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

Last week came and went with a flurry of activity in our lives. We spent three days training with the plain people to work our horses. My husband worked in the field, while I spent time working in the greenhouse and kitchen learning all I could about a non-electric life. As I begin this article, I can’t help but express how great and awesome God is to take care of us as we begin this journey. I am so thankful for our friends and their willingness to invite us into their fields to work with them, into their greenhouse to labor with them and into their homes to eat with them. It has been an extraordinary week.

Day one of the apprenticeship was highly informative. We learned that our team had not been used to working. Had we taken them straight home we would have been in for a real surprise. Headaches would be more like it. As a result, Ruth and Rachel were hitched up with the other horses one at a time and rotated to give them a chance to build up stamina. My husband worked a well trained team running a clod smasher. He gained experience with a safer team. The goal is to get our team used to working and used to us before turning us loose with them. Again, I am so thankful for the expertise of our friends. They have saved us many misfortunes, headaches, and frustrations.

Our friends have 65 acres. They claim that is too much for them, but it was all that was available. Right now my husband is helping to prepare an eight acre plot for garden produce. We learned that to plow the eight acres we would need a team of five horses. A team of two could work at a pace of a ½ acre per day. Great care must be taken to keep the horses active and fit for farm work. Leaving them to eat hay for the majority of their days is neglectful and poor stewardship. On day two we learned how to keep the horses active on the farm. I will write more about that later. Another curiosity: Horses know plain clothing over flashy colors. The children approached Rachel to take a picture. She snorted loudly. My friend said, “The horses know and recognize clothing colors. They are not used to bright colored clothing. It will take time to get used to you. But they will”.

We were counseled that horses are dangerous creatures and respect must be paid to this fact at all times. Our friends demonstrated that as you make a complete pass in the field, you must stop and rest the horses for three minutes before continuing on. During the rests, the ladies bring the men snacks and water.

Day two was spent using the horses for hauling miscellaneous items around the farm. First, there were a group of steers penned in the barn. They needed to be moved to pasture. A small stock wagon hitched up to the team reduced the need for creating temporary alley ways with fencing.

Later, the team was used to move a heavy wood stove to the front porch. Watching our friend give commands to his horses as he backed the wagon into a tight spot was marvelous. I have watched my husband back a truck and trailer many times acting as his guide. Our friend was backing this trailer between a tree a large stump and aiming for the front porch so they could unload the heavy stove easily. In times past, my husband uses a mechanical steering wheel turning in the opposite direction of where he wants the trailer to go. If he is about to miss or hit something, I holler. I watched. Mr. G. back his team, pull them forward, angle differently, pull forward and back them up again with a series of commands. At one point, I about hollered, the horses were about to step on the plow if they kept going. Before I could say anything, the horse simply stepped over the handle that was in the way and continued working. If this would have been a vehicle, the handle would have broke. It was awe inspiring to see Mr. G. replace a steering wheel manufactured in steel companies with leather reigns made by a local craftsman. Gone was the engine, the gears, the power steering fluid. It was all replaced by living creatures who had a dynamic relationship with each other. A relationship based on trust, care and faithfulness. Further, our friends do what they do because they love the Lord God. They are using horses to take dominion of the land. I by far, prefer that method to Ford, Chrysler and Dodges way of taking dominion.

The training session ended with using the team to haul freshly pruned raspberry branches to a burn pile. We learned that keeping a team busy and active is crucial to the overall success of the farm. Working the team will keep them fit. It will improve the relationship between man and beast.

Day three provided more training on how to incorporate the horses into daily activities. My husband worked on hauling items to the market and from the market. The difference: this time they used our team. After working off and on for a week, it was time for the reigns to be handed to us with our team. My oldest son dominated the reigns and enjoyed himself immensely. Our time was well spent this past week. We concluded our work by sharing a meal with our friends. Everything on the table was raised on their farm, butchered by them, grown and canned by them. We had a hearty meal of home made pizza with farmer’s cheese. Even the mushrooms were home processed. We had green beans, home made cottage cheese and apple goody for dessert. I never knew food with out artificial flavors or enhancers could taste so rich. Perhaps the most shocking moment was when my friend looked at me and said, “What do canned green beans bought at the store taste like?” My friend was duly blessed and had never tasted anything but fresh green beans or those she had canned herself. Indeed, she has a life well lived.

