The Rare Moments

When the children were little, the Wife feared they would "never" grow up...and they did.  Now we are at the stage where they are leaving the house; now the Wife wonders if we will "never" be together again. This year, because of Dear Farmer and the Wife's anniversary, all the children made the effort and arranged lives to be together for a full 24 hours! God answered our prayer, and there was peace among all of them for our blissful moments together...and the Wife cherished this in her heart.

The Wife clearly remembers her grandmother, the Amazing Farm-Wife, saying much the same things...
She was 90 at the time...so, it must be a "mom-thing".

These are the ebbs and flow of life. Children graduate from sippy cups(the inventor of which, should have received some sort of award!) to coffee mugs. The arrows, that were once jammed inside our very cramped quiver, are shot out. Wrangling them to all come home at one time, doesn't often happen.  It's the rare moments that help us to look back and be thankful for all the craziness of the past with fondness.
Those little ridiculous trials-the child who refused to eat potatoes, the dishwasher that never quite worked right, or the dustpan that was forever cracked-they weren't that big of a deal after all.
Probably didn't need to stress over the unplanned haircut, or the marker on his face.

Enjoy those rare moments...cherish them in your heart...

Old Chimney's and New Lumber

The "falling-down" farmhouse has (for the last ten or so years) been in a journey towards a cave-in. Remarkably, when the residents of the house re-shingled in 1993, they removed the top of the remaining chimney(the old kitchen chimney had been removed approx.1965) from the old living room fireplace...but just the top.  When the furnace replaced the old fireplace(approx.1965, also) the old fireplace was boarded up and abandoned, left to crumble behind paneling.  Crumble it did. After fifty  years of crumbling...the cave-in was fast approaching....unless an intrepid Farmer were to step in and rescue the farmhouse.  Insert Dear Farmer.

Dear Farmer will tell you, "I'm just a farmer." And while that is true, if you aren't already aware of what farmers do, let us clue you in to the job-description.

Farmer (n.): able to do electrical(both residential and industrial), welding, construction building, plumbing, mechanic, meteorologist, agricultural botanist, animal husbandry professional, customer relations, salesman.

Thankfully, Dear Farmer has learnt to do all of those well.  He's stayed at the top of his game where building is involved...and the "falling-down" farmhouse is kinda like a hobby(that we happen to live in). So when we noted how much the slope of the house had increased over the past two years we also came to cross road: fix it, or start building a new house...this year.
Try as the Wife did, she could not finagle the new house this year.  Dear Farmer has too much experience to just let the relic of a farmhouse die....
guess we're fixing it.
The plan was to chisel out the bricks and toss them out the windows to the ground below...from the attic first, then the second floor, then the living room...until all the bricks are out.  The chisel workers would be Dear Farmer, the Shadow, and the littlest Shadow. The toss-er would be the Pied Piper.  The stacker on the ground level would be the Keeper of the Flame.  The Farmer's Daughters would be in there somewhere doing whatever was needed.
Dear Farmer was preparing to begin the work process as the family was all out of the house(thoughtful preparation works better when no one is around to tap on his shoulder, tug on his pant-leg, pester him with questions, and move his tools to remote locations).  Dear Farmer chiseled at a brick to test the amount of work this would require...the brick needed no chisel.  The mortar simply blew off...scary how little work this would require. Now, as near as we can figure...the farmhouse was built approx.1900-1910.  So it stands to reason, the chimney was put in place at the same time. Which leads us to place the brick and mortar age at approx. 108-118 years old. Ouch! No wonder the mortar is non-existent and the bricks are crumbling!
Dear Farmer did the entire chimney by himself(with a couple moments of help from the Haus Frau Farmer's Daughter), in a couple hours. Three stories of brick, neatly stacked, outside of the house.
The rest of the family arrived home to a surprise! I am sure the relief and pleasure were evident on all the faces when we saw the bricks stacked and the job done.  The boys didn't have to do any of it, Dear Farmer didn't have to have multiple hands helping, and the girls didn't have too much mess to clean up!
Easy-cheesy-lemon-squeezie!

