wordless wednesday

baker's man

It was an unseasonably cold Spring evening but Nate was right at home basking in the familiar warmth of a wood-fired oven. Last month he was asked to help bake pizzas for an event at Fort Ligonier in their 18th century-style earth ovens and it was a really fun night. And the past two weekends he was the guest baker at The Compass Inn Museum. He spent the day in the 18th century cookhouse wearing period clothing and baking in the beehive oven while educating visitors. He's been invited back to bake and teach whenever he wants.

It seems that Nate is quickly making a name for himself around these parts.

He and I are both working part time at a cafe in town. We know the owner and it was always one of our favorite places to eat. It's ten minutes from home, it's a great way to connect with people, and it allows one of us to always be home on the farm with Zander. It's perfect for us. Nate bakes nothing but fermented sourdough leavened with wild yeast and over the years his skills have reached a professional level. His famous sourdough Belgian waffles have earned themselves a weekly event as they're served every Saturday at the cafe. Folks just love them and everyone's talking about them. Even people who can't normally tolerate gluten have been able to eat them because of the fermentation process. He's also started baking rolls and buns for a local grass-fed beef farm and the burger events that they host at the cafe and local farmers market.

All of this is slowly beginning to fill an empty space for Nate. I don't think anyone will ever understand the deep sadness he has felt about having to abandon the oven he built at the last farm. Obviously, it means a lot to him because he made it, but it wasn't just something he built. It was a journey of self-discovery as he conquered something he'd never done before. It was a dream of ours to start a business surrounding the oven and it was such an accomplishment to have almost finished it. It was a work of art, and we were almost there. I think it's especially hard now since he's doing so much baking.

It's been almost a year and we are only beginning to heal from that situation. It was heartbreaking for both of us. Now, plans for our wood-fired business are in the works. But the oven. . . Well, that's a wound that may never truly heal for Nate.

But this man of mine? He's baking. And that makes us both happy.

wordless wednesday (on friday)

the beginning

We were at the park the other day and Zander found his way to a tire swing. It's been awhile since he's been on a baby swing and he'd never been on a tire swing before. It was pretty amazing to watch as he first needed Nate to be there to push him and show him how to hold on. Then Nate stepped back once he knew that Z knew not to let go. And then we sat and watched as he totally figured out on his own how to move his body to swing himself.

I couldn't help but think that this is parenting. You watch over them and keep them safe, teaching them how to navigate their way through life. You stand close enough to catch them if they fall and you watch as they go through the process of learning and making mistakes. Maybe you catch them as they do fall a few times. Sometimes it's hard to watch. You brush them off and encourage them to try again. Slowly, you start to step away and then the time comes when they can do it all by themselves.

What a feeling it is to watch him accomplish something and to see the pride in his face. A little bittersweet for this sappy mama.

I know. This is just the beginning.

wordless wednesday ~ free bird

the scene of the crime

There's a sight that every farmer, or even every backyard chicken keeper, doesn't ever want to see. And it looks like this. . .

That's right, it's evidence of a chicken attack. Or in this instance, a downright massacre. I'm not showing the gruesome photos. These aren't our chickens, but we help take care of them and their eggs feed us so they're our chickens. In our five years of farming, Nate and I have been incredibly lucky to have never had a predator issue, save for a situation where our barn cats were eating our baby chicks. But this is a different set up, in a different location, with different predators. And a set up that was here when we got here.

I walked upon this scene with a heavy heart a few days ago and it took Nate and I a while to figure out what had happened. Something had gotten into their enclosure and killed seven out of eleven chickens. We only found four bodies, three had been carried away. The remaining four were, of course, shaken and one had pretty severe lacerations. She's healing well but we're keeping them inside for now. I put Rescue Remedy in their drinking water for the shock and trauma and have checked on them periodically. They seem to be recovering well but it'll be a while before they're laying eggs normally again. The predator, probably a fisher judging by the scene and the state of the carcasses, will most likely be back for more. So, we're faced with the challenge of figuring out a new set up for these girls and the new ones to come.

There was one huge, beautiful Buff Orpington rooster among the hens and perhaps the saddest part of this whole ordeal is knowing that he fought to defend his girls until the very end. 

peace

Life is never quite what we envision it to be. We spend our days wondering when we'll finally 'get there'. We think that we'll be happy if only this one thing could happen or change. In my mind I envision us on our own farm. A place that is ours. Where we can do what we want, grow what we want, have the kind of business we want, make the messes we want and make the home that we want. We've moved around so much that we've ached for a place to make our own.

I think we often spend so much time thinking ahead that we don't slow down and see what's right in front of us. The other day, I found myself outside planting our window boxes. I was fixing up our back patio, listening to music and sipping iced tea with mint from our garden. I peeked around the corner to see Nate sitting with Zander as he blissfully played and splashed in the stream. I stood there watching them for a minute. A wave of peace washed over me as it hit me. . . We're here. For the first time in years, we're in a situation where we're not under enormous pressure. The way we used to farm, we didn't have the time or energy for anything else but work and time just flew by. Now, we work but have the time to play and enjoy each other. We have a place to fix up and make ours, even if it's only temporary. Our time will come when we have a place of our own and with it will come the work, stress and pressure of maintaining it and making a living from it.

But for now, we're here. And it's home. I couldn't ask for anything more.