Our Story

We all have "a story," don't we? The thing about our stories, though, is that they are ever-changing. Evolving. Progressing. Becoming refined. And not one of them is exempt from the bad and the ugly.

And the blessing, here, is that each chapter builds the next - the foundation of false starts, hard-times, and heartache all contribute to the present. Which, as you all know, is a gift.

On Saturday our friend Martha stopped by the farmers' market to say hello and that she really enjoyed reading our article in the Stanly News and Press.

Wait, what? I hadn't been aware that it was going to come out so soon! It seemed just like last week when Shannon Beamon, a staff writer for the SNAP had pulled up in the driveway, the skies threatening rain. We had met Shannon once before at a pizza night over at Fair Meadow Bakes.

While Shannon and I meandered around the farm between the garden, raised beds, greenhouse and pasture - we chatted about how this family arrived in North Carolina from California. We also explored the why, the how, and the results of our figurative detours along the way. Eventually we sat at our dining room table, with her asking questions and me answering them, while often finding myself off on a tangent. A story cannot be told in just an hour. There's a fraction of a lifetime of information to gather and organize!

As Shannon left I thought, "I hope I didn't make us out to sound like pompous asses." Even though I know we are not pompous asses, there are the perceptions of others to consider. Or, are there? Maybe a story gets its uniqueness from the interpretations and perceptions.

There are certainly misinterpreted parts of our stories. The parts where people perceive a statement one way, when really the truth is the opposite, or at least another version of the perception.

There were a few mistakes in this story, like the "motor-home" we traveled across the country in? It was a 1982 GMC one-ton dually, a 6-liter diesel, pick up truck. Slower than molasses in January. And not real comfortable to sleep in, which we did several times.

Also, I don't paint. I'm not good at it, but Captain Strong Arms painted this entire house, by himself, with one brush. Two coats, mind you. And that was AFTER he scraped, sanded, and caulked. THEN he primed it before he began painting - with that SAME brush.

It's true, I did make a lot of sandwiches. And chase a perpetually-active toddler. Most of all, I was one-third of a role in the building of our story. And I have taken a lot of photos along the way.

While we do use solar-power, it has nothing to do with the outdoor wood stove that heats our hot water and in the winter time heats our house. Those are two separate entities. And two separate stories. Like the one where we didn't have electricity for three months while we were saving our pennies for the solar panels.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed that tidbit of our story. As Dr. Who says, "I’ll be a story in your head, but that’s okay, because we’re all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?"

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year to all of you from Hope Farms - may you spend more time doing what you love, what is right, and what is best. 

I'm, hopefully, going to spend more time on horseback this year. No resolutions here, except to live in the moment, which is a daily resolution, not just an annual one. 

Cheers!

Cheers!

Comfort Food for Your Feet

It started decades ago, without me consciously realizing it, this love of creating beauty, and it certainly was not something I spent time contemplating. Especially a favorite was taking something that was intended for one thing and using it for another. I firmly believe my mother instilled this in me by example: she could, and still does today, create something out of practically nothing - in home decor and food.

The creative side of me was not born, it was developed; cultivated, coerced, bribed, and given an ultimatum: Create or be "normal." This flower of ingenuity did not begin to bloom until the year 2007 and has not stopped since. Oh, sure, there have been quiet spells, busy spells and "normal" spells - but there is always this need to create something.

farmhousewife rag-rugs of yester-year

One summer, about five years ago, my mom came to visit and stayed for a couple weeks. She taught me how to make a crocheted rag-rug.

The Three Original Rugs that Mom and I made.

Vivid in my memory bank is the red crocheted rag-rug she had for many years. Easily washed, re-shaped and laid flat - it was ready for duty of any kind. Kitchen duty, bath duty, or "let the kitten play underneath and peek through the holes" duty.

Most Recent: currently in a lovely little shop called LaLa & Co in Troy, NC

We made three rugs and a basket that visit, and I kept all three of them. Most of the ones I've made since then have been bartered, sold or given away as gifts. They're time consuming - mostly the prep work - yet very satisfying to create with endless color combination possibilities.

"Prairie Pink" completed yesterday....so sweet!

Easy to care for, these rugs can be washed on gentle cycle, line dried and re-shaped to enjoy over and over again. They can be used as a bed-side rug, accent, baby's room, basket-liner, RV door mat, and more. Durable, soft, and oh-so-cute they are sure to serve as comfort food for your feet. Each one a farmhousewife original, made from up-cycled sheets, pillow-cases and various other materials, they put good use to these items that might have otherwise been discarded. The materials are laundered and line-dried before the creativity begins

If you're looking for something handmade, unique, no-two-alike for yourself or a loved one - let me know how I can create something for you. Have a look at my in-stock rugs in my Etsy store and tell me what you think! As always, let me know if I can answer any questions. Ordering is easy, secure and, also, I'm happy to deliver if you are local to Montgomery and Stanly Counties in North Carolina.

Happy Creating, y'all!

Happy Cows Come From...Hope Farms

By the way - join our antics shenanigans foolishness on Facebook if you haven't already! 

Interview with a Homesteader

Being a homesteader was never on my list of top five things to accomplish when I was 25 years old. It really wasn't even in the top 10 until my son was born in 2005. When I look back and think about the transformation that is my life, I'm pleased and honored that I have been given the gift of looking after my family, the land, the animals and able to grow food.

Another gift has been my connection with the gals over at Farm Chit Chat - we're doing a Homesteader Highlight each week - in life I'm assured there is a main purpose: to help other individuals.

There's a kind of childish smile that begins when I contemplate the connection between myself and the term homesteader. Me? Really?  Yes, really.

Here is part of an interview that I completed last week:

Farm Chit Chat: Sheila Menendez started her blog, Hope Farm, as a means to connect with others and make known what her life on a small -timey farm is like.  She posts the good, the bad, and the ugly, not necessarily in that order.  Sometimes, she doesn't post as often as she would like to - this often means that they are busy working the farm, pulling weeds, or visiting with friends and family.  The blog and the ever-growing pile of laundry often come last  in a long line of priorities.  

Interviewing Sheila for the homesteader highlight, I was reminded of my grandparents.  Not that Sheila and her husband Ed are old.  Not by any means.  But their strengths and values remind me of a generation that had to live purposefully, with grateful hearts and enduring spirits.   Read on to learn more about this beautiful spirit.

 Farm Chit Chat: How did you get started in farming/homesteading?

 Sheila - I suppose I've always been connected animals my entire life – having always had horses and later, chickens. My husband grew up in upstate New York and he was involved in the FFA (President in his senior year of High School) and 4H as a youngster. In fact, his mom, Marie, started a 4H group and kept it organized for a good while. So, all that to say, there has always been some level of farming or homesteading in my blood – while I could certainly be considered a city-girl, growing up in the Inland Empire of Southern California – it’s something that can’t leak out; that desire to grow your own food, be a good steward of the land, and to excel at animal husbandry. We got started in 2005 – back in California – but really gained momentum in 2008, here in North Carolina.

Farm Chit Chat: When did you begin? How?

Sheila- I always say there’s a story that leads to every story so let me start in the beginning. Prior to living in North Carolina, my husband and my then-toddler and myself lived in the mountains just south of Banning, California in an area called Twin Pines. We had a mini-homestead then with some Barbados sheep, chickens, and a couple of goats. But in October of 2006 the Esperanza fire ripped through the area taking over 30% of the homes and while ours did not burn, we lost our business and decided to make a major life change. We needed to live in a location where we could afford to live within our means, grow our own food, and raise our son to know what that was like. We prayed for guidance and I have often said that “God rolled out the red carpet right to this old farmhouse on a few acres.”

CLICK HERE to read the rest of the interview.

Notes From The Farmers' Market

It occurred to me when her blue eyes smiled at me. Scratch that, they twinkled! She did not stop to talk but just smiled as she passed by.