Dear Farmer was all excited to show the Wife what had been accomplished! "Come on! Come see!", he said as he ushered her into the house, upstairs to the attic door.  He opened the attic door(which the Wife has had to admit, just might be her one weakness to sentimentality towards the "falling-down" farmhouse)  to show her the work accomplished from the top-down.  The Wife, happy(but not really that excited about walking over and around decayed rodent carcasses), dutifully admired the work done, the lack of work required, and the empty hole that descended to the basement.
All the things that could be done with a ready made hole in the floor came to her mind: a dumb-waiter, a laundry shoot, a fireman's pole...all possibilities!
Alas, Dear Farmer looked at his Wife(almost pitifully) and told her it was getting covered up and nothing would happen with it.  Then he descended into the basement to jack the middle of the house up a full five inches.
The Wife noticed something else, while up in the attic...the house was built with true 2x4s.  Not like the lumber turned out today that isn't actually 2inches x 4inches, but rather 1.5inches x 3.5inches.
Those 2x4s are perfectly squared together, beautiful!  Add that beautifully constructed attic to the hand-dug basement complete with logs for the support posts...yeah, I guess I can see why Dear Farmer wanted to save this "falling-down" farmhouse a bit longer.
It just seems a shame that we have to add new lumber to it...lumber that's has a name that's not true to it's size. Lumber that was purchased at a box store, not a lumber mill.

In it's hay-day I am sure the "falling-down" farmhouse was quite the modern home to behold.
Dear Farmer sees it...the Wife has to close her eyes to see it...and when the Wife closes her eyes she still sees the remnants of an old chimney, and the cost of new lumber.

Country Boys Go To Town

The Keeper of The Flame, The Pied Piper, and The Farmer's Shadow have all spent exactly four full weeks in town over the last eight weeks.  They had no choice, they were told to get in the car~so they went.  We are blessed to spend time in a town that desperately wants to be a suburb, but its not yet found a city to belong to. The town once resided in the country, and it seems to think it still does...but now that we live in a true country setting(okay, we think it is...we have to drive 40 minutes to get to a WalMart and our nearest neighbor is a mile away as the crow flies, isn't that true country?) we kinda chuckle.  This is a town.  A bonafide, curb-enhanced, paved, town.  Complete with two gas stations and four restaurants.

For boys who have only grown up in the country, and on a farm...coming into town is different.

First of all: no peeing outside. This is an actual issue.  Country boys are used to watering the tires.  Even some country girls can do it (I heard tell). But in town they will have NONE of it! So zip up those pants and wait until you're inside.

Secondly: Please don't flush the toilet for fun.  In town you have to pay for that water going out, and the water coming in!  

Safe-fun only: My country boys tend to be the knife tossing, hatchet wielding, hole digging kinda boys.  But in town...well...the police aren't so happy about eight year old knife throwing boys.  Especially when they think the best targets are the trees in the front yard, next to the road...

And though we have lived in a recreation of the WWI trench wars...we don't want to go back, so please leave the turf in place now.

"What CAN we do?" , they ask after the Wife has shot down any hope they had for outdoor fun.

"How about you build a fort with sticks for pine cones? You could make an obstacle course and time each other running through it. OR fold laundry!"

"What's the fun in any of that?", they ask.

I have no answer for them.

An hour later the Wife found this in the back yard....

Its definitely big enough for pine cones, a large dog, or an eight, ten and twelve year old...but they say they built it for the six, four and two year old (whatever).

And as a side note: this structure is NOT safe! Those logs are all stacked on top of each other. There's no stability at all.  The six, four and two year old did not get to play long in it, before a wall fell down and there were tears. Thankfully no cracked sculls.

"Girl" chores: we aren't gender neutral around here.  There are specific "boy" chores and "girl" chores on our farm. The boys do the hard work and heavy labor.  Basically, the nasty stuff the Wife doesn't want to have to do again.  Like cleaning the barn, stacking hay, and trimming goat feet. What on earth do boys do in town?  The Keeper of the Flame has cut the grass(which is the size of a postage stamp) twice! And I fear it's not going to come back it's so trimmed! The garbage has gone out of every room...hourly, every day, just to give the Pied Piper some work to do!  In a final act of desperation, the Wife gave the Farmer's Shadow a "girl" chore: unloading the dishwasher.  The poor boy, he's a sweetheart, he did it, but he nearly cried as he began putting away silverware.  The other two hid-I'm not sure if they were concerned that they might have to help, or just felt the Shadow's shame.  Since then, they have been folding laundry, loading dishwashers, washing pots and pans, vacuuming and sweeping. The house has never been so clean with ten people in it!

Country boys in town find trees to climb-usually in front of some poor lady who never heard of tree climbing children, or maybe had only read about them in a book and cannot believe that the Wife would permit her children to climb a tree in a public place.

Country boys end up on the roof of the garage. Or the house. Or have one on the garage roof and one on the house roof and begin sending signals back and forth using mirrors.

Country boys spend a LOT of time at the beach with a net and goggles trying to catch the elusive cat fish they imagine lives under the pier.  They find dead fish and dissect them in front of all the other children on the beach.  They get dark and dark-er tan.  

Country boys say "HI!" to every passer-by, and pet every dog.  They laugh loud and shout to each other when they walk down the sidewalk.

In the end...they will go back to the country and talk all winter about the fun they had.  When they were made to use the bathroom EVERY time they had to "go", when they build forts for little siblings, and they only had to do "girl chores". In the end, it will be a fond memory...when the Country boys went to town.

Culling : to select from a group

The summer is drawing to a close, much as anyone here hates to admit it.  And with the end of summer begins one huge process...culling the herd. Thankfully, in families, we don't often look at the children and think,"Okay, which of you has to go?"...well, maybe sometimes...However, when we look at it from the farming standpoint, we are looking at (brutal honesty) finances and food.  What can we afford over winter, and what do we need to survive.
Occasionally there's the animal that has a personality we just can't part with (check out Intellectual Agrarian about Chickens), but on the general whole, we are pretty balanced in deciding who will stay and who will go.
To make the fun even fun-er, there's also the task of finding another home for the ones we can't bring ourselves to eat, or finding a butcher for the ones we can't wait to eat.
Did you know that poultry processors don't usually process waterfowl?  This means, if you go duck hunting...first find a butcher to take your dead ducks to, or do it yourself.
The Wife had purchased the ducks in hopes for duck eggs for the children allergic to chicken eggs...and it just makes sense that out of the five ducks she purchased from the local farm store-only one of them is female, and refuses to lay an egg with four males constantly at her side. Really, it's okay because we will eat duck.  The Farmer's Daughter, however, isn't going to be around for butchering.  Which leaves the butchering to the HausFrau and DIY Farmer's Daughters. You aren't missing it, they aren't jumping for joy.
Looking at the large animal livestock...culling is always harder.  First there is more than a dozen weeks involved in raising them. Secondly, there is the shear size of the animal.  We have goats and cow that have big brown knowing eyes.  We have a hard time looking into those eyes and thinking that those will be the tacos of tomorrow.  Often we just re-home in exchange for goods or services.  And, it's easy to say, "Let's butcher a six pound bird." Much harder to say, "Let's butcher a 300lb cow."
Regardless of how it happens, this season of culling has to happen.  Three acres simply cannot sustain a large livestock community.
And so, we begin the process of culling the herd.

April Snows Bring May Flowers

April 9,2018
Photo credit: Liane Layhew
no filters,iphone 6

The hunt was on for the daffodils! Everyday we were outside, mostly the Wife, walking the front yard and counting little leaves bursting through the ground. All of the sudden there they were! Fourteen perfectly random daffodils and one tulip. None of us know where the tulip came from, but there it was!
And the day came when one bloomed! And the Wife envisioned fourteen, at least, cheerful  yellow blossoms greeting every passer-by. What the wife did not foresee was the three year old Farmer's Daughter...also knows as "The Ninny-nator". Destroyer of makeup bags, ruin-er of rising bread loaves, picker of flowers...The Ninny-nator.
And the first beautiful yellow daffodil bloomed, the Wife took a picture! And The Ninny-nator Farmer's Daughter picked it.  Running behind the Wife and smiling grandly, she showed it to everyone.  Everyone-crestfallen-said, "No, Ninny.  No picking the pretty yellow flowers."
And the next day a new daffodil bloomed in a different location.  And the family cheered!  And we reminded the Ninny-nator NOT to pick the flower.  And she nodded her head in agreement.  And at about two o'clock in the afternoon-she picked it. And the Wife was sad.  She saw a death to her vision. There would be one flower a day.  One flower...and if a passer-by was there at just the right time, and looked in just the right place, providentially the passer-by would see one lovely, coveted, happy yellow daffodil. That was the reality.  And the Wife sighed-she took the flower from the Ninny-nator, gave her a lecture, but knew the war was lost.  If it wasn't a Ninny-nator who would pick the daffodils...it would be someone or something else.
Flower #3 met it's demise to a Frisbee.  Flowers #4 and #5 to the windstorm.  Flower #6 to the dogs.  Flower #8 went MIA. Flower #9 was too close to home plate in our family kickball game. Flower #10 was under the child climbing the magnolia tree. The tulip hasn't bloomed. We think it has seen the fate of those who went before, and has retreated back underground.
Someday...someday you will drive past our little patch of heaven here out west...and you will be delighted with a field of happy yellow daffodils in spring. Someday...

