My dream is to build a house mostly off-the-grid. While plans are being drawn up and preparations are underway, we are practicing for this rather dramatic lifestyle change. Here is a list of what we have accomplished so far:

Our accomplishments:

1. We purchased a wood cook stove.

2. Took lessons from a plain friend on how to cook on a wood stove.

3. Purchased a manual washer.

4. Use the manual washer weekly to wash clothes.

5. We are line drying all the clothes phasing out the use of the dryer.

6. Purchased Dietz lanterns and mineral spirits to fuel the lanterns.

7. Implemented using the lanterns in a shamelessly sporadic manner.

8. Purchased materials to build self-composting toilets.

9. Began construction of one composting toilet.

10. Purchased a reel lawn mower.

11. Oversee daily wars because there are five children and one reel lawn mower.

12. Field complaints from children because the rain prevents them from using the reel mower.

What lies ahead:

We are making progress, albeit slow progress getting ready for a life off-the-grid. I would like to get the self-composting toilets finished and start using them while we still have a traditional toilet. Readers write sharing woes with self-composting toilets. Some share the odor is beyond foul. The type of toilet I am building will require ample sawdust to cover the odor. The reports I have read suggest this type of toilet, using saw dust, works better than the manufactured self-composting toilets. The only way to know for sure is to try it. It makes practical sense to try this out with plumbing available. There is a lot of work involved in using this toilet. We will need to build a compost bin and get access to sawdust. We are fortunate to live near many saw mills. Saw dust is plentiful. All that is left is the time needed to gather the saw dust, build the toilets, and construct the compost bins.

If this project fails, we will take the toilet bases and put them in an outhouse. My friends use outhouses. The are tucked conveniently behind their homes. I do not like the idea of braving the cold to go to the bathroom. The composting toilet, if the smell can be avoided, will provide a nice solution to this problem.

Another aspect of living off-the-grid involves plumbing and water usage. My source of water is currently unknown. I still need to determine my water source. However, most of the locals use cisterns or hand dug wells with hand pumps. My family’s water consumption is wasteful to say the least. Using a composting toilet or outhouse will cut down on the need for water to flush the waste away. Using a manual washer also cuts down on water consumption too. In fact, I am delighted to see how much water we save with the new washer.

Teaching the children to conserve water requires creativity. Harping and nagging doesn’t work. Nor can I hover around them as they use the restroom and wash their hands. Recently I purchased two and a half gallon water containers with flip spigots. I filled the containers and placed them at each sink. The children use these as opposed to the faucets. There is a screw top lid which keeps the water from flowing fast if it is screwed down tightly. It has been a perfect way to encourage the children to save water. The children are also encouraged to get their drinking water from these jugs.

Making changes while we still use the city’s water provides many benefits. We could get serious and observe changes in our water consumption via the water bill. We could also determine how much water my family needs based on our consumption with conservation techniques in place. We may be able to determine if a cistern is enough or if we should use a well with a hand pump too.

To tell you the truth, I am a restless and driven person. I like setting goals and getting what I want … yesterday. This move to town has been agonizing at points. Unfortunately, I have not been patient or gracious about my circumstances. As the economy continues to slip into crisis, I have grown more anxious to get on the land again. My frustration abates as I realize the opportunity and blessing God placed before me. My recent friendship with the plain people made living off-the-grid more achievable. They have lived off-the-grid all their lives. What was an insurmountable task is now more achievable as demonstrated by my friends. Waiting for plans to unfold gives me the opportunity to proactively experiment with aspects of non-electric living while having the grid to tweak things that don’t work out well. These past few weeks, I have spent time in prayer confessing my sin of ungratefulness. I am thankful God is merciful and still providentially blesses me despite the fact that I don’t deserve it.