Next time, I will share about my training. I am not working with the team, but am working in the kitchen and backyard learning amazing amounts about keeping a non-electric home.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Author’s note:

I am republishing this article because a number of visitors are being pointed to my site related to the topic of domestic violence.  I have not written extensively on my experience with domestic violence because healing takes time. We endured a lot of pain.  I anticipate writing more specifics about our ordeal someday.  It would not be graphic details about what my abuser did to me, but what God did for me and my children in our deliverance.  There is life after abuse.  God set this captive free!!!  He blessed me with a new life with a tender, compassionate, and understanding husband who has played a key role in my healing and my children’s.   We are in the process of rebuilding a new life that is distinctive and joy filled.  Gone are the days where I wake up to screaming, shouting and demeaning comments.  They have been replaced with wonderful music composed by my husband. There is laughter and romance.  The joy in our home is real.  It is geninune.  No more hiding behind a fake smile or keeping secrets about rage.  God has restored my life out of the wasteplaces, out of the ashes and rubble. 

I remember the days when his voice would boom behind me. Accusations bounced from wall to wall about my inadequate capabilities. He ultimately concluded I was a worthless wife. He shouted his conclusion in front of all the children. Sometimes I would see the terror and fear in my children’s eyes. How far would daddy go this time? Would he throw mommy into the wall again? Or would he cover her mouth and nose with his hand to shut her up causing her to gasp for air? Perhaps he exhaust his rage on big brother with brutal blows where ever they would land? Maybe he would choke big brother again. We never knew what his rage would bring from moment to moment, from day to day.

It has been over two years since I heard the insults screamed at me. Two long years since I saw my oldest child pinned to the floor receiving blows to the head and face. Over twenty four months since I had to worry about what kind of mood he was in when he came home and how to prevent the inevitable release of rage. The day-to-day abuse ended. Let me give you a picture of what life was like the day the abuse stopped.

The first few months after I turned the to courts the war began. I aroused a sleeping dragon. He will not rest until his fiery breath of revenge has charred my life. Anyone who has lived with domestic violence knows it is a cardinal sin to put your foot down with a batterer. But, I had to do it. The violence grew worse. There were death threats, scars, broken bones, and the need for physical therapy to recover from injuries. So, I asked the civil courts to restrain him. The outcome of involving the civil courts resulted in dread and fear.

I dreaded checking the mail. Almost every day I received notification of legal action advancing with great force. He filed for divorce. Eventually, he sought custody of the children. Ultimately, this war meant I could lose everything. Walking to the mail box became a horrifying experience. My chest would tighten, my palms would sweat. I would open the letters and feel as though I had been dealt a new kind of blow. Before, I asked him to leave I took the abuse in person. Now he had a new tool: the legal system. I dreaded checking the mail. Yes, I dreaded answering the door. Throughout that year, police officers arrived often delivering me one subpoena after another for my appearance in court. There were over thirty court hearings when I stopped counting. This left little time to care for the children or the farm that year.  The result of the court process was dread, fear and horrific pain. The initial abuse was bad enough. The civil court experience felt worse then the abuse.

The abuse was private. It occurred in the confines of my home. The court action gave him an audience to which he delighted in. Now legal processes provided him with the opportunity to humiliate me publicly. Accusations flew faster than I could absorb. I was crazy. I feigned the abuse to make money off the internet. Along with this scheme I made up his battle with cancer too. I made up my step-dad’s death all for profit. The pain of mocking my dad’s untimely death cut through me like a knife. They would stop at nothing to terrorize me. Recently, I stood looking at his tombstone wishing that I had made it up and that he was still here. How could they stoop so low as to mock my dad’s death? My advocate told me not to take it personally, it was just the job for the criminal lawyer. They searched my background and went twelve to twenty years into the past when I was a fool and  an unbeliever and dredged up the skeletons in my closet. They paraded them around the court room, while I sat in horror. To this day, I pass the court houses and anxiety sweeps over me. The result of the criminal court trial was dread and fear.

Once the divorce was final and the criminal trial plea bargained away, I left the state of Kansas in search of refuge, restoration and healing. The mail slowed down and later stopped. But, it was replaced by emails from a legal representative of the judge.

Today, I live in fear most of the time. Will he find me? If he finds me, how far will he go? How deep is this pathos of battering? Will he kill me? Will he kill the kids? I live with economic hardship of having to pay for ongoing legal involvement. Can I afford to keep protecting my children? How high will the legal bill get before my youngest child turns eighteen? I have read countless stories of women like me who suffer for years because they were abused. Then they stop the abuse only to suffer continual attacks through the family court system. Some of them are in court protecting their children for fourteen  plus years.

A few months ago, I complained to a friend about the quality of my life. The fear is so real. The exhaustion is intense. How can I face tomorrow? Why are my children’s lives in the hands of courts? What will happen to them? Truthfully the quality of my life is not very good when I narrowly focus on what I described above. Which is worse? The abuse or living in constant dread and fear. Will I go bankrupt trying to ward off the battles he continually launches?

Victims of domestic violence face insurmountable barriers. Some women leave their violent partner multiple times only to return. It baffles police, judges, and other professionals. Those who do finally make the break live their lives heavily entrenched in litigation. Yet, the same professionals do very little to protect the women and children once they leave even when evidence is clear that child abuse occured. Courts often become the tools of batterers.  Custody battles become gruesome and financially devastating. The future for us looks dismal with this narrow focus.

Sunday, God broaden my focus. As I reflected on the past two years, I saw one triumph after another. Yes, I lived in anguish and fear. But, God delivered me from my oppressor. Sometimes He would not answer my cry until the absolute last minute after I had exhausted all my energy trying to solve the problem on my own. Why would an all powerful God, a God who can raise the dead, wait to save his people until they are nose to nose, face to face, with their enemy? It is in this moment that we recognize our helplessness, and that we can’t fight the enemy on our own. He arrives to save His people in the most uncanny way. Then there is no doubt that it is truly God who delivered His people.

My deliverance was exactly this way. Many times the answer to prayer was humanly unachievable, but God worked in providential ways to achieve it. For example, the judge allowed me sole legal custody which does not happen in our county anymore. In fact, my lawyer and the domestic violence advocate told me, “You won’t get sole legal custody. They just don’t award that anymore”. The judge gave me sole legal custody. The judge granted me permission to leave the state to get a fresh start. This too is an unusual ruling. Each step of the way God demonstrated the fulfillment of the promise “I will save your children” as found in Isaiah 49:25.

This Sunday at church we sang Bill Gaither’s song “Because He lives”. We sang it Sunday morning and Sunday evening. God really wanted to get my attention. It is easy to get caught up in the fear, terror, and assess that the quality of my life is poor.

As we sang this song, I reflected back over the past two years and I realized that God walked intimately with me through the darkness. He lifted me up and carried me when I could not stand. He came to my rescue sometimes waiting till I thought the enemy had gained victory over me.

Because He lives all the fear I face related to domestic violence is gone. Should I die, I will enter in God’s presence. So what effect will domestic violence have on my soul? NONE. Because he lives, I can face tomorrow. Everything that is happening to me now first passed through his hands.  He holds the future.  By knowing Christ and examining my suffering through a biblical perspective, I don’t have to dread anything. Even better, because I know He holds the future, there is not one thing to dread. Life is worth living because He lives.

Often times I forget Christ lives today. He is an active King who rules from the right hand of God. His reign affects our lives today. He providentially works in our lives for our good and His glory so that all people will know He is God.

The benefits of Christ’s resurrection doesn’t just apply to victims of domestic violence. We all have fear. We all have dread. Some nights we ache and wonder how we are going to face tomorrow. We wonder who is in charge of this mess we call life. The hope I have, the truth God spoke to me through this song isn’t just for me. It is for you too. There will be a final war with pain and there will be victory for those who belong to Him.  You can face tomorrow.  Life is worth living … because He lives!!!

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

I made a huge mistake. I read the children a story by Pat McMannus entitled, ” A bear in the attic”.  The story is summarized like this:

A man stumbles upon an orphaned bear cub. His friends tell him to pop it on the head. Instead of hitting the bear, he is hit with compassion. He decides to take it home to his wife who would mother a fence post if she could. He thought she could raise it and return it to the wild soon. If all else failed, they could have good bear meat. One thing leads to another and she raises the bear as a pet, names it Pooky. There is no way you can eat a bear named Pooky. The bear takes over the house, sits in his arm chair, snarls at him if he tries to get him out. The wife gives the bear his own fridge because he keeps raiding the meat out of theirs. It is a delightful story.

Now to my kids:

Zech enters the house breathing excitedly and calling me to come quick. He has something wrapped up in his shirt. It starts chirping. I didn‘t recognize the sound. He unwraps his shirt and reveals a gosling. Hank, the cow dog, apparently tried to eat him, but he kids rescued it. Zech had been asking for a duck for his birthday. He was delighted!! As soon as he unwrapped it, he told me they named it “Pooky”. UGGH! The kids researched how to care for geese in the Country Living Encyclopedia. They have become good readers and decided to use the index and get information fast so they could build their case for keeping it. Pooky slept in a tub in the kitchen last night with a heat lamp. All night I could hear it jumping to try to get out of the tub.

An aside:

Saturday we brought our first Jersey to the farm to stay. She is an eight week old heifer named Natalie born to Sunny. Sunny has been staying with our plain friends while we get settled. They plan to run her with a bull before we bring her home. She will arrive in a month or two. I will be a genuine milkmaid once again.

Using the stock trailer to bring home a small calf seemed overkill. We brought her home in traditional Kansas Milkmaid fashion. We loaded her in the back of the mini van. I didn’t have my camera so I will let you use your imagination. The calf was in the hatch back and all the children were fighting over who would sit on the bench seat to keep her calm. She did well for the entire thirty minute trip. This was a short trip. I have hauled two calves in passenger vehicles in the past. Mel rode from Oklahoma to Kansas. Majesty rode from Kansas to Missouri.

Last night I went to sleep with the sound of a bawling calf…she has just been weaned… and the strange chirping of Pooky. Are we not back on the farm or what? Let the adventures begin…

A day in the life of a large family is busy. Our quest to live an off-the-grid or simple lifestyle increases the flurry of activity. It is not uncommon in the flurry of life to have a child come to me with tears streaming. They point to a new cut, bruise, or other injury.

Living simply affects every area of my life health and medical included. We have found that eating food we produce has reduced the illnesses in our family. However, accidental injuries still occur and require attention. A few years ago, I started making my own salves. They are nothing special. Yet, they work. The children know to get the Healing Salve when they have a minor wound. Zach recently found some poison ivy and had a severe rash on his hands. He used the salve before bed. When he woke up the two-day rash was gone and so were all the symptoms. I enjoy making salves and other home remedies. When I refer to reducing my dependence on the medical industry, that includes the broad array of over-the-counter medications. I became skeptical of them when there was one recall after another. Over the past few years I have learned that simple items in my kitchen will address minor injuries and illnesses effectively.

For bleeding, we apply cayenne powder after the wound is clean. It stops bleeding instantly. Surprisingly the application does not burn either. The children follow the cayenne pepper with Healing Salve.

For pain and inflammation, I often use a castor oil heat pack. I recently suffered from on-going abdominal pain. Andrew also developed carpal tunnel. We used the castor oil pack to help decrease inflammation and reduce pain. I dipped an old cotton T-shirt in castor oil. I applied it to the area of concern, covered it with plastic wrap, and then applied a heating pad. In both instances we found this to be effective.

Recently, we treated a bruise with a poultice made from black strap molasses. Charity had hit her head when she tried to steal Zach’s math paper. She grabbed the paper and turned to run. Only she ran into the corner of the wall. By the time, I got to her, the bruise was present just above her eye. The swelling was larger than a small plumb. While it was not protruding a great deal, the area swelling was large. Moriah began by applying a cold cloth to her forehead. The other children began feeding her treats to calm her. Gotta love large family cameraderie. We applied ice on the area for thirty minutes. Most of the swelling went down. I wet a piece of brown paper and then dipped it in black strap molasses. I applied it to the bruise for a few hours. It worked. There is a slight abrasion but the bruise is gone.

My husband developed a severe stiff neck. He spends a great deal of time in the office before a computer. His recent training of the draft horses aggravated his stiff neck making it difficult to function. We did the castor oil pack and it reduced some of the pain but not nearly enough. I soaked cotton balls with diluted rosemary essential oil and applied it to the affected area. He experienced relief.

My goal is to continue to build a resource library so I can learn more about home remedies. There are many good books available. I am concerned that with the current political climate severe restrictions will be placed on herbal remedies. I perceive books and supplements will be more difficult to get. My long term goal is to build an herbal pharmacy so I can avoid buying herbal supplements. It does a person no good to step away from the medical industry and spend their life’s savings on the alternative health care industry. It is greatly fulfilling to find and identify wild herbs on our forty acre farm. There still maybe times when a doctor is necessary or a trip to the pharmacy. However, the average person can find a great deal of healing tools in their kitchen cupboard and the backyard.

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

Greetings from the Kansas Milkmaid!!

The pace picked up last week on the farm. We had a house full of family this weekend which provided lots of fun and great memories.

The tomato plants are growing well. 50lbs of potatoes were planted using the straw method. The stock trailer was cleaned out in hopes of bringing our family cow home in a few months. We are also likely to bring work horses to the farm during this summer. Preparations are being made to purchase a team this weekend. We are excited and nervous. Our farmstead hasn’t been farmed by horses since 1951. It will be a real treat to return to plowing and harvesting with the aid of horses. The horses will remain with our friends while we build a stable for them. May God grant us the speed and determination necessary to bring a team home to help with plowing and harvesting our first crops in our first year back on the land.

I spent the weekend talking to my husband’s mother gathering the history of the land in hopes to chronicle the legacy long forgotten for our children as they assist in rebuilding the farm. I want them to know about those who have gone before us and labored on this land. Hopefully we can capture their dreams, learn from their disappointments and persevere with their faith. I love to hear the stories of how Momma checked for eggs while trying to outwit a mean rooster and a testy turkey. We poured over her grandmother’s diary together which was written with a quill pen. I love stepping back in time through the recollections of those who have lived a full life. The insanity of modern culture disappears for a few hours while I listen to the stories of old. Times were tough then. Times are tough now. But, we are still missing something today. Indeed, we have no sense of rural community, our families are scattered and such recollections unneeded by our busy fragmented modern society. Afterall, who cares when the land was last farmed by horses?  It is so vintage, right?  Think again.  Many people are forsaking tractors and returning to work horses, oxen, and mules. 

The busy weekend left me with no time to complete my writings for the week. There are several artilces started but not perfected.   However, several asked a recipe for Breakfast Sausage Bread. It is a delicious dish that was made in our family at Christmas time. I recently found the recipe. The bread is so good it is a shame to have it only once per year. Prepared in advance it saves me time in the kitchen. I like to prepare it on the weekend and make it available for the weekdays. Planning ahead allows me to get to the school room much sooner.

Breakfast Sausage Bread

2 loaves (1 pound each) frozen bread dough, thawed

(I make my own bread dough out of whole wheat)

½ pound mild pork sausage

½ pound hot pork sausage

1 ½ cups fresh mushrooms (I omit this–my crew doesn’t care for mushrooms)

½ cup chopped onion

3 eggs

2 ½ cups shredded cheese

1 teaspoon dried basil

1 teaspoon dried parsley flakes

1 teaspoon dried rosemary, crushed

1 teaspoon garlic powder

Allow dough to rise until nearly doubled.

Meanwhile, in a skillet over medium heat, cook and crumble sausage. Add mushrooms and oinion. Cook and stir until the sausage is browned and vegetables are tender; drain. Cool. Beat 1 egg; set aside. To sausage mixture, add two eggs, cheese and seasonings; mix well. Roll each loaf of dough into a 16-inch by 12 inch rectangle. Spread half the sausage mixture on each loaf to within 1 inch of edges. Roll jelly-roll style, starting at a narrow end; seal edges. Place on a greased baking sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes; brush with beaten egg. Bake 5-10 minutes more or until golden brown. Serve warm. Yield: two loaves.

Lord willing I will be able to share some of our daily activities soon. Spring is a wonderful time of year. I am reminded of Christ’s resurrection when I see the seemingly dead trees bud and bloom.  Enjoy the fresh air, the sunshine and let the son shine in your life. 

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid