We had dinner in a beautiful port town of New Hampshire. Portsmouth, NH, is a historic seaport and popular little patch of quaintness on the Piscataqua River that beckons summer tourists. But I wonder how many folks miss the story growing tall and strong just a few blocks inland.

Edit to add: While our nation faces a year–2020–like none of us have lived through before, while we worry if our nation will survive such division, fears, anger, and a global pandemic, we need to remember that our nation is founded on such things (well, maybe not the pandemic part), and we overcome by claiming and planting hope, guys. In simple ways.

It’s the theme of my Simple Doesn’t Mean Easy Podcast.

William Whipple did this in a very tangible way…

His One Simple Act is Still Growing Today

In what used to be the yard of William Whipple grows a Horse Chestnut tree with quite an autobiography. While that may not seem like a fair word to use (since I’m the one telling you its story today), trust me this tree has a novel coursing through its sap.

But I know you’re asking, “Who’s this Whipple guy?” William Whipple was one of our founding fathers that doesn’t get much press. A signer of the Declaration of Independence. And today I gotta tell you his story.

It’s a great one. Mr. Whipple’s story clarifies the fact that doing “simple” things isn’t easy, but wow, is it worth the effort.

That’s Bill and I, with Mr. Whipple’s gorgeous tree behind us. Like I said, I love a great tree. And a great story.

Sweet Maple hits bookstores October 1st, my opus of a few great trees and a great story. So yes, put them together–a tree and a story–and I’m happy.

And obviously the love of my life was pretty happy about this chestnut too. Gotta love his school-boy smile.  He’s also holding my leftover shrimp, which he willingly carried all over Portsmouth while we window shopped. Now you have a glimpse into why he’s been the love of my life since 11th grade. But I digress…

A Signer and His Seed

The Horse Chestnut behind us was planted by William Whipple, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, after returning to his little New England seaport town from Philadelphia and that monumental occasion in 1776. Just imagine as he planted that seed what he must have wondered. He must have doubted if it was even worth the effort. If the city–his colony’s main port city–would be burned to the ground by British forces. If the colonies would crumble under the dictates of a powerful and angry king when he received that signed parchment that declared these humble people were going to try it alone and would no longer acknowledge his dominion.

But William Whipple chose to cling to hope. And I imagine he prayed a little too as he caked dirt under his nails, pounding the soil firmly around that little lifeless looking brown seed that offered just a glimmer of hope. A glimmer of a promise of a day when it would provide shade and comfort in possibly a free nation that could govern itself.

Thinking a lot about Mr. Whipple after standing under his tree, I had to look him up. I love one fact I read… William Whipple freed his slaves when he returned home from signing the Declaration of Independence. (And, yes, slavery did exist in the far north at that time, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.) His reasoning was that he could not fight for freedom while keeping others from having their own.

I knew I liked this man.

Facing an Uncertain Future

This week we will celebrate Independence Day. We will celebrate that document that Mr. Whipple risked his very life to sign. I think we should celebrate that little seed that Mr. Whipple planted as well.

After all, we’re all facing something today that seems daunting. Something where the outcome is uncertain. Something that we wonder what we should do about it or how or if the effort is even worth it.

This fourth of July week remember Mr. Whipple.

He rode 800 miles on horseback to sign a paper that could have easily have led British soldiers to his door to drag him to the gallows. But instead of coming home and hiding away in depression or discouragement–exhausted, depressed, and uncertain of tomorrow–he kept on doing something.

Something that clung to hope.

Clung to promise.

Clung to faith.

An Example Worth Following

William Whipple’s simple act now grows tall for the world to see, overlooking the picturesque Piscataqua River in this glorious Land of the Free that we get to call “home.”

So I have to say “Thank you, Mr. Whipple.” Thank you not only for that long ride on horseback, and that daring act of putting pen to paper in defiance in the name of freedom, but thank you for your courageous, oh-so-simple act of hope.

Thank you, Mr. Whipple, for getting down on your knees, getting your hands dirty, and planting hope.

Thank you, Mr. Whipple, for planting hope that still stands and still grows.

So what about you? What about that simple thing that intimidates you today? That thing you don’t know the outcome of but you know you should be brave and do it? Pray, dig in, and get it done.

You never know the benefits others may reap.

Is it Really That Simple?

If you’re trying to simplify your life a tiny bit in the midst of a chaotic world, take heart, just one simple step toward simplifying your family’s life (like planting a tree) can someday reap a harvest that you can’t imagine today.

In this podcast episode I talk about another simple step that everyone can take to make a huge stride toward simplifying their home:

Photo by Rob Mulally on Unsplash

You never know the forest of joy that may grow.

Photo by Collie Coburn on Unsplash

Where do I Get the Strength?

I can’t write this–this little post of inspiration; this little post of a story of a man who acted in faith when he didn’t know what tomorrow held–without explaining that it’s MY faith that gives me strength.

Without my faith in a personal savior I would be a wet floppy noodle drowning in a puddle of discontent and inaction. Instead, I am oh-so blessed to know the sovereign creator of all as my personal father and friend. I know he goes before me and he holds all things together. (Colossians 1:17)

• I could not have moved from the only home I’d ever known to start a new scary, unknown adventure without assurance that He had a plan.
• I could have never worked at setting up a rural homestead, survived our barn fire, and worked through my continual failures (please don’t make these mistakes) without knowing He had gone before our family and prepared us for this.
• I could have never faced the grief I did of loosing both Mom & Dad suddenly had it not been for His strength.
• I could not have held a daughter’s hand 18 days in the ICU, facing a horrible neurological syndrome, had I not rested in His goodness that goes hand-in-hand with His sovereignty.

But I am a better, smarter, stronger person today as I look back and see how He held all those things together. 

Today when we stand on the narrow street in Portsmouth and look up at Mr. Whipple’s chestnut we have no idea the storms it has weathered and the difficulties of its planting, but we sure can enjoy its strength and beauty today.

So get down and dirty today, keep on doing what you know you’re supposed to do–even facing an uncertain future–and trust in the one who is “the Most High over all the earth.” (Psalm 97:9)

More articles about living a simple life:

Overcoming the worst tragedy a homestead can suffer.

A modern homesteader remembers when it wasn’t a choice.

12 Questions to ask yourself if you want to someday own a farm.

8 Things Wanna-Be Homesteaders Need to Know.

{{Please consider leaving a comment for “the world” to document what intimidating thing you’re gonna dig into.Then come back and let me know how it turns out. I’d truly love to hear.}}

Yours, LORD, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the majesty and the splendor, for everything in heaven and earth is yours. Yours, LORD, is the kingdom; you are exalted as head over all. Wealth and honor come from you; you are the ruler of all things. In your hands are the strength and power to exalt and give strength to all. I Chronicles 29: 11-12

Pin this for later!

Click on the image below to pin this post.

The post A Great Reason to Plant a Tree first appeared on Souly Rested.

There have been mind-blowing wonderful things going on around here recently. I’m talking about the kinda things that make you wanna explode with joy. Nutty, too-good-to-be-true kinda stuff. . . It all boils down to the fact that I took on 3 new bosses.Yes, you read that right.

I took on 3 new bosses, all within about 6 weeks of each other. Granted, one was myself. Let me explain.

And in the process I’ll explain the roses too.

How do homesteaders make money?

I’ll give you lots of ideas in a minute, but first, let me break down how I personally make money, here on my homestead.

• I write. I guess I’ve been working for myself, so to speak, for a while now. I’ve been blogging here for a while, long before many folks actually read my content. From the beginning it was important to me to write without forking out a lot of money for website design or web hosting.

So I designed this site myself, via WordPress, and I spent a long time comparing hosting services to get a good, reliable one for the best price. I have been very pleased, for almost 5 years now, with Hostgator as my hosting provider, and I highly recommend them for the best bang for your buck if you’re considering starting a blog.

But go here for the full scoop on how I make money blogging and exactly how I set up my blog.

And definitely check out my 12 tips for growing your online reach. I mean why not? It’s totally free & you can sign up right here–>

Then I signed on with an agency and had Sweet Maple under contract. (Order an autographed copy & directly support our sugarbush right here: Sweet Maple Autographed Copy) Suddenly I became more of a legit writer with real deadlines and an official manuscript. When I took that on, I was elated. I figured I had enough books brewing in me to write full-time from that point forward. What I didn’t realize then was that an author makes a few pennies when someone buys a copy of her book. Seriously. Not getting rich on that one…

BUT if you’d like to support our family farm and sugarbush directly, you can purchase an autographed copy right here.

