Adulting is hard, folks.  Seriously hard.  Impossible at times or so it feels.  Add general adulting + homesteading + winter + home renovation + small children + budgets and well, some days I let some four letter words slip that I am not proud of.  Some days I look at my husband and ask him “what the hell was I thinking taking all this on?”

Let me rewind and tell you about the last few weeks.

We were cruising along, doing alright, churning forward on various project, staying on target and then… BAM… life.

It started when both cars got stuck in our driveway and mine required a tow truck to dislodge it from the snow.  This winter has illuminated that we need a truck and a plow.  We had planned to buy a truck at some point, but we were hoping to put it off while we, ya know, took care of the other million things necessary to the day to day homestead existence.  But okay, that’s just fine.  We can work it out.

Just after, my husband’s car died.  The prognosis: needs a new engine.  Cost + labor?  Astronomical and more than the car is worth.  So… we are back down to one car.   Okay, I can live with one car.  I’m staying optimistic here.

Then our one remaining car died.  It required a new starter, which was honestly not too painful on the wallet, but when my husband started using it for work it became clear that the car required new tires if it was going to be a safe, daily driver in the heaps of snow.  Bye money, it was nice knowing you.  

Oh and there is a timing valve cover leak and a few other “minor” issues on that will only cost $1200 to take care of.  I don’t like this one bit, but I guess we’ll figure this out too.  Goodbye fund to refinish the run down mother in law tucked on the back of the property.  You will remain an eyesore for another year, I suppose…

Then a few days ago the new UV filter on the well started beeping… late in the evening.. on a weekend.  Our little 19 foot deep hand dug well tested positive for coliform bacteria when we bought the homestead, so a UV filter was installed to provide the luxury of drinkable water.  A visit from the drilling company later, it was concluded that the problem is not the filter, it’s the electrical supply.  So in addition to the person who came out from the drilling company, we may need to have our good old electrician, Mike, back to fix this too.  Okay, Lord, is this some kind of joke?  No potable water?  Seriously?  I’m not made of money here…

And we discovered a blessing in disguise when we finally sat down to do taxes.  We miscalculated our withholdings because our income increased more than expected, so now we owe the IRS a sizable chunk of change.  Crap.

And I found, while trudging through the snow to knock down icicles that the cricket flashing on the chimney was not done properly by the previous owner, so snow is pushing it over. Well, sugar … Lord, if you send one more flurry of snow and it takes out our roof  and chimney I will be very cross…

And there’s more, but you get the point.   Any one thing would have been just fine, I keep a good size emergency fund that can absorb these kinds of hits BUT NOT ALL AT ONCE.

My husband and I joke that we need to have a print of this cartoon hung on our wall.

I trust that with enough work and re-figuring on the planning front all this will pass eventually.  Some months and years are hard for everybody and I recognize that my “hard” is a privileged kind of hard… I have a homestead that I own, we’re all in good health, and really it will all be just fine.

Even as I sit in the “burning house” drinking my coffee or chai latte, I am desperately clinging to thoughts of spring.  Spring is my life line.

Spring when a garden will be planted, chickens and ducks and goats will arrive, the frigid dark of winter will melt away, and the hard work can be for the joy-bringing activities of homesteading.

 

Since buying the homestead, I can honestly say that I am the most excited, exhausted, inspired, and invigorated  I have been in years.  I’m also the sorest I have been in years.  I hurt.  All over.

The constant discomfort has caused me to think a lot about strength.  Strength comes in many forms – some evident to the eye and some in less tangible forms.  There’s mom strength.  There’s emotional strength.  There’s physical strength.  There’s strength of character.  There’s creative strength.  And then there’s farm strength, which I would say is a particular blend of muscle, grit, and gumption.  There’s probably a good helping of stubborn in there too.

And folks, I have to say – farm strong, I am not… not yet, anyway.  Stubborness? I’ve got it in spades.  And my husband would tell you I have plenty of pluck.  But muscle – yeah – that’s what I’m missing.

I knew before we bought the farm that I have had a desk job for going on six years.  Over the last two years I have really started to *feel* the toll having a sedentary job and little time to commit to exercise has taken on my body.

Enter: the farm.  The sort of vague notion I have had about the atrophy of my muscles is brought into very clear and painful light.

My shoulders hurt.  My back hurts.  My neck hurts.  My legs hurt.  My brain hurts.  I am now besties with my doterra Deep Blue Rub.  It is pretty much saving my sanity as I write this.  And did I mention I went out and bought aspercreme like I’m a 90 year old lady with arthritis?

Yeah.  That happened.  Sigh.

Twice since taking on this challenging renovation, I have taken vacation from my day job.  And I worked.  And worked.  We tackled the wood floors:

Beautiful, huh? Not bad for a couple of amateurs taking a stab at some seriously abused floors, but I digress.

I have had to lower septic risers into 4 foot holes in almost freezing conditions (Pulling the lid on the septic tank stinks even when it is cold by the way.  I can’t unsmell that).  There has been bending and digging, operating heavy tools, sanding and more sanding, lifting lumber and equipment, pressure washing, painting, and pouring concrete.  Each task has brought to my attention muscles I had forgotten I had.

But here’s the odd part.  At the end of that time I took and devoted myself to this type of work – I was so sore, yes, but for the first time in years, I felt physically STRONG.  And, maybe it comes as no surprise to some, I felt focused too.

I got to go outside and breath the frosty morning air.  I got to lift things I didn’t think I could and fail to lift things I really wanted to.  It hurt and it felt amazing.

Speaking of things I can’t lift, meet the muscle of the operation just lifting a big heavy cabinet into position…

He does things with his muscles for a living and it shows. But once again, I digress.

Showers have never felt so hot and inviting. My mattress feels softer and I didn’t even get a new one.  And coffee never tastes quite as good as when I come inside from breaking up frozen water in this weather…

And for folks who know me, saying that coffee can taste better to me than it already did is pretty much unthinkable.  My love of coffee runs deep.

After less than two months of this, I have come to one realization – if this homesteading dream is going to succeed, it is going to take all my stubborn to refuse to give up and to continue to get a whole lot stronger.

Also, it is going to take some baby goats and maybe another puppy or perhaps a piglet to snuggle.  This girl needs baby animal goodness to remember what all the work is for.  Little niceties like a house with working heat and bedrooms with working doors are fine, but I’m in it for the animals.

We bought a homestead.  *pinch*  Yep, I’m awake.  We really bought a homestead.

The  old saying goes that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it really couldn’t be more true.  As we began our homestead search in earnest this last  year, we received many confused looks and well meaning questions about our plans –

Are you sure you want a house that small?  Are you sure you want a house so far away from convenience and amenities?   Are you  sure you want a fixer upper?  Are you sure you want to live in it while it is renovated?  Are you sure you want to do the work  yourself? Are you sure you don’t want to spend more   Yes.  Yes.  Yes. Yes.  Yes. Yes.

This purchase has been the result of years of working, dreaming, and sacrificing. The search was slow, because we had our heart set on an area where not a lot of properties come up for sale that also worked with our financial goals.  And then, when we had given up hope and intended to wait until spring, we found it!

A 100 year old farmhouse in need of love…

A rustic barn begging for restoration….

Land with dreamy views AND irrigation rights. To the west…

And to the east…

I realize the idea of voluntarily moving a family of 4 into an ancient, small, one bedroom house in the county is completely insane.  But I’m good with my brand of crazy (and my husband is, thankfully, good with my brand of crazy too)

I also know that most sane people would have run away from this property screaming.  The house has serious problems that are the result of years of neglect – it needs structural repairs, electrical repairs, kitchen remodeling, restored flooring, bad updates undone, and old, quality work rejuvenated.   The property was owned by a hoarder and there is going to be a lot of clean up and soil repair to make it a healthy and vibrant farm again.  And there is no working heat…  And no air conditioning…  Somebody boarded up the fireplace at some point…  And the well needs fixing…  And the barn needs to be loved…

But I see the beauty.  And potential.  I can look past the rough edges and see what has thrived there and can be made to thrive again. A forgotten plum tree hides behind the barn.

The most delicious grapes have survived and gone wild.  Wildflowers spring up in the neglected garden beds.

This will be a lot of blood, sweat, and tears that go into making this a place for our family to thrive.   While the “grown ups” have needed convincing that this is the right thing,  the kids instinctively know that this is an adventure they want to be on.

 

With the transition from our large house to our tiny country homestead,  I am saying good bye to the “Not Quite Country Home” and hello to “The Tiny Cottage.”  The Tiny Cottage will be a place to day dream.  A place to focus on what is really important.  A place to rethink the how we earn our living and challenge our notion of what things we really need.

I am so excited and nervous for the work ahead.  I hope you will share in my joys and failures that will inevitable come.  I promise to be honest when I muck things up, because I have no idea what I’m doing.  I also promise to share what I learn along the way.

As part of expanding our library of useful reading material, we added a book on modern pioneering

It is a great resource with lots of interesting and practical ideas.

Naturally, the first thing we chose to do was something that has nothing to do with self sufficiency and everything to do with just good old fun.

We made a watermelon keg.  It was so easy and when filled with a tasty watermelon cocktail, it was a hit!

How to make a Watermelon Keg

You will need:

Large watermelon
A large spoon / knife for carving
A spigot – I prefer a plastic, threaded one like you can buy here.

Slice a thin layer off the bottom to allow the watermelon to stand on end.  Keep your cut well within the rind, so that it doesn’t leak.

Then take a large slice off the top to create the “lid”.  I recommend scoring around the part where you want to cut the lid while the watermelon is standing.  This helps you make a level lid, so that it won’t slide off.

Thin slice for the base and then it will stand on its own!

And now, get to scooping.

My homestud at work ❤

Scoop and scoop and scoop out all those insides (and don’t forget to munch on some watermelon slices while you are at it).

This is the step where Gilbert excels….

Once it is cleaned out, it is time to cut the hole for the spigot on the lower portion of the keg.  Tip: start the hole small and gradually trim it to size.  If you cut it too large, you are out of luck.

My husband let me film him cutting the hole in our second keg.  (Okay I recorded it and told him I was filming after the fact so as not to make him nervous). As you can see in the video, it really is quick and simple.

Video not loading?  View it here instead

Screw in the spigot.  If it is not coming through the inside, scoop out more of the innards until it is exposed.

Then fill with the liquid of your choice.

Presto!  Watermelon keg!

I highly recommend tossing some watermelon (about half a blender’s worth) and a handful off chocolate mint leaves in a blender.

Add vodka to taste and blend until smooth.

Now add a bit more vodka (because you pour over ice and it waters down a bit).  Personally I found it tastes about right when you start with a blender half full of watermelon and mint then fill 3/4 full with the vodka.

Then pour over ice and party!

Soooooo freshing!

I started out to write a post about how to preserve cherry tomatoes, but then as I was typing my 3 year old walked up, rubbed my back, and asked if I was thirsty.  I said yes and he went and got me some water.

All the sudden I didn’t want to post about tomatoes anymore.  I want to tell you all about my first born. My Gilbert.

In all the challenging moments of motherhood (for example my three month old spit up in my mouth last week), I latch on to the moments like the glass of water when I see a little kind person shining through all that toddler.

Gilbert is 3 years old and full of vibrant life.  He consumes knowledge voraciously.  Every piece of information is urgent for him to learn and then urgent for him to share (mostly with Charlie).

He catapults out of his room at night (after we think he’s asleep) just to ask “what is this?  What does this say?  I can’t read.  I need to know this!”  Finding out the piece of information CANNOT wait until the morning.  I have resigned myself to answering his questions and sending him back to bed.

He takes planting lima beans very seriously.

And sometimes he runs up to me and yells “I love you.  I just needed to tell you”.

He needed to tell me.  NEED.  (Seriously… sometimes I wish adults were more like children.  How many times have you called somebody up or run up to a person just to tell them you loved them?  Because you NEEDED to tell them.  It was urgent.   It could not wait).

Gilbert has been enamored with Charlie since day 1.

That’s my favorite thing about him: he’s expressive and kind.  He notices how others are feeling and his instinct is to help.  He is very gentle with animals.  Every day, at least twice, he asks me how I’m doing and then sits to wait for a real response.  When I reciprocate, he beams and launches into quite the stream of consciousness account of how he is doing.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely 3.  He’ll karate chop you and challenge you to a wizards’ duel too.  He will sit down and tell you all about the dragons he has memorized.  Because you need to know about the “screaming death” or the “hideous zippleback.”  It’s essential knowledge in his (stubborn) opinion.

Tractors are the coolest machines in the world to him.

Just tonight, he ran out of his room and said he needed to talk to me.  Immediately.

The subject? Dinosaur Extinction. He needed a commitment that tomorrow we figure out how all the dinosaurs died.