I look forward to sharing our journey to put the “life” back into simplicity. Culture conditions us to look down our crinkled noses with disdain at such simplicity. Mowing the lawn with a reel mower is vintage and archaic. Manually washing the clothes is an unnecessary burden and punishment. As my family embraces “primitive” living, we have experienced a luxury that is long lost. The luxury of togetherness, team work, and reliance on God to endure. There is a transformation occurring in my family, a bond developing as we tackle basic living skills knowing we need each other to complete the work. There is a sense of fulfillment as we see the benefit of replacing electric power with human power. Yes, there have been frustrations and failures. There have blunders and bloopers. Yes, there is chaos I will never write about here.  (LIterary license strikes again!) When others look at us and raise the proverbial eyebrow, we are not moved. We exchange a satisfied smile with each other knowing we are better people, a stronger more close knit family because of the hard work.  Here is our to do list for those who thrive on lists.

To be completed:

1.  Complete building self-composting toilets.

2.  Access and store saw dust

3.  Build composting bins

4. Determine water source.

5.  Evaluate water conservation costs savings

6.  Determine amount of water usage for my family.

7.  Daily praise God for my frustrating circumstances. They are blessings in disguise.

8. Praise God for the transformation occuring in my family.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

My neighbors stood in the yard, their hands on their hips, their mouths gaping open as they watched my children. They were in the yard for the same reason my children were in the yard. Mowing. The grass is green here. It is wildly out of control in our neighborhood. Couldn‘t be helped. It has been raining. They stood behind a lawn mower. I watched them from the window. It was a man and lady. He pulled the cord repeatedly. No results. The sweat streamed off his face.

My children’s noise level distracted them from their task at hand. My children are usually not so loud. But, today there was a fight. They were impatient with each other. They all wanted to mow. Eventually, the children worked it out. I could hear the mower as it passed the window. It was a rotary clacking. It was not the standard rumble of a gas powered engine. The children were pushing a reel mower around the yard.

The neighbors gawked for a while. They never did get their machine started. Eventually, the left scratching their heads at the peculiar sight in my yard. I am sure they already determined we were nutz long ago. Perhaps it was the tubs of wash water we empty on the lawn. Maybe it is the fact that all of us girls wear dresses. Maybe it was the sagging laundry line propped up by a two by four . Either way, we are out of place in this neighborhood. I can’t wait to be in the country to hide my eccentricity again.

The children worked all morning. They came in with their faces beet red. Their excitement didn’t fade. Some grabbed a drink and returned to push the mower around. They continued to argue about taking turns. Soon, I could hear the children talking to someone. I glanced out the window. The mailman stopped and chatted with the children. “I haven’t seen one of those mowers in years, “ He said. “Can you push it and show me how it works?”

The children indulged him. The fiends tried to convert him to go green by sharing their militant views on mowing without contributing to the oil crisis and pollution. They told him where he could buy one and how they managed to get a discount on the price because it was a display model. I stifled a giggle and ducked behind the curtain as I soaked up the conversation. “We like work and we all work together taking turns” my daughter told the mailman. “We are saving money all at the same time.” The mailman smiled and started off down the sidewalk encouraging them to keep up the good work.

I wanted a reel mower for five years now. Though it is hard work, we enjoy a decreased dependence on gas, power, and electricity. It is liberating using machines that allow such freedom. Course, when I move to the farm, I aim to have different kind of mower added to the mix. It is one hand crafted by an awesome God designed intricately to give as it takes. This mower will fertilize as it mows. It is none other than the beautiful Jersey cow. I aim to tether these creatures to help with yard maintenance. My mowing tactics will require careful strategy. The reel mower and the bovine mower don’t mix well. Imagine the complications when a child encounters the natural pile of fertilizer left by the Jersey cow with his reel mower. Messy, very messy indeed.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Grandpa shared a heritage with me, something I never got to thank him for. I still remember him reaching for the dust covered book tucked away on the shelf. “Have a look at this, “he said. “Well, go on. Can you read it?“

“No. Grandpa. I can’t. It is in German.“

His dark brown eyes smiled along with his face. “I’ll bet you have never seen Luther’s Small Catechism in German. Have you?“

My grandpa loved the Lord. He shared his faith not with many words, but with many actions. I was not born into his family, by societal standards I was second rate, an add-on. After all, I am his step-granddaughter. But, he accepted me none-the-less. He welcomed me into his home and shared his life with me all the same. Along with the old fashioned toys, he created wooden filigree crosses and models of the Nativity. Grandpa lived out his faith.

A few months ago, I sat in the sanctuary overcome with emotion. As we repeated the Apostle’s Creed, tears filled my eyes. Grandpa shared the richest heritage with me of all, his Lutheran faith. As I closed the Lutheran hymnal, I couldn’t help but thank God for my grandpa who was a steady testimony of God’s love.

I never got to say goodbye to grandpa. His life ended in the same quiet unassuming way he lived it. I vaguely remember the last time I saw him. But, I do remember he heaved sighs more often than not. He was suffering physically but didn’t complain, just sighed. His life was drawing to a close. I didn’t know it would be the last time I saw him. My visits became sporadic during the last years … shamefully sporadic. I heard his plea, “Please visit us more often”. Grandpa didn’t know how hard it was for me to see him. He didn’t know the isolation I endured, the fights, the accusations of being a spend thrift that came with driving to town to get groceries and the vicious attacks that came if I dared to see relatives. I hid the pain even from myself through denial. My suffering through domestic violence stole my last years with him, but there is one thing that Grandpa gave me that nothing could ever steal … a faith in God.

35Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? 36As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.”
37No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, 39nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:35-39 ESV).

I never got to say goodbye to Grandpa, but I guarantee you, I will say hello to him again someday.

Thank you, Grandpa, for sharing your faith and helping me to be …

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Wind blew fiercely one night. I thought the house would take flight. A large “thwack” caused my heart to beat wildly. I peered into the darkness and saw nothing. I would have to wait for the morning light to tell the story of the storms fury.

Just as I feared, the morning light revealed that the wind tore branches from the trees surrounding the house. Cleanup would require true grit and perhaps a chainsaw. The new chainsaw is so heavy. Could I manage it on my own? The yard was filled with twigs and branches. Could I manage clean up on my own? 

Days passed while  I pondered a strategy to get the yard clean. One rainstorm after another drenched my motivation. Finally, sunshine prevailed. I could put it off no longer.  We eventually mustered energy to tackle the job though it still took prayers for me to obtain stamina.

The children and my beau descended upon some of the large branches. He operated the chainsaw and the children carried off the limbs. I noted their enthusiasm and the team spirit.  Working with the children usually brings joy and adventure.  It doesn’t always go smoothly but generally they work hard.  Further, they teach me how to convert work into a playful activity.

Firewood was neatly stacked near the privacy fence. It was a small stack. But, it would later cook my families meals in my new wood cookstove.  Each child pitched in. Many hands make light work. It is our family motto. After weeks of being cooped up in the house, I noted the sunshine energized us all. There was a steady diligence about the children’s work. There was a calm and gentle joy too.

The children took orderly diversions from their hard work. The girls picked wildflowers in the lawn.

Once they had a large bouquet, they returned to help.

Soon we built a small fire to burn the brush.

The boys were reenergized and began a quest to find any unwanted combustible in our yard. After digging under an old tree, they found a rotting board filled with life. This called for another orderly diversion for exploration.

I don’t know who started it, but soon the children issued a request. I left the crew working diligently in the yard with my beau. My baby waved goodbye and shouted in her little girl voice, “Don’t forget the chocolate and marshmallows”. The sticks were whittled to spears for impaling marshmallows when I returned.

Soon the gooey marshmallows were sandwiched between graham crackers and topped with chocolate.

We completed our work with a celebration.

The children prayed that night for another storm so we could work together again and roast marshmallows. The work I dreaded was completed and hardly seemed like work at all. 

3. Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
William Cowper

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Spring taunts this rural Missouri town. One week it is warm, foreshadowing summer temperatures. Red Buds bloom. Daffodils debut, offering refreshment from winter’s dark gloom. The next week the snow falls, blanketing the daffodils, covering the Red Buds.  There are flashbacks of frigid weather. One never knows what to expect when crawling out of bed. Will it be warm or cold? One day I open the windows wide, to soak up the warm spring sun. The following day, I lower the storm windows and turn the heater on again.

Regardless of the fickle weather, spring is an important milestone for farmers. It is a busy time. The “to-do” list bears a heavy load. Today’s activities determine tomorrow’s outcomes. Tomorrow’s crops are the result of yesterday’s efforts. The pressure to perform daily tasks builds. In the hustle and bustle of spring busyness, it is easy to forget. But, the birds do not forget. I hear them every morning now before dawn. They raise their voices praising God for the advent of spring.

Not all people suffer from amnesia. And not all farmers narrow their focus on the field, hoping for a bountiful harvest. The events of this past week are proof, and made a lasting impression on my family that will likely alter the course of our lives. I witnessed the sowing and harvesting of a “crop”, a celebration of the plain people, a raising of voices that make the morning praise from the birds appear trite.

Spring is important to the plain people. They do not suffer from amnesia. The school year ends mid-April and farming begins. But, I must emphasize, the plain people farmed all winter by training their children biblical truths. They know the truth in the proverb: Many hands make light work. The children finish schooling to take their valued places at home on the farm helping their family. The parents planted, watered, and now harvest their precious crop of faithful children, while the rest of the world taught dry facts. Their diligent efforts of sowing determined the course for this summer. Children will join their parents tending to the land and livestock. It has been this way for generations with the plain people.

This school year ended with an annual tradition. Horse-drawn buggies lined the school yard leaving barely any room for my vehicle. I saw the men first. They were lined up on the north side of the building. Their black hats contrasted the emerald green and midnight blue shirts. I pulled into the driveway feeling displaced. All eyes were on my vehicle. It was one of four cars parked in the yard. The ladies gathered on the south side of the building and entered separately. My children and I entered with the women.

A familiar face and then a warm greeting eased the awkwardness of the situation, “I see you made it. You can find a seat on the front row.” We were inches away from the children who found us just as intriguing as we found them. Mimeographed songs were laid on our seats. They were in German. The men and women sat separately as approximately seventy school children sat fidgeting slightly at the front of the room.

Soon a solemn voice announced the purpose of our gathering. It was a celebration honoring the children’s hard work during the school year. The leader praised God for the privilege of having their own school free from persecution experienced in the past. Some had been put in prison, he explained. Their bondage led to this freedom. Then the room filled with song, men and women, young and old. The simple beauty and strength of their voices is something I will never forget. One child after another took their place at the front, reciting poetry with a hint of a German accent. Every now and then the recitation was punctuated with a song from the school children. The poetic verses were carefully selected to emphasize the work ethic and moral values of these rural peoples.

Two and a half hours later, the elders spoke to the children and families encouraging them to remember the truths in their poems as they took their places on the farms this summer. The men encouraged the children to live a life faithful to Jesus and to rejoice in the work of their hands by singing while they worked. It was an honor to share this celebration with my friends. The impact of this event on my children is priceless gift, a true legacy. Living a simple life as a single mother, forging my path in the opposite direction, modern society impacts my children. It could confuse them. This shared experience affirmed them. I am deeply grateful to my dear friends. They thought of my children and the war we wage to live the good life. For a moment in time, they embraced my family with all of our cultural differences and shared a rich legacy with my children.

Gasoline to get to their school: $1.34
Food prepared to eat on the way: $5.79
Fellowship with my friends: Priceless

The plain people live by the demands of spring. My friends toil with draft animals. Yet, they overcome the amnesia that plagues many farmers today. They took time to celebrate spring, lifting their voices in song and harvesting the bounty of the most important crop of all … children.

Dear readers, I challenge you today to take time to praise our glorious God for spring. Yes, let these children, these rural people, be an example to us. Let us break out in song while we work, whatever that work may be.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

The road gave me continuous jarring. There were pot holes and washboards for the duration of my trip. I could hear the baking pans clanking against each other. Pushing my hair from my face, I murmured a prayer about the contents in the pan. “Lord, please protect my work. Don’t let these bumpy roads undo my early morning efforts.” The children chattered in the van making it difficult to focus my prayers. The recent rains combined with heavy traffic from cars and horse drawn buggies made my drive an action packed adventure. My maneuvers included swerves, suddenly braking, splashing mud on the windshield and spinning tires as I moved to the side of the road clearing the way for other traffic.

The country drive offers scenery conducive to deep introspection. My thoughts slipped into the not so distant past. I remember the intense bitterness and anger I had over moving here. I hated it. I questioned God. “Why? Why here? Why in town still? You filled my heart with irrational yearning for milking cows so why have you placed me in town again? You hear my children’s plans. They are scheming to put up a privacy fence to hide a milk cow because we are in town. They ache for the country too. Lord, surely you haven’t overlooked them? They are saving every penny they have to buy chickens and goats. Lord, please show me your plan.”

For the first few months, I could not see God’s plan. So I did what any Christian would do. I sulked and pouted. God is so merciful, so patient. He forgave me and displayed His mercy. He answered my prayer and gave me a glimpse of His plan.

When I found my new home, I had no idea “they” lived nearby. Course, I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. I can’t remember where I first learned about them. Perhaps, it was the fellow I met in the grocery store. I remember my first visit to the countryside. Their farmer’s market was bustling with activity. Produce filled the isles along with wood crafts, hand crafted soap, and a few quilts. This trip became the first of many leading to rich fellowship with plain people. The new friendships would alter the course of my life adding depth to my agrarian yearnings. Not only depth, but practical skills and rich fellowship about the God we love and serve.

I will never forget opening the back door of my house and seeing a horse drawn buggy parked in my driveway. The horse was munching on the grass unhitched. Just standing there, nibbling and snorting. A bearded man in a dark hat and his daughter offered me the fruit of their labor, a pan of scrapple made from recent hog and beef butchering. My mouth still waters as I remember their gift of smoked sausage given to me at yet an earlier date. The taste was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

Memories of my encounters filled my head as I drove. New ones were about to be formed as I turned into the driveway. My friend agreed to teach me how to use a wood cook stove. I prepared a few pans of lasagna and whole wheat chocolate chip cookies for this lesson. Sandwiched in the box of goodies was several bars of my home made milk soap, a thank you gift for my lessons.

There are no power lines, no luxury cars, no satellites mounted to the eaves of the house. Instead, I saw a black enclosed buggy. Near the barn there were three milk cows. I recognized the spotted one. It was Sunny. I raised her from a frisky calf to a feisty milk cow. This family milks her for me, so I can have access to fresh milk. Hmmm… I get the milk from my own cow while I am on a sabbatical from dairying. I will make a mental note to praise God for this blessing. Just to think, I was bitter. Bird houses made from gourds hung on a wire strung across the driveway. They waved in the wind. Green houses filled the yard. Rows of turnip sprouts announced my friends earlier diligence.

She greeted the children and I on the porch. Loaves of white bread were already rising on the counter. Sticky buns were in the oven cooking. We unloaded our pans and began to discuss safety and cleaning of the wood stove. The smell of fresh baked breads and lasagna soon filled the kitchen. The children occupied themselves by hand churning a couple of gallons of cream into butter. My friend taught me how to make an easy soda cheese too. While we worked, we discussed topic our mutual love of God. There were many note worthy experiences. The children and I learned to wash dishes without running water. Several of the children approached the sink hoping to wash their hands.  They stood befuddled when they noted a missing faucet.  Washing dishes was easier than I anticipated. After all, the cooking was completed, we bowed our heads and gave thanks for a wonderful meal. We ate the lasagna, home canned peaches, home grown salad with fixings from their green house, fresh baked bread and sticky buns hot out of the oven.

Cooking on the stove was easy. I had to watch the food closely and rotate the pans. I still have much to learn about starting the fire and maintaining the proper temperature. I am in awe of our God. Despite my complaining and bitterness, He placed me in a land where I would be learn lost arts of living a simple life from mentors who actively live the simple life. I was so foolish to question God’s plan for me. We serve a merciful God indeed.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

For those who dare to follow my lead, I thought I would pass along this email from my Grandma. She reads my blog and offered some advice on rinsing the wash.

Dear Chris,

I just read your article on doing your wash. I remember when my mother had a ringer washer and I did also the first few years I was married. I think maybe you might want to use at least 2 rinse waters in order to get all the soap out of your clothes. The soap scum will build up after a few washing and your clothes will become dingy. Just a warning.

Just got back from taking T…. to the doctor for her regular checkup. Got some pansies to plant in my front yard.

How was your Easter? C….’s family and D…’s dad were for dinner. I went to the sunrise service then breakfast, Sunday school and church in the morning. Big day.

Take care, Grandma

There is something inherently backwards about my life, my journey. Indeed, it is paradoxical: Grandmother teaches granddaughter how to use manual ringer washer offering technical suppport via email. It is like accessing the microwave by lantern light.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

The articles on my manual washer peaked interest in details about how to use this washer, the price, and where to get one. This article covers details on how to use the washer. A disclaimer: I am a new owner of this machine. I have only used it barely two weeks. Please do not consider me an expert.

I am washing clothes twice per week now. It takes an hour for us to wash clothes from start to finish. That means, from the time I begin filling the tub to hanging the clothes on the line takes one hour. The children help with the wash.

Step One: Fill the machine with hot water. Add detergent. Incorporate detergent into wash water by moving the manual lever a few times. Add clothes. You may want to adjust the water temperature according to the type of clothes you are washing. You may not want hot water in the vat if you are washing delicates. Our washer has a lid. I cover the vat to prevent splashing.

Step two: Fill a separate tub with cold rinse water.

Step three: Agitate the wash for five minutes.

Step three: Remove the lid and insert clothes into the wringer. I fold large items like towels to fit through the wringer better.

Step four: After an article is placed through the wringer, then place them in the rinse water. We swish the clothes in the rinse water.

Step five: Take the clothes out of the rinse water and run them through the wringer again.

Step Six: Hang the clothes on the line.

Large items do not fit in my wringer. I had to wash some comforters. I had the children take one end of the comforter and twist it while I held the other end and twisted in the opposite direction. Some of our modern bulky hems and waistbands bogged down in the wringer so it was a trick. We plan to avoid bulky clothes like this in future purchases.

My plain friends suggest there are a variety of wringers that can handle larger items. For now, I will use one wringer and hand wring the quilts. I may purchase a larger wringer later.

The manual washer is light enough for me to pick up and move. I am not sure of the exact weight. However, it moves around much like a student‘s desk with a lift up top. I would like to wash clothes outside. I could pick the machine up and move it easily. However, the drain sticks out and makes fitting it through my door cumbersome. Since we are in town, I do not want to leave the washer outside. It could disappear. For now, I will wash inside with care not to splash excessively.

The tub of the washer is fairly good sized. I fit two twin comforters plus a few towels in it. Since the children were helping, I limited the amount of laundry so they could manage the agitator without muscle strain. The first night we used the washer, we had not done laundry in a week. I filled the washer three times with clothes. I was pleased with how clean they were. I did not soak the main wash. However, the children did soil some clothes playing in the creek. I soaked those items overnight. They were still stained and will be designated for chore clothes. I have used electric machines on this kind of dirt before and found they do not come clean either. My aim is to deal with stains as the clothes come off to prevent soaking. Again, it is important to keep in mind, I am very new to this way of doing laundry. I will be able to report more accurate findings in a few months.

I am taking the used wash water and pouring it in the grass. I understand you can use some of the wash water for watering gardens. I will be checking into this more as we begin preparing for the garden season.

Hopefully this answers most questions.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Week two with the manual washer began with more drama. The children had the stomach flu which meant more wash than normal, blankets too. Dedicating ones life to simplicity involves gusto, tenacity, and thrill seeking. I am a thrill seeker by nature. I like living life on the edge.  When I make a major decision to simplify my life, I expect the worst to come.  So when I faced a heap of laundry that smelled revolting, I was not surprised.  I was invigorated (I am lying).

No one has asked “THE” question related to my quest for simplicity, yet. I am armed and prepared. If one should ask the infamous question, I have the answer. The question?

Are you crazy?

Yes, emphatically! A life of insanity is more interesting and robust than the alternative. The high tech life led me down a path of never ending complications.

Take the washing machine for example. My old machine used power. Think about that word for a minute.

Power

Operating machines that use power should give one power, right? Think again. Industrialization promised the homemaker, the family power, ease and convenience as we bought their machines and used their cohorts to operate the machine.  Instead, I received bondage.

To access power, I have to pay a deposit. I must pay monthly payments. But, wait. That is not all. To use a power washer, I have to have water, both hot and cold. I also need to use sewer to drain the machine. (Don’t forget the cost of the original machine, too.) In case you didn’t notice, my life of ease just got complicated. I not only have to pay the power company, but I have to pay the water, sewer and gas company to operate this machine. To make monthly payments, I have to have a cash flow. To get a cash flow, I have to lose, weaken my true power. My power to influence, to change the world lies in my direct ability train my children with a godly heritage. The more time I have the better. Going to work outside my home lessens my influence on my children.  Sure there is work involved in the simple life.  But, it is work that I can do with my children by my side. 

My goal in using appliances is to limit my dependence on companies to complete basic household tasks. For example, Lord willing when I move to the farm, we will have minimal plumbing. My goal is to collect rainwater in a cistern for household use. I aim to heat water in my cook stove. Will this be easier, less time consuming than an electric life? No. But the electric life is time consuming too. Where do you want to spend your time? It is just a matter of personal preference. I prefer to spend my time with my children, raising them, training them, and living life fully with them. I don’t want to spend my time working for someone else to help me pay someone else for a convenient but complicated life of “ease”. I don’t want to pay corporations to power my wash, plumb in and treat my water, or flush out my waste. Not only are the energy costs rising, but how they operate their companies has significant consequences including pollution. Am I an environmental activist? No. I am a child of God commanded to take dominion of the earth and steward the gifts God gave me. The power company is taking dominion of my life, my resources and the earth’s too. With a little creativity and hard work, I can minimize this.

My quest to go off-the-grid is a personal journey. The convictions are mine alone based on my life experiences. I do not expect others to live as I live. I expect criticism and failure which ultimately pushes me to cry out to God.

My journey began ten years ago and it is filled with trials, failures, joy and triumph. The overall result is we are closer to God and each other. I am certain others have journeys quite different than mine with the same results. I can’t live your life and you can’t live mine. However, if we are all growing closer to God and each other than we are kindred spirits.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Excitement filled our home last Monday. It is an enthusiasm I pray will last. The children flocked around my new washer.

Conflict ensued over who would be the first to operate the manual washer. We finally worked out a system and everyone got a chance to agitate the laundry. Indeed, they agitated each other too. Okay, I confess, I was agitated too. The zeal and passion exhibited by the children made our first washing chaotic.

So, what was it like? How did it go?

All of my simple living pursuits involve excitement, drama, and adventure. Why should using a manual washer be any different?

Here is a recap of the events:

I filled up the tub with hot water. (audience applauds).

I added detergent. (audience applauds).

One child operated the agitator. (audience applauds).

Another child operated the wringer. (audience applauds).

Some children fought to have a turn. (boo and hiss)

I fed clothes into the wringer. Stood between the two working children. I got brutalized by their elbows in their excitement. (boo and hiss)

Sweat poured, muscled ached. Think weight loss. (audience applauds).

We settled down and worked as a team. (audience applauds).

We used one tub of wash water and detergent for the entire wash. (audience applauds).

We used one tub of rinse water for the entire wash. (audience applauds).

Some bulky clothes would not pass through the wringer. (boo and hiss)

An over energetic child agitated the rinse water tub upside down onto the floor. All eight gallons. (boo and hiss)

The kitchen and bathroom floor got mopped. (audience applauds).

It took twenty towels to mop the floor. (boo and hiss)

I got more practice washing. The soiled towels needed washed. (audience applauds).

We hung clothes on the line … (audience applauds).

…in freezing weather. (boo and hiss)

The line sagged (boo and hiss)

The line was tightened (audience applauds)

The tension pulled one of the eye-screws out of the tree and they sagged again (boo and hiss)

The next day the eye-screws were replaced by some twice as long (audience applauds)

I opened a drawer to see neatly folded washcloths that smelled like the fresh outdoors. (audience applauds).

On Thursday, the children manually washed all the laundry with minimal supervision. I am applauding.

All in all, manually washing our clothes has gone well. It was not as hard as I thought. I do have to soak some heavily soiled clothes. The children romped in a creek on the farm. The clothes are extraordinarily dirty. The rest of the clothes were clean to my satisfaction. The experience is too new yet to assert this is the life for me.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid