3 Things They Don't Tell You When You Move to the Farm

The mower sitting where it died. It's old and cheap and K doesn't have time to fix it.

1) That it will be expensive. Naively, we thought that raising and preserving our own food, line drying, recycling/composting, etc would mean we would live a more financially efficient lifestyle.

NOT.

Maybe after a few years when we are established . . . but let's take into account all the land that we have to mow. Mowers are expensive (very).

Gas is expensive (very).

Garden seeds are expensive. Open-pollinated varieties will let us save them to plant next year (for free) but up front costs means you don't save any over going to the store.

Livestock is expensive. Sure, they reproduce to replenish and pay for themselves, but up front? Whew.

Driving to town for everything is expensive.

Lesson learned: don't expect to save any money for at least two years. Unfortunately for us, since we are just renting, we're going to have to do this all over again when we buy our own property.

2) How. Much. Time. Everything. Takes. Maybe that's just because we have a two year old and no babysitter? Hmm...

Lesson learned: HAVE A BABYSITTER!

3) That the first year on an old farm will be mostly clean up. We've spent days . . . no, months . . . cleaning up scrap, trash, old wood, and rocks, out of the "mow zone." And the rest of the property. Taking it all to the scrap yard netted us a whole $50. Whoo.

Lesson learned: Relax. We're not going to go gung-ho the first year. It's a learning process, and we've learned a lot already. Enjoy.

Still.

Through the Window

Excuse the messy porch . . . long winter without a garage.

Goats are looking in my window. Where are you, Mom? is obviously what they're wondering. y poor little Nigerians have attached to me as their herd leader and follow every step I make throughout the day; oddly, though, they haven't warmed up to me very much yet. They let me pet them for a few seconds before moving away. I think they're still nervous from their move, especially because our property is much more open than their previous home which I'm sure is intimidating for them.

My twice-daily milking routine is really bringing home the extent that most Americans (myself included) take food for granted. As I asked Kenny last night, "Is that right?" As an eater, shouldn't every single person take some measure of responsibility in bringing food to the table? What right have we to burden a few of our citizens with the monumental daily enormity of raising animals and producing safe food while we complain about costs? I'm sorry, but YOU get up before dawn every day of the year, work past sunset, feel the emotional drain of the connection to these animals that might one day be food, nurse them when they are ill, and miss days time with the family. There is no day off. Even for me, there is the slight feeling that I don't have to do this. I can just go back to buying milk like most people . . . but, I know this is right. We choose to do it, yes, but we do it not only for us but also for you, for the shaky future of the food supply.

So tonight I'll put the goats to bed with some hay and fresh water. I'll count all the chickens before locking them safely in their coop. And I'll sleep well because I'll know I'm trying to make the world a better place by changing where my food comes from.

And Finally, It's Milking Time

The young spring breeze freshened my hair and I glanced out the window in time to see a red-winged blackbird playing in the open stand of trees outside our "renovated" goat house. Refocusing on my task - milking - I enjoyed a moment of peace. After years of dreaming, planning, and blind leaps, I am finally stepping into the life I have longed for.

We've had the goats for two full days now, and thankfully they have gone off a lot better than I expected. Although it was with nervous anticipation (what if they don't like me??) that I began my milking experience, it ended up being easier than I thought as such things usually do. I am enjoying a new skill and Emma is learning about where milk comes from.

I've read that raw milk is a treat, but I still had my doubts until my sometimes difficult-to-please husband had his first sip. (Will he like it, or did we just waste $400 on an expensive soap-making project?) In classic milk-mustache amazement, he pronounced it better; after I tried it, I had to agree. I never knew milk had flavor. It's like a melted milkshake, smooth and creamy, that makes the plastic carton stuff look like watery nothingness.

Maybe I'll start drinking milk.

Flock Increase

After months of searching, we finally found some young-ish layers. It's surprisingly difficult to find hens that are pretty young (don't want to get a hen that's too old, cause they decrease the number of eggs they lay as they age), and we aren't equipped for chicks yet. Anyway, we finally found some -- our flock is now up to 17 hens and our first rooster!

King George and his harem

The new chicken run, still unpainted

Our flock now consists of Comets, Jersey Giants, and Leghorns. Comets are a hybrid of Buff Orpingtons and Rhode Island Reds, Leghorns are the breed most often used in industrial agriculture (not my first choice, but they came with the rest of the flock and the only rooster we could get was a Leghorn), and Jersey Giants are the largest purebred chicken. I'm particularly interested in the Giants because they're on ALBC's watch list and I believe in the importance of preserving old breeds for genetic diversity. Eventually I'd like to maintain a pure flock and rooster of an old breed.

Now that we have a rooster, we can hatch our own eggs to grow our flock!

Finding the Food System Again

We took another step in what is becoming an increasing passion of mine: stepping out of the industrial food chain. Yesterday we checked out Thurn's Specialty Meats in Columbus. I'd heard a lot about them, from Edible Columbus to Facebook, but since they're only open three days a week (the rest of the time they are doing their own smoking and prep work) we hadn't been able to get there until yesterday.

We weren't disappointed. Their business of smoking and curing meats and cheese has been in the family for well over a hundred years, and perhaps their customer service has something to do with it (although we haven't tried the bacon yet -- heard it's fantastic. Waiting for Sunday morning breakfast!). We were greeted with a welcoming smile as soon as we walked into the smoky sweet semi-darkness and surveyed the counter full of more different kinds of pork than you'll ever see in a chain grocery store . . . I had no idea there are so many varieties of sausage but I can't wait to try them all! Mr. Thurn fed us samples while cutting our order and talking about our recent move to the Columbus area. In what I consider a charming disconnect from modernity, our meats and cheeses are packaged in white paper with one of him being a tally of our order since they don't have a cash register. He even slipped the newest copy of Edible into the bag for me as we were leaving.

Last weekend we went to historic North Market in Columbus and got food for the most delicious

dinner we'd had in months, also from local businesses.

I am fascinated by the sadness of how a neighborhood shop can seem old-fashioned in our big-store shopping mentality, but I'm also very very glad to know that there are still century old businesses serving the same communities, and knowing their customers by name.

There is hope for us. :)

When the Simple Life Ain't So Simple

When embarking on the journey to a "simpler" lifestyle, so many people (ourselves included) innocently believe that simple will equate to simple.

Not so.

Perhaps a more accurate word would be a "basic" lifestyle, because we are embracing the basics of life: homegrown food, wood heat, line-dried clothes; however it is anything but simple . . . especially when one moves onto the property in September with no wood stockpiled and winter fast approaching. Let me just say that now we are spending every weekend in the woods to get enough logs for the coming week. We have about two weeks stored up, and it's not from any lack of trying -- it's just that we have been so busy with work, school, and a toddler that we weren't able to get a whole winter's worth of wood in the three months (give or take) that we had before cold hit. It's not a bad thing, for it's work that we enjoy.

Work means something altogether different when it brings a true sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. Out here, we are growing as people because we are becoming more aware of what life truly is at the basic level -- hence, the "basic" lifestyle. Now, work truly equates to heat and food rather than cold lifeless money that can buy those things. I love it, and - so help me, God - I'll never go back to living in town again.