• I work locally. Just when I was settling in cozy with the notion of being a full-time published author, a friend here in my small, rural town, became my second boss.

I’ve told y’all the nearest traffic light is 18 miles away, right? Have I mentioned we have a population of 3,300? Yeah, we’re rural. So who’da thought I’d get a part-time job offer, to a job that I can walk to, that’s absolutely perfect for me, here in nowhere-ville? (I say that with sincere affection for my town. I like that we’re in nowhere-ville.)

Just a few weeks after I was knee-deep into my Sweet Maple manuscript, Nate asked if I would consider working for him. I know you don’t know Nate. . . well, unless you’re one of my 3 local friends who follow me here on SoulyRested, then maybe you know him. . . But Nate’s on a mission. A mission to tell folks about Christ from the pulpit in our old, tiny church. . .

. . . And via books he’s written. In fact, Nate’s written lots of books. Before you know it, I’m gonna have as many of Nate’s books on my shelf as there are miles from here to the nearest traffic light.

But before Nate was ready for me to start helping him out, and before I was too many chapters into work on Sweet Maple with my editor?

This is where I mention a person who I’m pretty sure you have heard of.

• I work with an another homesteader and online influencer. Jill Winger asked me to come on board and help with her aMAHzing projects… When Jill asked me to join The Prairie Homestead team as Marketing & Project Manager, it was like 3 decades culminated into “YES!” This folks is what I’ve wanted to do for years and didn’t even know it. Suddenly all that marketing and writing experience and sometimes seemingly pointless degrees that I’d amassed over the decades started really kicking in.

Right after I joined her team, Jill released The Prairie Homestead Cookbook. So very much to love in those 122 recipes and 368 gorgeous pages.

And P.S. check out the maple sandwich bread recipe on page 158. See #2 and #3 right here if you’d like to know how my recipe became one of the 122 in Jill’s book.

But we do many things to make money on the homestead.

Turns out mom didn’t have to worry.

My sweet mom used to worry about me–the creative dreamer who always had her nose in a book and her thoughts in the clouds. . . Then as a momma myself, I gave my mom more to worry about. I know she sat around loosing sleep wondering how her daughter was ever gonna put food on the table if she only has writing degrees, quits her good-paying editing job to homeschool her 4 daughters full-time, and, oh, has a husband who’s a mechanic.

Side note here, the best mechanics never–in any world–ever get paid even close to what they’re truly worth.

Bill, by the way, is truly the best mechanic that God has ever created in human form. That man can fix, build, rebuild, and troubleshoot ANYTHING. . . well except me, he’s been trying to troubleshoot my shenanigans for 25 years now, totally unsuccessfully. . .

But Mom didn’t have to worry. Sure, we had to scrimp every dime for most of our 25 years of marriage, but we’ve reached a really nice point in our lives, and I’ve figured out how to actually make some money while my two youngest daughters finish up homeschooling high school and while we get to live this blessed homesteading life.

3 Lessons for Homesteaders who want to Make Money

Of course you can lump thousands of people under the term “homesteader,” and you’d probably find about 850 different ways they make money. But overall I feel like there are 3 lessons in my story to help everyone:

•  No matter how much you continually fail at this “homesteading” thing, you can find an area of expertise. In fact, it may be something you’ve failed at more times than you can count, until you finally started truly learning how to do it. Let’s face it, it’s in those areas that you know a whole lot. Then you can work at teaching others. In the beginning, no you won’t make any money at that. But eventually you just may find a way, through a blog, through a youtube channel, or through a published book, to make some good money.

•  No matter how remotely you live, you can find a real skin-and-bones job, if that’s what you want. It may take a while, but if you really get to know folks and find out where there are needs in your community that you can help with, you may very well stumble upon your dream job.

•  No matter how much of a “nobody” you start out as in the homesteading social media niche, if you decide to start a blog or a youtube channel, definitely get to know your peers. Follow the folks who are doing it “right.” Not only will you learn from them, but, who knows you may one day wind up calling them “friends.” If you’re truly blessed–and I consider myself to be on the the top rung of the “blessed” ladder–you may even start working with them.

There are many ways homesteaders can make money.

Nope, none of them are get-rich-quick schemes. Heck, most of them could never be profitable enough to be a full income. But nothing about this homesteading lifestyle is easy; I wouldn’t expect the money to come easy either. But there are plenty of very practical ways homesteaders can work towards making some money. Consider just these few:

1. Selling anything that your homestead produces. Maybe start with garden produce. There are lots of gardening tips here on SoulyRested. Start here and then download my free gardening book.

2. Write about what you’re doing and learning. I explain here how I personally make money blogging.

3. Finding buyers for your extra eggs. Here are 10 Fowl Facts for ya if you haven’t started raising chicken yet.

4. Getting ducks and selling their eggs. We can earn twice as much for duck eggs over chicken eggs in our area. But go here for Everything You Need to Know About Duck Eggs.

5. Hatching and selling baby chicks or ducklings. But don’t make this huge mistake I made.

6. Making butter. I tell you exactly how to make butter here.

7. Tapping trees and selling glorious syrup, sugar, candies, and cream. Grab a copy of my book, Sweet Maple, and you will know everything you need to know.

8. Selling photography at a local touristy type of general store. Folks love adorable farm pictures. I’ve written many posts with photography tips. Start here if you’re interested in that.

9. Offering gorgeous, useful handcrafted products, like gorgeous farmstead soaps.

10. Making your own kombucha and growing and selling the extra SCOBYs that result almost weekly. Start here if you don’t know what the heck I’m talking about.

11. Making instructional videos and ebooks and setting up a membership community. I like how Kate, of Venison for Dinner, has set one up, which she calls her Insider’s Club, go here for information and listen in as Kate explains more when she guest starred in my podcast, Season 2, Episode 2.

12. Renting out land for others to camp on during vacation season in your area.

13. Documenting your homesteading life on a youtube channel. Once you gain enough followers, you earn advertising money. Al Lumnah is a great example of a homesteader here in my own state who is doing this well. His channel is linked right here if you wanna check it out.

14. Growing and selling plant seedlings. I really enjoy selling seedlings for profit, you might want to give it a try.

15. Start an instagram page about your homestead. Found out how to grow an online platform that will allow you to sell your own products, or others that you endorse as an affiliate.

So, I promised a list of a dozen ways, but came up with a few extra.

So, why the roses?

I couldn’t help but think of my sweet mom when I took a few pictures of my roses. She would have LOVED this part of my story. (I wrote about the pain of loosing mom and dad in this post.) Because mom adored flowers. While zinneas she hand-picked from her gardens were her favorite, she loved when someone used a vase full of gorgeous roses to commemorate a special occasion.

Mom would never believe this though. That crazy nose-in-her-book daughter has figured out how to homestead, quit the 9-to-5 life & homeschool her daughters, make gallons of delicious maple syrup every year, and even make a decent living to boot.

And both of my bosses respect the fact that I’m my own boss as well. After I hit the “send” button on my final manuscript for Sweet Maple, I sent a picture below–summing up my excitement–to both Jill and Nate.

Jill immediately offered me kind accolades, just short of singing me a victory song, and Nate walked into my office with these gorgeous roses in hand.

Let me tell ya’ folks, there’s nothing better than being your own boss, with two other bosses who go out of their way to encourage and congratulate you on your exciting accomplishments–even the ones that are happening apart from your work with them.

As I near the 5-year mark of when our family moved to this little rural, rocky, rural corner of New England, which was followed rather closely by the 5-year mark of when I started SoulyRested, I can truly take a moment to stop and smell the roses.

Simple doesn’t mean easy.

Life’s been hard. I’ve failed miserably at this homesteading thing. I’ve burnt more pans of syrup than I dare admit. I spent years writing here with about 10 people reading it, and they were mostly related.

But let me tell you folks, simple doesn’t mean easy. And boy am I glad I’ve put in the work. Go here to check out my Simple Doesn’t Mean Easy podcast.

Cause sometimes simple joys come in threes and are really quite beautiful.

If you’re more of a visual person…

Hop in and join me chatting live about this topic. In fact, please join me every Tuesday over on facebook at 9:50 a.m., Eastern Time. I seriously love meeting new readers on Tuesdays! Oh, and (random note… cause sometimes I am random…) check out my Daddy’s little (very old) wood stove and why I love it!–>

Similar Posts I Think You’ll Enjoy.

Being an Online Content Creator

How to Make Money Blogging

How to encourage a child to be an entrepreneur based on their interests.

3 Secrets Legit Homesteaders Might Not Tell You

The #1 reason you may decide to never own a homestead.

Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. I Corinthians 10:31

Pin this for later!

Click on the image below to pin this post.

 

Find out why SoulyRested was considered to be one of the One of the Top Homesteading Blogs.

Glance at my Resource Page if you’d like to get a glimpse of all the supplies I use and recommend for everything from gardening, to homeschooling, to chicken care, to nature journaling, to maple syrup making.

 

I’d love to connect!

To find me in some other neck of the woods, just click any (or every!) icon below:

 

The post How Homesteaders Make Money first appeared on Souly Rested.

It was so foul. If your dog gets sprayed by a skunk your stomach will turn, you will cry, you will actually taste the foulness, it is that bad, and you will definitely need to know this…

Tomato juice won’t cut it. And most likely there will be no easy, once-and-done solution. But this mixture worked well for us. (Read on…)

The beginnings of a smelly ride.

We were busy tonight packing for our 3-week road trip. Yep, 3 weeks with Bixby by our side… 4 people, 3-weeks-worth of stuff, and an 80-pound labradoodle. In a 6-person van. And Bixby showed up at our back door covered. No drenched. In skunk spray.

At first, my husband insisted it wasn’t skunk. My daughter insisted it smelled like onions and latex balloons. A reader has since written to me that “it’s nothing like the familiar skunk smells we notice when walking or riding in a car and we pass by from afar. It’s more like a chemical reaction,” and I’d have to agree. A horrible, foul chemical reaction gone very bad.

But, regardless, it didn’t take us long to all agree it was indeed a dreaded, awful skunk spray.

Now that’s a gem of a teen.

We found the online recipe that suggested hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and dish soap. I ran to our little country store at 8:56, knowing Sean locks the doors promptly at 9. By the time I got home my teen daughter (she’s really a gem) had already done one round of washing with the little bit of peroxide we had in the house.

This post contains affiliate links.

In her unprofessional opinion… but worthy of my attention cause, well, she’s a teen who voluntarily washed our gut-churning, make-you-wanna-puke-it-smells-so-foul dog… the peroxide mixture made no difference.

Now to the credit of this concoction, someone did tell me later that night (on facebook–thank you all you loyal wonderful readers who replied to my pleas of desperation) that this potion works best if you put it on your dog right away after he’s sprayed… BEFORE you get him wet. Too late for that.

A special concoction.

Two other readers gave me great advice about this concoction as well… make sure you read to the end for that.

Also, someone else said it needs to sit on the dog’s fur. Like a long time. We did let it sit 5-10 minutes. But honestly it’s hard for me to judge really. My senses were overpowered and my reason and sense of time and space was blurry and cloudy. The smell started to physically hurt, all the way from my nose down to my gut.

What worked for Bixby?

So what finally worked the best for us? Straight up baking soda. Sprinkled on his coat and then rubbed in really vigorously… while holding our breath cause we thought we just may die. Then we topped that with a coating of Murphy’s Oil Soap . You know, the soap for wood? Another reader typed this suggestion to me while I was in my frantic state. He explained that oil attracts oil and it worked well for his dog.

I ran for the kitchen sink. Oh my goodness was I so thankful to discover I did indeed have some of this wonderful soap sitting under my sink.

I think I had purchased this bottle in 1999. Really. I hardly ever use this stuff, and there was still a few cup’s worth in the dusty old bottle. Thank goodness, cause Sean was probably at home with his PJs on by now, and short of an hour’s drive to a Walmart, I would have nowhere to buy this wonderful salvation of a soap until tomorrow. I tell you this to assure you that even a decade-old version of this soap is definitely potent enough to do a wonderful job.

At first we felt a little worried that it may be too strong for Bixby’s skin or hurt him if we got some in his mouth. But reading the bottle we decided it was actually a pretty “simple” soap and while it may not be the most pleasant thing for him, um, neither is skunk taste that coats your teeth, so we proceeded.

Bixby & Our Chicken

If you’d like to meet Bix under a much more pleasant set of circumstances, when we successfully trained him to be friendly to our free-ranging chicken, you’ll like this post.

What’d Bix think of the whole ordeal?

Strangely enough through all of this, Bixby was rather unphased. I, mind you, was almost passing out from nausea. Oh my gosh, I may smell that odor in my worst nightmares for decades to come.

Or maybe I was light headed from the fact that I was trying to not breathe. For like an hour. But Bix just stared at us with sad eyes. He seemed more upset that he had us all in a tither. And he, being the shy quiet dog that he is (he was a rescue), he hated being forced to be the very drop dead center of the world for a full hour and a half of rubbing, brushing, screaming, crying, washing, and rinsing. Okay, the screaming and crying was all me. But he didn’t seem to mind the taste or the smell. Well, as far as my screaming-and-crying self noticed.

We had realized at this point that the most foul measure of smell was definitely coming from his mouth. We were pretty sure that he walked up to that skunk’s butt and said, “Please, let me enjoy your perfume as an after-dinner mint this evening.” So we brushed his teeth. About 6 times. And then decided we would be buying him a new brush the next day.

Now to rid the house of the smell…

After the multiple brushings and the original peroxide potion, then two times of baking soda followed with Murphy’s Oil Soap and a rinse, we gave him a rest. And almost set the house ablaze by lighting every scented candle I own.

By the way, I say we “rinsed” Bixby, but the oil wouldn’t all come out. We let what we couldn’t rinse out sit on his coat, and then we put him on the porch–minus all the rugs and pillows–for the night.

The oddest suggestion that seemed worthy of a try if I needed it the next day (which thankfully I didn’t)? One reader suggested going to the dollar store for some… sorry, are you ready for this?… Massengil.

I told you it was odd.

Technique matters.

Another great point a few of y’all made was that order and care taken with the three parts of the hydrogen peroxide potion really matters. Suds up with dish soap, put on baking soda–lots of it, and scrub it to the skin–then let that set for about 5 minutes. Cover with peroxide and scrub, letting that set for 15 minutes. Then rinse with vinegar, then water (the acid will break up and float out the skunk oil). And immediately do it all again. Until the smell is gone.

That sounds practical to me, so honestly if I had to start it all over, I think I’d start with that method (not getting him wet until the end). But then again, if I had to start tonight all over again, I’m pretty sure I’d be suicidal.

Other stinky deterrents.

All total, there were quite a few other things y’all suggested that very well may have been a great cure. I didn’t experiment with these after realizing that my combination of baking powder and Murphy’s Oil from 1999 was doing the trick. But other suggestions included Listerine, toothpaste, Avon skin so soft, apple cider vinegar, and club soda. (According to Steve, club soda “Bubbles the stink right out. Not sticky. And if he shakes it doesn’t look like a crime scene.”).

Also, a great point was made that many, if not all, of these choices will strip Bixby’s natural oils, so it’s a good idea to add some fish oils to his diet for a little while to help restore those oils.

Now this is the best news of the night.

Just last month I got this amazing Sea Kelp Daily Supplement from RawPaws. I’d never heard of them before, found them on a google search, reached out to their customer service with a few questions, and was blown away by how much I like this company.

I got the Sea Kelp to help Bixby’s less-than-smelling-like-roses doggie breath and because it sounds like a great vitamin and mineral supplement. I realize I might be crazy (who am I kidding? I am crazy, I know, but I’m okay with that), but just after a few days of sprinkling a little of this sea kelp on each of his meals and I kid you not, his breath was greatly improved. Bill agreed. And he’s a much more reasonable person than I am. (Nobody calls him “crazy.”) If he noticed a difference, there was definitely a difference.

Of course I had no idea last month when this arrived in the mail from RawPaws how very thankful I would be to have a superhero supplement in my corner helping me rid Bix of skunk smell. For the next few days I will double up on his sea kelp and I truly think the skunk odor will linger only in my nightmares.

I think Bix will be taking sea kelp supplements the rest of his days. This stuff is a genuine lifesaver and my new best friend. Well, after Bix.

Now to get the house smelling like roses again.

As for the lingering odor in our house? I’m boiling a mix of vinegar and water, which seems to be helping. And someone mentioned filling bowls with blue Listerine (for some reason, yes, the color matters). Then, she said, I should pour some in dishes with rags and set them all around the house.

So there you have it.

I just wish I didn’t have this advice to impart. I’m sure Bixby would rather I not either.

But, hey, the great news is I think we may be able to embark on our road trip to Kentucky. And survive. Please follow along on facebook and instagram. If you’re not following me in both places, now is a great time to start. I’ll be sharing on different ones as I tour the farm where my momma was born in the rolling hills of West Virginia, farm sit for an amazing reader in Kentucky, and squeeze the sugary juices out of a sorghum plant in Tennessee. (Seriously. Oscar at the Tipton-Haynes Historic House is waiting for me.) I’ll explain more as the trip unfolds, but if you missed my Tuesday Live on facebook this week, you can catch that here. I explained about our 3-week road trip, as well as some huge sadness on the farm that I haven’t had the energy to write about.

But really, please follow along on social media, mainly to make sure we arrive at our first destination safely. Please report it to the authorities if you think we may be asphyxiated somewhere along I-95, with skunk-breath Bix at our feet.

UPDATE: While we were on our road trip, the awesome folks over at PeaceBonePet.com heard about Bixby’s new ode-de-Pepe-Le-Pew and wanted to help us keep our sanity on our travels. They sent us two life savers… a great doggie toothpaste that was a gel we could squirt on daily while traveling in the car, no toothbrush required, and minty-fresh treats that he loved. Go here to check out all the great dental care products PeaceBonePet has for your pooch, whether he smells like Pepe Le Pew or not. Oh, and here’s my live unboxing video… let’s see if Bixby likes these treats…

Meet Bixby & see him “perform” for his absolute favorite treats–>

Many readers often ask what camera I use to take the images you find here on SoulyRested. I love my Nikon; you can read more about my camera on my Resources page and even purchase your own here.

Glance at my Resource Page if you’d like to get a glimpse of all the supplies I use and recommend for everything from gardening, to homeschooling, to chicken care, to nature journaling, to maple syrup making.

And hop over here to find out why SoulyRested was considered to be one of the Top 20 Must-Read Homesteading Blogs of 2018.

 

I’d love to connect!

To find me in some other neck of the woods, just click any (or every!) icon below:

If you already ARE a subscriber, just hop over to the Resource Library here and enter your personal password. (If you don’t remember your password, no fear, we always include a personalized reminder in every Thursday email, “Hard Work, Simple Joys.”)

The post When your dog gets sprayed by a skunk… (Yep. This happened tonight.) first appeared on Souly Rested.

My readers often tell me they enjoy the details I share about our old cape cod farmhouse that sits on sloped, rocky, wooded 14 acres, so you may not understand Bill’s lack of love.

Yet, truth be told, we tend to romanticize the joys of owning old homes, we call their quirks “character” and their money-draining problems “projects.” If you think you may someday fall in love with an old farmhouse yourself, stop right now, make sure you get the inside scoop on these secrets, and then proceed with caution.

Wanna know where you can unearth some rustic farmhouse treasures of your own? You will LOVE this site I just discovered–Antique Farmhouse.

Secret #1: The projects are like that Lamb Chop song.

First, there are the bitter truths (and joys) of owning an old farmhouse. But even more, there are the endless projects. Not only endless in the fact that there’s always something to do (that’s true for all homeowners), but endless like that never-ending Lamb Chop song that my daughters used to love…

“This is the project that never ends. It just goes on and on my friend. Somebody started doing it, not knowing how bad it was. And they’ll continue doing it forever just because this is the project that never ends. It just goes on and on my friend…”

So, to be fair to Bill, maybe I’ll start sharing some of the ugly truths here on the blog once in a while behind owing an old farmhouse. Plus, I’m guessing you’ll find some of the projects rather interesting, like the time he went to install a new storm door and discovered a 217-year-old support beam had rotted so badly we could see into our basement from our front step. Or the time he was merely replacing a door and wound up realizing he needed to replace two windows as well and had to take off 80% of the clapboard on the back side of our house. Oh, wait, I can’t talk about that project in past tense. That project was the reason behind his epitaph-like angry utterances just yesterday about his hatred toward these old, slanted, rotted posts and beams.

Secret #2: The stories are only fragmented sentences.

Since I’m not the one involved in these frustrating projects, beyond lending encouraging words and documenting them with photographs, I have remained faithful to my romantic notions about our wonderful old farmhouse.

Last month I was elated to frame an old photo I had enlarged. We had inherited the picture with the house when we moved here a few years ago. It shows a distant view of our cape, taken from the dirt road that is riddled with wagon tracks.

I hung the photo beside two prized pieces of artwork that I am very thankful to still have. Two pictures, one in oil pastels, one in watercolors, of barns, created by my youngest two daughters in days long ago. Days when it was not even a thought in any of our minds that our family would someday own a barn of our own.

Needless to say, I was beyond excited this month when a rock-star friend offered to memorialize another photograph of our home in a very special way. Now when you drive over the dam that curves around the cool river that hugs our property, pull up our tree-lined, curved drive, and step onto our front poor, you’re greeted by a beautiful photo of Asa (read on for more info about Asa), standing in front of his home circa 1890.

Gina memorialized this photo on slate and shipped it to me, and I did a jig as I was unwrapping it. Then I waltzed it right to the perfect hanging spot.

Gina knew I had named our homestead the first week we lived here. I mean, all self-respecting homesteads need a name.

Our homestead’s name

I dubbed our new homestead “Restful Falls Farm.” The “Falls” part is because of the mountain lake that our property borders that flows over a dam into the river that winds around our farm. The adjective in our farm’s name reminds me that I need to continually rest. Not rest in the typical sense. Heck no. There’s always so very much to do around here, because as I often say, “simple joys require hard work.” But I need to rest amidst the hard work, in the middle of grief, and even under sagging roofs. I need to rest in my soul.

So the sign announces our farm name, our address (which I blurred out in the photo), and est. circa 1800. I haven’t been able to document history of our home past 1860, but previous owners told us they were told the home was built in 1800, so for now that’s what we’re going by.

The photograph

The actual photo was delivered to our door one sunny Saturday afternoon last summer, by the woman who had married Asa’s great grandson. It’s a photo of Asa, who was I imagine named after the good king of Judah, around the age of 60 I’d guess. Asa is standing in his front yard, wearing his work pants and suspenders and looking intently at the photographer. The bearer of this gift to me that Saturday in June explained that her husband, who had passed away the year before, had fond childhood memories of our house, and his own father, Asa’s grandson, had been born in our house in 1899, some years after this picture was taken.

My pieced-together story

The rest of the story I have to piece together myself.

No matter how many photographs I had of our house, at best I’d only have fragments of stories.

I can imagine Asa’s daughter had married another hard-working farmer like her daddy and they lived here, on her family farm, in this charming cape that sits by the dam. Here her children were born. Here her momma taught her daughters how to gather eggs, butcher a chicken, and make a pie that was out-of-this-world delicious (here I’m imagining my own grandmom’s pie). Her daddy taught her sons how to milk a cow, gather eggs, turn over rocky fields, plant crops, hoe the rows, and reap the harvest late into the chilly autumn nights under a harvest moon

But at best, I can only piece together fragments of stories.

Secret #3: A house divided cannot stand.

I’ve seen the stones that make up the foundation of our old cape cod farmhouse. I’ve seen the waters that pour into our dirt-floor cellar around those boulders in the spring when the snow melts. I’ve seen the rotted sills and leaning corner walls.

I know it may only be the grace of God that keeps this old house standing. But a house divided surely cannot stand, and it’s oh-so-important to keep this final warning in mind if indeed you ever find yourself living in an old home.

Remember that you and your spouse can’t let your love for–or hatred towards–the house divide you.

Whenever Bill expresses his aversion to our home and the problem projects contained within its walls I almost take it personally. Maybe it’s similar to how one feels when there is a step-child in a family and one parent feels the other doesn’t love that child in the same deep way they always have. I think of the hard work I put into refinishing our old wide-planked floors.

I look at the treasures we’ve collected around the property and the fun things we’ve repurposed in our home, like an amazing old door and old jars with a story.

I remember how confidently we knew God led our family to this very farm a few short years ago.

And I hear Bill’s anger and frustration toward this old house that sometimes feels like my baby, and I am saddened.

I remind myself that a house divided cannot stand. I remember that the vows I made to my high school sweetheart are inherently more significant than old bark-covered beams or wavy window glass that sheds unfiltered sunlight through these tired walls.