So tomorrow’s schedule in between snack time and lunch reads “find out how dinosaurs died.”  Because for Gilbert this is of the utmost importance.  It cannot wait a week.  It’s a miracle it waited until morning.

And that’s my impatient, energetic, sweet Gilbert.

 

I like the word potential.  I like the idea of potential.

In everything I do, I look for potential: the potential for growth, the potential for change, the potential for improvement, the potential for fun, the potential for learning, the potential for joy.

\ (this slash was brought to you by Charlie’s foot.  I couldn’t bring myself to delete his first typed character.  It’s a weird mommy thing.  Just roll with it)

Constantly embracing potential means my life is always in a bit of chaos.

I am always working on some kind of home improvement project.  Move in ready is just not my style.

There is always something cooking, freezing, or waiting to be preserved.

Here’s yesterday’s project.  Roasted peppers (put them in hummus, use them to spice up Butternut Squash soup, or add a few into a salsa recipe to add some heat).

My house is never completely clean (but it could potentially be clean someday!  HA.)

I love life that way.

We bought our house last November knowing it was full of POTENTIAL.  And every day we discover more potential and sometimes even realize some of that potential.

Last month, we finally removed the wreath the previous owners left to reveal:

Yep.  That’s a hole where a porch light should be.  (Somebody’s real estate agent earned their commission with how well this house was staged!)

But we fixed that now:

We started with an overgrown yard.  Full of debris.  This prompted the makeshift garden.  I was surprised how many beans, tomatoes, strawberries, lettuce, and beyond can be grown in a few buckets from the Dollar Store:

But now a lot of the debris has been hauled away and the overgrown shrubs and bushes removed.

Everybody helps with clean up!

Which uncovered… you guessed it… MORE POTENTIAL.  Next summer we will be able to have a big, glorious in ground garden.

We will have built the new chicken coop.

And rehabed the man made pond for Charlotte the duck to enjoy.

And the kid’s rooms will be painted, organized, and looking more homey.

And I will sprout all my seeds at the right time for optimal growth (a girl can dream).

And maybe my house will be clean (doubtful).

And maybe all the laundry will be folded (when pigs fly).

After typing this, I’m starting to think my love of potential is a disease… Somebody help me please.

I’m over summer.  Mostly I’m over forest fires.  For those who follow the news, you have properly heard that large parts of Eastern Washington are on fire.

The air quality is horrible.  I know people whose homes have burned.  Livestock lost.  Several firefighters dead.  The only good thing that has come out of this is that I am reminded of just what an awesome community we live in.  So many people helping out and stepping up to help families replace what has been lost.  I’m thankful for that.

But that doesn’t make the sun less relentless or the air more breathable.  So I am turning up my air conditioner and living in denial that it is still summer.  I want Fall!

I’m diffusing clove and cinnamon oil, creating the illusion of holiday baking (with none of the dishes or calories.  Booya!)

We are shucking corn.

And for dinner, I’m having Butternut Squash Soup.

Normally squash soups are a fall and winter sort of thing.  But like I said, I’m living in denial.

My sister passed this recipe to me and I am passing it to you.  This soup is so rich and creamy, I didn’t even realize that there is no cream the first time it was made for me.

Butternut Squash Soup

Picture from Inspiring the Everyday. My picture was abysmal. Their soup has curry powder. You should check it out!

You will need:
5 medium carrots
2 large ribs of celery
1 large butternut squash
1 sweet potato
1 russet potato
1 orange (juiced)
½ cup sauvignon blanc (or really any white wine, optional)
8 cups of chicken stock (homemade is my favorite!)
3 sprigs of thyme (or 1 tsp dry)
2 bay leaves

Sweat 5 diced carrots and 2 diced celery ribs in butter with salt/pepper, bay leaves, and thyme for 5-10 minutes.

Add peeled and diced butternut squash, sweet and russet potatoes.  Try for 1 inch cubes, but really the smaller you cut them, the faster they cook.   Cook for 5 minutes.

Squeeze in juice from orange and add wine (don’t skip the wine!  It adds FANTASTIC flavor.  Also, pour yourself a glass).

Let reduce for several minutes and then add chicken stock.

Simmer for 30-40 minutes.  Remove bay leaves.

Puree with stick blender or, if you are into chunky soup, go crazy with the potato masher.

Personally, I like it smooth and creamy.  Best served with Bruschetta.

And wine.  Always wine.

Enjoy!