Archive for the Category ◊ Agrarianism ◊

03 Sep 2010 Summer 2010
 |  Category: Agrarianism, farming  | Tags: , , ,  | 2 Comments
Corn canned this summer!!

Corn canned this summer!!

Summer is nearly over.  I haven’t “uddered” hardly a word here on the Kansas Milkmaid website.  Pardon my play on words but as a milkmaid, I need to milk it for all it’s worth. Okay, don’t roll your eyes.  I will stop while I am ahead.

So.  Why the silence?  No. It’s nothing major, nothing exciting.  The soap opera aspects of my life are waters gone by (at least for now).  Life is  joyously  mundane as of late.  Praise the Lord, I don’t need any more drama.  If you knew all the nitty gritty details of my former life, you would be doing cartwheels and shouting full blown Pentecostal style  halleluiahs with me over this disclosure.

Back to my long absence.   Since I am short on time, let me explain with simple chart.

The fruits of our garden labors:

Green beans  107 quarts
Zucchini ( faux pineapple)  115 pints
Zucchini ( shredded/cubed)   59 quarts
Zucchini  (bread)   32 loaves
Corn  (canned) 103 quarts
Corn (frozen on the cob) 2 gallons
Berries (wild blackberry, cherry, mulberry) 14 quarts
Strawberries (frozen) 20 quarts
Dill pickles  70 quarts
Broccoli/Cauliflower (frozen) 13 quarts
Bell/Sweet Peppers (frozen) 13 quarts
Cantaloupe (frozen) 33 quarts
Watermelon (frozen) 6 quarts
Tomatoes (canned sauce) 180 quarts and counting
Peaches (canned) 42.5 quarts
Pears (canned) 22 quarts
Ground beef (canned) 22 quarts
Beef broth (canned) 7 quarts
Cayenne Powder 300 grams and counting
Basil (dried and powdered) 60 grams.

Green beans from our garden!!

Green beans from our garden!!

My husband tells me that this list represents around 900 quarts of food we have processed in the past few months.  The above report represents the fulfillment of a long term goal to grow our own food.  It is a dream come true for us.  We poured a lot of ourselves into tending this garden.  There was sweat of the brow, blisters on our hands, one gash from a garden rake that required seven stitches,  and deep muscle soreness.  As I look back on the summer of 2010, I do so with a great sense of accomplishment.  I have many fond memories too.  What a joy and privilege to preserve our own food.  We know exactly what we used to preserve our harvest.  No toxic chemicals in this food.  Yeah baby!  There are many things we could have done better.  However, this is an excellent return for our first year on the farm.  We will not starve, praise God!!! Neither my husband nor I have ever grown this much produce.  We are delighted as we survey our pantry.

Hopefully, I will find more time to write after the garden is put to rest for the winter.  Tomorrow’s agenda includes making more tomato sauce and grinding the cayenne peppers we dried.  There are still a few busy days ahead.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

28 Jul 2010 Celebrating … Zucchini?

The Israelites had manna.

I have … zucchini.

Every day they collected this unusual  food.  It was white  like a coriander seed and tasted like a honey wafer.

Every day I walk outside for the long green THING. Yes, the inside is white and full of seeds.  It does not taste like honey.  It is bland.

No matter what, the Israelites had daily provision from God.

No matter what, every day we would find more zucchini.  It was a daily thing provision from God

The Israelites did what fallen man does best, they complained about the manna and longed for what they didn’t have.

I did the exact same thing.  When I saw all the zucchini day after day, I complained.  I complained because growing an abundance of zucchini was NOT my goal.  I intended to grow a plethora of green beans and tomatoes.  You may wonder why I planted so many zucchini plants?  It is simple.  The plants were a gift from my plain friend.  (Yes, I acknowledged  in an earlier post that  my plain friend’s gift of corn was really a gift from God.  That was different!!  I wanted corn.  I didn‘t want or need zucchini.)

Instead of being grateful, I complained to my husband.  Heavy rains drowned a substantial part of green beans on the west side of the garden.  The plants  yellowed, later turned crispy, and died.  The Zucchini, however,  grew more succulent leaves and became mammoth-like.  I wanted more than just Zucchini. My ambition was to can tomatoes and green beans this year, not  zucchini.  My complaints resembled the Israelites.  They failed to be thankful for what God gave them. The wanted what they did not have.   I wanted what I did not have … yet!

My ingratitude  impacted my whole family.  My daughter was pouting in the kitchen.  I  asked her what was wrong.  Her daddy had just delivered some news and she responded, “For breakfast every day, it is zucchini, zucchini, zucchini…”

Can you tell?  We have a fantastic crop of zucchini this year.  It doesn’t matter where you look you will find a zucchini in our home.  There is one on the window sill in the kitchen and one under the porch (a child is in dire need of training about where the compost pile is located).   Open the freezer and you will find 54 quarts shredded in freezer bags.  In the guest bedroom you will find 115 pints of zucchini processed in pineapple juice stacked in boxes. We have made brownies, breads and breakfast casseroles with zucchini.  There are some in buckets near the table waiting to be processed.  I surveyed the garden before dark.  Some of the zucchini plants were dying.  I let out a  hearty “yee haw”.   Then I felt guilty.  God has provided for us through this garden.  It is our manna of sorts.    I wondered if the Israelites converted manna into a variety of dishes.  Keith Green wrote a song and the lyrics go like this:

What…Oh no, manna again?
Oh, manna waffles….
Manna burgers…
Manna bagels…
Fillet of manna…
Mannacoti…
Bamanna bread!

Gardening has its highs and lows.  With each seed poked in the ground one must take a step in faith.  There is so much work and there are uncontrollable forces of nature that impacts the final harvest.   We can set goals, our own goals for the season’s end.  Despite good goals and excellent follow through, a gardener may have to face unrealized dreams. How does one face foiled plans gracefully?  I don’t know, don’t ask me.  I griped and complained about all the squash.  Keith Green’s song resonates with me once again.

Well we once complained for something new to munch.
The ground opened up and had some of us for lunch.
Ooh, such fire and smoke.
Can’t God even take a joke…Huh?….(NO!)

