our reference books

We have a few favorite books that we refer to a lot as we make our way on this little farm. The Backyard Homestead was Rory's first book in this genre, purchased years ago, and sort of set a vision for us way before we moved to this property. Back to Basics was the next book we got, and Rory poured over every single page telling me things excitedly like, "we could make our own cheese!"

The most recent reads are The Self-Sufficient Life which is my personal favorite and the top two that we got from the library.

While at Mount Carmel we were up late each night playing The Game of Things with our cousins. I really love that game, sort of a balderdash of sorts, except instead of definitions to words you make up an answer to a thing: ie: things you shouldn't say in a hospital, things you shouldn't regift etc...

One round the card that came up was "Things that hang."

We giggled and then everyone wrote down their answers. After they were collected each answer was read aloud by one person. We then had to guess who wrote what.

In the mix was this answer: Braided Onions.

I laughed until I cried and never did recover that night. I knew exactly who had written that one. Rory, the love of my life, who was reading all about root cellars.

Because Braided Onions should hang. And if hung properly, you can increase their edible life twice as long.

And now you know.

year one at the grovestead

We just hit our one year mark. We've been in our new house now for 365 days. In lots of ways I can't believe we've only been here a year. But in other ways I clearly know that a year has passed. Because this six day old baby I am holding here, on the day of our move, is now climbing up the stairs and pulling herself to look out the windows.

Rory and I were throwing the frisbee around last night, reflecting on year one. He commented that his biggest learning this first year was the pace of time. He said that every project he worked on (his office in the woods, building the chicken coop, getting someone to plant our field, evaporating 90 gallons of sap into maple syrup, and tilling, planting and laying drip irrigation in the garden) all felt like projects that took forever. But in looking back, it is amazing how much was accomplished in this first year. Every item on the to do list looks like a huge mountain to climb, but day by day we kept getting to the top.

I think this year will go down in the record books for me as Most Personal Growth. I'd accept that award, bawling at the microphone, blubbering on about how a baby can really throw you off a bit. I'd talk about how the move from city to country was actually a way bigger adjustment than I ever acknowledged while in the midst of the transition. I'd talk about how this winter never ended and I thought I was going crazy, and how sometimes I really, really miss our cat Toonces. And then they'd flare up the get-her-off-the-stage music, because I would have just mentioned my old cat, which took it too far.

But the other thing that comes to mind when I think about this first year in our new home is this: We have learned so much. The knowledge that Rory and I have acquired from just one year in the country is vast and amazes me. Rory learned how to build a cabin this year. Which then translated into drawing up plans for a chicken coop. Last Saturday I came home with the kids and as walked into the kitchen Rory showed us two jars of blackberry jam on the counter. He had picked the blackberries in our woods and made the jam and then canned it. I was stunned. And so inspired that I made homemade mayonnaise the next day just to keep up with my husband.

And even more than practical homesteading knowledge, I am learning about me. More specifically, my limits and where I can't pull it all off. I'm reading my Bible again. And God is being so gentle with me as he reminds me that when I am weak, he is strong. I am weary and heavy laden, but he promises rest. I feel jealous and hurt and sad, but he is forgiveness, healing and deep joy.

If you haven't cracked your Bible in a long time, go find it. There is nothing more precious in my life than my walk with Jesus.

A few nights ago Rory and I went for a walk down our road and there were so many fireflies in the ditches that it seemed like someone had strung twinkle lights up and down the road. Once I got up in the middle of the night to see if there was a car in our driveway with it's brights on. But it was the moon, leaving moon shadows all over our lawn. And if we go out on a clear night, with no moon, we can see every star in the sky. There are no city lights to interfere.

Those are the moments when I feel the most settled.

I feel really grateful to be living here. It has been an adjustment, but I know we have made the right decision. I love our farmstead and love our new life. And if you give us another year, I think we will feel fully at home.

neighborhood bbq

Last night we had thirty neighbors at our house. The stars aligned so that all but one household were in town! I spent the day cleaning out the garage, thinking we'd be in there because of the rain, but then it cleared up for a glorious evening.

It was awesome. Neighbors started coming at 5:15 and most left around 9. Ivar asked each person if they would like to see his little tomatoes and then gave garden tours. Everyone met the chickens and many got to see Rory's office in the woods.

We grilled burgers and hot dogs and a neighbor brought salmon and halibut he had just caught in Alaska a few weeks ago. Everyone else brought salads and bars and I was once again reminded how passionately I love a good picnic and potluck. Yum.

When I was cleaning the garage earlier in the day I was thinking, "it takes some doing to have so much company" and when I was cleaning up the kitchen late last night I was thinking, "but it is worth every minute to build that kind of community."

our forest room trail

We found a little trail just a few minutes from our house that leads to a waterfall. It is a beautiful walk and reminded me a lot of a good forest room adventure. Felt like our family was living out one of their days.

***

Today I told Rory the following story and he begged me to write it down. It has nothing to do with the pictures above...

I finally got around to calling my credit card company to tell them that I had changed addresses (one year later). I called, pushed all the right numbers to get to the correct menu, entered my sixteen digit account number and then heard Ivar screaming bloody murder out in the garage.

I ran to the garage to see him terrified and telling the chickens to get away. I told him they were coming to him because we had dried corn in his hand that he was feeding them. But he didn't get the cause and effect. He insisted I put him in the stroller that was collapsed next to the trash cans. So with my phone to my ear, credit card papers in my mouth, and a dried ear of corn in one hand, I tried to expand my heavy, uncooperative stroller.

And then I stepped in chicken poo. I felt it between my toes.

The corn slipped from my hand, the stroller wouldn't open, and just as a human voice began to speak my phone dropped from my ear splitting open and popping out the battery.

And that is why it has taken me a full 365 days to call the credit card company.

cock-loo-da-doo

Ivar will tell you that Roosters say, "Cock-loo-da-doo"

Roosters begin Cock-loo-da-doing as early as 4:12 in the morning.

But Roosters don't just Cock-loo-da-doo when the sun comes up. They do it all day long. Maybe even 7:12 pm. Just because they can. And truthfully, if you're not trying to sleep, it is sort of a cool background sound for our little farm.

Roosters are hard to photograph, as are all chickens. To get these shots I was laying in the grass, trying to coax them my way by calling their names, "Almonzo, over here. Look at me, Hamburger."

Roosters are so cool looking. I really like them. And their waddle is so wiggly. Their tail feathers are beautiful and their combs are awesome.

All that said, if you're looking for a rooster, ours our listed on craigslist. You know, for the people who need a 4:12 alarm clock. Or a chicken dinner.