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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

Reap in accordance with kindness…

Break up your fallow ground,

For it is time to seek the Lord

So that he may come to rain righteousness on you. Hosea 10:12

This picture captures a historic moment on our farm. The land you see before you was fallow. For fifty-nine years the land was left unworked by a draft team. Today that changed. We hired a local Amish man to break up the fallow ground. The homestead was vacated and the poly-cultural farm was replaced with the monoculture farm that so commonly dominates the farm scene today. Beef cows range over this pasture. What is not grazed by beef cows is planted for row crops. Gone are the chickens, turkeys, pigs, and milk cows. The family garden was gone too. But, we are changing that one step at a time.

We are still a few months away from bringing our team home to assist us with farming. However, we wanted to convert some of the pasture for our family garden. Since the sod had never been turned, we needed a plow to do the job. We decided to begin this journey with draft horses. Because time constraints are upon us, we opted to use a combination of draft horses and a tractor to complete this job. While we intend to convert our farming operation to work horses, we realize this will take time.

Coincidentally, the first man we hired to plow the garden taught us an important lesson. He arrived with a team of Belgians and a walk behind plow. We watched as the team drug him up and down the rows at a break neck pace. Literally, it was a break neck pace. No amount of commands would bring the team into submission. One horse got irritated and laid down. The Amish man used German to get the horse up. Gauging by his demeanor, he could have been using French. Another two passes told us that the team was not well worked. Finally, one horse laid down with no intention of getting up. The man asked us for black pepper. He admitted the team had not worked in a while. He lifted the horses tail to apply the pepper I know not where. I do not care to know where. After twenty minutes the horse rose to her feet with her tail arched high. She walked slowly across the pasture, tail erect the whole time. The man put the horses up for the day saying he would try again tomorrow. He explained the horse had asteria. Google produced no relevant definition of this term. So, I asked my plain friends who are mentoring us with our horses. My friend explained that it was also called Monday Morning Disease. It comes from overfeeding and under working the horses. It is a kidney disease. Tomorrow came and went. He was unsuccessful again and had to resign from the job.

The second man came with a team of three horses and a riding plow. He completed the job with the horses walking steadily in front of the plow. He had kept his team properly conditioned and ready for work. For those considering farming with horses, it is important to remember that an improperly worked team can lead to frustration, confusion, embarrassment, and danger for the horse and the human.

When we saw the first man try to plow our garden, we were reminded how blessed we were to have an experienced friend who was willing to teach us first hand how to work with our team. Had we brought our horses home, we could have had the exact same experience or worse.

We are two weeks into our apprenticeship with draft horses. We have learned a good deal. There is so much more to learn. The task seems overwhelming. Yet, God has been so good to providentially guide us as we reclaim and redeem this land for His glory. When the men left after working our ½ acre garden plot, they suggested a good rain and more tilling would get the bed ready. Many times we passed by our windows and examined the garden striving to remember all that took place this special day. We have our work cut out for us, but we press forward with the goal to sow with a view to righteousness. We settled down on the couch for evening worship. My husband lead us by using the Book of Common Prayer as a guide for scripture reading. He was moved with great emotion as he read these words in Psalm 65: 9-13

9 You care for the land and water it;
you enrich it abundantly.
The streams of God are filled with water
to provide the people with grain,
for so you have ordained it.

10 You drench its furrows
and level its ridges;
you soften it with showers
and bless its crops.

11 You crown the year with your bounty,
and your carts overflow with abundance.

12 The grasslands of the desert overflow;
the hills are clothed with gladness.

13 The meadows are covered with flocks
and the valleys are mantled with grain;
they shout for joy and sing.

My husband pointed the children to the furrows we saw in our garden. The Amish man said a good rain would help. Providence would have it that the forecast included rain tomorrow. We prayed that night with a new understanding. God sends the rains to level the ridges. We asked God to bring the rain and bless us with bounty. Early this morning, I met the children in the kitchen for breakfast. Charity, 5, exclaimed with enthusiasm, “Momma, God answered our prayers. It is raining. Now our garden will be easier to till.”

All the events of the past few days reminded me of how tenderly God cares for His children. Our needs were met by having an experienced and successful horse farmer train us for the tasks ahead. He reminded us of our good fortune by showing us the consequences of an neglected team. God provided local farmers and friends to help us get the garden ready. Then He further cared for us by sending much needed rain. We serve an amazing God who cares for every detail of our lives. In Him we will greatly rejoice!!!

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

A few years ago, I ran into person after person who declared I was nuts for milking cows. The idea of trying to make a living off the farm was crazy. I remember two women in particular who lived through the Great Depression. One told my children the story of how she stood on the front porch with her father as the great clouds of dust rolled in and destroyed their crops. She described the scene of great sorrow. Her father wept because he knew the loss. This woman said this scene so powerfully impacted her that she made a resolution to NEVER marry a farmer.

The other lady I knew lived through the depression. She would describe her family as poor. She felt tremendous social stigma for living on a farm. They had to sell eggs and cream to make ends meet. It was hard to get her talk about farm life in any favorable way. Often she crinkled her nose at the idea of us working with filthy animals. For her my quest to farm represented the painful stigma she endured growing up. Farming meant poverty.  One day this woman’s father died. He was almost 90. At his funeral people came to her, the daughter,  and told her stories of her father’s benevolence. He would give them sides of beef, milk, or eggs. Remember the scene was the Great Depression. The woman thought her family was so poor. Decades later at her father’s death she realized, but only for a moment, that her father was not as poor as she thought. They had an abundance and her father shared with those less fortunate.  She still held to the belief that farming was wretched.

Out of the Great Depression came a cry for the agony of farming to end. Soon after the industrial age arrived on the scene promising job security, vacation pay, sick leave, and insurance. American’s bought the lie that we could rely on corporations and even the government to save us from the woes experienced in the thirties. We sold our souls to the corporations. We sold our families hanging onto the false promises government and industry offered.

Five years ago, people mocked me for pursuing a farm life. I didn’t choose farming because I saw an economic crisis looming. I went home and turned my back on industry because I was disillusioned with the false happiness promised in having a career. I saw dramatic changes in my children when we began acquiring livestock and learning lost arts. We had fun, became closer as a family and learned immeasurable amounts about God’s divine qualities.

Fast forward with me five years to the present. Our nation is economically doomed. It is not uncommon to over hear conversations in public where people are saying they want to and need to learn how to raise their own food including butchering their own animals. Five years ago you would find this conversation only on niche blogs of people who were labeled as crazies. Today, I hear many people talking about the state of our economy and nation at large.

I receive email after email from people wanting to purchase a manual washer. The reason they give is because we are fast approaching an economic apocalypse. How peculiar!!! Our society once disdained farmers and homesteaders. We sought corporate America like it was a real gold rush. We now see it is only fool’s gold. People are now actively pursuing what was despised and linked to poverty and stigma. That is, farming the old fashioned way. Corporate America failed to keep its promises. Government failed to … government failed period. Oh sure, there are still some who are in denial that we are in bad shape as a nation. They state, “Well, when the economy bounces back I plan too…” I am a pessimist. I doubt there will be an upward cycle.

I am thankful God planted a desire to live off the land in my heart long ago. Economic crisis or no economic crisis, we will continue our journey to live a simple life. Unlike the lady above, I do not fear a stigma attached to farming. God has shown me the prosperity in farming and learning lost arts. I am not poor, but exceedingly wealthy. And lest you misunderstand, my wealth has nothing to do with how much money is in my bank account. We all know that the value of the dollar is meaningless anyway. True wealth, is taking dominion of the land God gave us to steward. It is learning to praise Him when there is bounty and to praise Him when there is drought. That is true riches!

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Today was another long, yet, productive day. Yesterday we purchased a team of six-year-old Belgian mares.

