Eating Local- Blueberries

HeartSong Farms isn't just about creating our own food, it's also about supporting those around us that are driven with the same desires. Providing healthy, fresh eats gets my heart thumping. I love the community that automatically develops when a dish is involved. Cooking and eating not only nourish our bodies but also our minds and souls.

We had the opportunity last week to visit the local organic blueberry farm to pick some local berries for our pantry. The 2.5 acre blueberry patch was so pretty- nicely mulched, bushes nearly as tall as I am, friendly staff and gorgeous fruit.

We could literally stand at a single bush and get pounds in return. For all our picking, we got ten pounds in roughly twenty minutes.

Its a really wonderful feeling supporting someone you can see, talk to. I learned the farm is named after the owner's daughter Isabella. I learned how they keep the birds away with an air cannon. I met their dog. You just don't get that in a little plastic box.

For all we picked, somehow we only ended up with five and a half pounds when we got home...

May Worries

Renting is driving me mad. There, I said it. Initially, it seemed like a wonderful way to get to the area we wanted to live in, the house we rented seemed to be just what we were looking for in terms of expanding our farming base and had the possibility of long term renting with an option to buy. But sometimes you get into something, thinking you've done your due dilligence and it isn't at all what you thought. It happens. It's not irresponsibility, it's just the way things work out.

It's terribly frustrating and worrisome when it happens though. This week I planted the very last of the crops we'll grow here. We had initially thought we would stay here a few years as we worked toward our final goal but the landlords attitude towards keeping the house running, the exhoribtant cost of fuel for communting and the neighborhood restrictions have squashed that view. We're looking at October for moving. Right when the pumpkins should be hardening up, a month before the turkeys get butchered, the time when cover crops and garlic get planted.

I'm already looking ahead five months, trying to figure out when and where we'll move, how we'll get there and what we can do. Five months seems like forever. When you're considering leases, its just too far ahead to sign, but considering we're already five months into 2011 it's a drop in the bucket in terms of time lines.

Our initial dream of building our own home ourselves on our own land had withered and died as the new spring grass was rising from the once frozen ground. It just can't happen for us when we're going month to month in a "food or gas?" state of accounts. While I miss them, it was a silent blessing larger livestock didn't stay on board here this year.

Right now, we're downscaling. Five of the three month hens found a new home yesterday. We're looking to rehome four rabbits leaving just our two breeding stock. Half the turkeys will be gone by Thanksgiving, a few chickens this weekend will become groceries. We're still debating what to do and where to do it. Florida is a humid, hot task master making farming more a chore than a joy, the half a year heat is something I'm thinking paradise to escape. But these are vast, huge choices and with our past bad luck of moving to a place and then finding out it isn't condusive to our dreams, makes those choices even more foreboding. Makes it even more difficult to make a choice as my thoughts continuously run around all the ways I could (and probably will) screw it up.

The what-ifs of moving, chosing and planning are weighing heavy on my May mind.

Re-evaluation

Some days I think I have things mostly figured out. There is a general map in my head vaguely outlining the steps and placements of everything that I want to accomplish to build a farm. I get excited, elated. The future seems clean and clear, a chalk drawing on black top, vivid and bright.

I look around and see what could be. A future of farmer's market stands, farm workshops, an animal gallery of friends in the barn that give me food, a garden wonderland teeming with bounty just out my back door. It's a heady thing to grow your own food. To wash the dirt off bright pink new potatoes and think to yourself I made that. There are now two pounds of potatoes that have been consumed that didn't need to be sprayed, dug up with machines, packaged or shipped. Half a meal I didn't have to buy. I get cocky sometimes with the power. I gloat at the grocery store skipping parts of asiles, Ha, ha Smuckers, not today! I make my own jam!

It's not a feeling of superiority, really, it's a feeling of self-reliance. The power feeling comes from my efficientness, my lack of dependency on store bought goods. The deep core knowledge that if some catastrophy came upon us, my kids wouldn't starve because I know how to harvest and put away. I suppose it's a sort of primal triumph.