Complaining about what God gives us is no joke.  I am thankful God extended His mercy toward me instead of His wrath.  Indeed, I deserved to be swallowed up. I accepted  corn as a gift from Him through our friends.  But, I deemed the zucchini a curse.  God  still graciously gave  what I didn’t deserve.  Just a week after I complained, our green beans produced enough for us to can 107 quarts.  We have canned  20 quarts of tomato sauce so far.  The tomatoes are  now starting to turn  ripe.

Setting goals on the farm is a good and noble thing.  However, sometimes we can get so fixed on a goal that distractions or detours become major debilitating  irritations.  It is so important to be flexible on the farmstead and to be grateful for what God gives us.  An ungrateful attitude is much like the tomato worms I find.  The worm starts boring into the fruit with a small hole.  In just a few days, the entire fruit is rotten and worthless.  This is the kind of spiritual fruit I produce when I give way to complaining.   May we all strive to be thankful for the harvest God gives us.  May our attitudes be a pleasing fruit to others and to Him who cares so mercifully for us.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

15 Jul 2010 Blackberries: to buy or to forage?

Sure.  I could have bought them at the store.  Better yet, to squelch guilt, I might have purchased them at the local Farmer’s Market.  Smart people say it is easier, less of a hassle, and more convenient to buy them at the supermarket.   If I went to the store, it would have taken me an hour and half to do it. I live in the country, you know.   It is thirty minutes one way to civilization.   Instead, I decided to be stubborn.  I spent four hours one day getting them in the wilderness.  Snakes, spiders, mosquitoes, and gnats were my companions. Oh, I also took Jordan, 8, and Moriah, 10, with me. Hank the Cowdog tagged along. That is always a given.   We walked out the back door and went deep into the woods.  We came back with battle wounds.  The kids and I had scratches.  The next day Moriah and Jordan had red swollen eyes.  They got poison ivy.  Did I give up?  No.  I went out to the yard and made a poultice of plantain to put on their eyes.  One young lad told me it look like Llama spit.  Okay, mock me.  But, I do what works.  I administered the poultice twice daily and in three days the red, puffy, itchy rash was completely gone.  My desire to get more of them was not gone.  I spent four hours one day and then returned to spend an entire eight hours to get more.

The first day I fought six foot tall weeds to find the succulent red and black treasures.  The thorny branches drooped down and grabbed me despite my caution.  The Missouri heat and humidity made it look like we had jumped into the pound.  Our efforts that first day produced one pint of wild blackberries.

Blackberries

Blackberries

We meandered through the woods and found wild black cherries as well.  Jordan, Moriah, and I returned home to make a wild berry jam.  I processed four quarts.  The children polished off one quart in two days.

In three days, I forgot the agony and mustered up determination to return to the woods.  This time, I took all five kids plus our niece to pick berries.  I can’t forget Hank the Cowdog.  He is an important part of this story, too.  I wanted a massive amount of berries and I wanted them bad.  By the days end, we had a mere half gallon of berry juice to make jelly. (This is an overview of the second day.  More details will follow.)  It was hardly anything to boast about.  So why endure suffocating heat and humidity and thorns for such a small return?   It would have been less complicated to go to the store.

If I just went to the store, I would have missed out on memories that will last a lifetime.  I bet some of you  have memories from Wal-mart.  Mine border post traumatic experiences. Our local Wal-mart remodeled with garish blue and orange paint. It is enough to blind a person through over stimulation.    I regularly had heated arguments with the self check out screen.  I always created quite a scene.  “ I DID bag that item.  You stupid machine”.  I punctuated each word spoken by sharply punching the screen with my index finger.  The customer in line behind me guffawed, but empathetically acknowledged having the same issue with the machine.  I was forever keeping that lady at the management station busy.  She typed in her store code to correct the problems created by my index finger.  This was a ritual  for me. Apparently, this was  common place for others too.  I was ever so delighted to see them rip those machines out and put in regular cashiers.  Another  memory is the time when the sign said the apple juice was $1.50.  My husband, the chipmunk, saw the good deal and bought 4 bottles to store under our bed. Yes, he really does store non-perishables under our bed or even in his filing cabinet.   The juice rang up for $2.00 per bottle.  My husband  took the cashier to task.  This is a regular scene because  Wal-mart signs never mean what they say.  I winked at my husband and told him I would wait in the car.  Fifteen minutes later he exited the store  hauling several heavy bags with a look of triumph on his face.  I figure there is more to making memories then the big yellow smiley face and price roll back signs.  I gladly exchange my Wal-mart experiences for what occurred that second day in the woods.  So, what exactly happened in the woods?

The day started out with me making an announcement.  “Let’s go to the woods to pick blackberries.  If we don’t get enough here on the farm, we will go to the nature trail and pick.  Be sure and put on long pants.  Bring gloves too.”  The children responded with enthusiasm including whoops and hollers.  In no time, everyone was dressed and ready to go to the woods.  When we stepped out on the porch, the Missouri humidity hugged us tightly.  No matter. All seven of us had enough enthusiasm to overcome it.  And we did just that.  Hank crawled out from under the porch wagging his tail excitedly.  He loves to explore with us.  We passed through waist high pasture grass and two fences before we reached the woods.  I had picked berries three days prior so I knew exactly where to go.  In minutes we surrounded the blackberry bushes and began plucking the berries off the bushes.  And the bushes  plucked back.  Every now and then I could hear the kids screech  “ouch”.  Hank began wandering through the brush.  The kids stayed focused save one who decided to agitate.  Soon we heard Hank take off running through the woods.  I heard a thump, thump, thump as he passed me in hot pursuit of his prize.  We were nearly finished picking, covered with sweat, and ready to head back to the house for a refreshing drink.  Zach called out, “Mom, Hank is after something.  Hey guys, let’s go see what he has”.  I responded , “Be careful.  You do not know what kind of animal he treed.”  Hank began barking furiously.  I was intrigued.  Hank does not bark.  I stepped out of the brush and saw the children running toward the barking.  “It’s a possum,” hollered Zach.  “Let’s get ‘im”.  The children ran with Zach exhibiting a pack mentality war hooping.  Seconds later Zach screams, “SKUNK”.  I looked up in time to see the children retreat with lightening speed to the center of the pasture.  Hank stopped barking and began to whine.  “Oh, you stink”, became the general consensus among the children.  Hank began frothing at the mouth and rolling obsessively on the ground.My neice and I laughed affirming the entertainment value of farm life.

Hank trying to get rid of the skunk scent

Hank trying to get rid of the skunk scent

Poor Hank!

Poor Hank!

A few hours later we continued our quest to find blackberries.  We loaded up in the SUV and headed to a nature trail.  Berries were sparse.  The ground bore evidence that others had folded the grass over a few days prior and taken ripe berries.  We remained steadfast and  stayed on the trail.  The bucket filled up slowly.  The children found a small creek to play in while I picked berries.

Playing in the creek

Playing in the creek

Moriah empties her boots

Moriah empties her boots

As we made our way through this scenic path we took time to enjoy the beauty.

Serene beauty like this can't be found at Wal-mart.

Serene beauty like this can't be found at Wal-mart.

At one point the children sat on a fallen tree to pose for pictures.

At last, we decided we should return to the vehicle.  We started back down the path.  The trees provided thick insulation from the outside world.  Jordan, 8, began singing “Our God is an Awesome God”.  We all joined in.  Soon we sang one song after another.  We couldn’t help it.  Nature’s proclamation of God’s glory is infectious.

Just buy blackberries at the store?  No thank you.  I wouldn’t trade these experience for the a half hour of over stimulation due to smiley faces and orange and blue garish paint.

Lest you think, I glamourize to a fault.  Let me assure you there were moments of irritation on the nature trail.  A huge scene interrupted our singing.  We had just finished singing these words:  His grace will lead us home.  A large fallen tree blocked our passage way on the trail.  We went off the trail through the woods and came out on the main trail again.  Suddenly, I was turned around.  I had no idea which way to go.  The children insisted I was wrong.  I insisted they were wrong.  I urged them to follow me.  One stubborn child stood  like stone refusing to move in the path.  I sent my niece ahead to see if I was right.  I was wrong.  The stubborn one smiled and peace returned.

Even this intense irritation does not overshadow the joy of our time together as a family.  Wal-mart can reproduce uniform bland blackberries, but they can not reproduce a bonded family nor create the kind of memories we made in our family that day.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

10 Jul 2010 An abundance

My feet ache and throb. Early this morning I began my day by walking through a pleasantly soggy garden bare footed.  I was following in her footsteps.  The summer has been full of me walking behind her, working beside her and sitting across from her at the kitchen table.  She is my plain friend.  She has fulfilled the command to older women found in Titus 2: 3-4

Older women are likewise to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine.  They are to teach what is good and so train the young women to love their husbands and train their children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind and submissive to their own husbands that the word of God may not be reviled.

I couldn’t help reviewing all the summer’s activities with a deep gratitude as I tagged along behind her.  I longed to live simply for many years, but there was no Titus 2 woman in my life.  In times past,  I was scolded by older women in the church.  “Keep that career.  Why are you staying at home and having so many children?  You mean you are going to home school?  How will your children ever learn to live in the real world?”

God carried me through the persecution.  Conviction emboldened me to stand strong for what I believed despite regular chastisements from peers and older women.  As I look back now, I wonder how I endured being an approval seeker  personality type.  Today, I still encounter scoffers.  In fact, one such mocker was in my home deriding me for schooling my children through the summer.  “Everyone knows that  a majority of the world goes on a holiday during the summer months and don’t intend to do anything like school”.  Poor soul never considered the school district from his own home town intensely considered year round school and schools practice year round school.

Living counter culture has become easier.  Enduring criticism about my decision to live to the beat of a different drummer has become easier as well.  The farther I get from the institutions that worship social conformity, the easier it is to live out God’s will for my life.  When I hear what the majority is doing, it actually scares me. I do not long to blend in.   Social conformity is not my god. The Great I am is my God.  That means, I will be peculiar and an alien in this world.  Indeed, I do not need to be obnoxious in my peculiar lifestyle for that is not becoming of a follower of Christ.  But, it does not mean I need to be ashamed, make excuses, or hang my head low.

Over the years God has sent encouragerment along the way to guide me in my quest to live His will for my life.  My plain friends are no exception.  As God lays on my heart a conviction to press further  into counter cultural living, I have protested because I do not have the pragmatic skills to perform the tasks He has set before me. Talk to the average person about learning old paths and they will give you blank stare. They have no idea how to live off the land.  Most admit that.  But they go further.  They insist it can’t be done in today’s world.  I know better.  My plain friends are doing what most say can’t be done.  A more truthful statement would be “ I don’t want to do it” rather than  “It can’t be done.“  Though in recent history there are more interested in learning lost arts because of the hard economic times.

My protest to the conviction to live simply is  “Yes, but how?”  Who will show me the way.  It will take years of trial and error to relearn all that my ancestors used to do innately.  Most of the how-to information I need was taken to the grave long ago.  God provides the means often before the question is formed on my lips.  God is able to do more than  all we ask for or  imagine.  My friendship with the plain people is just that.  God laid on my heart a conviction to reduce my reliance on modern conveniences.  I was reluctant and even stubbornly resistant because I didn‘t have the first clue about living off-the-grid or working with draft animals.  God, in His providence, arranged for me to develop a close friendship with the plain people who would willingly teach me all they know. The journey is slow.  There are two steps forward and one backwards.  However, we are farther down that path then we were a year ago.   Our garden is doing remarkably well though there are disadvantages to gardening on recently turned sod.  We were unable to get a good stand of corn planted.  I accepted that I would not be canning corn this year.  My main focus was green beans and tomato products.  I would do more next year.  After all, this is a step by step process.  I can’t convert to providing all my own food overnight.

God in His goodness did more than all I could ask for or imagine this morning.  I followed my friend to her corn patch.  She chattered as we entered the rows with buckets.  “I don’t know why I planted this much corn.  I canned 14 quarts.  That is all we needed for this year.  I still have some left from last year’s harvest.”  I smiled.  I knew why she planted this much corn.  She affirmed my thoughts later when we offered to pay her.  Her husband declined payment saying, “You have helped us a lot over the past few weeks.  We want to help you in some way”.    Another family in the community had more than enough corn.  They invited my husband and children over to their farm to pick all they wanted.  Mrs.G., Charity and I sat down with a wheel barrow full of corn and began shucking it.  The men and children hitched up our team of horses and drove a wagon to a neighboring farm.  My children waved at me as the wagon rumbled out of the driveway.  Mr. G. held the reigns but soon passed them to my husband as they left the driveway.  Mr. G. passed more than just the reigns to my husband.  He has passed a legacy of simplicity to my husband and children.

Mrs. G. and I engaged in casual conversation about banking systems and discussions about  the end times.  The conversation was pleasant and enlightening.  Before long we filled five 5-gallon buckets full of corn.  The men and children returned with one wagon load of corn and loaded it into our SUV.  I joined them for a second trip to the neighbor’s cornfield.  Ruth and Rachel, our Belgian mares still have a lot of pep.  I watched my husband take the reigns and drive the team down the road.  He has come a long way in three months.  I am proud of him and the courage it takes to lead our family down this path.  He has spent most of his career in an office.  But in the short time I have known him, he has endeavored to learn how to farm with draft animals and with self-reliance.  He has devoted much time to working hard with the plain people putting up hay, preparing fields and planting crops.  He returns home dirt covered and soaked in sweat.  I can’t help but be thankful for his willingness to do what most people would abhor.

The horses pulled into the field and we all jumped off the wagon with buckets in hand.  Mr. G. stayed on the wagon to move the team down the field as we picked.  I noticed him every now and then watching us with a big smile on his face.  He and his wife do not have children.  They enjoy seeing our children and working with them.  Mr. G. was particularly amused with the children when they found a grasshopper or a butterfly.  Work becomes play on the farm.  A farm field with ripe corn is a living laboratory ready for young explorers.  The children enjoyed the work and made it enjoyable for all of us.  The field was far to big for us to complete.  We grew concerned we would not have room in our vehicle for the children.  So we stopped covering only a small fraction of the field.

The children piled into the SUV and we headed for home.  The real work began.  Two days of hard work produced 103 quarts of corn for our pantry. My kitchen was filled with hissing from the pressure cookers.  My heart was filled with gratitude for our God who provides all we need.  It will be two more weeks before our garden produces corn.  There will be enough for meals, but nothing worthy of canning.   I am so grateful for all we have learned this summer.  For the food we have because of our friends.  Yes, my friends have taught us much.  Ultimately,  I realize it is God who has given to us through our friends.

A few months ago I looked out my back window and there was a pasture, sod that had never been broken.  I was willing to step out in faith to hear God’s call to grow a majority of our own food.  In doing so, I was scared.  I doubted my abilities to do it.  God provided mentors, encouragers and enthusiasts. I watched the field as it was plowed.  I looked with dismay at the large ridges of sod with thick roots grasped tightly to the dirt I wanted loosened.  I spent four to six hours a day some days tilling and raking clumps of  grass and roots from my garden.  The sod was piled outside the garden in a massive heap.  I watched God faithfully provide rain to soften those ridges.  I watched God surround us with friends willing to teach us every step of the way.  Today where the pasture was lies an abundance of food growing.  The crop that surpasses all others in quantity right now is the infamous zucchini.     While I wonder why I planted so many squash, I am delighted to see the former pasture produce an abundance.  We must step out in faith even when it is not comfortable, even when it requires much of us, even in the midst of scoffers and hear God’s call.  The rewards are great and the harvest is bountiful.  We certainly will not starve! Living the simple life fills us physically and spiritually too!

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

23 May 2010 The New Mob

Little did you know that I belong to the Mob. I didn’t know it either for that matter. My husband and I joined the mob in an unofficial way on the official date April 9th, 2010. We purchased Belgian mares as a part of our heart felt desire to steward the land without dependence on overpriced, inefficient, fossil fuel guzzling tractors. This purchase transformed our lives in many ways. But, it began our work as unofficial mob members. Our friends invited us and we couldn’t resist. We were “wannabe”s with more passion than sense.

Mobs are “cropping up” all over this nation. I read this article and realized that we are mob members though we have not formally joined an organized group. As I share we are a part of the mob, I do so with trepidation. I already know that I have the USDA visiting my site. Will I be targeted with a raid?  Will my hoes, horses, and dirt be confiscated?  What will the consequences be? Too late, I have already shared that our behavior is strikingly similar to formal mob members. I have never articulated that we are mobs because I didn’t know there was such a thing … until today.

I read an article that described the mobs forming all over the United States and realized that we are mobsters. The mob I am talking about is the Crop Mob. Wanna be farmers and agrarians are teaming up through social networking media like Facebook and organizing efforts. These “wannabe”s volunteer their time and labor at small farms. The goal is to work with experienced farmers side by side to learn much desired and needed skills. Many who are volunteering are determined to buy their own land someday. Their participation in the Crop Mob will assist them in reaching their destination.

My husband and I volunteer three times per week at our plain friend’s farm. We are working in the green house, in the field, on the plows and in the garden. We have cooked meals on the wood stove, moved wood piles, cleaned up strawberry and asparagus patches and much more. We are not a part of the official mob. We simply prayed that God would guide and equip us for our journey. God answered our prayers a year and a half ago when we developed a friendship with a plain community that relied on draft animals for farm work and utilizes no electricity for daily living. So yes, we are mobsters albeit informally.

The Crop Mob is a national effort that may help others who are yearning for knowledge and the rewards of hard work. You can visit the official Crop Mob website here.

Stay tuned for an update on our Kansas Trip, a report on the impact of the economy on the health food market and more on our apprenticeship with the plain people. First, I must take advantage of the weather and finish planting our garden.
Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

18 May 2010 Garden update
 |  Category: Agrarianism, farming  | Tags: , , ,  | 20 Comments

After a brief break from the rainfall, the children and I slogged through the mud to investigate the garden. The first part of the garden is dedicated to potatoes. The sight depresses me. There are 28 rows covered with straw.

Periodically I dig through the straw to see what is happening. It is always the same thing. There are roots on some of the potatoes, a few shoots but no real intense activity. To make matters worse, when I drive around the area, I see bushy green tall potato plants in the garden. My tension and anxiety increases as I realize all we have is straw. My impatience nearly got the best of me. I fought temptation to salvage the potatoes by putting them in the garden with real dirt. My husband suggested we give this experiment more time. So, I stopped ranting and raving about the potatoes.

My family uses a lot of potatoes. We enjoy hash browns for breakfast. I had high hopes of growing enough potatoes to shred and can for hash browns. My husband bought a fifty pound bag of seed potatoes. We had not plowed our garden in March. It was too wet and we were too busy getting settled in our new home as family. We decided to lay the potatoes on the ground and cover them with straw. I felt awkward when our neighbors drove by seeing us in the yard with all the straw. They really stretched their necks to check out our activity. I mumbled something to my husband about wishing our garden wasn’t so visible. Planting potatoes using straw was so new to me that I was embarrassed and skeptical about it.

Two months passed and I saw nothing emerge from the straw save weeds. We continued to rake up the straw and add more where some blew away or composted. Every now and then, I checked with successful farmers about the straw method of growing potatoes. They assured me that this method worked though they did not use it regularly.

Today, I walked out to the garden and to my delight I saw beautiful potato leaves emerging from the straw. Just to think, I nearly gave up on the project. The grass was growing tall between the rows and we let the mulch get thin. Why waste more straw if nothing was growing beneath it? After seeing the potatoes plants press through the straw, the children and I decided to set to work cleaning up the potato patch. I mowed between rows while the twins and Moriah added more straw to the rows. I am still uncertain how much of a yield we will get from these potatoes, but I am delighted to see the plants.

The rest of the garden is doing well. The cauliflower, broccoli, cabbage, tomatoes, green beans and peppers survived high winds and torrential rains last week. A few of the tomato plants will not make it because they were flooded. However, I am not concerned because we have close to 300 tomato plants. A few green bean plants will not make it as well. But, there are 280 plants in one row and I started 306 more plants in the house. They will be ready to transplant when the ground dries up. I don’t think there will be a shortage of plants.

I have celery, zucchini, cucumbers, cantaloupe, watermelon and eggplant growing nicely and ready for transplanting as well. Starting many of these plants in seed trays offers them a great jumpstart. It is nice to see them develop good leaves and strong roots before putting them in the ground. They are large enough that I don’t have to do a lot of guess work between the weeds and vegetable plants.

Overall, I am pleased with the efforts we made with our garden. By fall, I would like to get a greenhouse built to help with our planting endeavors. Starting seeds indoors gave us a good advantage. However, my plain friend suggests that even under a grow light the plants are more spindly. The greenhouse offers sun light from the sides and not just the top giving you a bushy robust plant.

We have a long way to go and much to learn about growing a prolific garden. I often look at my plain friends and groan because my garden pales in comparison. My husband wisely suggested we not compare ourselves to those who have farmed all their lives but rather look back at where we were a year ago and evaluate progress. One year ago I had seeds and no garden. I had never started tomatoes by seed or grown anything in potting trays. We lived in the city one year ago. Today we live in the country and began our journey of planting heirloom seeds. We are making good progress.

Today I praise God for answering our prayers to help our garden grow. We have much more work to do to bring the harvest to the table. We may face many more elements before harvest. However, we know who sustains us each step of the way and owe Him praise.

 

How is your garden growing?  Be sure and share!!

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

14 May 2010 Agrarian children and goals
The saw whines just outside my window. My husband works with eager children constructing a box for our latest agrarian venture. This project was spear headed by my children. It all started late winter of 2005. A milk customer repeatedly asked to buy my Nubian goats, Cricket and Lacey. My youngest child was six months old at the time and I was overwhelmed with the dairy business taking off. I agreed to sell Cricket and Lacey. Zach and Moriah never forgot that day. In fact, as I was helping the new owner load up the goats Zach turned Cricket free and told her to run. My customer was swift in retrieving the goat. The children held a grudge against me for getting rid of the goats.

Later in 2007, Moriah attended a ladies bible study with me at Coram Deo Fellowship. The ladies were asking for prayer requests. Moriah was seven years old back then but she understood the power of prayer. She asked the ladies to pray that God would give her a goat. Moriah was providentially sitting next to a goat owner. The next day, the goat farmer called me and said, “We would love to give your children goats and help answer their prayers.” I groaned but caved. We had too much going on in our lives, but the children needed something to delight in. I will never forget the day we carted two Toggenberg goats home in the back of the van. The children were ecstatic. However, the bliss was short-lived. Our family needed to relocate. Circumstances would not allow for us to bring the goats to Missouri. We left them with their previous owners. The children never forgot that moment either. They channeled disappointment into iron clad determination.

They took to praying and preparing. Though we lived in town and all evidence suggested that we would not be farming anytime soon, my children began saving every penny they earned, found or received as a gift for goats and chickens. They determined they would some day get goats again. I wrote about their decision to save money and the progress they made here. My children are not like most children. That is, most children do not set long term goals and keep them. Most children don’t even make serious or significant strides towards short-term goals. My children never forgot the trauma and disappointment of losing their goats. They prayed, they saved and they hounded me till I couldn’t take it any more. In a few days, we will be proud owners of Nubian goats once again. Coco and Bella will make their appearance on our homestead in the near future. Coco and Bella are not just any Nubian goats. They are descendants from Cricket. They are her granddaughter and great granddaughter respectively.

The saw reminds me that I should never underestimate the power, drive and seriousness of my children’s agrarian goals. Some how the children have conned their father into building a crate to transport them. He caved too. Though I do not want to deal with goats right now, they have convinced me to get them anyway. When children save money for two years, their hope should not be deferred any longer. Hope deferred makes the heart sick. I am thankful for my children’s determination. I am sure we will have many adventures with the goats. They are just four months old. It will be a while before we breed them. Perhaps, next spring the children will provide goat milk for our family’s use. We still anticipate bringing Sunny, our Jersey cow home soon. It will be like old times before we know it.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

 

12 May 2010 Easy herbal remedies for the homesteader

Yesterday, my family took a long walk through the woods on our farm. Our goal was to find Jewel Weed. The recent rainfall kept us out of the garden and gave us an excuse to look for wildflowers. It was a nice break after four to five hour days in the garden last week. We use this time off from gardening to traipse through the woods getting acquainted with the land, trees, and medicinal wild plants. One of our many goals in reclaiming and redeeming the land is to use wild crafted herbs to create salves, tinctures, and teas.

My mother-in-law took me on a walk last Sunday afternoon and showed me how to gather Jewel Weed on her farm. Jewel Weed is important to Momma because she is active outdoors. Momma gardens. But, she is in regular combat with a beaver who works diligently at night to stop up water flow between their ponds. The beaver works all night, sometimes every night. Momma takes a rake, and sometimes uses her bare hands, to undo what the beavers did the night before. Beavers are clever as well as busy. Somehow they knew she was highly sensitive to Poison Ivy. Whether they stopped up the water flow with debris coated in Poison Ivy, or if they strategically built their dam near the Ivy, I do not know. But it was clear Momma was suffering in the dead of winter from the miserable rash. One day I ran across her in her kitchen. Momma had a circular shaped green ice cube with green vegetation dangling from it. She was rubbing it on a red rash near her eye. It was a strange sight indeed. Naturally curious I inquired about the ice cube that looked like a gift from the swamp thing. Momma had taken Jewel Weed the previous summer, boiled it in a pan, cooled it, and froze it in a butter dish for use when Jewel Weed was no longer growing. It was then that Momma told me story after story about the blessings of Jewel Weed to her and those she loves. The youth minister suffered from hornet stings earlier that summer. Daddy and Momma brought him to their farm and applied Jewel Weed. The swelling went down immediately. In fact, she encouraged me to make my own swamp thing ice cube for my husband as he is dangerously allergic to bee stings. We found a handful of Jewel Weed plants on Sunday. However, I was not satisfied. I wanted to gather a large amount to save in a variety of ways.

Unfortunately, I was unable to find Jewel Weed on our farm. Daddy says the plant is also called Touch Me Not. The seeds burst if you touch them. Perhaps, the plant exists here on the farm, but I haven’t found it yet. We plan to take regular walks through the woods to familiarize ourselves with the variety of plants as they bloom throughout the season. Perhaps we will find the Touch Me Not yet. Much of our woods are overrun with heavy brush making it hard to explore some areas. We are discussing plans to clear some of the brush in the late fall to help us better steward the woods.

Jewel Weed Preparation

I prepared the Jewel Weed by boiling it in water.  I strained the leaves and filled ice cube trays with the orange liquid.  This will give us an emergency remedy for bee stings or poison ivy.  I will continue to search for this herb as I walk our farm.

While I couldn’t find Jewel Weed, we enjoyed a fragrant walk. The wild roses and black berries are in full bloom. My strategy in working with herbs is to exhaust all potential uses of the plants I have identified. I was delighted to discover that Wild Roses and Blackberry leaves offer medicinal benefits for the homesteader.

Wild Rose Preparations

Wild Roses can be used in a variety of ways. I made a tea of the leaves and petals. It was an enjoyable and refreshing drink. Rose tea is a great blood purifier, acting as a mild diuretic, and benefits the liver, kidneys, urinary tract, and more.

Another way to use the petals is to toss them in a salad. I have not tried this yet, but the children and I have nibbled on a few petals. The children appear reluctant to have rose petals in their salad. I find this peculiar considering they have no problem eating cow tongue. Go figure.

Today, I followed steps to make rose water. I tried both the easy way and the more complicated method. The complicated method worked okay. I collected eight ounces of Rose water. I would have collected more but my bowl kept tipping. I think I had too much water in the pan which caused the inverted bowl and upright bowl to tip. The distilled Rose water smells absolutely wonderful. Whereas, the steeped rose petals do not smell as strong. It was an enjoyable experiment. The kitchen smelled fragrant. The children enjoyed the smell of roses wafting through the kitchen.

Blackberry Preparations

Blackberries offer wonderful fruits but that is not all. We discovered the leaves make an excellent tea to treat diarrhea. A few of the children experienced stomach upset recently. I gathered leaves of blackberry and made a decoction. In the past, I would have given them PeptoBismal. The active ingredient is Bismuth subsalicylate. Other inactive ingredients include benzoic acid, flavor, magnesium aluminum silicate, methylcellulose, red 22, red 28, saccharin sodium, salicylic acid, sodium salicylate, sorbic acid, water. The cost for this over-the-counter drug, if purchased on-line would be $4.70 (incl. tax & shipping).
The warnings and side effects are noteworthy and put me on edge. Click here for a listing of the damage possible by this OTC medicine.

Blackberry tea is rich in vitamin C and tannins. The active ingredients are not manufactured by a drug company in a sterile lab, but created by God and ordained for use by man. I noted there were no drug interactions, no contraindications and no known side effects for Blackberry tea. It cost me nothing to harvest this tea from the woods. In fact, some of the children helped harvest the leaves and enjoyed the walk. It is a far cry better than getting in the van, driving to WalMart and experiencing over stimulation due to all the advertising gimmicks. Instead of polluting my children’s blood streams with dyes and other chemicals, I nourished their system with vitamin C as I treated a specific ailment. Exploring the land God gave us and putting to use the medicinal plants is a rewarding endeavor. Using plants medicinally fosters a spirit of gratitude and awe for God’s creation. Many of the plants provide food like berries, or beautiful flowers like the rose. Yet, if we dig deeper we find there is more to these plants then meets the eye. Our Master, the Great Physician, created these plants not just to delight us and feed us but to heal and sustain us.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

10 May 2010 Appreciating hard work and those who influence us

Lately, I greet early mornings and late nights with the same thing, stiff sore muscles all over my body. That is, I wake up in pain and I drop in bed with the same kind of agony. Most associate stiff and sore muscles with illness, injury or symptoms of death. Not me. These are symptoms of well being. I hurt because I have been sedentary the last two years. Truthfully, I have been sedentary all my life when it comes to the kind of work I have been doing recently.

After a long cold winter, I am gardening in the sunshine. We are putting in a half acre garden and it requires intense work. I am not just coming out of a literal winter season but a figurative winter. I have been on sabbatical from dairy farming for nearly two years while I relocated from Kansas to Missouri to flee from hardship involving domestic violence. During this time off, God rebuilt, restored, and transformed my life. Two significant events permanently altered who I am as a person and my direction as an agrarian woman. The first and most obvious is my recent marriage. God knew the desires of my heart. That is, I prayed to recover from aftermath of domestic violence. I also prayed to have a godly father for my children, a tender, understanding and compassionate companion who shared my love of cows, kids and stewarding the land for God’s glory. Finding a companion would not be easy for me. After all, I had 24 dairy cows and six children. I shoveled manure and milked cows twice a day, every day, in all kinds of weather for a living. My life’s vocation was none too appealing. Most men would view my bovine’s and children as baggage. I saw my prayer for a companion as unlikely. But, with God nothing is impossible. God knew there was one man who would not find my life‘s work unappealing. In fact, he saw the cows and children as a dowry, a rich inheritance. Ten months ago, we united our lives in marriage and have relocated to the family farm, a farm that has not been lived on since 1951.

The second event that impacted my life is our friendship with the plain people. Over the last year and a half we have fellowshipped and worked with them in a variety of circumstances. Recently we purchased two Belgian mares with our friend’s guidance. Mr. G. helped us talk to the owner and ensure a good purchase of the mares, the required tack and implements to get started. If this weren’t enough, he offered on site training with our team. Mr. G. has played an instrumental role in helping us succeed in our quest to live a simple life. During the last month, we have worked with Mr. and Mrs. G two to three times per week.

 

This apprenticeship is so much more than learning to work with our draft horses. It is an up close and personal look at successful plain and simple living. We have seen first hand that poly culture farms with reliance on draft animals works!! It is not just working for one family but many families (Specifically, 300-400 people. This does not include the many families that have moved from the area because of land unavailability. Many little communities are shooting up all over. When there is no land available, the plain people are moving twenty to thirty miles to start up a new community. It is important to note that our plain friends believe children are a rich heritage. On average our friends have 11-12 children. The families are growing, buying up all available land and relocating if land cannot be found.)

Draft horse farming is not old, outdated and impossible. We American’s have grown lazy, our appetites for leisure and ease caused the failure in farming. Our friends witness to us daily in many ways that the ease in my life is not ease at all. It is bondage and complication of the worst kind. Our time with the plain people caused us to re-examine all aspects of our lives. We have started to exchange some of the “convenience” items for a more honest stewardship of the time and resources. For example, we own a wood cook stove, a manual washer, Belgian mares, a walk behind plow, and other horse drawn implements. We have a long way to go to fully integrate these items, but we are well on our way.

While we do not ascribe to the same religious doctrines as the plain people, we do affirm the overall approach to God and life. We believe we as a society we live well above our means. We have a standard of living that feeds an insatiable appetite for more and more things while never reaching satisfaction. Our plain friends show us the joy of being satisfied with less. They show us the reality of families living out legacies. They show us the fulfillment of sweat of the brow work. There is a health and vitality in their lives that we long to have.

We are privileged to see several varieties of plain people in our area. Some use all draft animals and no small engines of any kind. Others use draft animals with some use of small engines and gas powered appliances. Those who use fossil fuels complain to us about having less resources and feel they are more financially burdened. Our friends who use manual labor and draft animals only have never complained about making ends meet. In fact, those who do not rely on fossil fuels to assist them are farming as their primary income. In the past, we have hired our plain friends to work for us building furniture. For example, we had a friend build us some benches for our kitchen table. He powers his wood working tools with horses attached to a treadmill. When I hired him, he told me that he could not complete the job until November as he was busy with farming. We hired another friend to build us a manual washer. Again we were told that the washer would not be complete until after farming season. It is clear that the plain people who do not use gasoline power are much freer to farm as their primary income. They regularly turn down non-farm work because they can. Our friends who use small engines and gasoline powered tools complain that they are unable to farm full time and have to have off-the-farm jobs to support their farming.

Our journey to live a simple life is not clearly defined. We will likely alter our course as we go. We are thankful for our friendship with the plain communities. They have strongly impressed their values and methods on us. I plan to share what we have learned as time permits. We understand it took years to foster a learned helplessness when it comes to basic living. Much has been forgotten. As we relearn what has been forgotten, it will take time. It will take embracing and coping with stiff sore muscles. I have been in agony before, but I have never felt so refreshed in spirit and mind. Sweat of the brow work is good for the soul, good for the soil, and good for the mind.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

30 Apr 2010 Keeping a plain home

Lately my days are packed full. I long to chronicle all the activities, the information I am learning , and the general impressions about our new journey. The sheer busyness prevents me from writing as much as I would like. As I get older, it gets hard to remember all the details. My goal in keeping a written record is to provide history for my children and grandchildren about our quest to get back to the land. So much information has been lost because of abandonment and neglect. Who needs to know how to butcher a pig when you can go to the store and buy Farmland? Why learn to process a steer when you can buy from Tyson? Why learn to work with draft animals when you can do so with John Deer and fossil fuel? I have written many times about the reason we are forsaking modern methods for a revival of the old fashioned. I won’t repeat that here. But, I must comment about how difficult it is to return to the old ways when nobody does it anymore. The knowledge, tips, and advice is six foot under with our ancestors. Most aspiring homesteaders will face many obstacles when trying to learn basic survival skills. Many are homesteading despite the absence of information. The learning curve is great. But the disillusionment with the false promises of modern society is greater.

In the last year and a half, we were blessed with a remarkable and dynamic friendship with plain people. This large community possesses a vitality and success that encourages even the most critical skeptic of non-electric living and draft horse farming. Generally, plain people are reserved and closed to the outside world. They put up with English long enough to do business with them. This was my experience in Kansas. Others report plain people to be English people who wear plain clothes. You can’t tell the difference in their lives because they rely so much on corporate America, rides from the English and industrial agriculture. This is not true with our friends. They are living examples of really living a plain and simple life with success.

I was pleasantly surprised to find the plain people in Missouri are of a different stripe. They are open, warm, and friendly. We have formed friendships that have permanently changed who were are as people and our goals in life. This is a subject, I wish I had time to write about extensively. Yet, actively living out the methods they are teaching us prevents me from keeping daily records as much as I want.

It is my hope never to forget this time in our lives and all we are learning. I am not sure how long our apprenticeship will last. As we convert to more of their methods, we will find less time to travel, less time to work with our friends side by side. I intend to savor every moment we have with them. In the past when we were unable to visit in person, we kept in touch through writing letters. We both felt it was just not the same and are enjoying our time working and fellowshipping together again.

Thankfully, my children are learning just as much first hand as we apprentice with our friends. While I may forget details and lack time to write it all down, they have keen minds and may be able to recall what I have forgotten. My prayer is that the children will hold fast to the methods they are learning so they can teach their own children too. My children are witnessing first hand a variety of farming methods that may forever change them. In fact, as I watch them work and play, I can already see the influence of the plain people on them.

Over the last few weeks, my husband worked with the plain people in their farm fields. He drove a team of horses to prepare the fields for crops. Our friends operate a green house but also sell produce for community’s market. Their market is popular and busy during the produce season. Plain and English alike keep the market booming. Many times I would stop at the store and see a parking lot full of cars. A winter store continues to augment the income of many in the community. They ship out many vegetables and fruits to local stores as well. Several in the community have a variety of family businesses to diversely support their incomes. A few families make furniture, one runs a general store, another a fabric store, still another runs a butcher shop, and the list goes on. Our friends are diverse in that they milk cows, keep chickens and rabbits too. Each aspect of their farm brings income. In early spring the green house brings profit. Only a few modest signs point customers to their home. Word of mouth prevails and customers travel an hour and half to purchase green house goods.

While my husband worked in the field, I helped Mrs. G. around the house and farm. The bulk of this article will address the use of wood for cooking and heating. I will also discuss water storage systems which are important to us who desire to go off-the-grid.

Our friends begin work in the green house in January. Some seeds are started in their home. They like to have early tomatoes so they seed them indoors and carry them out to the green house during the day. They do this until they have enough flats to start the wood stove. The green house is heated by a wood stove. In fact, wood is used to heat their home and to cook food. The children and I helped clean up the wood pile and carry kindling to the shed. The wood is split with an axe. The wood is delivered from another Amish community who specializes in saw mill work. Mr. G. split’s the wood and Mrs. G. hauls it to the shed and to the house as needed. The plain people in this community do not use any gas powered engines. I have seen others cut down trees using hand saws. Though the work is painstaking, they do complete the job in a surprisingly quick manner. While hauling wood may seem like a mundane task, it was helpful for us to participate. If you rely on wood as a source for heating and cooking, it is important to know how to properly manage and store the wood. It was helpful for me to see how the wood is brought from the shed into the wood box. To cook daily, the wood box must be kept full.

During the cooler months our friends use the cook stove in their kitchen. There is always two teapots full of water on the stove. This makes hot water available quickly. My friends do not have running water. They have a hand pump in an enclosed room just off the back porch. We wash our hands in a basin of water in this room. When I help with dishes, I fill a pitcher of cold water and carry it to the sink and put a little in two separate dishpans. I also put a little water in a bowl for rinsing debris off the dishes. Next, I take a teapot full of hot water and pour the hot water into the two dishpans. Washing dishes without running water is simple. In fact, it is so simple, the first time I did it I wondered why I have spent some of my life paying a water company, electric company and gas company to complete my work. The ease of this task comes from thinking through the steps and laying out your home to make it all work.
My friends indoor hand pump gets water from a cistern. They have lived in this house for eight years and have never had problems with a water shortage. They do not drink this water though. The previous owner was a convert to plain living. He did not know the finer details of building a cistern. He left no practical way to clean the cistern.

My friends have a second source of drinking water from a hand pumped well outside. They keep a large cooler full of fresh drinking water next to the indoor water pump. Yes, it might be a hassle to keep the drinking water pitcher full. In the winter it may be taxing especially. However, when I examine my experiences I plan to gladly exchange the high costs of water bills and electric well pump costs for this minor inconvenience. Twice in fifteen years, I replaced an expensive well pump on our rural farm in Kansas. It took electricity to operate which meant dependence on the grid. The pumps ran approximately $800. We had various problems with our well pumps over the years. One major complications was having no access to water when we had an eleven day ice storm. My friends do not have this problem. Further, I had to heat my water with an electric water heater. Again, I was dependent on the grid and it was costly. Upon moving to Missouri I paid the city for water and sewage. I also paid the gas company for hot water. This is by far more complicated to me then simply having a good cistern and a hand pump.

For garden watering needs my friends have a windmill near the pond. The windmill pumps water into a 30 foot holding tank near the greenhouse and gardens. When water is needed for the plants it is delivered by gravity to the garden. The metal tank is a common item on the landscape of those who live in this community. Apparently, they are salvaged. We intend to locate the source and set up a similar watering system for our farm.

When we butchered meat with another plain family, they had an intriguing water system for their butcher shop. They had running water in the shop. When I inquired about its origin, my friend took me to another room. In the room sat a small wood stove. It had a hot water reservoir. Just above the wood stove, there was a cistern placed in the second story of the room. The bottom of the tank and the related fittings were exposed through a clever design with two by fours in the ceiling. The wood stove kept the pipes from freezing and the elevation of the poly tank allowed for ample water to be delivered by gravity to a simple sink. I inquired further about how others in the community kept their outdoor poly tanks from freezing in winter. He said some insulate them with standard insulation. But, many use composting matter around the outside of the tank to keep the water from freezing in the winter.

 

During hot summer months, my friend uses a summer kitchen for cooking. The summer kitchen looks like an enclosed porch or an addition to the house. A door separates the room keeping the heat out of the main living area. She does her wash here as well. The summer kitchen and wash room has a separate exit making it unnecessary to carry wet clothes through the rest of the house. She uses a manual washer. In fact, her husband makes the manual washers. It is another source of income for this family.

Seeing the layout of their farm and home has saved us years of heartache and frustration with learning curves. We know first hand the problems that come from not knowing how to set up your home and farm to run non-electrically. There are some small design problems in our friend’s home due to the builder being a new convert to the plain lifestyle. A quick search on the internet reveals helpful but limited information. However, most sites offer high priced solutions to going off-the-grid. For example, some companies offer self composting toilets with exhaust fans built in and promise no odor. Several readers wrote and shared these contraptions wreak. A home constructed self-composting toilet works better and costs less. Consumerism affects the off-the-grid wannabe as well. It has been a joy and privilege to see how it works behind the scenes from people who have lived off-the-grid all their lives. I can’t imagine how many years we would have spent researching and experimenting to get the same information we have gotten first hand.

Stay tuned for more on our work with the plain people.

 

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid