubby, Jim, and I could do more traveling, take longer vacations, and make more weekend getaways. We’d continue to visit art galleries and enjoy community theater and music. I even told Jim I would learn to golf, but was secretly glad when he said he prefers to golf with “the guys.”

Jim and I sat down and wrote individual and combined 5-year and 10-year goals—what we’d like to do by then and where we’d like to see ourselves. I guess we were writing bucket lists before we knew what a bucket list was. As the years went by, we checked some things off, crossed out some that no longer seemed interesting, and repeatedly highlighted some that just hadn’t happened yet.

  

One thing on my list was to have chickens. I finally got my chickens shortly after Jim and I moved to the farm (checking one more thing off our lists). Guess what? It was just after our youngest child got married and began her own life outside my nest. And yes, I already had symptoms of the dreaded empty nest syndrome.

A week after we moved to the farm, our wonderful Maremma livestock guardian dogs came to live with us. But for a smooth transition, they needed some livestock to guard. So we got some chickens. Yay! At last!

I started with layer breed chicks…17 of them! A month later, I got meat chicks…26 of them! We had 43 chicks! And I thought, why not try raising turkeys for Thanksgiving? So I bought some turkey babies! We had…chicks and turkey poults galore.

I have to say I am surprised at how chickens have satisfied my maternal nurturing instincts. They don’t need a lot of care, but from the start, twice or more a day I was checking on them, feeding and watering them. Oh yes, and sometimes just watching them. And, okay--sometimes I even held and cuddled them.

 

I could tell you many wonderful things about chickens, but today I’m thinking about how they hopped into my empty nest and filled it pretty full.

I still miss my family when they’re not here. I enjoy doing little-kid things with my grandkids, and grownup stuff (okay, some childish stuff too) with my eight adult kids. I have been known to pamper Jim just a little eensy bit.

But those chickens, they let me lavish on them all the nurturing I have to spare. I’ve never once heard them complain!

Marie and her husband, Jim, are developing a farm in the Pacific Northwest with their adult children and grandchildren. At The Homesteader Kitchen Marie and her daughter review kitchen equipment and talk about preparing and preserving delicious food. Along with other family members, Marie shares glimpses of country life at Rural Living Today and teaches practical skills at The Homesteader School .

When Jim and I bought our first acreage, we were just shy of 30 years old. We both dug in and worked hard to make that land into a small farm for our family. We had all the energy in the world!

Jim was working full time in the city, and on weekends he was building fences, mending fences, planting fruit trees, tilling garden plots. I was a stay-at-home mom with three young kids, making our house a home, growing some of our food, and doing lots of domestic things “the old fashioned way.”

  

After that, life took us here and there for a few decades, and flash forward to today — we are now just shy of 60 years old. We are both digging in and working hard to make this land into a farm for our family. But guess what? We no longer have all the energy in the world!

We have enough, though. We are putterers and we like to stay busy — it seems to be in our genes. Neither of us lacks for ideas for more things to do around here. We just have to remember to pace ourselves and leave some tasks to our younger family members.

  

We keep an eye on each other and watch for telltale signs that we need a break or need to get help for something. We rarely miss our afternoon coffee date together, whether it’s in the living room, at the kitchen table, on folding chairs in the barn, or somewhere in our beautiful “backyard.” It forces us to sit down and even close our eyes for a spell.

Of course, our life would be different if our kids had not wanted to make this a joint family project. If it were just the two of us, Jim and I would be on 10 or 20 acres just outside a small town, not far from family, with a few chickens, a steer or two, a garden, and some fruit trees.

And truth be told, there would be a point at which we'd be too old to start even a small farm by ourselves. But since we are part of this extended family adventure, we are enjoying it to the hilt. Some of our heroes are elderly longtime farmers who have continued to tend their gardens, care for their livestock, and preserve their own food. They say they won't stop till "they buy the farm" or "the cows come home."

Several years ago Jim and I adopted a personal mantra from the movie “Far and Away.” You may know the story: Joseph and Shannon, played by Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, escape from their unfulfilling lives in Ireland and sail to America. Shannon’s parents, Daniel and Nora, come looking for their runaway daughter. All four of them end up in the Midwest during the Oklahoma Land Rush.

Daniel and Nora, a middle-aged couple, embark on a frantic (and comical) race to claim a piece of land. As they stand victoriously surveying their chosen prize, Daniel says tenderly to Nora:

“Let’s pretend we’re starting out instead of ending up.”  

  

Here’s to starting out … at any age!

Marie and her husband, Jim, are developing a farm in the Pacific Northwest with their adult children and grandchildren. At The Homesteader Kitchen (http://homesteaderkitchen.com), Marie and her daughter review kitchen equipment and talk about preparing and preserving delicious food. Along with other family members, Marie shares glimpses of country life at Rural Living Today (http://rurallivingtoday.com) and teaches practical skills at The Homesteader School (http://homesteaderschool.com).

This is my very first blog post for GRIT. I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am!! By way of introduction, here’s a little about what prompted me to start blogging:

For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated with our country's pioneering era. I can't even explain how much I admire our ancestors that struck out into the unknown to start a new life out West. I devour every fiction book I can find set in that time period. I often joke that if there is such a thing as having lived another life, that I must have been there.

As my wonderful hubby and I venture to be much more self-sustaining, I'm going to try and blog about our attempts and adventures in raising our own food, food storage, animal care, etc.

This fall, we were finally able to purchase a little tract of land and hope to be living on it full-time this coming year. It’s so hard to explain how it’s everything we hoped for in a homestead, but thought that perfect place either didn’t exist, or would be something we’d never be able to afford. Such a sense of peace flows over us every minute we are there. That piece of property has felt like home since the first time we laid eyes on it.

Wish us luck – with the venture itself and my attempts to chronicle it!

 

Beginnings… 

Our venture into homesteading in the desert began in 2003 with 10 acres of high desert in remote southeastern Arizona. We were nearing our retirement from teaching and wanted to fulfill a lifelong dream. Building our own home, enjoying a sustainable and healthy life, and being part of an active rural community again were all parts of our dream.

The land on which we elected to build our new lives is high on the bajada, or alluvial fan, of the Dragoon Mountains. From our place, we can look over the Sulfur Springs valley and see other mini-mountain ranges with such wonderful names as the Chiricahuas, the Galiuros, the Pinalenos, the Dos Cabezas, and, far to the south, the Pedregosas. While small compared to the Rockies, these Sky Island ranges are home to deer, bear, cougar, coatimundi, and dozens of other species of wildlife. Even an occasional wandering jaguar is spotted in the southernmost regions.

 

Although the beauty of the valley and the mountains is hard to dispute, the land, seen up close and personal, is a bit of a mess.  At one time this valley was a savannah, grass lands with sycamore and willow trees bordering the stream beds. But years of intense overgrazing have replaced the grass with a jumble of mesquite, creosote, and a variety of spiny succulents.

Despite the obvious abuse, or perhaps because of it, we loved the place at first sight. Like an abandoned kitten, scrawny and unkempt, our land looked rough. But we believed that with work and care, we could reclaim it to a condition where it would be a comfortable home for us. Knowing we were in for years of work, we vowed to build one step at a time.

The First Step… 

We began the process of creating our desert homestead with the decision to build in stages. That is, we would have all the functions of a single home under three roofs. By doing so, we could complete a smaller project working weekends and summers while we were still teaching. We elected to build a small 320-square-foot adobe house that would be our temporary home while we worked on the other buildings. Ultimately, it would be a writing studio and guest quarters.

 

To minimize the environmental impact of moving onto the land, we cleared the mesquites from our 300-foot driveway with a pick, shovel, and saw. With a path opened, a small pop-up camp trailer was installed next to our selected building site. We were sharing a well with our neighbor, but had not run either the electricity or the water to the building site when we began.

 

We ordered a 24-ton load of adobe clay from nearby clay mine. Ultimately we would go through 96 tons of adobe in the Bear Cave construction.

 

One of the best qualities of rural life here is the willingness of neighbors to pitch in and help. We had a couple 55-gallon “poly” barrels that we filled with water at the neighbor’s house and trailers over to our place for making adobe blocks and, at the end of the day, washing the adobe off our bodies.

 

Making It Happen… 

To make the adobe block, we mixed our mud in tubs with a hoe and shoveled the mixture into a form made from 2x4s subdivided into 10” x 12” cells. In the hot and dry air of the Arizona desert, the blocks set up in a few hours and we could lift the forms and let the blocks dry. We used the same adobe mix, a little wetter, for mortar. The result is a 15” homogenous wall - solid and secure.

 

After putting in the footings and stem wall of concrete, we began laying the block and forming the walls. We developed a routine for the school year. Drive the 75 miles to the trailer after school on Friday, make new block all day Saturday and lay last week’s block on Sunday.  Monday it was back to teaching and resting up for next weekend. It’s impossible to express the gratitude we feel for our neighbors. Every Saturday, after work and clean-up, we walked over to Dan and Anneke’s place, the 20 acres next to us, for a fantastic hot meal. Gracious hosts and a great cook!  Thanks guys!

 

Barbara mortared and leveled the walls and I mixed and shoveled adobe mortar. Eventually, the walls were up and we started on the top structure.

 

We built our trusses on the leveled and tamped earth sub floor. Then purlins, steel roofing, and insulation were put in place. The adobe floor and the porch pavers were done last. The satisfaction of seeing the Bear Cave emerge from a pile of loose clay was beyond compare.

 

When we began the adobe building process, we were essentially novices. We relied on excellent books with trial and error combined with some common sense. By the time the Bear Cave had fully emerged from piles of loose clay, we were well past the novice stage.

It had taken us 18 months of weekend and summer work to complete, but finally the big day arrived. We invited Dan and Anneke over for a celebratory dinner of chili and cornbread. We had done it. Even though there remained a straw-bale utility building, a garden, a workshop, an orchard, and a straw bale main house yet to build, we had completed the first step. So, we celebrated.

What is “voluntary simplicity”?  My definition is quite short: the lifelong process of choosing to live a simple life.  The next part would be to define “simple.”  I personally believe we all have to define that for ourselves.  My choices may not match anyone else’s lifestyle choices, and that’s ok.  You have to look at your values and base your choices in life on what’s right for you.  One thing that could be consistent for everyone is voluntary simplicity should be about living life with purpose, not just existing from day to day.

A “simple” life is not necessarily an easier life, but should be working toward a less stressful life.   It’s a lifelong journey of consciously choosing the way in which you live including how you react to and interact with others, consume products, participate in relationships or end relationships, activities you participate in, and how you determine what brings you joy.

It’s so easy to just exist day to day.  It’s also easy to long for material things and work so hard to achieve them.  Once you’ve achieved the thing you’ve worked so hard for, then what?  Typically, there’s another material thing you set to work toward.  When does it end?  When does it become enough?

Have you ever felt you couldn’t invite people over until you purchased new glasses, or cleaned the living room?  I’ve known a few people who, when it was there turn to host the family Christmas party, felt the need to purchase new living room or dining room furniture.  Why?  Why isn’t what you are and who you are good enough?

I’ve thought a lot the past 3 years about making the most of my time while I’m here.  Nothing is guaranteed and none of us knows how long we’ve got.  What do I want to do?  Who do I want to be?  How do I want others to remember me?  In all my thought processing, there hasn’t been a material item that jumped to the front of my mind other than the property and home I’d like to live in.  The reason that’s important is because we know we want to be surrounded by more animals which means we need a larger piece of property.  Animals and homesteading bring us joy.

I determined for myself what my “simple” looks like and outlined steps that were important to me.  For example, I’ve ended unhealthy relationships with family members and friends who were bringing me more stress than happiness.  I am paying more attention to things I purchase or want to purchase and ask myself if I need it and if not do I really love or cherish it?  Although I am unable to work part-time at my job, I have encouraged my husband to do so at least for the winter months.  He is able to enjoy his week at a different pace than when he was full-time and to focus on things that bring him happiness.

The process of voluntary simplicity is much easier once you’ve defined what your “simple” means.  What types of things do you see as a “simple” life?

To find out more about us, please visit us at www.lifeatcobblehillfarm.blogspot.com.

A couple weeks back, I had the pleasure of attending the inaugural MOTHER EARTH NEWS Fair, September 25 and 26 in Seven Springs, Pennsylvania. From talking to GRIT readers to attending a workshop on small-scale home meat processing, this was an excellent opportunity that I’m thrilled to have seized.

My duties at the Fair were multifaceted, but initially I was to go and work a booth promoting GRIT’s partnership with the U.S. Belted Galloway Society involving a giveaway of a young, registered Belted Galloway heifer. The drawing is mid-March, by the way, so there’s still time to get in. All you need is access to a couple of acres, and you could have a gentle, hardy, beef cow that will do excellent on grass.

 

Turns out, this was the perfect venue for talking with people about which breed they’d pick for starting their own herd, and I hope this won’t be the only cow (or other livestock) sweepstakes we do at GRIT. We love putting useful stuff in the hands of our readers, and what has more utility and vast returns than loveable livestock for your farm?!

 

Photo: courtesy David King

Aside from working the booth, I got to get out and mingle with Fair-going folks, shoot some video and ask some questions. I met a young woman who’d won tickets to the Fair via a GRIT facebook giveaway. I talked to Twenty Twenty (his real name, reflecting a desire to perceive things in the most accurate way), who gives nature walks and workshops on how to forage for food in the wild. His wife, Carol Wingert, hopes to contribute photography for upcoming issues of the magazine.

Craig Russell, president of the Society for the Preservation of Poultry Antiquities, was in a booth right across from us.

I got to meet and talk with Paul Gardener, a GRIT blogger and writer/contributor with whom I share a passion for hunting and rural life.

 

I had the pleasure of meeting Bob Nutting, an owner of Ogden Publications who expressed his affection for GRIT and the direction we’re headed. We also talked about a topic we’re mutually passionate about; baseball. (The Nutting family owns the Pittsburgh Pirates, and one of my best friends, a cousin, plays for them.) But hearing Mr. Nutting talk about how he reads every issue of GRIT made me downright giddy.

The one workshop/presentation I actually got to attend, the meat processing one I mentioned earlier, culminated with the actual skinning and evisceration of a rabbit. I learned the setup and tools I need for doing my own hogs one day (more willing friends, among them). I’ve long been enamored with the thought of having the ability to process my own meat, and this allowed me to talk to a guy who does just that, and see his operation in photos. Since that presentation, I’ve come to understand this is a trade I can learn, it’s realistic and affordable on all levels. I’ve even inquired into the prospects of working one day per week as a sort of apprenticeship with a local butcher.

 

So multiple things I saw that weekend inspired me.

But nothing touched talking to GRIT readers. In this business, you don’t get that interface often. Once in a great while – I think it’s happened twice in the 2-plus years I’ve worked at GRIT – you randomly meet someone who reads. For the most part, it’s easy to become focused on the routine of it all: writing and editing, tracking down art, more editing, final production, putting the magazine on our website, rinse and repeat. We love it because we love the lifestyle and the content, but we seldom get to share it in person with the readers we try our darndest to serve.

Hank and I even had a little fun thinking about what a GRIT Fair might be like. Here’s Hank’s take: “At the GRIT fair, I suspect we’d see a little more Red Man and a little less American Spirit – more boots instead of Birkenstocks. But in both cases it’d be a celebratory gathering of thoughtful, committed and smart people who are passionate about getting the most they can from this life without ruining the planet for their children.”

 

Photo: courtesy Hank Will

Ahhh, maybe one day. In the meantime, if you’re attending a Mother Earth News Fair, catch one of us GRIT editors on Facebook, Twitter, or via email (first initial, last name @grit.com, so for Caleb Regan it’s cregan@grit.com) before the fair, and make an attempt to shake hands. It really will make our day – more like make our event.

I told handy hubby yesterday I didn’t have any ideas for the blog post this week and I didn’t feel like coming up with one.   Being the ever-supportive man that he is, he said I shouldn’t worry about it, and just post a “Gone Fishing” sign.   And that really got me thinking about all those folks who can’t go fishin’.   Which of course got me thinking about BP: Certainly not the first to pollute our waters, and I suspect not the last.

My oh my, has the Gulf Zone had a string of really bad luck lately, or what?!   Hurricanes Katrina, Rita, Ike, and now this, all of them major disasters occurring within five years– not enough time to recover from the previous disaster before the next one slaps ashore.   I wonder how many times a region can get kicked down before they can’t get back up again?  And when that happens, will everyone just keep continuing to point fingers?

We always try to push blame.  I’m not talking about BP executives here, or the various parties involved in the drilling operations, or even the local or federal governments; we should expect that anyone directly responsible there won’t take any real responsibility.   I’m talking WE, as in you and me.  WE, as individuals, are the ones that keep them all in business.  WE need them, or so we have come to believe we do.  We are the ones who have allowed our dependence on these companies to become so consequential that we consider them ALL too big to fail.  It is not new news that drilling is dangerous, ugly, and destructive work, it has been that way forever.  We have decided, and sent the very clear message, that we are willing to pay that price.  WE, you and me, are not willing to suffer the consequences of reduced oil availability or increased prices, and therefore WE are the ones responsible for this disaster and every other one past and future.  Not only are we allowing them to do it to us, we are encouraging them to, every time we make a choice on a dozen decisions big and small every day.  We are willing to let our planet suffer, our children suffer, and our natural environment and all living things in it suffer, so that we won’t have to change.

So this week I am going fishing, in a way.  I’m going to throw some ideas out and fish for some replies.  In what way would you be most willing to reduce your reliance on oil if you could?  Would you:

Buy a hybrid car?  Choose locally raised food?  Work from home?  Fly less often?  Stop using disposable plastics?  Support research for alternative energy sources?  Purchase fewer imported products?  Make your home and lifestyle as sustainable as possible?

Have you, would you, do any of these things?  What else might you consider doing to show BP, and all the rest of them, that you don’t really need them as badly as they think you do?

I am an avid reader of Jenna W. and her Cold Antler Farms blog. In fact, it was one of my early introductions to homesteading and following one's rural dreams. Like her I am a graphic designer and I have to work a day job to keep things rolling around the farm. I digress though. I really just wanted to point out a rather remarkable post of hers from May 29. Entitled, "a real farm?" she tackles the question(s) that many of us face on a regular basis – What is a real farm? What makes it real? Her answers are spot on.

As the weekend continued and I found myself moving at a pretty good clip from task to task (in fact, as I write this I have one eye on the screen and another on the burn barrel just outside my window as I am trying to get rid of some old scrap wood that is too soggy to use for anything). Friday evening brought front yard work and cleaning the water feature. Saturday was invested in pressure washing the house and main fencing (complete all day job). Sunday was consumed by finishing up the solar heated outdoor shower (more on that in an upcoming blog post). Monday was spent cleaning out the garage and barn and trimming up the gardens. Of course we did BBQ in the evening and that made all the sweat and tears worthwhile. But mind you, all of this was done in between harvesting plants, taking care of chickens, doing odds and ends, moving dirt from one pile to another, dodging impending rain, etc. It is a balancing act, to be sure. "Where is he going with this," you might be asking. Well, all of this work and its products make Odom's Idle Acres every bit a farm.

As Jenna puts it, "As far as I'm concerned, if you have a backyard with veggies and a few hens, and you not only consume it yourself but others do as well (friends, neighbors, your community) you are a real farm. You are a producer. You are feeding people. You are real." So OIA is a real farm – all 2.35 acres of it. We have 3 gardens, a corn field, a barn, solar power, chicken houses, etc. We feed ourselves (almost 60 percent of our monthly diet is sourced here), and we feed others. While we don't sell we tithe our extra and donate it to whom we feel led to. So yes, we are a real farm. And the aforementioned tasks – work, some may say – is what life is like on it!

[Jenna also sometimes contributes to The Happy Homesteader on the website of our sister publication, MOTHER EARTH NEWS. – Ed. ]

The very premise behind the conservation movement is grossly flawed. Society has been trying to force restraint and discipline over our lives since abundance first arrived on our horizon, but as a whole, we’re very resistant to that sort of manipulation. We wouldn’t have to push such restrictions on ourselves through religions or laws or social mores if we were already predestined toward moderation. We tend to very easily forget that conservation today most likely equals surpluses tomorrow.

So why on earth would the conservation movement make its platform, well, conservation? It was doomed from the beginning. We no longer think of the word conservation as synonymous with protection and preservation, we view it closer to quotas, controls, restrictions. The conservation movement may not have caused such connotations, but it sure ain’t helping. Rationing means war, at least it once did, and now not even for war and recession have we been proven that willing to conserve.

We are a species who has survived and thrived because we are drawn to abundance, not preprogrammed to conserve. During periods of lean times we have been forced to learn the hard way, repeatedly, but it never really sticks. The next year, or decade, or generation, we have completely forgotten about that hardship again, and we are once again absorbed in our visions of abundance.

In society we honor and reward the man who earns so much he can’t possibly ever spend it all over the man who may work equally hard but at a fraction of the wages, even if we know the rich man to be lacking in character. Why is that? We always reward abundance – abundance in beauty, skill, achievement, talent, even formerly in obesity, back when that was a sign of material abundance. Now that obesity is usually a sign of malnutrition, we don’t value it anymore. In this country an abundance of garbage doesn’t bother us at all, because it’s still an abundance. So until there is a lack of space that makes the abundance of garbage excessively unpleasant, we are very unlikely to do anything about it.

When reality has stepped in and shown us a real truth about human nature – an unpleasant sort of truth along the lines of prostitutes, abortions, and drugs will always exist, until the end of time, no matter what we do to try to change that – you sometimes wish folks would start working with human nature instead of against it. So here is another unpleasant truth: We will never embrace conservation as a concept, because it’s just not attractive. As Bryan Welch writes in his recent article for MOTHER EARTH NEWS, Creating a Sustainable Society: Four Questions We Should Ask, “Austerity is a drag. Most people know that - and resist it.”

There is a very simple formula to change all this. I’ll bet you can guess it. Try right now in the comments section and I’ll tell ya if you’re right next week!

Several months ago my wife, Pan, and I were at the bookstore wasting away a rainy Saturday afternoon. I have to admit it was a little oxymoronic to be sipping my chai tea latte whilst I perused the self-sufficiency and homesteading books. But I digress.

After picking up a few of those titles that have great book jackets and catchy subtitles but little substance I came across a book by Carleen Madigan called The Backyard Homestead. With its etsy-esque cover and obvious homages to the neo-homesteading venture it captured my attention rather quickly.

After reading just a bit I found that the author, Carleen Madigan, was born into a self-sufficiency oriented family and the had the opportunity to grow up eating homegrown foods. She continues to live this way and now brings a comfortable even keeled passion to the subject matter.

I found myself mesmerized by even just the first chapter with its simple quarter acre plot sketches and landscaping ideas. It is a huge source of information and while it is fairly dense on content it is an easy enough read with a lot of illustrations, charts and graphs. It is most certainly a resource that every homesteader, hobby farmer and aspiring one should have in their personal library. I am proud to say that now – some 3 months later – I have my own copy compliments of Santa Claus.

The main premise of the book is that you can produce all the food you need on 1/4 acre (dependent, of course, on your zone and your personal diet). The back cover boasts that on a 1/4 acre you can yield:

1,400 eggs
50 pounds of wheat
60 pounds of fruit
2,000 pounds of veggies
280 pounds of pork
and 75 pounds of nuts

How encouraging is that? For a homesteader like myself who lives on just over an acre, this is not just food for thought. This is divine agricultural intervention! It gives my brain new possibilities to get lost in.

I am still reading and will likely give a more detailed report when I finish. But with my own gardens to prepare for and two new seed catalogues having just arrived in the mail, I don't think it will be soon. But make no mistake about it. I recommend this book for its simple, straightforward ways as well as it is robust amount of information.

Great Grandma was right when she said, “You are what you eat.” Too bad she was already dead by the time most of us came along. Since then we have come to believe not in the wisdom of the ages, but in the goddess of convenience.

Real food is what the body was designed to eat: fruits and vegetables, nuts, beans, legumes and, yes, even meat. Our modern food system is attempting to trump thousands of years of evolution. How can we believe that health is sustainable with a diet from cheap fast-food chains and highly-processed TV dinners? Clearly we have been brainwashed since GG died and need to realize that chemicals do not a food make.

In Part 1, I convinced you that the topics of food and modern day digestive disorders have everything to do with homesteading. In my own experience, looking back to old world recipes has had an incredible impact on my health. I know so many who have become lactose and/or gluten intolerant, other bodies that are cholesterol-excessed, diabetes-driven, or too readily fat-absorbed. Nearly every complaint, ailment, and disease from arthritis to zits, and dare we suggest cancer too, will someday be traced back to diet, I am quite convinced. Getting back to nature has “cured” countless people of these modern diseases of the digestive system.

I am not a doctor or nutritionist or any other kind of health expert, but I do have a personal experience with several of them. I was having digestive issues for several years that seemed to be getting worse, so I did what most people do, I complained, and agonized, and made excuses, and eventually went to the doctor. A specialist actually, gastrointestinal.

But I also did what not so many people do, I went to a nutritionist as well. These two experiences were like night and day.

In the specialist’s office I waited about an hour before a nurse ushered me into another room to take my vitals and invited me to wait again for the doctor. The doctor spent about five minutes with me, and repeated back to me the same information I had just written on the form. He asked me not one single additional question about my diet or lifestyle before rattling off the long list of tests I would need before I would make an appointment to see him again. These started with extensive blood work and ended with a colonoscopy, and would take several weeks before he would see the complete results and be able to make a reasonable prognosis. I knew I couldn’t wait weeks before beginning to consider possible causes and solutions.

So I made an appointment with a holistic practitioner, a “nutritionist” as she was forced to rename herself after several legal encounters that sounded oddly similar to those malpractice issues chiropractors used to encounter so often. In her office I also waited for nearly an hour, but she immediately apologized for that, and she then took my vitals. So far not all that different from the experience at the specialist’s office, minus the 20 or so patients crowding impatiently in the specialist’s waiting room.

But that’s where things went totally different. She actually read my form and asked dozens of questions based on what I’d written. She peered at my tongue, into my eyes, and examined the beds of my fingernails. She told me on the spot what she thought was wrong with me: intolerance to both wheat and dairy. (NO! I inwardly shrieked, That can’t be!) She advised two herbal medications and told me to read the book Eat Right 4 Your Type. She suggested some simple blood tests to make sure there was nothing more serious happening. I left her office feeling informed and empowered and ready to take action, a very far cry from the irritation and confusion and general helplessness I felt when leaving the gastrointestinal specialist’s office.

I was devastated that she might be right, but thrilled that she gave me something I could try right away. I immediately checked out the book from the library and read it in two days. I started taking the herbal remedies she mentioned, and kept a food journal. I thought I could go about two days without my two favorite foods, three tops, but that was all. Life’s too short to sacrifice so much!

But within two days the symptoms that had driven me to the doctor had disappeared. That gave me the motivation to go three days, then four. She was onto something, the book was right, I felt amazing! After one month other symptoms I thought were totally unrelated also began disappearing. By the time the secretary at the gastrointestinal specialist’s office called to remind me of my follow-up visit, I laughed in her ear and said, “But I’m already CURED!”

After the first year or so of strictly following the diet laid out in Eat Right 4 Your Type, I was totally sold. According to the author, whose father had begun researching the effect of foods on different blood types during his own life, all people with Type O blood have some level of intolerance to wheat and dairy. This causes inflammation, which in turn causes many other symptoms, which in turn become diseases: arthritis, IBS, allergies, fibroids, the list goes on and on.

For me, and a lucky few, total abstinence is not required. Knowing you can still eat your favs makes a huge difference to your perceived deprivation quotient (that is of course only if you haven’t developed to “real disease” stage yet). Whenever I slip and thoroughly enjoy a baguette with Camembert, the symptoms return. But at least I now know why! That is an incredible feeling of empowerment. Just like when you overindulge in alcohol, you get a hangover; there is no mystery there, you know it will go away in a day or so. When I stop ingesting what my body considers poison, the symptoms go away.

Three years later it doesn’t feel like such a sacrifice anymore, because my health is so much better. I have found substitutes I love, and it has been a fun learning experience searching for new foods and recipes. It’s part of the reason I truly believe in the homesteading lifestyle, or any other back-to-nature ideals. The incredibly long process that takes our crops from the fields to our tables has gotten way out of control. We have seperated ourselves so completely from the process of creating our food that not only have we accepted our ignorance, but our bodies are at full-on war against us.

Processed foods rely on many of the same ingredients: wheat, dairy, corn, artificial flavor enhancers, preservatives. But we still go to the medical doctor for the issues that should be solved by a dietician, nutritionist, or natural health practitioners, because they do not require a medical doctor to prescribe yet another medication. The Food & Drug Administration combines foods and drugs for a reason. While this is logical, it is also ironic: nowadays the drug and chemical companies are making sure the foods we eat require more of the drugs they sell.

Don’t pop another pill, make your meals from scratch!

Fascinating food documentaries:
Food, Inc.
King Corn
The Future Of Food