Daffodil Flower #1, April 25, 2018
Photo credit: Liane Layhew
no filters, iphone 6

We Don't See Any Daffodils Yet.

There has been great discussion in the house about where our daffodils are.  In the fall the little farmer's daughters and the Wife went and bought two bags of yellow daffodil bulbs.  Then we opened the bags and threw the bulbs in the front yard near the ditch...hang on, I know that sounds strange...wherever the bulbs fell, we planted them.  It has a natural effect when they start popping up-like there was never a time there wasn't a daffodil there.
When we lived in Wisconsin we constantly drove past a neighbor who had been doing this for ten or so years-in the spring his front yard was "a bloom!".  The Wife was thinking ahead!!!  If we start now, in ten years...it will look amazing! All winter we have been looking forward to the spring, because of the promise of the daffodils.
Here in lies the problem: the Spring has been hot, cold, hot, cold, hot, cold...everyday is a little different from the day before.  So, on the hot days we are out searching for the daffodils to peek their heads above the ground...and on the cold days we PRAY they will peek their heads above ground quickly!
The Wife has read that daffodils planted in protected areas will rise and bloom earlier than daffodils planted in a field.  I guess here on the plains of Illinois, we would be considered unprotected.
Yellow and happy faces of flowers welcoming everyone who passes by, welcoming all of us home on busy days, welcoming warmer weather for a season, these are reasons we are desperate for daffodils.
Where are they?
Are your daffodils blooming?

Farmer's DIY Daughter

Do It Yourself = DIY

Dear Farmer has daughters...six daughters. Each daughter has a gifting. Something that sets her apart from her sisters. It gives her an identity. And it can change as they grow. Hopefully the emotional daughter grows out of it, and the pianist never stops. One of the daughters is an avid DIY-er. She loves all things DIY! Crafts, food hacks, furniture building, musical instruments...you name it!
The favorite in the house is food hacks.
The hardest thing about DIY is the contagious effects. When a DIY project begins...all want to partake! "So cool!" ,  "Me too! " ,and "Next!" Echo through the house. Usually these things are best done in the singular, but in a family of twelve homeschooling, good luck with that one!
So, when Farmer's DIY Daughter comes to the Wife with a great idea to try the Wife has to multiply the list of supplies by fourteen, add to it the amount of unwanted help, divide it by the sanity she has left on a hectic day, and decide if it's a go/no go.
There are times that the answer is a shrill laugh followed by a flat "no". Other times we all plunge in with vim and vigor! Regardless, there will be more DIYs right around the corner to try!

The Last Beach Days of Summer

In town the pool closed mid-August when school started. But the beach never closes. Hooray for the beach!
So we gravitated North to the lake...to the beach...when all those poor children had to be locked up in a classroom, we took our classroom outside. Walking by the lake, finding dead fish, crawfish, mussels, snails, minnows, rocks, and shells. Ahhh, this is the life!
Many farm kids don't get this lake life as well as farm, so we feel double blessed!!!I
The days are getting shorter, the nights are getting cooler, swimming days are coming to an end...but we have a couple more months of beach combing. Ahhh, treasured last days....

Springtime Sharing

There is a joy to be had in springtime! And for all of us, it usually starts with a cold.  Either from the overly anxious child who has run outside coat-less, barefoot, and in shorts proclaiming "It's WARM!"; when the thermometer is barley registering above zero. Or from the extreme temperature swings: 70F degrees one day, down to 30F degrees the next, and back up overnight to 60F.  It's absolute craziness, but also a good reminder...it's springtime!
March is coming in "like a Lion" on our farm.  The wind blows to 45mph gusts, the temperature swings back and forth, and the grass greens one moment, and freezes the next. The livestock wander out to the greening paddock to nibble on what little they can find. The people in the house wander around looking for chocolate. And then there's the sounds of spring...cough, cough, achoo!  And being a family that shares, everyone is making sure to be generous in the giving of cold germs with the family members they feel "deserve" it most.
O the joys of springtime!

Ice Skating in Ditches, The Wife is Encouraging it.

So, there's been no snow for the month of January. Though we have had rain. When the temperature gets cold enough, the ditches freeze. For the children(ours) who are used to the frigid windmills of Wisconsin, and having ponds, lakes, and frozen fields...they find any hint of frozen water to play on. Hence the gravitation to the frozen ditches.
They were supposed to be doing chores...instead they were skating down a half mile of frozen ditch. Then there were the races. Obstacles of tree trunks, cattails, and drain pipes making the race that much more exciting. However, my personal favorite was "ditch wars". Where the sisters stand on the road and pelt brothers with whatever alongside the roadside they skate down for the best time. A little much like some sort of survival games movie...but it kept the occupied on a dreary day for three hours! Outside the house!
The chores had to get done before they came inside...giving me an extra half hour of a clean house!
I love ditches!

To Mow a Lawn

The Keeper of the Flame has had the esteemed job of mowing the lawn. Not just your average postage stamp of grass, but rather a couple acres. By push mower.
As parents we were super impressed with our forward thinking that the mower we gave him to push is gas powered. The Keeper of the Flame dilligently pushed for three weeks of the July heat index beyond 100F. The lawn is large enough to make it divisible into five smaller parts so that it was five days of an hour or two of lawn mowing. Small complaints were breathed, but no large blow-ups. And then the day came when the request was made, "I don't need any birthday gifts. Save the money to buy a riding lawnmower." This is the way to any mother's heart, through humility and self denial. Willing to give away all worldly pleasures for a simple riding mower with which he could bless his parents and continue to cut the lawn. So when the neighbor was selling his riding mower, the Wife was willing to pay whatever he was asking for her dear sweet boy. The haggle was short, and the mower drove to its new home. At dinner that night the conversation was light and good humor abounded. Tomorrow the Keeper of the Flame would be cutting the full lawn in one day. Everyone was jovial! Soon the conversation became something new to the Wife's ears..."Hey, Pop! Could we hook up a trailer to the mower to haul water buckets?"
...Such a thoughtful son, she thought, helping do his brother's chores...
"Pop, I could drive the mower to weed the bean field with the neighbors.."
...ahh, everyone should have a son so willing to be a blessing to everyone...
"and we could hook a trailer up to the back for the canoes going down to the canal, maybe we could tweek the engine to go a little faster? How do we lift it for four-wheel drive? do you think I could drive it to the gas station to get ice cream?"
...eh?...who's child was this?
And this was when the Wife realized...she had just bought her son his first vehicle...which just happens to cut the lawn.

(He is still a sweet boy, thoughtful, and diligent.)

The Adventures of Dear Farmer and Indoor Plumbing

Disclaimer:this is probably one of the more disgusting posts. But in our family everything is shared news. Everything! It is part of Dear Farmer we love. However, the Wife does not believe that this is part of country hospitality....though, should you visit, you should know this beforehand.


No, We do not have an outhouse. Yes, we do have indoor plumbing. However, we have the indoor plumbing from when indoor plumbing was first made. And then in the ninteen sixties someone thought it looked old, put a new pink face on it, and made it appear hip and trendy.
A mere fifty years after the facelift, the bones of the original plumbing are brittle and clogged...and needing replacing.
Insert Dear Farmer's newest adventure...indoor plumbing.
To give Dear Farmer more time to research the "how to" his family has come up with a jingle you might have heard in a playground, " If its yellow, let it mellow. If its brown, flush it down." This is the core of playground humor, and reality in this old farmhouse. Well, reality until Dear Farmer has figured out how to fix and replace the old plumbing.
Insert the family joke: "but what do you do if its green?"
Now you can screw up your face, giggle and laugh. But really...what do you do?
Here in lies the adventure every time we open the toilet lid. What did the person who used the bathroom before you do? What did they do with the green?

What I Like About You!!!

It is one of those things that bring a farmer great joy, to be able to show you what he has accomplished.

Our family identifies itself as "Faithful Stewards". So as the Pied Piper is learning to fill the water buckets without complaining, he is listening to the Wife explain how this job is so important as a faithful steward of the animals, but also this family. Yesterday he did the job entirely without complaining! Recognition was given in front of everyone at the dinner table. He had accomplished something he will be expected to do every day forever...hopefully there will be recognition thirty years from now. 

Dear Farmer does the dull work every day. Make soy meal...move fence...weed wack. And here we tell you about it. And (joy!) you read it!!!

Its one thing we like about you...

Just two small words...manure fork

Excited the children with a manure fork this week. It's what Dear Farmer and the Wife picked up on their date...because we know how to thrill our children.
When they rush downstairs(because they aren't actually sleeping when we walk in from our date late night) and the question is "what did you bring me?" They were all just hoping we would say "a manure fork", I am so sure!
Shoulders slump, feet thump back upstairs, certainty that the other shoe will drop in the morning, they trudge back upstairs to bed.
With no messing around, the Wife got people moving into chores the next morning. Take that brand new shiny manure fork to the barn, she told the WhizBang!Farmer's Daughter, and clean the floor.
About half way through the job a tragedy struck. The locking nut fell off disconnecting the tines from the handle. And the nut was lost! WhizBang!Farmer's Daughter concealed her joy and delight well as she broke the news to the Wife. The manure fork would remain new and relatively shiny until a new nut could be bought.
Not to fear, the Wife still has the old pitch fork. The job isn't nearly as neat as it would have been with the manure fork, but it'll work.
The floor of the barn is now clean and fresh. Next date: locking nut for the manure fork. And this time, we'll tighten the nut before chores.

Heat, Humidity, and the Search for Water

One thing that you will never hear the Wife complain about is heat or humidity.  Yea, she's one of THOSE people. The rest of the family, however, has no qualms about letting you know exactly HOW hot they are, HOW liquid they feel, or HOW miserable they anticipate the next hours to be.
So, when the weather turned to full blast summer with a hundred and fifty percent humidity, and the family began melting they made their feelings known.  The Wife learned several facts that had apparently escaped previously...like: we do not own a pool and the cattle tank we have is not big enough for more than one big teen-age body, or two small children.  We do not have air conditioning...anywhere. We do not have a trampoline. And dinner is always HOT! { O the horrors of life, the Wife had no idea.}
The Wife made one of those verbal suggestions that she made regret later in life...she said, "Stop complaining and figure out how to survive."  Which the children did a few days later, while cousins were in town...
They went on a walk...to the canal...and jumped in.
(Can you do that?) 
The reviewers were raving, "This is great!"  "Water!"  "We won't die!"
The Wife had forgotten, she is a water-girl, the children were all raised at the beach. So, now, in the middle of a corn field, it should not have surprised her that all her children were in need of a good dunking.  They were parched.
The canal isn't what the Wife would have chosen to jump into.  The Wife prefers clear water...she's a lake snob. But the children don't care. 
Dear Farmer and Honorable Son No.2 were impressed with the ingenuity of the children.  They think it's a great idea!  So much so, that when they come home from the feed mill, coated in soy-meal, they grab their towels and a bar of soap and down to the canal they go! 
The Wife...she's not jumping in.  She did, however, pack up all the children and drive three hours to the lake.  She sat on the beach with her toes wiggling in the water(she could see her toes in the water!) and enjoyed the beauty of the water.  The cooling and beautiful water...while the children all jumped in and splashed!

Well, Hello Dolly!

Introducing the Newest Members of Foundation Family Farms...

"Dolly"-our someday milk cow-currently a three month old hefier calf. She's a Jersey-Angus Mix, given to us by dear friends.
Under her is "Chili Pepper" and in front of them is "Cayenne Pepper" our two newborn goatlings from mother "Paprika". They were born July 13 during dinner.  It was great fun to hear and see the excitement of all the children knowing that "Paprika" was giving birth while we were eating.  Dinner was a good excuse to get everyone out of the barn so she could have a little privacy, also.  When we were done eating everyone hustled out to see not just one baby, but two! 
It seems that the three have formed the "Future Milk Suppliers" Club.

So, come on down to the farm! The little kids are curious to meet you!

Raspberries for Breakfast

We have the most giant patch of red luscious raspberries right outside our back door. 
When the Wife was a littlest girl she had a raspberry patch that she used to eat breakfast in. A cup of milk from the kitchen and out the door to the raspberries for a morning graze.
 
This morning, while the Wife was cooking oatmeal over the cooktop outside, the Chicken Dinner Farmer's Daughter followed her out.  But she didn't stay with the Wife.  She continued past the Wife and began a morning graze...in the raspberry patch.  She was happy and completely content eating berries. 
The Wife did finish up the oatmeal, and took it inside for everyone for breakfast.  Chicken Dinner happily brought in a few berries to add to her oatmeal, as well as a few to share with siblings.

How can you not just LOVE raspberries from your own backyard for breakfast?

How would you like to live a hundred years ago?

Been missing us?  We've been missing you.
So, we found this amazing farmhouse! We moved in from the sock and the shoe, into this amazing farmhouse...and stepped back in time!  Was it a time-warp?
Nope.  It's called "Amish Country" by the locals.  Apparently, that's because we are surrounded by a Mennonite Community.

So, step back in time, it's a very interesting ride:
1.indoor plumbing(limited)
2.electricity(gee, no one knew the power had gone off in the storm...because everyone uses limited electricity!)
3.country hospitality--people around here are teaching us about this!
4.internet...nope.
5.neighbors...300+ acres away

When I talk to the Amazing Farm Wife(Grandma) she says that there are people that didn't like the look of the electric lines in the (nineteen) forties.  They thought that it destroyed the view of the countryside. Now there's wind-turbines that dot the countryside.
Here in "Amish Country" the locals take the changes of the modern-day in stride.  The farmers aren't using horses to plow, and the acreage well exceeds the hundred year old standard(one man to every one hundred acres).  But the life is hundred year old simple. 

For the past month we've eliminated the modern day from our thinking.  Outhouses, cooking over an open flame, and sleeping in the sweltering heat and storms.  It was good!  Going back to the simple reminds us how far we've come...and how much we've lost.

So here's how we're making this work now.  This farmhouse, this awesome hundred year old farmhouse, it's going to glow with the life we're giving it.  When it saw us coming, it might have cringed, but we're breathing the life back in it's old bones. 
Dear Farmer is jacking and bracing the old foundation.  Reinforcing and skim-coating.
Replacing the old roof shingles with metal roofing.
Connecting the limited electricity so we can plug in fans on sweltering nights, and use lights on gloomy days.
And Dear Farmer has the opportunity to learn about "French Drains"...which is so exciting to the Wife because she speaks French, though Dear Farmer doesn't believe that one has anything to do with the other...

Those modern-maids that the Wife loved so dearly...Mme.Dishwasher, Mr.World Wide Web, and that glorious babysitter "Netflix".  Those we've said good-bye to.  It's sad to see them go...but we'll survive without.
So, your blog posts will be less frequent, but the stories more full.
And Dear Farmer and family will still do what we do...
we hope you laugh and we hope that you sigh, when you think of those days far gone by.
How would you survive sleeping on bedrolls and walking creaky stairs?
How would you survive living a hundred years ago?

Low Stress Farming

Dear Farmer came in yesterday and did his electrician thing. Wired up the outlets for a brilliant chuck wagon, the "sock" and the "shoe". Then we took a walk in the garden with children howling beside us (they are the local natives). He decided to get gas and took three daughters with him. When he came home, it still wasn't bedtime. What is this strange life? We call it " low stress".  No need for a pot of coffee and an hour of pacing to get worked up enough to walk out the door. No bombardment of phone calls or emails. For anyone wondering if it's worth it to make a major lifestyle change or have a stroke...do the change!!!

What we changed to:
Pay cut
Tiny house
Smaller herd
Bigger garden
More time
New job
Moved location

No Regrets!

Dear Farmer's New Day Job

So, we kinda left you hanging.  We were hanging too...
but now we know what's going on!

Dear Farmer has left the fields full time to tackle another aspect of farming, while the family farms during the day.  Dear Farmer's new day job is at an organic soybean processing plant.  What's he doing?  He's running the plant.  Actually, he's firing up the machines and running the soybeans to them in order for the machines to process the soybeans.  BY HIMSELF!  {sigh, he's so amazing!}
While Dear Farmer is gone during the day the Wife and the children are farming the garden, preparing for the goats and the chickens, and cutting a lot of grass.  The "Sock" and the "Shoe" suit us very perfectly, we find.  We are people that like to be out-doors rather than in-doors.  We like to spend time together, rather than cleaning.  And we are minimalists...well, some of us more than others.

The largest challenge of Dear Farmer's new position...we are in a location that doesn't have internet.
The Wife didn't know how much email was  part of life.  And grabbing information off the world wide web. And GPS. Messaging.  Blogging. 
It's a bit of a pain, but everything has challenges.

Like Dear Farmer's new day job, a job he's never done before. Never even thought it existed.  But he's doing it to spend more time doing what he loves most...spending time with his family, and farming.

I love this Dear Farmer!