To bring you up to speed a little:

When last we talked, I had learned of my second place status with Brownboots Interactive. Andy had interviewed with the Wisconsin Food Hub Co-op (WFHC) and we were waiting to hear if he landed the job.

As he expected, while he seriously impressed the board of directors, he was not asked to take the sales manager position. This was ok as ultimately, we want to see the Hub succeed. However, after he learned this, we were asked to present a proposal to take on the marketing and design aspect of the WFHC.

Let me explain. A month or so back, Andy had been at a trade show on behalf of the brand new WFHC. In order to make an impression on potential buyers and institutions, they needed some corporate ID and they needed it in about 36 hours.

Since the Wisconsin Farmer's Union is a large backer of the WFHC, and they knew of my graphic design experience, I was asked to come up with a logo, a flyer, a banner, a poster and a simple website for the Food Hub. We were able to deliver in time and the feed back on the logo, flyer, etc was really receptive at the restaurant trade show. Andy helped make a lot of connections with his ability to speak to people's needs and that is where he was first asked to apply for the sales position.

Ok, fast forward two weekends later: knowing how well we delivered a nearly complete corporate identity, the board asked us to answer their call for a bid to take on the Food Hub's marketing and design needs for the forseeable future. This would be answered by four other established marketing firms and while we don't have that sort of clout, Andy and I fully believe we are capable of selling regional food. It is after all, Andy's passion and I have been working with farming design for nearly six years.

We went south of Madison with a four page answer to their bid, within budget and with examples of our previous work. As well, we had Finn, who was a model baby during the whole interview! Has anyone out there taken a baby to an interview before? Probably not, but we were comfortable enough with our experience and knowledge to be totally real with these people. Ironically, all but one individual had been at Andy's sales interview just one week prior.

We did well. We did really well. Again, in the top two of the candidates they considered. Again, not the candidate they ultimately went with.

ONLY because they collectively decided they needed some strategic planning and another firm was able to help them with that. We agree that this is a good idea for everyone as no one wants a client who doesn't quite know what they need, nor a client want to waste money on ideas that aren't what they need.

So that was two weeks ago. Since then, there hasn't been much to talk about insofar as events around our house. We are still waiting to hear about our potential involvement with the Food Hub and the home buying is inching along with delays left and right. In the meantime, Andy has rekindled my interest in sewing.

Well, it's not like it actually left. My interest that is. It's just that a baby was born and heaven knows that come 7pm I am about creatively tapped. (hence the lack of writing here as well). However, we just moved Liam to his very own toddler bed and moved Fat Baby (Finn) to the crib. So far, it has served all four of our children very well! But as I was attempting to make up the bed for Liam, I realized that somewhere between Ethan and Liam, we lost our toddler bed sheets. I went online to look for prices and Andy said, "Why don't you just sew them yourself?"

"Right," I said. "Like when?"

"I'm just saying, if you wanted to sew them, you can. I'd support your efforts." 

After stewing to myself for awhile, I looked online for some free patterns from the myriad sewist bloggers out there and found a few that all said about the same thing. Simple to do, simple to buy for. Save about half the money. Ok. So I did it.

 

Two sewing sessions later, one of which I was fully accessible to all the kids (something I didn't think was possible with all the needles and scissors and such) and there was a nice flannel sheet for Liam to sleep on. Even matched his random pillow case we got from his cousin Maddie at Christmas!

  

Speaking of Christmas, I mentioned a jacket I sewed for Elly for Christmas. I finally took photos of the derned thing! This was about $40 in materials and roughly 24 hours of work. Really puts into perspective the amount of labor we get for virtually free when we buy clothes made in third world countries...

 

  

I couldn't have done it without my mom's guidance and a little tag team sewing here and there!

So now, I am back on the sewing train. Next project? A messenger bag for Andy to take with him on business meetings. We picked out the fabric and accessories this morning at the new JoAnn Fabrics here in Oshkosh. I might be doing that tonight if energy permits. Otherwise, there is the weekend! I found a great pattern here: OCD: Obsessive Crafting Disorder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, about the title of this post: last weekend Andy and I got a rare night out with NO kids (not even Fat Baby) thanks to my parents babysitting. It was supposed to be a short night out at Mahoney's in Oshkosh for a drink and a dessert to alleviate some tension between us that had been building up lately. What came of it was a great, though sober talk about where we are at in our relationship. In about two weeks we will be celebrating our seventh year married and January 2013 marked ten years since we began dating. It's a long time to be close to someone day in and day out, through thick and thin and kids and moving and jobs and losing jobs and losing loved ones and celebrating successes and becoming deeper human beings.

We are not the same two people that began dating over a table of sushi back in college.

Friday night we sat in silence for a long time. For me, I knew something was really weighing heavily on Andy. For Andy, he wasn't sure what it was but the uncomfortable presence was soon revealed.

For a long time, my unhappiness in my life has been growing. Very incrementally, but definitely growing. I get overwhelmed easily. I feel like I'm failing most days at this thing called motherhood, let alone wifeliness. I realize a lot of this has to do with poor quality sleep and a new baby taking center stage, but this is a problem I've had for some time. I can't really pinpoint when I first thought to myself that I was unhappy with my life, but I know it was over two years ago...all the way back to St. Brigid's Meadows era.

If it seems as though this might be a major thing to overlook in a blog about one's life, rest assured; I really didn't know it was overtaking my view on life until maybe the last six months or so. I never mentioned it to you because for a long time, I just thought that I hadn't found my niche and this was the root of my restlessness.

I knew from day to day that I was not being the mother I wanted to be. I snapped at the kids too much, my patience seemed to be waning and again, that feeling of being overwhelmed by [first world] problems. Additionally, Andy was feeling like he had to take more and more off my plate to make me happy. This is what I knew.

What I didn't know is that my attitude was totally dragging down the whole family. Andy suggested (nay, assigned to me) reading a book called "Happiness is a Serious Problem," by Dennis Prager. It's a book we've had for years and neither of us have read it. Being given an assignment by my husband is something I relish. I am goal oriented and this business of being down all the time had me exasperated. How do I solve it? I need steps, goals to reach towards and "just getting better" doesn't cut it for my personality. Finally, a first step. Reading this book.

Back at the restaurant, I made small talk but finally we began to zero in on the root of the problem. Andy was exhausted and becoming apathetic to a lot of things, but he confessed it was mostly to me and my feelings. As hard as it was to hear, I was hungry for the truth and welcomed his feedback. He discussed how he thinks about me and what I need 24 hours a day, and how nothing he does helps me feel better. After months of basically walking on egg shells so as not to tip my mood, he said he is just ready to give up. For my part it was the first time I was able to see outside my own sphere of pain and frustration to witness just how my attitude was hurting the people I loved. 

That fell harder than Andy saying he was tired of it all. I couldn't bear the fact that me being down in the dumps was making everyone else end up feeling...well...down in the dumps! 

Behind us in a nearby booth, a man and woman were out celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. We paused our conversation as the server congratulated them and the man stated that it hadn't been easy but each day was a blessing to be with his wife. Andy looked squarely at me and said, "Don't worry. That will be us someday. We'll get through this."

With that sort of reassurance and a new mission ahead of me, I left Mahoney's refreshed and ready to become the woman I was meant to be.

And since then, life has been so much more bearable and joyful. That book is amazing in pinpointing everything that Americans find to destroy happiness. I must recommend it to anyone. Everyone. It squarely placed the responsibility on me and for the first time in my life, I feel in control of the circumstances that normally cause me to get flustered and down. It's liberating! And I can only go up from here.

I can also say that Andy's overall demeanor has relaxed and become more fun-loving than he's been in ages. I asked him if it was because I was taking responsibility for my feelings and actions and he paused. Then he said that yes, he didn't even realize what a pressure was taken off his shoulders when I decided to adjust my attitude.

Now, I'm not saying I'm completely well. Take this blog for example; it's taken me three days of popping in and out just to complete it and that sort of thing drives me insane! Or today; Andy is busy preparing for a very important expo he is co-coordinating this weekend and I have a load of design things due this same week for Gourmet Grassfed. I had a few "not-my-best-moments" today already.

But overall, we're getting there. I have to run right now, but I'll post again soon. Lots going on here!

"Life begins at the intersection. What direction, what direction, what direction, now?" ~Switchfoot

Remember how I mentioned we had a lot going on behind the scenes? How I couldn't really talk about it right then because so much was yet to be understood?

 

I think I can finally talk about it.

On the day Finn was born, Andy had a wonderful conversation with a friend of ours who came to cuddle a new baby. As I watched him speak with her about some relationship issues she was having, it really dawned on me that his long time desire to study psychology was well founded. This guy can really read people and help them out! A few days later, I expressed my support of him returning to college to finish his bachelor's degree. Instead of English like he began back in 2000, he would finish with a degree in psychology. From there, he could open doors to a number of vocations and careers involved in helping people overcome their problems.

We contacted the local university we both had attended years back (and is now consequently a mile from our home) and got him enrolled in their non traditional student, "welcome back, we understand it was rough the first time around" amnesty program. He applied for financial aid and was all set with his student counselor to begin school again for Spring semester (beginning at the end of January).

But then, the VA office was hard to get hold of for his paperwork and we were super busy with baby and life happened. Details for me at this point are a bit hairy as I was sleep deprived, but we sort of let it go on purpose. Summer school, it seemed, would be more likely and then really dive in next Fall.

Around this time, my father casually mentioned that the house across the street from Foxwood Farm was going to be sold. When we lived at Foxwood, the home was (is) owned by an older fellow whom I grew up knowing as Mr. Carly. Mr. Carly lived with his parents in a house down the road a bit (like 100 yards) until both of them passed. Then when I was in middle or high school, he built his own home directly across the street from our farm. He sold off his folks' home and kept seven acres to himself. He planted flowering trees and bushes and had a sizable pond dug at the very back of his property. An avid birder, he also carved wood as a hobby and built an enormous three-bay garage in which he kept his woodshop. My father rented out most of the acreage for farming and this arrangement has been going on happily for years.

When we heard that Mr. Carly's house was about to be available, our hearts skipped a beat. We could no longer have Foxwood, but here was a chance to create a farmette of our own, right across the street from family. It seemed so timely. Just that week, Andy and I had seen Mr. Carly out and about in Oshkosh in his silver little hatchback and we talked about whether or not he would ever move away and if it would be possible to buy his house. We agreed then that he likely would never move as he is fiercely independent, despite his old age.

Hearing Dad's description of the house, it sounded just right. Dad thought it might be a great investment home for us to work on for five to ten years and then have the equity and savings to build up on the hill at The Other Farm. The more we talked it over with family (both my side and Andy's), the more it seemed like a good idea.

We visited Mr. Carly and toured the home. With all due respect to the man, he has been a bachelor his whole life and the home will need some serious TLC! :-) But we have plenty of sweat and very little cash. So this works out.

We talked to a couple lenders and are getting qualified for a mortgage. Meanwhile, we talked to our old neighbor Mr. Carly and he is agreeable to the price we offered him! So the home has not been listed and neither of us has realtors, yet we are virtually at an agreement to buy a home in the country!

As exciting as that is, the intersections in our lives just keep cresting on the horizon.

While Andy is interested in continuing his education (something he has gone back and forth on for years), he is also passionate about the local food scene. Outside of Gourmet Grassfed, he is inserting himself in various organizations in the Fox Valley and Wisconsin to become a sort of grassroots expert on food systems and scaling up to the regional level. The inherent problem with knowing your farmer is that a school district cannot rely on one farm for all their food needs. But a collaboration of growers as well as local transportation just might work to get nutrient dense fruits, veggies and meats into the hands of those who really need it. In his dealings, he's been asked to be a mentor, an advisor and has become a sounding board for several non-profit groups who are trying to get local food more accessible.

This sort of acknowledgement of his abilities and skills is new. For years Andy has been battling delegitimizing and belittling authority figures. People who didn't take him seriously or only knew him for certain aspects of his past.

Perhaps until now, he didn't really deserve it. Rest assured, the time he spent being humbled has only served to build within him a desire for servant leadership; to kneel down and wash the dirty feet instead of sitting in the throne. Having people outside of me and a select handful of close friends begin to rely on his hard won expertise is a very new experience for Andy. Within this came an opportunity to work on the ground level of a new food hub being developed and partially funded by the Wisconsin Farmer's Union. Called the Wisconsin Food Hub Cooperative, it is brand new and already hitting the ground running for 2013. They have growers contracted and need a full time manager and full time sales person.

After Andy's work with them, a few of the board members asked him to apply for the sales position. They interview all the candidates next week. The job can be worked from home, too.

He is going to apply.

Which brings back the question he's been struggling with: Do I go back to school for a degree in psychology in which I am totally passionate about, but cannot do with street cred? You can't do anything in counseling or psych without at least a bachelor's and for most things you need a masters or more.

Or do I follow my food passion and continue to build up my street credit with hard won experience and learning? So far being in the trenches, degree-less and instinct-full, has gotten Andy some serious double-takes by people with influence. If he is not offered the sales position, he plans to continue to be a part of this local food movement both on the county and state level.

Then, to add another point to the intersection in our life, I just had an interview for a graphic design position in Fond Du Lac (20 mins south of Oshkosh). It would be full time and this is not temporary.

If hired, I would be a full time working woman again. Andy wouldn't be homeschooling, so Ethan and Elly would be enrolled in public school next Fall. If Andy gets hired, the younger two would be watched by someone else while Andy works from home.

Suddenly the intersection starts looking more like this:

  

"The future is a question mark/ of kerosene and 'lectric sparks." ~Switchfoot

In a few weeks, we'll know if any of this comes to pass. And then so will you. Exciting and strange times, right?

Tom hummed the well-known tune with made up words as he worked:

“Me and you and a dog named Sam, farmin’ and living off the land.

Me and you and a dog named Sam, how I love bein’ a free man.” 

Appropriate.

 

Our 30-year boat business sold. Both of us are currently unemployed. But we’re working like dogs. (Although I don’t know any dogs that work.) A few days from now, we’re putting our house up for sale. The money we make is all we have to build a small house and a big dream. So we’re painting and polishing—puttying and planting. The list is endless.

Twelve-hour days are preparing me for farm work I think. I’ve noticed stubborn dirt under my fingernails. I’ve used a file. Washed my hands. I think it’s permanent. Like wrinkles.

I’ve also discovered a few other facts. I’m a wimp, I’m spoiled, and I’m naïve. 

But, I’m preparing.

Just like there's no crying in baseball, there's no whining in farming.

Hold me accountable, friend.

I'm looking forward to a simpler life. Not easier. But slower.

Better.

See you on the farm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our cell phones stopped working about half way up the mountain. Siri was speechless. After a few wrong turns, we pulled up to a driveway. 

A man with white hair opened an iron gate while three happy farm dogs followed our car until we stopped.

Tom and I assumed we were safe and ventured out to great tail-wagging. 

“You must be Kelly’s new friends. My name is Mike. Glad to have you.”

Who knew that at the 30-year-celebration for our pastor in Clearwater, Florida, we’d meet a farmer’s wife who lived about 45 minutes from our North Carolina property?

The Lord has a way of doing that.

So, after a fifteen-minute meeting and an invitation to visit on our next trip north, we entered Michael and Kelly Josey’s 200-acre parcel on top of a mountain with a view of both the Blue Ridge and Shenandoah mountains.

Breathtaking.

In a kitchen big enough to house a small movie theatre, we talked while Kelly cooked. She peeled fresh peaches and placed them in homemade piecrusts. Two chickens were slathered with butter and covered with secret spices. After the piecrusts, Kelly kneaded dough and baked several loaves of fresh bread. She cooked fresh corn and beans for sides. And did I mention we had peach pie?

And while she cooked in her big farm kitchen, we shared our big farm dream. We asked questions. We listened to advice. We laughed and we prayed.

And then we ate. As my daddy used to say, “That was a sumptuous repast. Besides that, it was good.” And it was.

After lunch, we toured their land by car. Then we ventured out on foot. We strolled along the Dan River and listened to unfamiliar sounds. River and forest sounds. No honking. No airplanes or TV’s or cell phones ringing.

We arrived back home. It was evening time, so Michael called the cows—and they came home.

We’d spent the entire day on the mountain.

The golden sun disappeared over a carpet of green trees. It was the kind of scene and the kind of day that made you smile on the inside.

I wondered if the settlers had days like that. Days where they traveled to a neighboring farm house and visited.

Really talked.

Priceless.

We’re closer to our dream. The business sold, we’re packing for Canaan, and the obligatory garage sale is Friday.

And when the house sells, we’ll go.

To a new place. To a new life. To new friends.

Friends like Mike and Kelly.

I can’t wait.

But I'm still scared.

It’s not often that a man calls and asks to come to your house to give you a large check.

As we sat at the dining room table discussing the sale of our boat and a business that had been ours for over 30 years, it seemed surreal.

Yet, it’s what we prayed for.

Scary.

Shocking.

Exciting.

I told my 25-year-old daughter. She cried.

I told my 22-year-old son. He asked, “How much?”

After over three decades as a fisherman’s wife, I’m transferring to a farmer’s wife.

God called us out of our “Ur.” We’re moving to Canaan.

As farmers.

That’s what faith is about. Trusting. Obeying. Sometimes pulling up everything you’ve ever known and moving.

We’re doing that.

Gulp.

Tom’s both smiling and trembling at the same time.

The house in Ur still belongs to us, but I’m thinking we’ll be in North Carolina by summer.

James Taylor’s song is running through my mind and my heart.

These last few months have been a whirlwind for the W.A.S.P. family!  We packed up the truck and moved from our small country home to a tiny Gulf coast condo.  Seafood gumbo and oysters are taking the place of fried catfish and venison.  The McNugget’s have gone to live at their uncle’s house (to be spoiled by the two cutest little girls with lots of bread crumbs).  Instead of a backyard garden, I have a condo on stilts.  In the frantic first days of a new job, living out of boxes, I didn’t think I could continue a blog about the country lifestyle.  How could I share what I was learning now that I was living in sandy suburbia?

The more I settle in, the more I see that this place isn’t so different from the one I left.  Yes there are highrise condos and amusement parks, but there are also lifelong fishermen and simple white churches.  Just over the bridge there are cotton fields and pecan groves.  Country life is more than the house you live in, and to me it means making a home with your own hands.  Traditional recipes, supporting local famers,  hand-making and re-purposing are all country values that don’t have anything to do with geography.

They say that whatever you’re doing on New Year’s day you will be doing the rest of the year.  I hope I’m off to a good start sharing a traditional Southern New Year’s meal of black eyed peas, and collard greens with my boys.  Wishing you all health and happiness in 2013, and I’m looking forward to sharing my new coastal country life with y’all this year!

Black-eyed Peas for a Spicy New Year

1lb dried Black-eyed peas (I use China Doll, from Saraland, AL)

1 sweet onion chopped

4 cloves of garlic chopped

2 peppers (your choice) sliced lengthwise, remove seeds to make it less spicy if desired

3 Tbsp Oil (or lard, or bacon grease)

1 tsp black pepper

Salt to taste

Toss in a hambone or smoked turkey wing to add flavor (I freeze the bone from my Christmas ham just for this purpose)

Soak dried beans with enough water to cover for at least one hour.

In large stockpot sauté onions and garlic in oil over medium heat until onions are transparent.  Add in peppers, bones, and seasoning.  Drain the soaking beans, rinse, and add to pot.  Add enough water to cover and simmer until beans are creamy.  Delicious with cornbread!

Nearly a century ago, a family left their home country of Germany and moved to rural Kansas to find their American dream…of sugar beet farming. This family, my family, learned to speak English, farm on new soil, drive cars and adapt to American life on the eve of World Wars where Germans were not the most popular folk. But they did it, and Kansas was their canvas. As kids grew up and farming wasn’t paying them any favors, they moved away from Kansas (and the farm) to more stable jobs out East and in the Northwest. One lone family member remained in Kansas and still resides in Cottonwood Falls.

I was sitting in my high-rise Chicago apartment one day pondering the important things in life: what will I have for dinner, what will I do this weekend, how will I get downtown during rush hour, where do I want to start my career? Being in the magazine industry, you are almost expected to start in New York, but I was not about to have it.

Every few weeks I called my Nanna and made her tell me stories about the farm. One summer we even took a road trip to see the (30 person) town she lived in, the soil she sowed, the one-room house she and her family occupied. A little seed had been planted years ago. I had farm dreams. So when graduation neared and resumes were being sent, I couldn’t ignore the prodding that told me to nurture that seed and see what happens. New York wasn’t going to be the place to do it, not even Chicago would do. Kansas felt right, and soon, it was the only place I could imagine myself.

I phoned up my family and told them I wanted to reinstate the family farm. We had been out of the soil for long enough. We were farmers when we came to this country, and we should never forget what makes us who we are. Most of the phone calls fell silent on the other end. “You want to do what??” I want to learn how to farm. My grandma and her siblings who came from that same German farm were touched that I wanted to follow my ancestor’s journey. The more and more I think about it, the more I can’t see myself anywhere else.

While I don’t have a piece of land (yet), I constantly daydream about what my family must have experienced out here in Kansas. Nanna reassures me, “It’s a very good life. A hard life. But a very good life.” So for now, I’ll keep making her tell me stories of the farm, beg my editors to let me help out on their farms, and edit stories about things I wish I was doing. Fishing anyone?

Since I last wrote you, more than a three monthhave passed. And so many things have changed. 

Let me begin at the beginning...which is actually the end of April when I chronicled the post below...

I had been hinting that we were looking for a place of our own and while our first choices were Omro or Winneconne, there was nothing affordable that truly fit our needs. That being said, we found a great old house to rent in downtown Oshkosh. It's the lower half of the home, with the upper being completely chaotic in the midst of renovation, so we don't have upstairs housemates and likely won't for a long time. The yard is roughly 1/3 of an acre, right here in the heart of the city. There are three bedrooms, a large farmhouse kitchen, one bathroom, a huge dining room and living room. Also of note is the sizable front porch and ample space in the lawn for a garden. The ceilings are 14' and the original hardwood floors and woodwork make this home full of character and style. For Andy and I, it was the next best thing to a home of our own on a farmette. As part of the rental deal, the landlord renovated a room in the basement to serve as Andy's work-from-home office, which he is utilizing daily.
   

Here is a view of the front from across the street. Elly is flying past on Ethan's balance bike. The yard on both sides is ours. There is an alley in the back since our street is a one way and our garage is in the very back. We love the porch and cannot wait for warmer weather so we can have meals out there. 
   

Also came with a tree swing in which Ethan here demonstrates his floating run. You can see the back alley and the kids toys to help you figure out what direction you are looking.

Inside, the home also came with a free set of bunkbeds which we needed for Elly and Ethan and a 1947 baby grand player piano. Andy is currently learning how to tune it himself. He's amazingly good at it since he can hear the notes perfectly. We've always wanted a piano!

Below, Liam and Ethan read books in one corner of the Elly and Ethan's room. Liam has his own space again, complete with crib (not a pack-n-play like he had for the last nine months) and rocking chair. It's the smallest of the three rooms and just the right size for him. (sorry, no photos yet).
  

I love the counter in the kitchen. The home came with two tall and stable bar stools that we fit into the corner when not in use. But we can fit the kids up there to help learn cooking and baking, or just watch us work in the kitchen. They love it and consistently fight over the two. Early on, Liam learned he could sit there too like the big kids and now he feels he has just as much right to a stool as anyone else. So...we figured out that if we scrunch the two stools together, we create a bench of sorts and then...

 

 

...Everyone can see! And, everyone can participate, just like they always wanted. Whew! 

Here Ethan works on some playdough while I blog and Liam naps. This is a shot of our kitchen with the 14' metal ceiling and farm kitchen cupboards. We had to put our canned goods and Grandma's cooking utensils on center stage. It just felt perfect. What you can't see is that we also had room for a "kitchen couch," thereby inviting guests and family alike to hang out in the kitchen when the cooking is being done. Let's be honest, it's where everyone gathers most the time anyway!

Fast forward to the month of June and there have been even more changes in our life...

1. I got a hair cut (ok, not that big of a deal, but it's still a nice change to mention). Before, then after!

 
2. Andy and I celebrated 6 years of marriage on May 6th! (and the reason I cut my hair; a gift to Andrew as he loves short hair on me)

3. Elly turned 5 years old on May 9th. (so soon!?)

 
4. Elly completed her first dance class with a single recital for all the kids in the Omro grade school gym. She was very excited about it, but after three months, she was definitely done with dancing.

5. I got a full time job.

6. We learned we are pregnant with our fourth child!

The last two combined caused me to be utterly spent at the end of each day and the thought of even checking my email made me want to curl up in a coma and sleep for a week.

My job was a temp job with a local corporation doing layout design and typesetting. Very agreeable work, but long hours. My longest week was 70 hours and the shortest was a typical 40. I say was, because the job ended last week. I had about 5 solid weeks of hard work and good pay to help us bank up a little reserve for the summer.

During that time, Andy took over being the head of the domestic arts and excelled at being father, chef, house-cleaner, home schooler and playdate maker. At any given moment, I'd receive an email at work with a photo of the kids' current events. It was very heartening for a newly working mother to know that all was safe, sound and very well at home. He put in a large garden in our back yard and nice looking fence row of raspberry transplants across the front of the yard. It was three weeks of intermittent labor, but it all looks amazing now!

I only had one incident at work in which the morning sickness overcame me but I was able to make it to the bathroom in time. JUST in time. Thankfully, I have come out of morning sickness stage and though I am still drained at the end of the day, I can eat most foods set in front of me. We think I'm due about New Years.

Because we weren't planning this fourth addition, we are now in need of a mini-van again. While the Plymouth Breeze has served us well, it won't fit another car seat in the already crowded back seat. :-)

That was our past two months. Really, really nutshelled that one, but I need to move on with current events. And naps are ending in T-minus ten minutes, I just know it!

In a couple weeks, our family has the privilege to travel for the Wisconsin Farmer's Union to North Dakota. This is for their FUE (Farmer's Union Enterprise) Young Couple's program. We applied to be this year's couple and were chosen to represent Wisconsin amongst four other states: Minnesota, North Dakota, South Dakota and Montana. We will have the opportunity to travel to five locations across the nation in the next year starting with this leadership retreat in Medora, ND. The kids are welcome and we are making a family vacation out of it.

After the three day retreat we plan to visit some friends of ours in Colorado Springs from our CO days. However, with the wildfires causing so many homes destroyed, our friends may be evacuated! Our prayers are with them...

On our way home, we hope to visit our favorite editors at Grit and Mother Earth News!

I've been at a bit of a loss to tell you all what has happened to us since we completed our 21 day challenge. It's been hovering over me like an angry deer fly and I haven't been able to swat it away. Honestly, finding where to begin is much more complicated than simply stating that we completed the challenge and this is what we learned. But it's been exactly two weeks since June 28th (the twenty first day of the challenge) and it's time we fill you in on the whirlwind of events in our lives.

You see, the final day of our challenge was also the final day at St. Brigid's Meadows in La Crosse. We loaded a moving truck that day and moved back to the east side of Wisconsin, about to pursue the next step in our lives.

* * * * *

When we began that clean up of our personal lives, I didn't let on in my original post, but Andy and I knew something big was going to come out of it. We just didn't know exactly What. We just knew When. In the three weeks that followed our declaration to the Heavens and to you, we began in earnest to keep a tidy and structured household. That's really what it was all about: get our house in order and clean up our minds.

Andy is fond of saying that you can tell a lot about a person's state of mind by the way they keep their home. It's definitely the place that most people spend the most time (even if it is just sleeping) and the home becomes an extension of one's self. When I said last month that I had come to a point of being stressed out by everything, my mind was in disarray. I had no routine other than a pretty set bedtime for the kids. I had no schedule, other than the days that Andy delivered products (M-W-F). And my home was in a constant state of "almost clean." By that I mean, the main things were usually taken care of: dishes, laundry and meals. But everything else that comes with keeping house was fit in here, there, or not at all. Such was the state of my mind as well. No wonder I was stressed about everything! And in my stressing, the family suffered. The other saying we're fond of is true, too: "When Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!"

It took snapping us out of that rut of chaos for me to realize that I was not happy. Think about it for a moment. Are you happy? By happy, I mean content with your place in life. Or thankful for the moment you in which you live. I had not thought about whether or not I was happy in years. Frankly, I had not thought about much of anything in-depth for quite some time. But when Andy and I had that argument the day my mother was over, I finally took the time and thought long and hard. No. I was not happy anymore.

That's pretty heavy stuff. Andy was kind as he pointed out my entire existence was one reaction after another. Reacting to the kids waking up before 6am. Reacting to the workload of dishes when there is no dishwasher but yourself. Reacting to the accounting, email and design work demanded of me by the farm. Reacting to the precious needs of my husband. When in exasperation Andy stated that we would take on this challenge, I lapped it up with eager intensity. I needed the change and for the first time since we had kids, I took on the task with a fiercely proactive heart. It was time.

A couple days into it, the kids became sick. That passed on to us adults and even over to the other farmers. I believe that in some circumstances, sickness is a sign that you are doing something right. Think about it: if you are attempting to correct something in your life, wouldn't the Enemy try to squelch it? Sickness doesn't work well with routine. But I was determined to make it to Day 21. I began to thrive under this challenge.

Not only did I create a routine for the daily chores and doings of a household with children, but I became empowered as a mother and wife. It felt good, really good, to take charge like that and live each day PROACTIVE. We began implementing cleaning arrangements that caused Andy and I to work side by side (something we had not done ever before) and marveled at the blessing of new conversation we enjoyed. I became almost militant about Ethan napping at 1pm after lunch time and before I knew it, he was going down without fighting me. In fact, after lunch on a normal day, he goes and finds his blankie and heads to bed by himself without me saying a word! Elly's attitude has improved substantially and we hear much less whining and complaining from her. She now knows what to expect and for her, that sort of security is priceless.

Most of all, Andy and I are on the same page (as much as a human couple could be) as far as parenting, routines and schedules. That is empowering for both of us as we head into, once again, uncharted territories.

About a week into our challenge, as we were noticing the positives coming from that within our household, we knew we needed to account for the situation in our jobs. As I alluded to earlier, things were not so rosy as Andy and I found our position at the farm shifting to meet its needs. Things were happening in the natural that surely had spiritual implications. People and events within the structure of the farm were aligning so that Andy's and my position was whittled down to personal cooking engagements, sales and graphic design. The question on everyone's mind was simple, but weighty: How does this third family cash flow at the farm?

This is good business and we'll be the first ones to tell you that everything and everyone at a farm needs to have a purpose or it's got to be re-purposed...or removed. During the middle of June, Andy and the others at the farm worked numbers, scenarios, business models, and projections to see where our place would be in 6 months' time. Some of the projections were exciting and hopeful, like Andy and I taking on an entrepreneurial cheffing endeavor separate, but associated with, the farm. Other options all seemed to point to the same dilemma months down the road.

Andy and the fam and I traveled back to the east side of Wisconsin, the Fox Valley, to clear our heads and get a little clarity on the grave issue before us. Obviously, this whole time we were deep in prayer and searching out the next step before us. Andy and I both knew it was coming, and soon. But it was not ours to take. We had to be shown first.

That's when Andy met with our good friend Ben.

Ben is a young man with a lot of drive and business sense. We first met him when we sold fresh milk at Foxwood Farm. He came to us, fresh out of college, hungry to know more about the underground food rebellion that we were a part of. A guy like that just wanted a cause to get behind and when he learned that he wasn't allowed to buy milk from a farmer in the Dairy State, you can bet that was enough fuel to light this firecracker of a man. He was one of our biggest supporters, coming with us to the Raw Milk Hearing after only knowing us for two months and attending the International Raw Milk Symposium in Madison. There, he took stole the microphone in front of a panel of distinguished big-wigs in the Slow Foods Movement and catalyzed the audience into acting on all this knowledge they had received at the conference. We called him The Foxwood Farm Hero. When we lost the farm and moved to St. Brigid's, Ben made the three hour drive to visit us at least once a month, but often more than that.

During the long dark days of winter, he and Andy dove into long discussions about what the local foods movement needed in order to launch it to the next level. Ben had a great desire to consult with farmers and consumers alike in order to help them better reach each other than the standard farm market or CSA. At the same time, he had been brought up with an extensive working knowledge of meat and meat preservation. Ben comes from a prestigious lineage of cured meat artisans (if that is even a term!). His grandfather began Hillshire Farms and built the company up to a reputable force in the industry. When Sara Lee wanted to buy the company, Ben's grandfather accepted on the condition that he would be allowed to make decisions about the quality of the sausage and meat. Soon, however, Sara Lee wanted to cut costs and put "fillers" into the meats. When Ben's grandfather protested, they eliminated his position.

Undaunted, the man began a new meat company in his middle age called Silver Creek Specialty Meats and has preserved that company within the family ever since. Ben's parents both work there today and Ben grew up knowing everything a kid could know about preserving meat. After learning of his heritage, it should come as no surprise that this year, at age 24, Ben began his own company called Gourmet Grassfed. He sells locally produced, locally raised grassfed beef meat snacks that are reminiscent of jerky, but so much better for you. I can tell you more about the products themselves another time.

Circling back, the reason this info is so relevant is because when Andy met with Ben in June, it was to tell him that something big was on our family horizon. The more they talked, the more it became clear that our paths were once again connecting. Ben had reached a ceiling in what he as one man could do to promote his incredible and niche product. He needed someone else to come on board to help with sales and marketing.

Someone who knew the product as well as he did, and someone that had been there from the ground up. In those winter nights over organic Vodka mixers and braised ox tail, Andy had helped Ben with his vision of Gourmet Grassfed. When I was overwhelmed with a nursing infant and bleary eyed from lack of sleep, I helped him design his label.

 

(So if you don't like it, lay off me, I was delirious, plus the label regulations are pretty specific)!

Suddenly, we had an answer. There it was. All laid out for us. With one week left in our 21 Day Challenge, we officially resigned from St. Brigid's Meadows. The leaving was not a surprise to anyone there, but it came with a distinct sadness that the position had not worked in the way any of us had first envisioned. Truly, Andy and I played a large part in that shifting of reality, but certainly there were others on the farm that played a role in our leaving as well.

Once again, we were saying good bye to families and patrons that had carved a special place in our hearts, but at least this time, they would experience no loss of the farm fresh food they had come to depend on.

The final week of the 21 Day Challenge was spent packing and cleaning and tying up loose ends. Liam helped as best he could.

 

As we are trying to pay off some debt, Andy and I don't have much in savings. Coming to a fledgling business like Gourmet Grassfed would inherently mean that we'd be living on savings for upwards of three months and no paycheck. By our best estimations, we only had money for two months total.

Then God placed our next step for us just in time (or just in His time, I should say). A friend of ours has been unable to sell his home and lives in this 5 bedroom beauty by himself. He offered to have our family stay with him as long as we need for a seriously reduced rent and no utilites. In addition, he has a thriving backyard organic garden all ready for harvesting and lives in a town that puts us central to the farm markets that Ben and Andy will be attending. Finally, our friend works from home, but keeps to himself a lot of the time and has basically given the kids and I free reign of the entire household. So all we had to do was pack up dressers and a few toiletries and we were set up. (all else is in storage). With this blessing of a home to come to, our savings would indeed last us three full months.

 

And the last Tuesday of June, we hauled our boxes and furniture and lives across the state once again, a short ten months after doing it from Foxwood Farm. Above, Cortnie and the family take a break on the way home. Cortnie came for the day to help keep the kids occupied while we shoved the moving truck full. Again, many thanks for the Gerkhing family in all the ways they've helped us through the years.

Now it is two weeks later and we are strongly into our routine here in Winneconne, WI. It's the same routine that we laid down at The Blue House three hours west of here and it still works. Little things within our Challenge now seem tailored to life with a roommate; things like doing dishes after every meal and cleaning up toys every night. Surely these are noble goals in and of themselves, but work especially nicely as a habit when being considerate of a generous friend. Andy has his own schedule now, too. He leaves for work with Ben at about 6:30am and works out with him before having a mutually made breakfast and sitting down in the office at Ben's apartment. He works until supper time, but it varies depending on the nature of the day's demands.

Today, for instance, they went to Silver Creek Specialty Meats at 6am and physically made the next batch of Gourmet Grassfed Meat Snacks, from a grassfed cow straight off the fields of the former Foxwood Farm. (did I mention that my father still has a beef herd living there?) Today, they marketed their first box of wholesale snacks, to be sold in an Oshkosh Piggly Wiggly. Every day is exciting and new and we are blessed to be a part of this next endeavor. The company is the immediate goal, but connecting consumers to locally grown products is still the larger vision.

It's pretty amazing what can happen when you clean up a mini-van and shop-vac your mind. Andy and I are just humbled to be serving a God as outside-of-the-box as ours is.

And, now that I've got this off my back, I can post more frequently about our happenings. Life is a journey, friends. If Andy and I have ever "made it," we'll have surely been fooled somewhere along the way.

I have found myself with the rare opportunity to blog during the middle of the day. Andy is watching the kids so I can spend time at the office (farm office) and get some accounting/customer relations taken care of.

In the meantime, I am sitting in a warm, wood-paneled office with a window view of Dawn's fall garden and the fog slowly misting by. It's just above freezing today and a leather office chair, soft lighting and free time is making for a pleasant combination.

After posting about a week ago about our renewed interest in blogging, I have gotten an amazing response from folks I never even knew were reading about our family. It's been heartening, edifying and a direct confirmation that this is what I need to be doing. If you haven't noticed, I am already starting to blog with more intention and the more I write, the less I have to catch up on. You know, like when you haven't talked to a friend in a few months, you are often left with little to say because the small details in life are lost and the major ones don't take up that much space. So it is with you all, my friends from all over. I haven't written in so long, I don't know how to catch up with you all! But if I do this blogging intentionally, and give you daily/weekly updates and thoughts...well, the whole idea of writing isn't nearly as intimidating as it was.

So today, with my precious afternoon "off," I will catch you up on what's happened to us since we parted ways with Foxwood Farm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we drove out of that gravel driveway for the last time, it was a moment I'll never forget. Next to our hand-built patio, we left a small crowd of friends/farm patrons who had helped us pack up the moving truck or just came over to say goodbye. I looked out the rear view mirror, even after Andy told me not to. I saw them all waving, melancholy yet strong, and I found myself welling up in tears. I was driving our mini-van, packed to the gills with breakable items, our friends Kat and Cortnie (who helped us immensely on our farm), and Elly. Andy was driving the moving truck with Ethan and our friend Ben. My parents followed, Dad in his pickup with outdoor items and Bret (Cortnie's older brother) and Mom drove separate with yet more items in her SUV.

I accelerated passed the the maple trees that mark our front yard. Two Norman Maples and one Sugar Maple, planted when my dad was a kid to give shade to the south side of the house in summer. I found myself thinking of my childhood under those trees.

They were the perfect climbing tree for a kid; low branches and thick sturdy wood. I had many "secret" spots in which to perch and watch the lazy summer days pass by. The shade was so effective that for years only patchy grass could grow underneath. In the fall, countless leaves would rain golden onto the earth, covering the lawn so completely that we would make several ten foot tall leaf piles to jump into.

My mom taught me how to make leave "houses" out of the golden carpet. You take the rake and uncover square areas of lawn, connect them with lawn "hallways" and make rooms with them. Below, 6 month old Elly sits in a leaf hallway dedicated to the Packers.

My brothers showed me how to play "camping" with various GI Joe action figures at the base of the tree. A Norman maple has a thick trunk that often has exposed roots making for amazing miniature worlds of canyons, caves and hills. In recent years, Andy hung our hammock in between the two trees, making for perfect summer snoozes and cute candids of the kids. And sometimes, they were just magnificent trees, pushing back against hard winds, sheltering us from southern storms and standing grandly with their foliage bright and glimmering in the setting sun.

 

I was snapped out of my dreamy thoughts by Elly asking if we were going to "catch up the truck" in reference to the lumbering moving truck a thousand feet ahead of us. "Yeah, honey, we're going to follow Daddy and Ethan all the way to the Blue House."

The Blue House. That is our home here in Coon Valley. It's been referred to as the Blue House since we first met with Vince at the top of a beautiful ridge back in August. He was cutting hay for second crop and the late afternoon sun gleamed off the hood of his well-kept tractor. Andy and I had just driven 3 hours one way to find a man who might be the key to our future as farmers. It had not been but 36 hours before that we first learned about the opportunity to be market gardeners in La Crosse from a mutual friend. Of course, we didn't know the friend was mutual until that day. On a whim and several prayers, we headed west...toward our new destiny. We didn't even know where we were exactly going until about an hour in, when Vince called us back. "By the way, we're heading to your farm now. How do we get there?"

A deep guffaw from the other end was reassuring and we made arrangements to meet around 5pm. When we arrived, we could not find Vince at either farm and made some calls to his cellphone. After awhile, we got a return call to meet him in the field of The Short Ridge. We had no idea what that meant, but driving up and down the winding single lane road from one farm to the other revealed an opening to the east that happened to have a hay field and a farmer cutting it. This had to be The Short Ridge, and the man named Vince.

It was on that sweet scented hilltop that we all revealed our stories of life and consequence, farming and family, journeys and new beginnings. It was starting to feel like destiny.

"Have you seen The Blue House?" Vince asked amidst a myriad of tours and questions. "It's right across from the dairy farm."

And that's where we first glimpsed what was to be our new home, though at the time we were looking at each other as if this were some colossal joke, hoping against hope that it was true, but feeling that everything was just too good.

On our late night drive home that day, we could barely speak to each other. Everything we had ever wanted or dreamed of at Foxwood Farm was happening here at this farm 100 miles away. We stopped at a rest stop on I-90 and took a bathroom break. We read a historical marker that told about the ancient goelogy of the Driftless Region of the Upper Mississippi. And we just stood in awe of the place we were at.

It wasn't more than a week later that we hosted a visit from Vince and Kristin (the feminine half of the couple who run St. Brigid's dairy farm). And it wasn't but a few days after that, we learned that we had been hired.

So there it was. On the edge of despair and hopelessness, we cried out for help. And help came. It came in a form we could never have put together ourselves. A mere 8 days that changed the course of our lives forever. The position we came to fill was not just gardening anymore. Once Vince learned of our specific talents and interests, he found a niche for us here. Web, email, marketing, blogging, photography, graphic design, sales, cooking, promotions, event planning...all for a farm that does exactly what we always wanted.

Andy says it's easy to sell a product that you believe in. Well, we believe in this. Organic practices, grass-based dairy, pastured poultry and free-ranging hens. Hogs to clean up the waste and thrive off milk products, beef animals allowed to graze and maintain the beautiful coulees and ridges. Direct customer interaction, community relationships, open minds and open hearts. A full dedication to the land and the people around us. And a patron base that is loyal til the end.

Not even a month after we arrived, we were rushing around putting the finishing touches on our

first event at St. Brigid's Meadows: The Cider Festival.

Above, Andy prepares to smoke some veggies. This was about 8am. The festival started at 4pm with dinner at 6. Just so you know, we started the night before. We attempted to harvest three of our farm ducks for one of the dishes. It doesn't get much fresher than that! Unfortunately, all we know about butchering chickens has nothing to do with butchering and de-feathering ducks. I'll spare you the details on the actual killing of the ducks, but when the birds were brought back to our kitchen it was about 7pm. We began boiling water to pluck them. What we didn't know was that most people use paraffin wax to dunk the duck in and get most of the down off the body. We also didn't think about the fact that a duck is built to NOT get wet in water, so dunking them in scalding H2O rolled right off their back. So we were stuck hand pulling and picking fuzz after fuzz off the bodies. Before we knew it, it was pushing 9pm and we STILL had not cleaned a single duck. Andy began skinning one, which proved amazingly difficult as well. By the time we skinned the other two and pulled the meat off, it was 10:30pm and we were exhausted. Our friend Kat had come to visit and was helping us with this task. We all knew the next day would prove just as exhausting, and earlier than before, so we threw in the towels and went to bed.

Here, Andy and Elly skin a bunch of apples. These were intended for smoked apple sauce.

After cooking all morning at The Blue House, we moved shop to Vince and Dawn's home, where the festival was taking place. Above you see Andy directing his worker bees in the finishing of the various meal pieces.

In the very clean workshop, Vince and Jason had set up the dual apple presses and tables for the meal. Everything was ready to welcome the guests. I had been in charge of taking RSVPs and so sat at the entrance and welcomed all the patrons to the festival. It was a fun job because I gave everyone name tags and since I was the most visible person representing the farm, many people came back to me throughout the afternoon to ask questions about the farm or our products. Andy held down the food court with much help from Dawn, Kristin and various relatives. As the event went on, Andy set up shop behind the smokers and grill and commanded his own audience of interested onlookers who watched as he prepared meat and veggies.

Here you see Elly and Ethan enjoying some bread on the hay wagon. Ethan got into the rain barrel early on and had to borrow big Sister's jacket and boots. With a flowery top and pink puffy snow boots, it wasn't surprising for me to overhear another parent asking his child to nicely share a ball with the little girl. That little girl was, of course, our long eye-lashed Ethan.

Below, a shot of the people in line to grab the great spread of food. In the center, you can see a bunch of 8-10 year olds continuing to grind apples for cider all on their own! In the bottom right corner you can see Andy telling folks about the dishes as he helps serve.

Here a team of UW-La Crosse professors work hard to grind a few buckets full of apples.At the end of the night, we still had several flats of apples left, so farm employees and family relatives took turns making the last of the cider. Below, Vince (in maroon) and Andy (behind, in the checked shirt) had a dual to see who could grind and press a whole load the fastest. You can see Ethan "helping" Daddy by throwing some apples into the hopper. In the end, it was pretty much a tie, but a great way to make another gallon of cider in about 5 minutes.

We cleaned up and divided the leftover food amongst the late helpers and families and headed home to bed. I had a couple of cold and tired babes to get into bed and Kat had a long drive to MN right away, so we left earlier than the rest. All in all, everything got wrapped up by about 10pm, with most of the patrons gone by 7pm.

The event was a great opportunity for us to meet a lot of the people we would be serving. It also taught us a lot about the new community we are becoming a part of.

There are so many like-minded individuals in the Viroqua/La Crosse region. The difference we began to see was that neighbors supported neighbors in more than just lip service. We noticed how everyone seemed to know each other and how they fit into the area. Families live within driving distance of one another. Names go back generations, with streets, roads and even coulees named for folks whose ancestors still live and work in the same place. There is a sense of permanence here that we never got in the Fox Valley. The feel of community is vast and deep.

We took our time exploring the region between work and errands. Andy and Ethan at the top of Granddad Bluff, look over the city of La Crosse. The bluffs on the other side are Minnesota.

The kids and I look out over the Mississippi River on Hwy 35, the Great River Road.

And here you can see me at about 5-6 months into our third pregnancy.

We are due near the end of January, early February. To be honest, I don't really know if it will be even then. We don't have a clear conception date and we opted out of an ultrasound. According to the best date we had, I am still measuring small. We have another appointment just before Thanksgiving, so maybe I'll have "caught up" then. In the meantime, we are taking it one day at a time. I am now roughly into the 7th month and very much showing. Baby is active, kicking and generally doing a tap dance on my ribs every few hours. Just this week, I have begun experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions on a very regular basis. It's a little uncomfortable at times, but I know they are just necessary practice for the big day ... whenever that may be.

It's ok that we aren't on a due date deadline. You see, we are going to have a home birth this time around and are working with a well-known area midwife to achieve that goal. More on that in the future, I'm sure!

We've also taken the time to get to know our new farm animals here at St. Brigid's Meadows.

Above, our friendly Jersey cows check out the kids and our double stroller. We love the old girls. They are so gentle and curious. There's something peaceful about momma cows, and Jerseys are so much smaller than most dairy cattle. They are very approachable. As are the calves! Elly demonstrates below with some blown kisses to one of the heifers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the days grew shorter and our lives fell into a routine, we had more time to think about those we left behind. We had basically cut off communication about the happenings on the farm. We just weren't emotionally ready to hear it. That brought in another set of dynamics which I will talk about in my next post.

For now this blog has taken me into the late evening in several writing sessions and I must now close. But I will bring you up to speed on our emotional and spiritual journey since leaving Foxwood in the next week.