Visiting a farmers’ market is healthy. Not just because of the food, but because of the interpersonal connection. Something magical happens when you make eye contact with others.  Suddenly you are one. Or not. Some folks like to talk, some do not.

For some reason, I dislike the phrase, “How are you?” It feels contrived. I find myself telling passersby “Let me know if I can answer any questions.” And that seems to be a neutral invitation for conversation that doesn't immediately obligate one for extensive personal reveal.


Then, the connection either grows or is broken. It is unlike reading a Facebook post or receiving an email. It is a two-way interaction that rests light responsibility on both pairs of shoulders. I've learned it is okay to always be myself – foot-in-the-mouth and all – regardless. I can’t help but be myself. Besides, I hear everyone else is already taken.

Interestingly, repeat customers know what they want and typically don’t read your signs anymore after about the second visit. This is, again, an opportunity for conversation. If an individual chooses just one or two items, I always say, “What else?” instead of “Is that all?” – and open ended question is better than a closed-end question and the reason for this is not to make another sale, but to expound upon an opportunity to learn about your customer. “ I've got lettuce growing at home,” they might say to which I always smile and encourage anyone that attempts to grow their own food. It seems contradictory but really, it’s to everyone’s benefit to grow one’s own food, and creates a ripple effect that cultivates all of our roots – we all have this in common: the necessity to eat. Not one of us is immune to that need.

One of the greatest things about the interaction of the farmers’ and their customers is the invaluable feedback that returns from week to week. “Your lettuce keeps so well, I still have some left!” This is valuable to us, and to consumers, and we growers will remember this as our experience grows. Feedback, negative or positive, is essential to good customer service. I've come to offer the vulnerability of telling the truth – the heat makes lettuce bitter, and that if they experience anything that makes them unhappy, to come back and tell me, and I will replace it. So far, everyone that has come back has told me that they have loved the fresh food. This makes me happy.


What also makes me happy is that people seem to smile more at the market. There must be something in the air. Maybe it’s the fresh morning breeze.


Getting to know your fellow vendors is important, too. Most often, if they don’t smile – smile at them first. It’s free and they can’t help but smile back – it would make them look like a jerk if they didn't  yes? It can be like an awkward dance, at first, especially if you and another vendor are producing like items. The produce world can be brutal. Dealing with perishable crops and being at the mercy of the weather and persistent pests can cause stress. Stress can help us become better farmers and better customer service providers. Competition, on a healthy level, is usually a good thing. Sometimes, when a farmers wears too much of a frown, especially when he or she looks my way, it might be a sign that they are having a bad day. Or, it could mean that they’re just jealous. Wait, that’s what I just said! Or, it means that it has nothing to do with me and that comparison is the thief of all joy. Be like a duck and let it roll off.  Better yet, extend your hand and smile in grace and mercy and open that door to conversation. You might be surprised.

On another note, kids (of ALL ages) like to touch. It’s always good if you can have something out front for people to squeeze, pinch, smell and feel. I learned this from a gentleman who genuinely loves to grow plants and is a very talented grower and is very much a people person. The senses are very much a part of the farmers’ market experience. Put a bouquet of herbs out there – lemon balm is always nice to touch and smell. Interactivity is the basis for our relationships. It starts with the twinkle in the eyes which starts with the smile.

See you at the market!

Farming Is....

I'm up late, or early, rather, as it is technically Saturday morning at 3 am. I've surveyed all the problems in the world and have determined that life is a lot like farming. "Farming is a profession of hope," said Brian Brett. There are so many things that resound with me regarding that statement.

Photo by Shannon Thompson

Today was one of those days. It was great, it was tragic, and strangely simultaneously normal.

I'll break it down:

Eddie and I went on a field trip for homeschool - the Discovery Kids is a terrific way to show children how the imagination can trump a pile of worksheets any day. After several days of Language Arts, Math, Spelling and Science - we put the "hands on" into our learning day. We both had a great time. What we didn't do was take pictures. I opted for joining him in the fun, and so I did not traipse around with my camera. He especially liked the water "exhibit" where he pretty much got drenched, played with boats, and unknowingly learned about density, gravity, displacement, and pressure.

Sadly, whilst we were having fun, another baby chick in our brooder died. That's two in two days, too high of a mortality rate for this soft-hearted farmer. We buried the baby and talked about why, sometimes, life with animals is really difficult and sad. Farming is hard.

Later, upon watering seedlings, transplanting some Swiss Chard and Kale seedlings, I looked upon two of my cabbage patches to find that Hattie had helped herself to my early cabbages. So much for taking those to market. She had let herself out of the open gate that Captain Strong Arms had left ajar while he was picking up the manure to add to the compost pile. At first, I was seething, "damn cow!" I said. But when I realized she could have done so much more damage, I stopped and felt gratefulness creep in like a kind reprimand.

Sigh. Farming is frustrating. And scary. What if some of my crops fail? What if I have to resort to using chemicals to prevent a total loss of a certain variety to pests? What if Hattie gets out again? What if I'm not good at this?

Sometimes I wonder why we do it. The grocery store is just 8 miles away. The jobs are just over an hour's commute north, east, and west of us. Is it because it's in our hearts? A nagging sense of duty that cannot be shushed away? An unending call from day to day to grow, nurture, cultivate and share? Once in a while unwanted doubt creeps in and takes a seat, "you can't grow enough to support your family and a farmers' market. Who do you think you are? You don't know what you're doing."

Farming is sometimes full of self-doubt.

Photo by Shannon Thompson

It certainly isn't for the recognition - the fame, or the money - the fortune. Farming is developed. I was going to say it is in your blood, and while I do believe that to be true, I'd say that something can be in your blood without being embraced. It has to be developed. Cultivated.  

What are you cultivating?

I'm signing off. Breakfast is just a few hours away. See you on Facebook for a morning mid-day photo.

Holding My Own Pen

When it is silent in the greenhouse, there is a lot of time for thinking. No noise pollution - just the singing of the birds - it is quiet. Often it takes some adjustment to hearing your own thoughts - we are so used to being conditioned to always be doing something; listening, watching, reading. I welcome the quiet of the greenhouse. It forces me to think about what I'm doing at that very moment. Being present takes getting used to.

What I thought about yesterday while starting lettuce seeds was, "Who are we?" Instead of the age-old adage, "We are what we eat," which is mostly true, I wondered, "What story are we writing with our lives?"

No answer came quickly, but as I painstakingly prepared the soil-less mix and counted each seed one by one, I began to realize that we are writing our stories as we go along.

Who (or what) is holding your pen?

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What's Stopping You?

There are few guarantees in life. Stability, certainty, and financial soundness aren't any of them. What is a rock solid theory, though, is that life is a high percentage what you make it. I don't think I fully comprehended the "attitude is everything" cliche until I was well into my thirties. And some lessons are still hard to fully learn. Some, still, are not learned yet.

Some days it isn't all pretty chickens, egg counts and Jersey cows with hats on, here. But what I can be sure of is that the consequences of taking risks must be worth the effort. How does the old quote go? "Farming looks mighty easy when your plow is a pencil, and you're a thousand miles from the corn field." Eisenhower. Rest assured, dear reader, that one day may look entirely different from the next, here, and then...some days simply repeat themselves.

Lately it seems that the less I try to control things (money, weather, laundry, dishes, child, etc.) the more they work themselves out. This is not to say that I don't constantly, on some level, touch base with the consciousness that wants to scream, "You don't have a JOB," but I keep it at arms length. I do know there are many out there that worry enough for all of us combined. And it isn't really any of their business.

Fear can be a motivator. It keeps us from stepping out into a busy avenue without looking right, left, then right again, first. It can also cause paralysis: That mountain is too high to climb, I'd rather just sit down. Fear can be an instigator, "you tried that once already, and failed, what makes you think you can do it right this time?" Fear can squash our dreams. If we let it. Fear can distract you, for instance: I'm supposed to be writing an essay in my Social Problems course about euthanasia, but I'd rather be here, pontificating with you.

Life = experience. How do we gain experience if we don't "do" and "be" what we want? This isn't to say we should just give in to the whims of the hedonistic human nature and only do what the ego would benefit from. This is to say, what makes you come alive? What do you do that makes time stand still? What happens to you when your work feels like your play? Chase that. Believe that you are deserving of your dream. Don't take anyone else's negativity to heart. It isn't yours - it's theirs. Let them carry it around for it is heavy.

By contrast to doing what you love, how does it feel when there is too much on your plate and you've said "yes" when you really meant to say "no?" Tipping, sliding, grasping, and dropping things is absolutely counter-productive to living the life you want. We can't have it all. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I present the truth. It's impossible. We must pick one. We can't be IN the world and OF the world. We can't serve two masters. This does have some spiritual connotation to it, but really, it is meant more as a way to capture the full meaning of living the life we dare to dream or never daring to live the dream life for fear of not being accepted. Or the fear of failure.

How do we get there from here? Right now, there's an old outdoor water stove outside that's on his last leg, so to speak, and we're fairly sure that the ugly beast is well over 20 years, perhaps into the early thirties. He has served us well for over 3 solid years - nonstop, winter, spring, summer, and fall - and even though it is an inanimate object, the squeaking door, the smoke-belching pipe has been an integral part of our homesteading and daily survival here on the farm. From hot water for dishes and showers to heating the 123 year old wooden-girl that is our home. The answer is one day at a time.

We don't "happen" all at once. Life is the accumulation of those "bit by bit" pieces that may be a mix of sweet, bitter, salty, and downright rotten. We compost. We turn. We burn. We dissipate. And sometimes we steam. In the journey, though, is the realization that we must listen close to that still, small, voice. What do we want? And then, when we have figured that out, we need to ask ourselves one. more. question. What is stopping us?

Then, we tackle the answer to that question one. day. at. a. time.

Doing something you know to be true to yourself is terrifying. Shocking. Wave-making. Gossip-starting. Are you afraid not of what is stopping you but of what others might think? We all are. Even if we say we aren't.

Tonight I'm a farmhousewife. A un-knowing and un-sure entrepreneur. A farmer. A mother. A lover of the simple (but hard!) life. Tomorrow I might be a housecleaner. The day after that a student. The day after that I might be wondering how I'm going to turn vegetables, eggs, and crocheted rag-rugs into income for my family to use as a tool to continue this simple (but hard!) life. One day at a time. Do what you love. Figure out what is stopping you and use the fear as a motivator. In the next two years, I will be second-guessing my commitment of continuing my education in order to chase my lifelong dream of working with individuals and horses with the goal of helping people. It isn't an option, though, for me. It is what I must do.

What's stopping you?

Don't answer me. Answer you. Aspire to make a difference, not just a living. Join me.

Farmchick?

I didn't set  out to be a Farmchick. Really, I didn't. Somehow having horses all of my life and keeping chickens for the latter half has just been a reality for me, as opposed to a dream. Or, maybe I made those dreams come true with the help of my parents, then, and now my husband?

Chicken Whisperer?

There seems to be a great revival in the movement of local food, farming, and the ethical implications that come along with all of the above.

Egg Whisperer?

But we're not here to discuss that in detail today. Today, we're all about this Farm Chick Hat! Is it not the cutest thing you've seen?

Farmchick - the hat makes it!

As usual, since I'm late for almost everything, I got this hat about a month two months ago, but have not taken the time to write anything about it.

The point is, I've worn it, though, and it is such a nice fitting hat! The brim is solid, sturdy and thick - the cap material is soft yet holds shape well, and I LOVE the Velcro (why did spell-check just tell me to capitalize the V in velcro? Weird.) size adjustment!  And, since I am a Farm Chick Chit Chat Farmchick (say that three times fast?) and Hobby Hill Farm is the official outfitter of the Farmchicks, it is a perfect fit - literally and figuratively.