 Our new tasks included purchasing farm implements to use with our horses. We succeeded in purchasing a John Deer No.4 sickle bar mower and a walk behind plow. We are on our way to returning this farm to pastoral agriculture.  Historically the farm produced oats, corn and wheat. Granddad kept horses, pigs, chickens, turkeys and milk cows. That changed in 1951 when the family moved to New Mexico due to Granny’s allergies. For the last fifty nine years, this land has been used primarily for monoculture farming. In recent years, the land supported a herd of approximately 40 beef cows. Some of the land is used for a rotation of wheat, soybeans, and corn. Not only are we returning to using draft animals, but we also intend to have a diversity of barnyard animals again on this land. The pasture shows signs of defeat because of a lack of diversity. We will have our work cut out for us in the area of pasture improvement.

Purchasing horse drawn equipment is far different than purchasing modern high tech machinery. We will not have to spend money on diesel fuel to farm our land. With proper planning and care we will be able to raise our own feed for our animals. The equipment we purchased today will likely last us our lifetime with minimal repairs needed. What’s more is that everything we bought today was paid for with cash. There are no loan payments or interest pressing us to farm to the max to make loan payments. This frees us to farm sensibly and respectfully the land God has given us.

We stopped by to visit Ruth and Rachel. I took the camera. The team was nervous and the poor lighting in the barn crippled the photo opportunity. Ruth appears to be the more relaxed of the two.

Introducing Ruth!!!

Introducing Rachel

Rachel was not impressed with the camera and tried to hide behind Ruth. I plan to take the camera when we work the team for action photos. Trying to get a picture of the two of them together was much like taking pictures of the children.  Neither of them would look at the camera at the same time.  Of course, they were nervous with their new surroundings. 

Tuesday our new journey begins. We plan to meet friends in the field and begin farming early in the morning. We will train with our friends using our new implements as well. God is so good. We rejoice in His answer to our prayers to give us a team and people willing to guide us to steward His land with knowledge that no books would have provided. We are thankful for the opportunity to work with our friends who are living proof that pastoral farming is profitable today. We are adjusting our schedule to work two to three times per week. This will hasten our ability to work with our team on our own land. Our friends are in the midst of their busy season. This will give us opportunity to get acquainted with our team and equipment with experienced farmers giving us oversight. We will also get first hand instruction on how to tend our fields to produce a bounty of food for our family and animals.

In the midst of this all, our focus remains on our children. Our desire is to give them a long lasting legacy and inheritance. The children are ecstatic about our new commitment to pastoral farming. The conversations over the past few days has been delightful. The children are committed to farming the land in the same manner. In fact, they wonder when they might take over and begin their specialties. Each of the children have been blessed with interests and gifts that properly nurtured could develop into life long vocation for them. We continue to encourage them in their gifts. However, we have found agrarianism roots are deeply rooted in them already. Mostly, I find myself restraining them and encouraging them to be patient and wait on the Lord.

Coming soon: Pictures and updates about our apprenticeship.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Today marks a historic day on our family farm. We purchased a team of six-year-old Belgian mares. Our purchase solidifies our commitment to steward the land God gave us in a manner that will glorify Him. Admittedly, as the purchase day grew closer, we wrestled with self-doubt. Purchasing a draft team is a big commitment. After all, we are turning away from conventional farming and returning to a pioneer style of farming. But, purchasing a draft team as a novice could equal disaster. As of 9:00 a.m. we knew nothing about working with draft animals. This lack of experience and knowledge weighed heavily on our minds. How can you properly steward what God has given you, if you know so little?

We did what we normally do when facing challenging decisions. We prayed. God answered our prayers and guided us with great care. Not only did we get an excellent team, but our friends who farm with draft animals invited us to farm along side them while they teach all there is to know about driving horses first hand. Our team will temporarily reside with our friends while we work with them on their farm. This will give us time to get acquainted in a safe and learned way with our new team. The days and weeks ahead will be busy in the field. I hope to post pictures of Rachel and Ruth as time permits.

In between purchasing our team, I stumbled upon a lush patch of chickweed. With the current healthcare bill passed, I anticipate more restrictions in alternative health care as well. My ambition as of late includes becoming more knowledgeable of the wild medicinal plants around me. Today, I took a step toward creating my own herbal pharmacy. I collected chickweed and made tinctures, oil infusions and enjoyed chickweed infused in hot water. The children ate the chickweed fresh. It makes a nice addition to salads.

Purchasing the ingredients for making tinctures makes for memorable experiences. I do not frequent liquor stores. The only time I have gone in to a liquor store is to purchase vodka for tinctures. Each time I feel guilty. Today was no different. In fact, today’s purchase led to a lot of laughter. A little history is in order. Often I go to a local farm and buy farm fresh food. I get into the vehicle with a bag.

The children: What is in the bag?

Me: Cheese.

The children: Hand it over.

I had just bought cheese a few days ago and endured this response from my children. I came out of the liquor store and entered the vehicle.

Charity, 5: What is in the brown bag?

Me: Vodka for my tincture.

Charity: Hand it over.

Me: Absolutely not little girl!

The rest of the children laughed until they cried. It is tough being five and not understanding the world around you. It is equally tough to be a Christian, yet having a need to purchase hard liquor for tinctures. One thing is for certain, there is never a dull moment around this farm.

Stay tuned for pictures of our draft horse team!!

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

I remember the first time I milked a cow. I was overwhelmed by the task. I had no idea what I was doing. All I had was Carla Emery’s Encyclopedia for Country Living to guide me. Believe me, that cow made the gettings rough. She kicked and moved and gave us a complete fit. The result: we had one quart of fresh milk to drink. Read that again: ONE QUART. The subsequent milkings were challenging but over time grew easier. Having to work so hard to get fresh milk caused me to treat that liquid as precious gold. Later we would master the milkings and a surplus resulted. I had the opportunity to pour the milk out for the dog. But, did I really want to take thirty minutes worth of work in the cold to feed my dog? Not hardly. I became intensely interested in creating other useful products out of milk. I made yogurt, cheese, butter and more.

Butchering our steer created the same result. We worked hard cutting, slicing, and dicing.  We were reluctant to waste any of the trimmings. My husband saw the extra beef fat and decided we should make tallow. He wanted to use the tallow to make soap. I was not delighted because I have an intense prejuidice for my luxury bars. They are made with high quality cocoa nut, palm, olive and castor oils. I developed a strong bias toward home made soap made with animal fats. Another reason for resistance to rendering tallow is that I knew nothing about tallow or its soap making properties. I was too tired to learn after a full day butchering.

Despite my reluctance, I began gathering information. Especially because I learned that tallow makes a nice laundry soap.  After butchering I drove to see my plain friend. I asked her how she rendered tallow. I always get frustrated when talking to my plain friends. Most of their answers to my questions involve, “Oh, I just cook it down, render it, strain it and put it in a bucket. Be sure and store it where it is cool”.

It is not that my plain friends are intending to frustrate me. We just have a huge culture gap. They forget I wasn’t raised at my mother’s skirts rendering tallow, so I need detailed steps and I mean detailed.

What normally happens is I will go home and follow my friend’s instructions and make a big mess failing miserably while I am at it. I go back to my friend’s house where she laughs with a Pennsylvania Dutch laugh. Yes, they laugh with an accent too. Then she tells me. “No, you have to cook it down slowly over a low heat or a double boiler so you don’t have to use a fire extinguisher”. I am joking. I did not start a fire when rendering tallow. My friend has finally learned that I am a newbie and that when I ask questions she should warn me of the safety hazards. The point is that when you turn to people who have been raised living the old paths, it is important to work with them side by side. Often they fail to include critical details and summarize instructions by saying, “ Oh, I just cook it”. Many of my plain friends can’t tell me how hot because they use a wood cook stove. Makes it tough. So I have learned to stand beside them at their stove and use my finger or wrist to tell temperatures. When the wrist cannot be used, you have to learn to look at the texture of what you are cooking. Either way, there are real benefits to apprenticing with someone when learning the old ways.

Upon arriving home, I also consulted the internet for tips and pointers on rendering tallow. My research was not thorough so I encountered some problems. I will discuss those later in the body of the article.

Here is a piece of beef fat before we cut it up.

At first I just cubed the fat into small pieces. I cooked my first batch this way.

Cutting the fat into cubes quickly became tiresome.  We had a lot of fat, so we decided to speed the process up by using our meat grinder. 

I learned about this tip somewhere on the internet.  The fat cooked down much faster by grinding it.  I had cubes and ground fat in one pan and the cubes took forever to cook down in comparision. 

I cooked some of the fat on the stove top, some in a roaster oven, and some in a couple of baking dishes in the oven.  Again we had a massive amount of fat to work with.  I needed to make progress and quick.  It is important when cooking the fat to be watchful.  It can catch fire if you cook it too hot.  We did not have this experience fortuantely. 

We cooked the fat down until there were cracklings.  We were careful not to cook the cracklings too long and burn them.  We used a potato masher to work the cracklings over as we cooked.  When we were satisfied that we cooked the fat long enough we strained the oil.  One website suggested placing a coffee filter over a canning jar.  They suggested a paper towel would work equally well.  This did not work for me.  The filter cloged up and the fat would not drain.  For good measure I left the fat to drain overnight.  I returned to solidfied fat on top of the coffee filter.  It became apparent that the coffee filter and paper towel idea was not working so I did what my plain friend recommended.  She filters her lard and tallow with a mesh wire sieve.  It worked fine.

I placed the first batch of tallow in canning jars to cool overnight.  In the morning, I gave the jars a wiff and groaned.  It smelled like hamburger grease.  My new mission was to figure out how to get rid of the smell.  Also, I needed to know how to store the tallow. 

I poured through my soap making books and found nothing but bias against working with tallow.  Some soap makers felt it wasn’t worth the mess and hastle to render tallow.  They recommended buying pure tallow from a soap oil company.  The news was frustrating and not useful.  I intended to make use of the tallow one way or another.  Finally, I found a book in my collection that was helpful.  It is called “The Art of Soap Making:  A Contemporary Primer” by Merilyn Mohr.   The author describes how to take disgusting rancid fat and make it pure and fresh.  Jackpot! 

I took a quart of the tallow that I let cool and placed it in the roaster.  I added about a gallon and a half of water and two tablespoons of salt.  I let this cook.  I would start this before we started school and strain it during our lunch break. 

I filtered the entire contents of the roaster in a large stainless steel bowl.  I would let it cool and then place the bowl in the freezer.  After several hours i had a nice white disc of tallow floating on the water.  I let it get hard enough that I could scrape an impurities off the bottom.  I broke the disc up  a little and placed it in freezer bags. 

It took a week to wash three gallons of tallow, doing a little at a time every day.  I did not use all the fat from the animal.  I still have some in the freezer.  It was easier than I expected.  Smellier than I had hoped …  at first.  However, washing the tallow with water and salt made the smell disappear.  For fun, I washed some of the tallow with baking soda.  The result was much whiter tallow.  (A second time with baking soda didn’t turn out as well; the tallow was more crumbly and unusable, I think because I used too much baking soda.) 

Ms.  Mohr, in her book, suggests you can reclaim most fat and get the smell out by sweeting it with vinegar or lemon juice.  “Two tablespoons of lemon juice or vinegar disolved in one-half cup water and boiled with one cup fat will improve its character for soapmaking.”

A few days later, my husband and I made Castile soap out of tallow (70% tallow, 30% olive oil).  My husband had never made soap before, but he did fabulous.  It is so rewarding to work together and with joy on our homesteading endeavors.

I let it cure for a few weeks and then grated the bars.  I took the shavings added water and made five gallons of laundry soap.  I also made two gallons of dish soap. 

                            Amazing how we started out with this:                                

  And with some effort got this:

The bottom picture is dish soap I made out of the Castile.  I took the soap right out of the pot heated up and began washing dishes.  It stayed sudsy the whole time.  Once it cooled and was poured into bottles it no longer produced suds.  Suds or no suds, I am pleased with our efforts.  I am happy to save money and stop supporting Proctor and Gamble. 

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid