Betsy

Scott's 1967 Dodge truck, Betsy

Meet Betsy. My  husband's pride and joy  ... an old beater truck he refurbished. Betsy has a new dash and inside door handles that Scott fashioned of walnut from my father's stash, a new camo paint job, new wind shield, new wind shield wipers and side mirrors that Scott had to create, new bed liner, new door locks. What isn't new has been taken apart and cleaned, most especially the engine. She purrs like a kitten and runs great. My contribution will be a blanket to be kept inside since he hasn't fixed the heat yet.

Giving Betsy new life has been a wonderful project for him. He has spent hours finding original parts or replacement parts that fit such an old truck. He has ordered online and traveled the city gathering what she needs. We labored over the decision about what color to paint her and went against the advice of the kids and chose camoflauge. Our painter did it freehand using one of Scott's old army jackets as a guide. It was a gamble, but we are really pleased.

Her first duty, now that she is almost done, is to go with us to my sister's next week and help haul hay from the field, and bring some home to my hungry goats. That certainly endears her to me!

Don't they look good together!

Processing Poultry

My husband and I attended a workshop Saturday sponsored by our local meet-up group Triangle Area Gardeners and Homesteaders to learn poultry processing (a euphemism for "choppin' chicken", as my stepson so aptly called it). Julie, pictured here, donated her time and vast expertise to help the ignorant and squeamish -- of whom I am chief! -- get over themselves and accomplish what generations before us have done as a natural part of life. I am so thankful for this opportunity to see it, practice it with skilled help looking over my shoulder and know I can do it myself should starvation come knocking at my door. I am also thankful my husband went too, because we make a good team and I don't think I can do it alone.

For those of you who find this off-putting ... it's like the frog who gets boiled. If you drop a frog into hot water, he will jump out. But if you place him in a pot of tepid water and heat it slowly, he will boil. When I first got chickens over 3 years ago, if you had asked me about killing and eating them, I would have jumped out of that pot of hot water. But over the years, as I have stopped naming my chickens and developed a more sustainable-living mind set, I have come to the point where it is not only possible, but probable. I just can't tell my family why the chicken slick tastes so much better than usual ...

Sticker Shock

When I am hot and sweaty, and my back hurts, I wonder if it's all worth it. Am I really saving that much money growing my own vegetables? Do home grown veges really taste that much better? Is eating organic really that big a deal? All I need to remind me why I farm is a trip to buy food.

I took my mom to the farmer's market yesterday. Altho she is very spry at 87, the heat takes a toll. She walks with a cane, so carrying purchases can be a challenge. And she has a handicap sticker for her car, but finding a close parking place is near impossible. So we joined the throngs of people shopping local and supporting our farmers. That's a good thing!

I enjoyed seeing nature's bounty needing no adornment to be beautiful. Purple eggplant, red tomatoes, yellow squash, and so much green ... unshucked corn, beans, okra, zucchini and more. But I was in sticker shock! $3 for a cantaloupe? $2/lb for tomatoes? $5 for 8 ears of shucked corn? These are probably good prices, comparatively speaking, and certainly you get more value for the money than at the grocery produce section where veges are picked green and shipped 1500 miles on the average. But at the end of the month when you tally what comes in and what goes out, those prices bite. At least for my budget.

I have a master's degree in nursing and a real estate license. I work part-time from home doing property management and farm. I guess I could go back to nursing full-time and boost my budget. But I would miss the time spent with my animals and the wonderful sounds they make throughout the day. I would miss the dirt on my hands and the smell of the earth. I would miss the breeze that cools my sweaty skin and lifts my hair off my neck. I would miss being outside most of the day and the freedom that comes from being my own boss. I would miss the company of customers and visitors that frequent my home on a regular basis. And I would miss the satisfaction of a basket full of fresh harvest, so much honey and goat cheese that I don't mind being a little extravagant with them, and pantry shelves lined with produce that I canned myself.

I am blessed to live the life I do. Farming is worth it, both in the budget and the things that don't have a price tag.

Busy, Busy!

Jon and Kristi, to be wed May 21, 2011

There just aren't enough hours in the day to get it all done. I'm sure you share the sentiment. This month is busier than usual, though. First, both surgeries. The hardest part has been the activity restrictions -- no bending over and no lifting anything greater than 8 pounds (can we say 50 pound grain bags weekly for the goats and chickens?!). Next, we have a wedding in the family. Scott's oldest is getting married, so we are planning a rehearsal dinner and getting the house ready for out of town family. Spring cleaning is sorely needed, the combination of pollen and neglect. I gave up on trying to keep the house clean when once I "vacuumed" the whole house only to find the vacuum wasn't working. Seeing dust and dirt again is the only down side to restored sight. Additionally, spring is for planting and staking and laying straw to keep the weeds out of the garden. Putting my hands in dirt fills my soul and clears my head, but balancing the timing between last frost and the surgeries has been tricky. Mowing has resumed, another chore I can do again now that I can see. Lastly, there are seasonal farm chores on top of the daily ones. The spring chicks need their bedding changed, and food and water freshened often. It will be nice when we can add them to the flock and drop those extra responsibilities off the list. Mamma goat and the bunnies got sheared of their winter coats in preparation for hot days ahead and 20 hooves were trimmed.

I hope I don't sound like I am complaining ... I'm not. I love this life. In fact, one of the reasons I wanted to start an urban farm was a life without enough to do. I remember one morning saying to Scott, "It's 8 am. Time to get up!" to which he replied, "Why?". I resolved in that moment to enrich our lives so that we would have a reason to get up each morning. Farming sure has done that!

A Visit Back in Time to High Ground Farm

It was my pleasure and good fortune to visit Deborah at High Ground Farm yesterday. The consummate hostess, she extended a warm welcome to our mutual friend Anne and me on a cold winter's day. I expected a brief visit, a stay no longer than the 45-minute drive to get there. I hoped for a short walk around her homestead, a passing howdy-do to her heirloom chicken flock, and a quick overview of how she markets her eggs and garden produce to Whole Foods Market and local chefs. The four hours we spent with Deborah felt like 45 minutes, and was a leisurely visit back in time to a by-gone era meticulously recreated and joyfully lived.

This picture from her blog at http://highgroundfarm.blogspot.com/ shows the Harrington-Dewar House, the late 19th century restored farmhouse which is the centerpiece of High Ground Farm. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places (http://www.hpo.ncdcr.gov/nr/HT0123.pdf).

There is so much to say about our visit that it is hard to know where to begin, except to start with Deborah herself. The word most fitting to describe her is the one she uses to describe herself ... purist. Whatever she does, her desire is to do it well and right, always with the aim of giving back. One of my first questions to her was about the restrictions placed on her home since it is listed on the National Historic Register. As most homesteaders seem to be free spirits who like doing things their own way, I wondered how she managed to restore this house, for which she paid $500 in 1977 and moved almost 5 miles to its current location, according to National Register Criteria. She quickly pointed out that she would never violate the history of the home, registered or not. From the rocking chair front porch to a small rear kitchen with an arched-opening fireplace, past walls made of painted hand hewn boards and wooden floors that sometimes creak under foot, Deborah has tastefully decorated her home with beautiful vintage furniture, dishes and utilitarian pieces that trick one's senses into believing it is 1860 again. The Civil War era ambiance continues on the grounds, which are landscaped with stone walls -- made from stones removed from the heirloom tomato garden -- and split rail fences, fashioned by an 85-year old gentleman from a nearby town, using trees harvested when the pasture was created. Although not in bloom, the climbing roses, fruit trees and perennials bespeak history and legacy.

Deborah's purist nature is evident in her choice of chickens. Wanting to do more than just produce eggs, she chose to raise Javas, an endangered heirloom breed, pictured left in an original oil painting -- another of her talents. Their coop is deluxe, to say the least, complete with piped-in music for them and a rear trap door to simplify cleaning and composting for her. They free-range on clover pasture and enjoy scavenging in the bordering woods. Deborah has recently been awarded an Animal Welfare Approved grant for predator control. The grant will fund completion of the fence and the purchase of a guard dog. She lamented that she lost a hen during the night before our visit, so the grant will be put to good use.

To my surprise, I learned that she really has no marketing strategy -- Whole Foods contacted her as a result of her memberships with American Livestock Breed Conservancy and Carolina Farm Stewardship. She delivers these beautiful eggs twice a week to Whole Foods in Cary, and she reports they fly off the shelves at $6 per dozen. Together with a neighboring farmer, she grew 750 heirloom tomato plants as well as seedlings, basil, and other vegetables and herbs which she sold last year. She also sells cut flowers, zinnias being one of her favorites.

A recounting of our visit would not be complete without telling you how she fed us homemade soup and fresh-baked bread made from flour she milled herself. Occasionally she rose from the antique farm table at the center of her kitchen to stoke the fire and add a log. Conversation flowed as we shared stories of our lives and family, friendships, beloved animals, nursing careers, hobbies and favorite books (both Deborah and Anne are Anglophiles). We even discovered we have other mutual friends and marveled how small the world really is. Dessert was iced molasses cookies with a hot cup of tea; she introduced me to the smoky flavor of Lapsand Souchong tea. Delicious!

It was hard to leave this new friend and the slice of afternoon that was suspended in time. As we drove homeward, first along the tree lined gravel road, then on isolated country roads and finally back into the city, we both commented how the trip covered more than distance. It transported us forward in time, back to the 21st century and our awaiting responsibilities.

Winter is a-Comin'

We've had the hottest summer on record this year. If you live around here, you will not be surprised to hear this ... it only confirms what you already know!  It was dang hot! And two weeks ago, we set another record high temperature, so it continues to be a year of extreme weather.

The summer that just got bumped from the top of the "hottest" list was followed by the coldest winter on record. And the predictions for this winter are the same (according to the 2011 Farmer's Almanac): a record cold with above average snowfall. The weather forecast for this week portends just that. Our first freeze is to come Friday night, two weeks earlier than usual. Last week they predicted a near-freezing night, so I closed the cold frames and picked veges pictured here. I am delighted to still be getting peppers of all kinds -- green, yellow, jalapeño, banana -- plus eggplant and okra. The 2nd planting of tomatoes are producing too. I pulled a watermelon last week and there is one left. But Friday all that ends. I will harvest all that is left, except the few remaining pumpkins. The green tomatoes will be wrapped in newspaper and put in the root cellar, an old-fashioned storage method I just recently learned about. The rest will be eaten, frozen or shared.

I can't say I am looking forward to a cold winter. Snow is wonderful when you don't have anywhere to go, but since we manage rental properties, we always have somewhere we have to be -- to shovel walkways and throw down salt. The fireplace is soon to be installed, so that's good. Something more reliable than hot flashes to keep me warm. We cut down two trees last weekend (those logs won't be ready to burn 'til next year, though). The good news is we figured out where to put the log pile.

God's Will for Me - Homesteading

Have you ever wondered what God's will for your life is? I know I have ... and I think we all do from time to time. Years ago, I heard a sermon in which the pastor declared, "You should never have to wonder what God's will for you is. His answer to that question is plainly written in 1 Thessalonians 4:

³ For this is the will of God [for you], your sanctification:"

Scripture says it, so I believe it. But how does that look day-to-day? In my life? The passage continues, describing sexual purity, self-control, treating others well and living honorably. As I read on, down to verse 11, I found the answer ... for me ... today ... in this season of my life.

¹¹Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you,

¹²so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders

and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.

In a word ... homesteading! Except for traffic noise, the sounds that daily fill my ears are the baaahing of goats and clucking of chickens. No TV or blaring radio here ... a quiet life indeed. When food is planted in prepared soil, tended, harvested, peeled/chopped/canned or otherwise prepared before cooking and eating; when 5 loads of laundry are humg on the line instead of tossed in the dryer; when milk is hand-drawn before drinking or made into yogurt, ice cream or cheese; when soap is stirred and cured before used for washing; when honey is extracted from hives cared for watchfully ... who has time to mind someone else's business?! My rough hands are a testament to the work they do. Though we are not totally self-sufficient and would be lacking greatly without the benefits of Progress Energy and Krogers, we are less dependent today than we were yesterday. And one of my greatest homesteading joys is seeing my life through the eyes of others. Just this week, a honey customer asked for a "tour" of our acre. At the conclusion she exclaimed, "Who knew that behind the fence I pass every day is paradise!" Paradise, my own personal Garden of Eden.

When we discover, and live in, the center of God's will, it is paradise. We find rest and peace, though the world around us be in turmoil. There is a "rightness" about what we are doing that is worth more than a high-paying salary or business accolades. I am in this place in my life by no merit of my own. God has brought me here and made it possible for me. It is easy. But that is who God is and how He works. His yoke is easy and His burden light. He never calls us to something without equipping us for it and paving the road to it. My back aches alot from the physical labor and I am pretty much homebound right now due to a visual issue, but my soul is satisfied, my thirst quenched, my cup full and running over.

I pray the same for you.

Vintage Furniture

My latest indulgence -- an oak Hoosier cabinet -- came from an historic home built in 1901 in Stem, NC by the Granville County sheriff. (The home was fabulous!) The owner bought the cabinet in Kansas when her daughters were young and initially used it as a diaper changing table. It has served many purposes over the years, particularly related to her sewing hobby, but now she is headed to the mission field and is reluctantly parting with it.


The history of the piece is unknown, but I like to think it was the centerpiece in the kitchen of an industrious country wife in the early 20th century. As servants and cook-houses gave way to the modern kitchen, women used baker cabinets such as these until they were replaced by built-in cabinets and countertops. I imagine many pies and baked goods were prepared on the porcelain pull-out shelf and cooled on the rack shelves of the lower cabinet. The original casters (to keep ants from crawling up the legs), spice rack and tin-lined bread storage drawer remain. I don’t know if it ever had a flour bin/sifter or roll doors common to many cupboards, but I like the open shelves in the middle. It measures 6 feet high, 3.5 feet wide and 2 feet deep, nice and large, but I have already filled it to capacity with my soap making supplies.