These good feelings lead me to want to expand the farm; Honey, grain crops, dairy animals, pigs, draft horses, herd dogs, a mini fiber mill, heritage turkey breeding, brick ovens, solar power, milling, the list goes on and on. The chalk drawn map gets larger and larger.

But when does it end? Where do I stop? For now, I'm mostly concerned with providing for my family, selling excess -or trying to, doing things that interest me and that I enjoy. My rental restrictions provide a safety net to not expand too soon but then I get dismayed that the things I want to do I can't. All in good time, I know, but time doesn't last forever.

So, right now on the farm, we're watering and harvesting little bits as the springs plantings finally start producing, we're getting aquainted with the new fowl, watching them grow, we're planning to have our raw wool spun into a marketable, sellable product. I'm re-evaluating what I want to do overall on the farm starting with some personal internal evaluating. Balancing being a homeschool mom raising 5 kids, being in college myself, and persuing other personal interests besides farming is a difficult assignment.

Storm

At five fifty-eight this morning I woke up with one of the children. I got them settled and lay back down hoping to get a little more sleep. A deep rumble sounded in the distance and I hoped for rain. A few minutes later the thunder intesified rolling in hard and fast. I could tell, laying in the dark, this was going to be a doozey.

I love thunderstorms. I love listening to the rolling thunder and patter of the rain on the windows and roof. Rain is important for so many things. But sometimes it gets out of control.

In a sudden rush rain splashed the windows. It sounded like someone outside held a hose full blast to the thin glass. The thunder that had been so distant just moments ago now tumbled in the sky so violently I could feel it quake in my stomach. One rolled into the other and into the next creating a constant deep drum roll. The lightening flashed so quickly it reminded me of my club days. The strobe lighting up the room in fast, bright pulses.

The rain this morning actual made me afraid. I had heard reports from friends that last weeks storms created tornadoes, tearing through landscapes and ruining homes. For some reason storms like this didn't bother me in the city. As closely packed as the houses were and surrounded by century old trees I felt safely snug. Here there is ample area for tornadoes to touch down, the owners of this land felt the need to remove just about every tree. The house sits in the center of a veritable prarie.

It's open, vunerable.

I lay in the dark nearly terrified of the storm waging hell outside. Sometimes grown-ups are scared of thunder, too. I thought about how dependant we are on the weather. How important a good storm is to replenish the watershed. That the plants won't need watering after the .55" we got in a mere hour.

We're at the mercy of Mother Nature. If she withholds the rain the crops will die. If she gives us too much they will drown. If a hard storm rolls in and whips up tornadoes we can die. It's hard feeling powerless like that. So dependent on something we can't do anything about. It's hard to both love something we need so greatly and be afraid of it at the same time. Storms like the one this morning reminds us that life is fragile and the natural world harsh.

Mortality is a hard thing to swallow in the darkness.

Stuck in the Mud

Saturday morning and all is quiet on the farm. The baby rabbits are hopping merrily around their cage, exploring their world, nibbling a tiny blade of hay. The chickens are all free ranging around the barn looking for bugs that washed up to the surface over the past three days of rain. The ducks and geese are the only ones making a sound, greeting me at the barn door with adolescent honks and quacks knowing I come baring treats of chopped up veggies floating in a moat of cool spring water.

I'm quiet today, too.

Inside I feel trapped in sludge, no movement, not even a shallow quake of breath. Today my mind is stuck in the mud. The ooze around me the thoughts of everything I'm still so far from accomplishing.

We moved to the country to be farmers and settled into a home where we're not allowed to. We set up a large garden hinged on the promises the landlord made and in seven months -right when the garden will be exploding in it's second Florida season- we'll have to tear it down if we decide to move on. A move I'm not looking forward to making but we have to if we ever want to have goats or sheep. I feel like we're so far behind where we were this time last year living on a miniscule city plot that we'll never catch up again. That so many things we had hoped for were taken away.

Depressed? Yeah, a little bit.

I'm trying to be grateful for what we do have, the ducks and geese and turkeys. The larger garden. The additional space for the kids. It's hard though, not to look back at decisions made and think Well, that could have been done a bit differently. I wish we had know that beforehand. 

But it is what it is and unfortunately Science hasn't given us time travel yet.

So, I curse Science and try and have a better day. The kids are anxious to go to Pioneer Days the next town over. I need to go braid a yard of hair and put on bonnets and a smile. Even if it doesn't reach my eyes.

County Extension People are my new best friends.

Yesterday, after reading Becca's post over at Rabbit Moon Farm, I decided to give my County Extension office a call to see if they can help clarify myriad laws into a succinct list of rules that I will not lose my mind trying to decipher. If the laws were written in heiroglyphs I think I'd have a better time reading them. Fate finally shone on me and when I called they told me about the Farmer's Market seminar (free!) that they were hosting oh, about seven hours later.

Tip of the hat, Becca, I wouldn't have even bothered to call them until your post.

The seminar was really informative though I was coming more for the law breakdown than how to make a pretty display at a market. It's still good information to learn incase we ever do want to branch off from straight farm sales. They did give me some great ideas for the farm though, I'll post more about those later.

And they did have some information about the laws. Apparently they have a guy that is in love with Chapter 500 of the Florida Law and he has created an over six page break down of what I can and cannot do.

He's my new best friend.*

They are also having an entire year program (which I am three months late for) called Living on a Few Acres. It's $10 for the program and comes with a nice large three ring binder that covers all the information in the seminars. And the seminars cover everything from aquaponics to almonds. I think I might be able to sign up for the remaining 9 seminars, too. They also spoke of hosting a Beekeeping Short Course (a one day intensive) soon. Having missed the last four short courses offered in two different parts of the state, I will be on that like a bee to pollen.

The moral of this tale is to not write off -like I did- the Extension Offices nearest you. They have a wealth of information that they want to give to you, for free (mostly). They have lots of programs and know so, so much. They might even be your new best friends.

*He doesn't actually know this. Or me.

Pallet Brooders

We've used pallets in a lot of farm projects. We've made a deck, a compost bin, a goat mountain and now brooders. We're lucky to have a two stall open air barn but the 10x10 size is a little too large for baby birds. I've made two brooders, one in each stall. The first I made yesterday for the ducklings, goslings and poults.

 The far right pallet is attached to the wall using L brackets which makes it easy to disassemble. I've wrapped one side with chicken wire nailed in place using U staples for fencing. I had a few spare hinges I used to attach the pallet on the left to the stationary pallet on the right.

The shorter wall I used some salvaged IKEA laminate flooring simply screwed into the pallet to prevent poultry escapes. Then we secured a rubber strap (again we had lying around) to keep them closed.

Close up of the wire on the pallet.

Cozy poultry.

This is the smaller brooder made with the same concept. L brackets secure this pallet to the wall and hardware cloth is tacked on only the bottom half of the pallet. 

 The second side is secured with a fence kit I bought for some project years ago and never did.

Inside the chicken brooder.

The lock on the chicken brooder.

Total cost for all these projects was very reasonable. We got the pallets for free or $1 a piece. The chicken wire was a gift from my mom (when she gave us the 10 chickens at Christmas) but would have cost approx $10. L brackets cost approximately .50 a piece (we used 6, so $3). Rubber strap was about $2.

Chicken brooder costs roughly $8 for 16 square feet of brooder space. (fancy lock)

Turkey/Duck/Goose brooder roughly $6 for 32 square feet of brooder space. (less fancy locks)



Rural Decay

There is an silent epidemic happening all across the country here in the US. A corruption that is moving through the land, oozing out of the traffic-ridden cities. The illness of urban sprawl. Rural decay.

When I lived in the city I dreamed of country life. It seemed so apart from what and where we were that in my mind there was a demarcation line between City and County. A thick band that was tangible, that separated here from there, now from then. Farms and farmers were completely seperate entities, a club to join, a specific place in the world. I know, it sounds silly but that was how removed from the process I really was.

The two co-exist, are sybiant really. There can't be one without the other. Without farms there could be no produce consuming cities, without cities there would be no reason for farms to produce. I understand that now. It seems the city still doesn't though.

All this week I have been hunting for Agriculturally zoned property in Florida. Around the entire country actually. Some place that we can develop our farm, legally have it a business if we so choose, raise the animals we prefer and not have to worry about someone iwith more clout coming along and telling us "No" because they didn't invision goats as neighbors in their retirement.

It's been a depressing and unfruitful search.

The reality is that farmland is being gobbled up. As farmer's die, retire, go broke, with no one to pick up in their stead, their hundreds of acres of what was once a nourishing, food producing farm are sold and parcelled off in huge tracts with restrictions forbidding the soil to be reborn to farming. Kansas, Florida, Georgia, Iowa, New Hampshire, Indiana, Pennsylvania, New York, Minnesota, Wisconsin. Just to name a few.

Our country's heritage is being infected. The country's future is being threatened.

While stumbling around the internet in my fog of depression earlier this week, I tripped on an organization that fights to keep Farmland farming. The American Farmland Trust is established for just this purpose. Their motto "No Farms No Food" has resonated with me. I ordered a bumper sticker.

The increasingly overbearing regulations and restrictions the government has been pushing down on the American people regarding food production and sales won't matter soon as all the workable land will be sacrificed for country estates. The United States will become a negative food import country, much like Egypt and we all know how that's working out over there.

Without Farms there is no Food, it's simple math, really, that should scare everyone that thinks about it.

The new hype on urban farming is wonderful but growing enough food in our ever increasing society has got to come from a larger source. I completely think everyone on every block should have at least one house that grows at least some of it's own food, sell, trade or gift that food to neighbors, have children grow something in pots on the windowsill, revive a vacant plot with a small communitiy garden. People need to learn how to organically grow their own food to relieve some of the pressure of importing (even from different states) and other environmental impacts. I wouldn't mind heading to the city and teaching a group of people how to grow their own tomato plant.

Actually, teaching is one of the things I'm passionate to do on my farm. I want to have "Farm Weekends". For a small fee individuals and families can visit our farm for a two day weekend of workshops. Each weekend centering around a certain goal, task or product. A dairy weekend; a wool weekend; a harvest weekend and so many other future ones are floating around my head. Car loads of gownups and children spending forty-eight hours submerged in learning and loving. Bonfires crackling on Harvest Weekend while a couple of dirt smeared guys hammer out a tune as kids dance in the firelight their faces brighter than the flames. The last of the hard squash lining up in baskets behind them the cooling air hardening them off for winter storage. The smell of roasting chicken mingling with fresh bread and wood ash. Women gathered in the kitchen pureeing pumpkin for a pie, the sunshine from earlier in the day spicing the tender flesh. Finishing touches on the baskets of produce, eggs and meat packed up for them to take back to the city. Nourishing memories they'll consume after a stressfilled work day. Seeds of change germinating as callouses disappear from their hands.

But without land it will never happen.

Poor Practice

I've been searching for some older does so we can start milk productions sooner than next spring. I love my little does but the grocery bill needs a break. When I was searching for the two I initially bought in December I came across a dairy farm that had advertised "bottle babies" for $45. After many days of back and forth emails I had decided to come out to the farm which I mentioned in my email and all of a sudden the reply stated that those $45 babies were sold two days ago and now the only ones left were $125 and up.

But I'd love them anyway so come on over. With cash.

I was disappointed in the bait and switch. Why didn't she mention this in all the prior emails? I wrote them off and continued searching. I found a great goat farm just a block over with the same kind of bottle babies at the same price. All wasn't lost. Buttercup and Felicity are happy little kids in our barn.

Well, I realized now that waiting until next spring isn't going to work for us as far as milk production goes, so I am in need of older does that are in milk now or pregnant or can at least be exposed to a buck prior to pick up.

In searching today, I came across the same farm listing does up to 4 years old for sale. So, as I'm often in the habit of doing, I gave them the benefit of the doubt and emailed them telling them what I was looking for. I just got a response.

Apparently, I can buy a doe but I also have to buy at least 1 buck. She now won't sell the does alone which isn't at all in her ad of "does starting at $100". I can buy as many does as I want but I also have to buy a buck. One doe, one buck.

I don't want a buck. I never mentioned buying a buck. I dont' have the facility for a buck. I have kids too young to be exposed to a buck. I don't care how she reassures me (not knowing I don't have the right farm for a buck) that I'll love the bucks and they'll be SUPER great and I better hurry before Sunday because she'll sell them to someone else that's scheduled to come. Oh, and she takes cash, just so I know.

As a begining farmer, I see how this is a terribly poor practice of livestock sales. She gets you hooked with low prices and false promises and then slams you with the catch be it higher prices or multiple animals. This is a large farm, they have a CSA, they've been in business for years. I'm wondering how many people they take advantage of this way. It gives farming a bad name and gives me another dose of learning the lesson of never offering second chances.

Nut Fluke?

The kids ran into the house with excited screams. They had found the biggest acorn ever and it was cause for celebration. They brought it to me and to my surprise it wasn't an acorn at all but what I believe is a hazelnut. So, we donned our coats and set off out to find where they had discovered this amazing nut.

We tromped through the forest and dug around the bases of at least three dozen trees before stumbling upon a treasure trove of them, all at the base of one particular tree. The girls raked the blanket of crunching leaves away and plopped nearly two dozen into our basket. But here is the odd part...I'm fairly certain that tree isn't either a hazel or chestnut. I pulled a leaf from both the large tree and smaller bush that were the only two for yards in the area and compared them to Wiki's photos.

So, I'm asking for your advice or insight. Did we stumble on some odd nut fluke (no one has lived here for a few months but us) or are one of these leaves actually from one of the trees these nuts could come from?

Also, if you know, what are the nuts anyway? (Don't mind the smaller acorns, those were Emmy's contribution to the basket since she couldn't find any of the larger nuts)

Eve

Christmas Eve morning broke with the fields covered in sparkling frost. The four new chicks I bought myself for the holiday were merrily chirping away in the master bathroom. I filled their bowls and talked to them so they'd know my voice and set out for the outside chores. The air bit into my jersey knit jacket. This girl isn't used to tromping more than a few steps to tend the animals. The chickens in the barn strutted into the yard without a mind to the temperature. They wanted their breakfast, the icy bits were just frosting. I needed to get a move on and the wind helped me get my chores done that much faster. It was the day before Christmas, my mom was on her way and I desperately needed Benedryl and butter.

Alex -my oldest- and I set out on the twenty minute drive into town for our essentials. Everything took longer because everyone else was hunting down those frantic last minute things, too. We took our time and my mom beat us home. When I came inside the house was in an uproar, there was a present in the house I needed to see.

Ten more chickens greeted me with tiny chirps in the doorway. The five Americaunas and five Red Broilers were added to the box with my two Barred Rocks and two Rhode Island Reds. I'm not sure which was better, the chicks or the acceptatance and encouragement of my dream from my mom.

We ate, presents were shared and before I knew it they were headed back out. We're a good three hours from where we lived before when we were only three houses away from each other. The rest of the afternoon was spent tending animals and building an off-ground structure to place the rabbit cages. I mucked out the old horse droppings from the stall and made a small compost pile for the garden. The entire time our four birds were clucking and chittering about what we were doing, walking under feet and being shoo'd out of work areas. It wasn't the hinderance you'd imagine. The personality and curiosity make for comical watchings.

When darkness fell Leeloo was anxious and thrumming to run. This land is a veritble smorgasboard of scents for her to trail and track through the grasses. We have to keep her on a leash or run else she'll be in the woods and lost on a scent before she even realized it. I took my coat and grabbed her leash and let her pull me around at a breakneck run. It was exhiliarating and made me realize how out of shape I truly am.

She caught the smell of something that had her darting full-speed for the forest. The single outside light casts an illuminated circle that just bites the edge of the barn. We were headed past that into the inky black that coats the trees and land like a sheet. I didn't know what scent she caught and coyotes are notorious in these woods. My heart beat faster with something more than just excitement. Perhaps ancient self-preservation reared up in me but whatever it was had me throwing my entire body weight againt the desires of my fifty plus pound dog. We veered back into the safety of sight without much fuss and slowed our gait till we were still as could be with both our chests heaving in the bitter air. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I rubbed her down.

It was a good day, so far different from what I'm used. But good in a way I hadn't really had before.

Settling in

This may sound weird but the air up here is different. The scents, sounds, temperature and mood are all set to a lazy pace. The metronome of my heart beats too fast for this world.

I woke up to a brown wet Saturday. The air was crisp and studded with the call of crows that serpentined sleepily through the land and sky. In the distance I heard a rooster singing in the morning and it wasn't mine. How odd it was to be near other chicken owners. When the cows started their part -the distant moos the bass line of the tune- it was like my own HeartSong was finally rounding out. Finally finding it's pitch, lyrics and beat.

This morning was another drizzly day, it seems we picked the wettest weekend in December to move. The sky was a sheet of white-gray and the crows welcomed us awake again. I find myself quickly becoming used to this life. I donned a coat and tromped through the dead grass to the barn in the back. The animals are coming today so a tour of the barn was needed. The two stalls need to be cleaned out and the rabbits will need a platform for their cages built. Otherwise, the barn and surrounding paddock looks good. We'll have to tack up some wire sheep fencing when the lambs come since it was built for horses. Though it should be fine for the cow we intend to visit later in the month, if all goes well she'll be home with us sometime in Januray.

The list of "To Do" is rapidly growing but the work doesn't feel like a burden. I'm excited over it. My spirit thrums with eager anticpation. Once we get the settling in done I think I'll feel ready to begin.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the big day. Well, one of the big days at least. This 150 plus mile move is going to take more than a day to complete but tomorrow is the day for me. I've already started packing up the trailer with the as-is table I just picked up from IKEA. A couple returns and a gift card stuffed into my driver's side door handle wishing me a Merry Christmas from a stranger while I was grocery shopping and I have an actual table for all of us to eat at this holiday. It might not be new but I couldn't be happier.

I'm freaking out just a little. Little enough to push it back to the further reaches of my mind where it's easy for it to hide behind the frantic last minute packing and even frantic-er childminding. The new farm seems to be a fantastical dream. A perfect orb floating on the thermals of high hopes.

I'm quite a bit afraid it will burst.

It is such a huge step to go from a couple chickens and rabbits in the city to three hours away from friends and family with calls in to a lady with a pregnant cow. I'll be honest here, I've never actually touched a cow. In a few months I could be watching -and possibly assisting- one birthed in my own backyard. It's not just a little bit frightening.

Questions pop into my brain at random moments. Like yesterday, while I was getting juice boxes to help stave off thirsty screaming children in the car my mind reached out and whispered to me "What if you can't do it? What if you don't even like cows?"

"Pishaw, brain. Of course I'll like cows...right?"

Here's another confession...ready? I've only once had raw milk and I was about five. Right now my life is built on concepts and ideals that in all honestly might just not work out. And currently, there is no Plan B. Hell, Plan A is a bit loose itself to be honest.

Though one thing is for sure, tomorrow we're heading out. Here is our good-bye to the lights that ooze twilight over the city night, the sirens screaming at all hours, the homeless folk on every corner I've come to recognize by intersection, the friends I never got enough time to really connect to and the ones that are more family than friend, the grocery store within walking distance and the houses close enough to touch with arms outstretched. Good-bye to zero-lot lines, paved roads home and the skyline pockmarked with mile-high buildings and turbulent air traffic. Good-bye to my house that's seen home two of my five kids and the neighbors I love, the church I've called my spiritual home these past four years and the streets I tromped in my wild youth.

Hello, my new country life.

The Pre-Farm Farm

I thought I'd share some photos of the pre-farm with you all. This is the property we've decided to rent while we're working on our land. To be both closer to our own property and to have Rob able to come home at night instead of just on the weekends.  It was a hard decision to make, delaying the move to the land another year, and it wasn't made lightly. But when when we saw this property listed and spoke with the owner we just knew it was what was right.

I'm nervous to move so close to the holidays, I've been slacking in the packing department with our move date quickly approaching on the 18th. I'm excited too, this is a step in the right direction for us, a place the kids can have room to play and where we'll be able to forward our dreams and ideas for the farm.

I can't wait to fill the barn up with animals.

My new logo, what do you think?

Thanks everyone for the wonderful words of encouragement from my last post. With the move coming up so soon and little work being done thus far, I'm just a little tense and strung out emotionally. I will be breeding our Angora Rabbits for the first time in November and have a plethora of fur I need to process for sale. One of the reasons we got into the rabbit business was to well, generate business and since we started with our first buck in January this year we haven't done a single thing but love them up.

They're not pets, they're livestock. They need to start earning their keep around here.

I made up a logo for our farm based on the fact we will be a fiber production farm. I added in the sheep even though we're not getting them until later next year. Presumtuious? What do you think? We do currently have wool we will be processing to sell, it just isn't our wool.

What do you think of the logo? I wanted something that stood out but was simple and could be printed inexpensively. I think it portrays the essence of what we'll be farming. If you have a better idea or suggestions for the logo please let me know! I'm not that good with graphic arts.

Not giving up.

We've been doing a lot of research lately. Information is a double edged sword cutting a swath through our ambitions. While earlier last week we felt our hopes of farming in Florida had been reduced to a mere pipe dream, the barriers have uncovered alternatives we might never have found otherwise.

Building a home from scratch with our own hands and plans is now purchasing a mobile home. Is it everything we wanted? No. But what is more important, a dream home or any home for our dream?

We had planned to build a single barn but may now have either multiple smaller structures closely positioned or premade buildings delivered to our site.

The Merino sheep we wanted have been replaced with Gulf Coast Sheep. A breed that is currently on the near extinction list. Breeding our own small flock of these fits in much better to our region plus adds much needed members to the less than two thousand sheep currently in the world. Conservation of a species speaks loudly to my heart. Plus they have wonderful milk, wool and meat. There is also a breeder within an hour or so of our farm.

Though we still worry "what next" whenever we have to make a phone call, the resulting challenges are being met. We will have our farm, we just have to get a little creative.

Now I know why

there are so few small farms in Florida. The state makes it impossible for anyone of moderate income to build a house without first taking out a mortgage and leveraging your soul.

On the phone yesterday talking with a man that has a Ph.D. in architecture, I was informed that a 36' square, dirt floor barn for livestock would cost roughly eight grand for the plans. The ones we bought from Stable Wise are now useless because they have no Florida licenced stamp of approval. That no one that has a licence would risk authorizing use of these plans (which are CAD drawn and up to codes of just about every state) without completely redrawing them and assessing a hefty fee.

The past week, after getting our letter from the mortgage company, I've been optimistic that we have a place to go, that with a little work we'll be okay. We'd be on our land, how could things be bad then? We've been uplifted by the support of strangers. We started stingily doling out the little resources we've been blessed with by buying things to make the shabin habitible.

Before buying the land we did our due dilligence and found out what it would take to get a house built. The packet from the building department seemed pretty straight forward. The papers from the sale were cut and dry. The building department never hinted that anything they told us to do would be tens of thousands to accomplish just to get a hundred dollar permit. We didn't delve into the real meat of building a house. We never imagined that Florida's new laws would make building the small home and livestock barns utterly impossible.

So, where do we go now? What do we do? We're looking into mobile homes, looking at amassing a debt we didn't want. Then even contemplating leaving the state, selling the land and heading to areas where laws are less restrictive. We wanted security with buying land, a place to weather out the stormy economy, a place to leave our children when we die but lawmakers and beurocrats have decided that unless we have hundreds of thousands of dollars at our disposal, we're not entitled to have that security. The hurricanes a few years ago have left the state in ruin. No one wants to accept responsibility for buildings and those that will step up to the plate (mainly architects) are going to want a lot of money upfront for "putting their necks on the chopping block" when disaster strikes. The insurance companies want a scapegoat and have somehow goaded the lawmakers into making that happen.

According to the architect I spoke with, there are no "stock plans" to purchase, that each home needs to be evaluated, the soil tested for stability, wind loads calculated by the new standards. Even without a mortgage or insuring the house, or ever intending to sell it the state won't allow for anything to be built without these restrictions.

So, today I will research more, scour the Earth for a solution. A mobile home on the land might be a possibility, I have some calls out to different places to see what will be.

Dayle, you're a winner

We have a farm name:

Heartsong Farm

has won our hearts thanks to Dayle over at Hidden Creek Farm.

Dayle, email your address over to uumom2many@yahoo.com and I'll send you a little something in thanks. You've made our day.

Farm Name

We've been searching for a name for our Farm. We've been told that when the right name comes we'll know it. Problem is I have an idea...he has an idea...and we've not met in the middle yet.

So, here's a task for anyone that stumbles upon this blog...Give us a suggestion in the comments. If you read my sister blog Solidity of Rainbows it might give you an idea as to what we're all about. I'm leaning away from anything cutsie or silly, though I do get laugh over some of the creativity out there.

If you don't read that blog here's a recap of what we're up to.

We want goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, wool rabbits, dogs, cats and a milk cow at least. We love music, we eat meat, we have 5 kids, we homeschool. We want to be self-sustained as far as we can go. We're trying to build our house debt free with our own sweat and muscle. We're Unitarian Universalists. I love crafting with just about any medium. Rob loves technology, wants to learn to weld and likes working on our cars. We love books.

I can't think of anything else to sum us up more than that without rolling out another blog post. So there you have it, have us. I'll be waiting for suggestions with baited breath.

About a dog named Sammy.

Thanks Wikipedia for the photo

 

I found out last week by the city code enforcement that there are no chickens allowed. I had been hoping to get a foot forward towards our land, which is a few hundred miles away, by building a chicken coop and getting a couple chicks. In short clipped words my hopes were dashed.Oh, I'll still get my chickens, just not until we move.

This got me thinking about what animals I could get which I found I'm limited to the standard dog or cat. We have two cats already. A silly boy named Hiro and a fat bitchy girl, Molly. They're a few years old and occasionally bring me kitty sacrifices like gorgeous butterflies and the occasional squirrel. Yuck. At least they raise my hopes for being good barn cats. Somehow though, I think the butterflies are from Hiro,they just seem more his style and I don't think Molly would lower herself to such simplicity. Give her one of those pain in the ass squirrels that taunt the cats by running up a telephone pole and chittering squirrel obscenities a safe distance out of reach and you've given her a fair conquest. Be damned butterflies, squirrels just have more oomph.

So while I'm perfectly pleased with my pansy Hiro and crabby Molly (who I think would be great at kitty roller derby) I'm pretty settled with the cats we have. That just leaves a dog.

Rob and I aren't what you'd call "dog people". We like dogs. We grew up with dogs but many of the dog obsessing attributes just aren't there. So why do we want one? Well, it's easy. Dogs are cool. You will not ever find us with a dog in a stroller, those are for babies. Human ones. You won't find us dressing up a dog either. It's just not right (even if we had made one of our cats a faux lion mane hat one year for Halloween, that's different because cats hate that and it's funny). I can probably promise I will never have a bumper sticker saying "I love my dog" or "dog taxi". Not going to happen.

I personally can't stand tiny dogs either. Anything under, say, thirty pounds and it's more like a yippy toy to me. I want a dog that makes people reel when I walk down the street. A dog that doesn't take a "poo" but requires some heavy duty shit shoveling. One that needs a tranq gun instead of baby Benedryl. In essence, I want a small bear or pony that gets it's DNA in the canine family.

Tiny dogs are great but I treat them like single people with kids. Play with them a little and give them back. I know. I have single friends with small dogs. I play with their dogs, they play with my kids then take our property back at the end each having had our fill of the other. We get along great.

So, here comes Sammy. I fell absolutely head over heels in love with the first Newfoundland puppy I met. I haven't been the same since. I know that if the totally wonderful family hadn't been there scooping him up we would have. He was solid black and named Sammie and that just felt right to call this big bear of a dog. Even at six months the Sammie we met was well into the 50+lb range. Mmmm.

I wish Rob could have been there to see that lovely dog being tackled by toddlers and never even making a yip. Shaking off the kids and padding on huge paws a few feet away when he had too much. He was truly the gentle giant the breed is described as.

Now my heart is opened up a space for a 150lb black dog. I imagine Sammie romping with his two little boys that adopted him and picture our own Newfie, Sammy girl, romping some day with my bairn. We'd excavate the pond on our land so she can be true to her water loving nature and throw her mannequins to rescue.