Alright. I’ve got some things I need to get off my chest. It always baffles me when I’m on a homesteading forum or FB page and I see people shamed by others for not being a “true homesteader”. Seriously, what does that even mean anyway? I’m gonna keep it real here friends. Unless any of
When you’re dreaming about farming or homesteading, it’s easy to be consumed with the exciting things. Baby chicks. Fresh eggs. Pulling the season’s first sun ripened tomato from the vine. Sun drenched fields of green on still summer days with cotton puff clouds softly floating by overhead. You know, the things we usually take pictures
When we first told our family that we were hitchin’ the wagon and moving to Iowa, my grandpa gave me a bit of elderly wisdom. “Iowa,” he said. “They have weather in Iowa.” I didn’t know exactly what he meant. I mean, I’d been traveling back and forth between Iowa and Oregon for several years
Oh winter…we have a love-hate kinda relationship. I love the rest you offer, and the unwinding of busyness you force upon my life. I’m in awe of the picturesque beauty you cast upon our frozen landscape, like the silent purity of falling snow on a Sunday morning. And I appreciate the excuse you give to
I apparently believe in fairy tales. I knew Iowa had really cold winters. Surely all those days with freezing temps must mean Iowans deal with less sickness in the winter, right? Germs can’t survive the extreme cold. Or at least that’s the fairy tale I believed when we moved here. It makes sense, in a
There I was. Standing in the barn with both hands firmly wrapped around the legs of a squealing three week old male pig. I held it up as the vet made an incision across each testicle, beginning the castration process. And the first squeal sent Charlotte charging at us. I had dreaded the moment most
Homesteading has become quite the trend. I think that’s a good thing, which is a good thing in and of itself because we like to call ourselves homesteaders. That word has kind of a romantic feel to it. Kind of retro without being quaint. Rustic, even, like a splintery board from yesteryear. But I digress.
You might be saying to yourself, I have no interest in pigs. I don’t have room for them. I don’t know anything about them. I don’t WANT to know anything about them. I get it. Not too long ago, I was at least in the neighborhood of this kind of thinking. Give me cows. Give
I’ve been thinking a lot about goals lately. I always get a little anxious this time of year. Winter provides a little break for us, since the ground is frozen and our outside activities are limited to caring for the animals. But its a bittersweet kinda break because winter is my least favorite season. So
I seem to always have my mind on spring. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of winter, or at the end of summer. The next spring planting is never far from my thoughts. I love every minute of the researching, planning and organizing that goes into our garden pre-work each year. Plotting out