So the day that he feels he can’t go one more month of incessant, unforgiving home problems is the day I will guarantee him that he is my love.

That will be the day we exit our old farmhouse threshold together, resolutely and hand-in-hand, moving on to another life. That is the day we will acknowledge we are richer for the stories we learned from this house and thankful for the time we got to be the stewards of its never-ending projects and fragmented sentences worth of stories.

If that day comes, I am sure I will be able to say goodbye to our old cape cod farmhouse by the lake with no regrets.

But truth be told, even if in a humbug sort of way, Bill loves these old walls and windows as much as I do.

We feel grateful to be the stewards of this old home’s wonderful, simple joys that require hard work.

So for now I will go on clinging to my romantic notions and enjoy every day I get to be a part of the fragmented sentences and difficult projects here in our old cape cod farmhouse that I call “home.”

On days like today, when our school room is chairs pulled up in front of the kitchen cooking fire…

When my office is old chairs in the shade of a sugar maple overlooking our barn…

When my “therapy” is winterizing the garden, wondering if previous tenants grew crops in the same fields were we have placed ours…

When my companion is a calf named Selah, who makes me curious how many calves have been born on these 14 acres over the past few centuries….

When my exercise is a walk with Bixby that ends up in the marsh or neighboring tree farm, both ablaze with color…

Yes, on days like today, no check that, on every day in every season, I will indeed be grateful. I will be grateful that, for all her sags, dips, creaks, and moans, I had the opportunity to call this old cape cod farmhouse “home.”

More articles about farmhouse living:

Why old farmhouse floors are always worth saving.

The bitter truths (and joys) of owning an old farmhouse

Why we moved from suburbia to this old farmhouse.

You won’t believe the fun stories behind these old jars and what I use them for today.

Do you like to repurpose old treasures? Then you’ll wanna snag a free copy of my instructional booklet, Give An Old Door New Life, for free, like right now… in my Resource Library.

Join me for a minute in one of my weekly facebook lives, where I take you into our carriage house to show you a family heirloom.–>

And join me here as I show you a project going on around here.–>

Glance at my Resource Page if you’d like to get a glimpse of all the supplies I use and recommend for everything from gardening, to homeschooling, to chicken care, to maple syrup making.

I’d love to connect!

To find me in some other neck of the woods, just click any (or every!) icon below:

Pin this for later!

Just click this image to pin this article.–>

Find out why SoulyRested was considered to be one of the Top 20 Must-Read Homesteading Blogs of 2018 and then one of the Top Homesteading Blogs of 2019 as well.

Glance at my Resource Page if you’d like to get a glimpse of all the supplies I use and recommend for everything from gardening, to homeschooling, to chicken care, to nature journaling, to maple syrup making.

 

I’d love to connect!

To find me in some other neck of the woods, just click any (or every!) icon below:

The post 3 secrets old farmhouse owners might never tell you first appeared on Souly Rested.

Plus, in the amount of time it takes us to build our own free trellis every spring, we probably couldn’t drive to town and back.

Why we’d rather build our own trellis.

For us, on our rural New England farm, it’s an 11-mile drive to the nearest stop sign; 18 miles to the nearest stop light; a 50-minute-round-trip-drive–in 3 different directions–to one of three closest towns. So, no, instead of driving to buy one, I’d much rather go for a short walk in the woods and into my barn to come up with the 2 ingredients I need to make the best-ever, custom-designed trellis. Every year our trellises are different. Every year each trellis is perfectly suited for our garden.

Planning the trellis.

So every spring, when the momma Robin is busy gathering choice creepy crawly snacks for her sweet little ones, and a broody hen or two is huddling her chicks under her wings in safe alcoves around the farm, a daughter and I make plans for our garden trellis.

Because our sunny window ledges are filled with green, growing promise, some of which will quickly need supports in order to grow tall and lush.

This post contains affiliate links. Go here to read the full (ultra fun) legal disclosure about that.

Building the trellis.

Plan. First, we plan where in the garden we’d like a centerpiece walk-thru, or a beautiful green arbor, or a secret teepee fort that will be treasured hide away for any small friends who visit our garden this summer.

Gather. We gather long branches from the woods. With 14 wooded acres, this part is a piece of cake for us. But I realize this step would probably be the biggest challenge for many readers. If you can find an annual source for branches, you can revisit the same friend or park every spring. If you know of a wooded area that you have access to, you’d be doing your friend or the public park space a favor to clear out old underbrush that has littered the ground during the winter months. And, of course, if you want to erect the same structure each spring, you can reuse your branches from year to year.

Check out one thing every gardener should do (and follow my whole series on this topic)!   

And find out the top ten reasons to play in the dirt.

And definitely take a second to subscribe here, so you can milk this site for all it’s worth and tap into all kinds of resources, including multiple free books you can download, like Beautiful Gardening.

Dig. We dig small holes and bury each branch in the ground about a foot deep.

Maneuver. We position each branch so it is the proper angle and height that we’re envisioning for the arbor, walkway, wall, circle, or teepee that we’re designing.

Pack. We pack each down very firmly, to ensure the trellis walls will withstand summer winds and rain.

Wrap. We wrap rows of twine along each side, to form the walls.

Wait. This is by far the hardest step. A month goes by and I feel like nothing is happening. Although I’ve witnessed the miracle of a garden almost every year of my existence, I always doubt that it will truly prosper. So my daughter and I labor, side-by-side, while we wait. Scout stands for hours watching our efforts. We weed and water and transplant. All the while, the bean vine is working too. Week-by-week, one beautiful hairy tendril at a time, the vine starts to inch its way up the trellis, with us barely even noticing. Then, two months into summer, I again rejoice in the miracle.

 A sluggard’s appetite is never filled, but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied. Proverbs 13:4

Here’s a little tour of our garden last month:

Or sit back for 3 minutes and totally relax with these garden and farm snippets in this next video:

(Subscribe here for a new Snippets of Life every month.)

You’ll Love This Resource!

If you like my DIY garden trellis, I’m guessing you’d love more gardening inspiration. If you’d like to be part of the 2018 Grow Your Own Food workshop, check it out right here.

Hope you join me!

If you’re already a regular around here (if not, subscribe right here), feel free to follow me over on any social media where we haven’t met yet.

Just click any (or every!) icon below:

Pin this for later!

Just click the image below–>

Find out why SoulyRested was considered to be one of the Top 20 Must-Read Homesteading Blogs of 2018 and then one of the Top Homesteading Blogs of 2019 as well.

Glance at my Resource Page if you’d like to get a glimpse of all the supplies I use and recommend for everything from gardening, to homeschooling, to chicken care, to nature journaling, to maple syrup making.

 

I’d love to connect!

To find me in some other neck of the woods, just click any (or every!) icon below:

The post Wanna make your own garden trellis for free? first appeared on Souly Rested.

Just days ago, we were knee deep in buckets full of sap that we were turning into delicious syrup every night. Now the beautiful auburn jars have been lined up on shelves in the root cellar and sap gear is being cleaned and stored away in the barn.

You’ll love this post if you’d like to know How to Make Maple Syrup, Step-by-Step.

Or maybe you’d like to know how we know when it’s time to STOP tapping trees.

Just days ago, we were shoveling out from a foot and a half of beautiful fluffy white stuff. Now there are spring melodies on the farm.

Just days ago, the ground was still  blanketed with white. Today there are spring melodies on the farm.

There’s no denying that spring has slowly but finally reached New England.

DISCLOSURE: This post contains affiliate links. 

My morning has been filled with beautiful melodies. There’s the melodious tapping of the sapsucker, on his favorite maple tree, and the goodbye calls of the junkos perching among the budding branches, a sure sign that it’s time for them to hear north. Two male robins filled long minutes with loud bantering to stake out their claim in my backyard so they could each gather food for their nests full of young. But amidst all of those melodies, I just stumbled upon a crazy great deal on a whole different kind of melody. So cool I thought I’d share the news with you right away. (Plus I wanted a good excuse to share some pictures of my feathered friends. And, of course, throw in that cute picture of my favorite bovine again.)

Here in our rural small town we have little-to-no reception. Of any kind. No cell phone towers. No clear radio signals. But we do (thankfully!) have great internet connection. While listening to the radio, in the traditional way, is very hit or miss in our house, and always ladden with at least a little static, listening online is a good choice. But I never knew I could listen to millions of songs on Amazon! In fact, maybe this is new. I don’t know; I just know it’s new to me.

And I stumbled upon this fact that, for a limited time, everyone can totally try it out totally free for a full 30 days. From what I’ve read, it’s more than 2 million songs on-demand, and always totally commercial and ad free.

For the most part, I prefer the music of the birds in the trees outside my door. And I love hearing Mr. Big Fat (our rooster) calling out, or the ducks’ silly bantering waddling by a window. In fact, I don’t even mind the crazy loud chatter of the adorable baby birds that always grace our home this time of year, fresh out of the incubator.

But I do need some Motown or some good country music sometimes to help me work my way through a giant pile of dishes that need to be washed or a hamper full of laundry that needs to be folded.

Heck, when we are working down by her stalls, Scout likes some tunes too.

So, for the next 30 days at least, Scout and I are gonna see how many of the millions of songs on Amazon Music Unlimited we like. For free. I mean at “free,” you can’t go wrong.

When you find me dancing among the cow patties, well, then maybe there’d be something going wrong.

If you too have trouble with radio connections in your neck of the woods, or if you’d just prefer on-demand, commercial-free tunes, you might wanna check out Amazon Music Unlimited. Here’s the link: Try Amazon Music Unlimited 30-Day Free Trial.

Meanwhile, if you too have a wonderful variety of birds to watch in your neck of the woods, be sure to sign up for my newsletter below. Because once you do, you’ll enjoy immediate access to my exclusive subscriber-only library of resources. In there, you’ll find a bird ID page you really need to print and enjoy filling out with a child this week.

The birds of the sky nest by the waters;
    they sing among the branches.
He waters the mountains from his upper chambers;
    the land is satisfied by the fruit of his work.
He makes grass grow for the cattle,
    and plants for people to cultivate—
    bringing forth food from the earth. Psalm 104:12-14

PIN this for later!

Just hover over an image for the Pinterest logo.–>

Remember to click here and  Try Amazon Music Unlimited 30-Day Free Trial. It’s totally free, with no commitment. Amazon just thinks their music plan is so great they wanna see if we like it. If it’s free and offers over 2-million dancing opportunities with Scout, I figure I can’t go wrong to give it a try.

But after you sign up for free music, pop back here and sing up for my weekly newsletter too. As soon as you sign up for my newsletter below, you can enjoy access to my private library of resources. In there, you’ll find a bird ID page you really need to print and enjoy filling out with a child this week.

v v v v v v v v v v v v v v

The post A Super Easy Way to Enjoy Free Melodies (even in super rural areas) first appeared on Souly Rested.

But as the proud parent of an amazing young lady, you also need to make sure to take your daughter to a county fair.

This post contains affiliate links. Go here to read the full (ultra fun) legal disclosure about that.

Raising and homeschooling four daughters over the last two decades, I’ve thought a lot about girls and STEM. We’ve enjoyed wonderful resources, like TechGirlz, when we lived near Philly, and FIRST robotics that made sure my girls knew how awesomely fun Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math (STEM) can be.

If you’d like to help your daughter build and program a robot you’ll not believe how simple it is with this fun robotics kit that you can even use to compete in FIRST robotics programs.

One daughter started a successful business at the age of 9; another ran a successful blog and helped friends build websites; one’s on her way to becoming an amazing Mechanical Engineer; and one will someday be rescuing marine mammals, once she’s completed her Marine Biology studies. All have spent hundreds of hours teaching middle school girls to program robots, and they know how to write some cool code. So, yes, my girls know STEM.

But my daughters’ love of STEM started long before they even knew what robots were. Their love of STEM started with natural science, with observing caterpillars and daises in our backyard, with meeting goats at a petting zoo. And, of course, agricultural communities–epitomized beautifully at local county fairs–are seeped in natural science. My point? Take your daughter to a local county fair! But just in case you need some convincing…

12 reasons to take your daughter to the fair

1-   She’ll feel like you took her on vacation, but unlike a day at Disney, a day at the fair won’t requiring auctioning off a kidney to afford it.

2-   She’ll see a different kind of princess–one who wears dusty cowboy boots, works hard, and loves every minute of it. One who, instead of waiting to hitch a ride with prince charming, calms and rides her own monstrous steer. Your daughter will learn that while it’s never easy, doing something well that she loves to do, will put her head-and-shoulders (maybe even bovine-head-and-shoulders) above the rest.

3-    She’ll learn that sometimes being in the right place–which for an agriculture-kind-of girl is in the barn–is not synonymous with keeping your nose clean. In fact, some of the best noses are often dirty.

4-    She’ll see real life and learn that sometimes it stinks (quite literally).

5-    But she’ll also learn that life can be sweet, thanks to God-given flavors, if we’re willing to do hard work (like Backyard Maple Syrup making…),  tap into the sweetness (like we’ve learned to do on our New England farm…), and sometimes wait many seasons.

6-    She’ll melt when a hairy boy with big ears flashes his deep-set, wide-spread eyes her way. Don’t worry, you won’t mind cause he’ll be a nice kid, or gentle guy who doesn’t give you any bull.

7-    She’ll understand where real food comes from. And if she understands this as a young girl, she may grow into an amazing homesteader, full of compassionate animal husbandry skills that she shares with her generation, which has long since strayed from such things. This I know first-hand. My then-7-yr old met a calf named Honeypot who melted her little heart at the Fryeburg Fair in Maine many moons ago. (She’s pictured with Honeypot in the pinable image of this post, near the bottom.) She is now a teen who runs a business to pay for her cow, chicken, rabbit, duck, and farming expenses. She is passionate about agriculture, homesteading, and responsible animal husbandry. And it all started in a little cow’s stall, at the fair. Read more about her in this CNN article. Or go here if you’d like some inspiration on how to inspire and encourage your young entrepreneur.

8-    She’ll see that good things are worth the hard work and the most beautiful accessories are not purchased at Kohls.

9-    She’ll appreciate animals and understand they’re more than the sweet eyes and big ears that make her melt. She’ll understand that caring for them is a lifestyle. A hard, messy one that many people seem to love. Because there’s no “behind-the-scenes”at the fair. You see the tired caregivers who fell asleep on a hard barn floor, on top of a  bale of hay. You smell the piles of manure that need to be dealt with daily. And you witness the sweet-tempered cow who follows her beloved girl. A view I now have every day, on our homestead.

10-    She’ll see agile women–of all ages–winning competitions, earning ribbons, and carrying trophies. Not because they walk fashion runways or run long-distance. But because they help others–from animals who need their care, to people who need the food they raise.

11-    She’ll witness the value of teamwork, from two young oxen learning to pull on a yoke, to beautiful draft horses doing amazing work side-by-side.

12-    She’ll learn a new way to define and appreciate “adornment.” Not the latest fashions on supermodels, but worn leather gear on a beautiful team of drafts and the patina on an antique tractor that still does the job, after all these years.

So run, don’t walk, to your local fair with your daughter. She will be a better woman because you did. And there’s no better place, in my opinion, to spark a young lady’s interest in natural science, which may naturally lead her to more STEM involvement. There’s no doubt that this world needs more bright young women who are interested in all areas of STEM, including agriculture.

If you like this post, you might like reading about my own childhood memories of sustainable living and the history of New England Old Home Days.

More Encouragement For You:

Secrets to helping your child become a successful entrepreneur

Help your child start a blog like a pro

Why I only have two goals for my daughters’ education

How to encourage philanthropy in your child

Four questions successful parents ask themselves

Find out why SoulyRested was considered to be one of the Top 20 Must-Read Homesteading Blogs of 2018 and then one of the Top Homesteading Blogs of 2019 as well.

Glance at my Resource Page if you’d like to get a glimpse of all the supplies I use and recommend for everything from gardening, to homeschooling, to chicken care, to nature journaling, to maple syrup making.

 

 

I’d love to connect!

To find me in some other neck of the woods, just click any (or every!) icon below:

 

And please join in on my resource library. I’m often adding sweet bonuses.

The post 12 reasons to take your daughter to the fair first appeared on Souly Rested.

I make mistakes. A lot of them. Sometimes I wear a brown belt with black shoes and don’t even notice.

Last week I went to a dentist appointment and didn’t notice I had duck poo smeared on my boots until I propped them up on the end of the long, vinyl dental chair. Truth.

Occasionally I stop at the grocery store for milk and drive home with 5 bags of groceries only to realize I forgot the milk. Since said store is 18 miles from our out-in-the-country homestead, everyone feels the brunt of that mistake for a few days. Scout, our holstein, is bred but not due to calf for many months, so no fresh milk on the farm yet…

My mistakes on the farm also turn out to be more costly than a fashion faux pas or a forgetful trip to the store. Egg, meat, and milk production can be affected dramatically. Plants can suffer beetle infestation and delicious vegetables or fruit never make it to the table. But last week, animals died. Because of my mistake. I’ve felt sick over it, and I wanted to  write about it hoping I can help others avoid making the same mistake I did.

Read here if you’d like to know the 3 Secrets Legit Homesteaders Might Not Tell You, but you really oughta know. Or just PIN IT for later.

Or hop over to this post if you’d like to know if I prefer raising chickens or ducks here on our homestead.

DISCLOSURE: This post contains affiliate links.

I thought we were doing everything right with our now 8-week-old chicks that we incubated this spring. This is our second year of incubating and assimilating chicks into our flock. (Read this post to find out 10 Foul Facts I learned from my chicken the first week we were brand-new chicken owners.) We kept them under a brooding light until they were old enough to venture outside for brief intervals, always keeping them corralled under our watchful eyes. Then we’d gather them back in their box and situate them once again under their warm light.

We introduced them safely to the other adult chickens, placing them in a large pen in the midst of where the chicken were free ranging. After days of doing that, we carried their pen into the coop and let them sleep there for many nights, behind the safe wire cage.

Then we set them free around the coop for just a brief time for many evenings in a row, knowing all the chickens would soon be coming in to roost for the night. They would file right by and around the new chicks and right up to their roosting spots. This allowed the older hens to get “acquainted” with the young ones at a time that they had no interest in harming them.

I knew drakes sometimes try to mate with hens, so I kept a close eye on how the male duck interacted with the chicks. He kept to himself, with his 3 ducks, and showed no interest in the chicks at all.

Here are the 10 things I think everyone oughta know about chicken.

But I had no idea that my rooster could be a threat to the well-being of my sweet new chickens.

So I was clueless when I stepped in the coop one morning last week and saw my favorite young hen dead in the corner. My first thought was that a predator had entered in the night, but I realized that made no sense since all the others were fine, but then I noticed they weren’t fine at all. Six of my eight chicks were acting painfully lethargic, barely lifting their heads and not hoping outside when I shooed them to do so. They let me pick them up without any resistance and felt almost limp in my hands.

Before I even had time to run to the computer and research what causes such odd behavior I realized that Mr. Big Fat–my rooster who was named by my daughters, in honor of his inflated self-image, not his actual size–was the source of the problem.

Big Fat grabbed the neck of one of the two surviving young girls and jumped on her to mate before I could stop him.

If you haven’t seen a rooster doing his manly business, you may not know why this would be a problem. I’d seen it hundreds of times–truly walking around the homestead with free-ranging chicken and ducks can get kinda “R”-rated sometimes. So I was immediately mad when I saw the full-size male mount the little, fragile hen who was half his size. His beak sank into her little neck, holding her in place while he hopped on her back and dug his sharp spurs into her, holding on viciously while balancing his cloaca, trying to meet with hers. (“Cloaca” is the official name for both the roosters’ and the hens’ “vents.” Semen exits a rooster’s cloaca and enters a hen’s cloaca to fertilize the eggs.) The vicious balancing act was futile because she was way too small for his cloaca to ever be able to meet with hers.

If that was a little more than you cared to know, sorry, but it’s safe to keep reading. No more chicken anatomy will be mentioned in this post. Promise. If, on the other hand, you’d like to know more about the birds and the bees, chicken style, hop over to this post on the Frugal chicken. If you want to understand the fertilization process of an egg, I think this post from Natural Chicken Keeping is a great resource.

After I witnessed Big Fat carelessly, and pointlessly, hurting her, my pretty little hen seemed okay at first. But his savage act caused terminal internal damage. Within minutes, she looked lethargic like the others had that I had just left in the coop. She was spitting up; then she laid down, convulsed a little, and died by my side within 10 minutes of Big Fat’s pathetic, meaningless act.

The others all died as well, except for one that had eluded the rooster’s lousy attempt at charm. I scooped her up and quarantined her to safety. In a short while I noticed the Roo heading for one of the four youngest chicks on our farm, the babies who hatched by a broody hen a few weeks after our incubated chicks.

In the first 3 or 4 weeks of their life, the momma hen (“Missy”) kept her chicks right by her side, even clucking to them, directing each one to climb in close under her wings if she perceived possible danger nearby.

But the last few weeks, they’d grown (doubled in size since this picture) and she’d given them complete independence. So Missy wasn’t around when Mr. Big Fat started sauntering over to one of the little ones. Thankfully, I was. And they too are tucked away safely now.

I didn’t even consider locking up Big Fat instead, because he’s needed around the homestead. As angry as I was with him, there are truly important reasons to have a rooster. in fact, we always have a rooster around for two reasons. The first is unnecessary now until next spring… fertilization of the eggs; we incubate new chicks every spring. The other reason though is a daily need that is also rather ironic, given the problem we’re having with Big Fat… protection of the hens. Even though he doesn’t seem to have any qualms about killing them himself with his irrational, insatiable sex drive, he’s crazy protective of them against natural predators. Since they free-range around our very rural property, his aggressive, protective nature has saved their lives many times. We’ve witnessed him puff up and make crazy angry calls to safeguard his women from chicken hawks that nest in our woods. I’m sure he’s also helped them avoid consumption by fox, raccoon, and maybe even coyote. He also does a great job of directing their activity and keeping them in generally “safe” areas, not letting them venture too far from the coop. In the two years we’ve owned free-ranging chicken, we’ve only lost one hen to a predator. And that was one day that the rooster was penned up and his ladies were roaming without him. So, yes, there are definitely many good reasons to have a rooster.

I’ve talked with many other homesteaders–locally and on-line– in the last week about my problem. I’ve come to the conclusion that typically 8 weeks is a safe time to assimilate new chicks with older flocks and typically roosters are, well, wiser sexually than good ole Mr. Big Fat. So I’m not giving up on roosters, just maybe Big Fat.

In my numerous discussions I’ve held with other homesteaders this past week about rooster rituals, I’ve learned that the two roosters we’ve owned over the past two years were both atypical roosters. Our first was extremely aggressive toward people, including young children. He wasn’t around long. Our second rooster, Mr. Big Fat, while he is very friendly towards people, is not the suave Don Juan that most roosters are. You see, Big Fat runs right on up to his hens and attacks them from behind, having his pleasure whenever he wants. Most roosters are mush smoother, kinder “courters” of their hens. A rooster typically does a dance for his lady and then only has his way with her if she is in agreement and bows down for him, welcoming him to hop on her back. A hen who was too young would ignore his dance, if indeed he even attempted to woo her.

I’m thankful we do have one young rooster who we’re hoping will take on his responsibilities in a wiser, kinder way than Mr. Big Fat, and then we’ll decide what Big Fat’s fate is. For now, our young hens are safe, separated from the rooster.

And I’ve learned–the hard way–an important secret to keeping my young chicks safe: A homesteader needs to understand each rooster’s temperament before introducing him to young hens.

But I’m certain I’ll still forget the milk and mismatch my belt and shoes every now and then.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. II Corinthians 12:9

Pin this for later.

Just click this image to pin it.–>

The post A Big Fat Mistake first appeared on Souly Rested.

There’s a story I love to tell about the house with golden windows. (I’m not just a crazy chicken lady and homesteading homeschool mom; I’m also a professional storyteller, so I have a few stories tucked away that tend to spill out sporadically. )

The Longing

A sweet, hard-working farm boy thinks another home, far across the long valley, is the epitome of a perfect life. Every evening he rushes to complete his farm chores, longing to lean against the barn–during those magical minutes of promise as the sun is setting–and peer north. He squints, and he quietly waits. Most evenings he is rewarded with a glimpse of a magical house that is surely filled with joy, ease, and perfection.

When he catches sight of the house with the golden windows gleaming in opulence, he longs to know what life would be like in that luxury.

The Journey

So when his father gives him a Saturday off, when he is free to spend his hours in any way he chooses, he has no hesitation. He packs some hard boiled eggs, apples, and water and tells his momma he won’t be back until long after supper.

When he reaches the place he has been desiring to see in all its glory, up close, he assumes he miscalculated his route. It’s just a homestead, not unlike his own. The fences are in need of repair, not unlike his own. The cow is complaining and mooing for her evening bale of hay, not unlike his own.

And the chicken, not unlike his own in these waning minutes of daytime, are scurrying for their roosts, across the yard that they have  scratched and dirtied all day.

The paint is peeling off of the barn’s clapboard and the home’s windows are simply made of old wavy glass, like the glass he peers out of every morning; it’s not the golden opulence he expected when he squinted toward this perfect mansion from afar.

A kind mother greets the youthful stranger on her doorstep, and an affable farm girl invites him into conversation while he helps her close up the coop and toss hay in the cow’s stall. He apologizes for being misdirected, explaining he set out this morning to find the amazing home he has always longed to live in, the home with lustrous golden windows.

The View

She tells him he has indeed come the wrong direction. She explains the opulent home he speaks of is in this valley, but it’s over on the far side, pointing over his right shoulder. He turns, looks back across the valley, and instantly realizes his foolishness of longing for something better, when indeed his home was the best of all for him. He realizes that his own home, far away, perched on the southern mountain of the lush valley, holds windows of gold when the evening sun reflects off of whatever house is across the valley from where you stand.

He realizes that his own home is shimmering in the sunset more brilliantly than any other could.

Sometimes we simply need separation from our daily blessings. A little distance changes our view. If we occasionally glimpse the value of the love and joy that we share with those whom we love, well, we occasionally see “home” in all its opulence. Only then can we understand that “home” is more valuable than other things we long for.

Hayley’s Perspective

I thought of that story when I saw my teen daughter’s recent photo of our home– our transom indeed looks golden, doesn’t it?– & read her blog post, after we recently sat down to create some Artist Trading Cards together.

Find out why SoulyRested was considered to be one of the Top 20 Must-Read Homesteading Blogs of 2018 and then one of the Top Homesteading Blogs of 2019 as well.

Glance at my Resource Page if you’d like to get a glimpse of all the supplies I use and recommend for everything from gardening, to homeschooling, to chicken care, to nature journaling, to maple syrup making.

 

I’d love to connect!

To find me in some other neck of the woods, just click any (or every!) icon below:

And please join in on my resource library. I’m often adding sweet bonuses.

The post Making an Old Farmhouse Home first appeared on Souly Rested.

“Homesteading” today is almost a flashy “new” thing.

Some folks who are longing to be “homesteaders” are dreaming of saving money and purchasing all the right equipment. Planning what they can do to be “prepared” and “ready” to homestead. Doing it all “the right way” so when they purchase a homestead things go smoothly.

But when did we think happiness should be easy?

Truth is, nothing’s quick or easy if we’re going to genuinely learn something.

Sometimes we need to jump in, put in the work, learn from our mistakes and then find joy–the true simple joys of life–in the midst of the “hard.”

Don’t misunderstand me. There’s nothing wrong with dreaming of homesteading and preparing for it. You’d be crazy to jump into an unknown unprepared. But don’t believe all the marketing folks who are making money on your desire to live a more simple life. You can accomplish that dream anywhere you are in life, in small ways, right now.

I was thinking about this when I came across this picture, taken in 1978. I’m posing behind my mom’s mom’s cooking stove.  I remember Mom telling me to go stand there. I remember thinking the stove was nothing extra special, and wondering why she wanted a picture of it while I put my hands in the pockets of my new, blue, velour hooded sweatshirt. (I loved that velour sweatshirt. I was on the cutting edge of the velour fashion trend. Just sayin.)

That predicable week was the best week

It didn’t seem picture-worthy to me in those days of 24 images on a roll (a roll that you developed when it was full in a few months). It was just a natural part of my childhood. We spent Thanksgiving week in the old farmhouse every year. Mom’s farm and Thanksgiving were synonymous.

The men would squeeze into my Uncle Roger’s old Bronco and go deer hunting all day, every day. We’d listen to stories about their escapades, sing songs while my dad strummed his guitar, and play cards all evening, every evening.

What grandma thought was worth emulating

Today “homesteading” is a flashy new “movement” to some. A “new” way of life that can be marketed and promoted. Folks are told they need to purchase fancy new equipment and invest in “homesteading.” My grandmom would have laughed (or maybe cried) if someone had told her marketing folks would find ways to make money off of simple living.

For grandma, nothing about her life was fancy or even worthy of emulating… well except for the things in her days that couldn’t be bought. The satisfaction of making due with what you had and finding joy in the simple things. Just to cook a simple meal, grandma had to build a fire in the belly of the stove, not push a few buttons that would produce a leftover dinner in minutes.

After grandma and granddad were gone, we still filled their old, drafty farmhouse with laughter and song and joy every fall. When our family joined together for a treasured week during deer hunting season, my childhood joy was full. And oh, the delicious food that churned out of grandma’s wood cook stove, even after she was gone.

Between my mom and Aunt Naomi they put some amazing meals on that small metal farm table every evening from a stove that had no dials to turn, but required more or less logs fed into it to regulate the temperature. It was second nature to them. They helped grandma do that very thing 3 meals a day, every day of their youth, for a family of 12.

Nothing was on demand

I would trudge through cow fields, maneuvering around the patties and over the cow bridge, to borrow ingredients from my Aunt Sandy when needed. And I’d pump water often. There was no faucet to turn on, and no hot water on demand. I would stand at the big white ceramic sink and pump the huge handle until cold well water came gushing out into a big pan. Then the pan went to the stove to boil if we needed warm water.

But the meal was eaten quickly and cards put aside on the evenings when their hunting had been successful.

I didn’t know I was part of a quickly dying way of life

Then we’d spend the evening in my Uncle Roger’s cement-block basement. The deer was skinned, cut expertly by men who learned the cuts of the deer in their youth, then sliced, chopped, ground, and wrapped.

It took all evening, with every able body manning a station at one of many tables set up on the concrete floor. It was cold. Bloody. Smelly. But it was truly one of the most beloved ways I ever spent an evening in my childhood. I liked the camaraderie. I liked standing elbow-to-elbow with cousins wrapping, taping, and labeling each cut of meat. I liked watching the mixing up and grinding of the don’t-know-what-to-do-with-that meat to make scrapple.

I never even thought of how laborious and tiring it was to put a little meat in the freezer to feed all three families in the long, cold days of winter. Just like I didn’t know why Mom wanted a picture of the wood-burning kitchen stove. I didn’t know that what I was a part of was a quickly dying, self-sustaining way of life. It never bothered anyone in the damp basement on numerous nights that week that nothing about providing their own food for their families was quick. Or easy.

It was just the way things were

All of that–cold well water pumped at the sink, log after log fed to the cooking fire, and cold hands cutting and wrapping winter’s meals– all of it was just the way things were when we went to the country. And I loved Thanksgiving week on the farm. So the stove with no dials and the sink with no faucet were second nature to me, and I would have never asked for a picture of any of it. I sure am glad Mom thought to take a few.

We’re never promised quick or easy

So when the sweet lady who labored over that hot wood stove for hours every day, every Thanksgiving week, with her sister, in the kitchen where they had grown up doing the very same thing every day to help their mother, when she called me a few weeks ago to tell me she had cancer,  well, it was a bad day. But God never promises quick and easy.

The past few weeks of doctors’ visits have been hard, but, praise God, they have given lots of positive news. For now, we get a respite. We get to appreciate every day we’re given in this respite in a way we never would have appreciated them before.

I’m very thankful to report that biopsies have defined Mom’s cancer as a “simple” one as far as cancers go, and the treatment plan is much easier than we had first thought. So appreciating each other is something we get to drag out, and even do in complicated ways for, Lord willing, many years to come.

Nope, nothing enriching is quick and easy. And that’s the way life is supposed to be. One day at a time to love and enjoy, sometimes without even realizing just how hard it is because you’re so thankful for it.

So no matter what difficult phone call you receive or sad news you might face today, try to count it all joy.

Jump into the day, whatever that day holds, and put in the work. Then you’ll find joy–the true simple joys of life–in the midst of the “hard.”

And no matter where you are on your journey towards living a more simple life, you can start today. One simple joy at a time.

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” James 1: 2-4

I’d love to connect!

To find me in some other neck of the woods, just click any (or every!) icon below:

Pin this for later!

Click this image to pin this for later–>

The post A Modern Homesteader Remembers When Homesteading Wasn’t a Choice first appeared on Souly Rested.