Aaand, one more pic of that cute hat!! I wear it a LOT!

This hat is embroidered by the good folks over at Hobby Hill Farm and for a short time, you can head on over to their website and by using the checkout code HOPE - you will receive 15% off of your purchase! Folks, click the link NOW and get your Farm Chick hat on!! They have all KINDS of farm-ware - check out their beautiful sweatshirts, too! I'm loving the colors.

And after you're done shopping, hop on over to check out Farm Chick Chit Chat - I'm quite sure you'll feel right at home there, I do! A while back, we started a project, which would sort of explain the plethora of photos above, here it is in all its glory:

"We are the Real Farmchicks of Farm Chick Chit Chat.  We are scattered from as far north as Maine to as far south as Texas, and from as far east as Virginia to as far west as California.  In September of 2012, we began to work together to bring the best of what we do into one convenient resource.  We have become close friends and truly value the friendship we also share with our readers.

We are hobby farmers, chicken keepers, gardeners, goat herders, canners, knitters, homesteaders, and DIYers. We raise cows, goats, rabbits, sheep, chickens, ducks and farm kids. We grow crops; we preserve and can; we bake and cook.  We home school, knit and crochet, build, re-purpose, and craft."

After you shop Hobby Hill Farm for your official Farmchick gear: Click here to read more....

**I would like to thank Hobby Hill Farm for allowing me the opportunity to review the Farm Chick Ball Cap. I was sent a sample product in order to allow me to evaluate its performance on my farm. *Disclosure: I did not receive additional compensation for writing this review. The review framework did not guarantee a positive review in exchange for the receipt of their product. This review contains both facts about the product and my opinion of its performance while being used at my farm.

What We Did Today

It's all fun and games when I can sit down at the computer, after a shower, with a cup of tea and tell about it.

We added more raised beds today.

It was an exhausting day, but in the, it-feels-good-to-move-around, instead of sit-in-the-chair-all-day and stare at the computer, way. It's that good old-fashioned tired. You know the kind.

I smiled at the radishes poking up. They are so quick to grow.

Getting back into the groove of farming, (growing our own food, in addition to growing for market) is not a gradual step. I've primarily been in an office, in meetings, and organizing events, workshops and such for the last  year.

After three (or 15) days of convincing Captain Strong Arms that my spinach would come up - it finally began to come up. Phew!

 It's the softness of winter that gets me. It'll be a good while before I build up the strength and endurance I had and it won't come easy. And then, it will be the heat of summer that gets me. Oh for the love of farming.

Back to the Farmers' Market in just 6 weeks and three days.

I am looking forward to getting back the the farmers market - there's a reward in that unique to anything else one will ever do. Tomorrow? Meeting in the morning, meeting in the afternoon and meeting in the evening. Farming will have to resume on Wednesday, for me, thank goodness Captain Strong Arms takes good care of the farm when I'm home and when I'm not home.

Farm School Field Trip & other useless info

Because I know all of you readers plan your days around mine, I thought I'd give you some useless information:

I'll be headed out early on our first field trip for Piedmont Farm School. I've got my muck boots ready and my camera packed.

Oh, and the duck is laying eggs in a nest.  Just sayin'.

The radishes popped up today. I could almost see them in motion.

Yesterday's egg count: 12
Today's egg count: 10

Keep calm and farm on,

Snapshots & Memories

A beautiful brisk day in the southern Piedmont of North Carolina yesterday - I got out of the house in the early afternoon and enjoyed some barn chores. Sometimes spending time with the animals is the most therapeutic form there is for a grieving heart.

Just over a week ago, just two days after Christmas, we laid to rest my childhood pony mare April. She was 38 years old. She had been in the family for 31 years.

April

Egg Count: 13

Hattie supervises feeding time

Roll in the mud much?

Gaston, the Rhode Island Red Rooster

Mr. Bunny

Sam Speaks

A lady to the end.