August 22, 2016

Memories of a Homesteading Journey :: the 1801

I am sure it's approaching two in the morning, and my mind is still whirling about with memories of our homesteading journey. And this desire that burns within me. Up here in the north, the place of my growing up years, where maple trees fill almost every road side and two tracking is still popular. Providence has brought me another set of skills gleaned and new lessons to learn.


Meet the 1801.

This is where a little one runs through the hills barefoot and eats of berry patches freely. Where its normal to see her playing in the watering tank and climbing to heights that still make me gasp. Where chickens are hatched by the workings of the Creator, one clutch after another. The 1801, a farm in the making, with hopes of sustainable independence and growth.

Here, is where I milk for milk. But truly, it's more than that now... this is where I have become fond of goats. Even with their... shall we say character. This is where I have been able to perfect an udder balm that is marketable and share some of my herbal learning. Where I have tasted raw goat cheese, butter and yogurt... and this is where we learned how to change the rotors on the jeep.

The 1801, a place skilled in the art of reuse it. Selling chicken eggs and fire wood bundles. Where home birth and mid-wives are welcomed, land foraging and heirloom seeds abound. And since I have not left this area yet, who knows what else I may glean... there is invitation to participate in a bulk pastured chicken processing.

In this 1801 season, I am learning the ins and outs of community gardening as well. Green house usage, planting for market gardening and getting a honest idea on how much land we would really need. I am learning what I am capable of and what I am not, I am reminded often that I only have two hands and twenty four hours in a day. Learning about pacing myself...

And here I am, with this desire... that has been nourished within me for well over eights years. Who am I kidding, sometimes it feels like I was born to put my hands in the dirt. It will not go away, nor will the desire remain silent. And doing nothing... feels like something is starving.

It is definitely three in the morning now, and six thirty will come fast. So I will close my eyes, and thank my El for life and the experiences He has given me. I will pray and wait, looking forward to the next season of my life...

~ Blessings!

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