Tory, Sequim, WA

I live in the Pacific Northwest with my non-tree hugging, environmentally friendly, dreamin’-of-farming husband and our four wild, dirt lovin’ kids.  When I’m not writing of the adventures (or misadventures) on our micro-homestead, you might find me stalking Craigslist, Freecycle, or Facebook.  And since I’m all about multi tasking, I’ll probably be out gardening, baking, menu planning, home-educating, exploring with the kiddos, and scheming on how to get chickens past my HOA.

The busy, every day life of a single mom.  Working the 8 to 5 and then some.  Paying someone else to watch my childrens’ first milestones.  Eating from the drive thru, most times while sitting in traffic for an hour to two every evening, and not even giving it a second thought.  I paid for everything on credit and bought everything that my children desired.  I worked more to try and pay it off.  I rarely had groceries in my kitchen because we were never there.  I rarely took my children outside to play because they were always asleep when we left and arrived at home.

Then we were given an opportunity.  To move from the big city to a small backwoods town.  Work would be no more than a 5 minute commute.  I could be home before school got out.  Dinners could be enjoyed as they should, the entire family around the table, eating a home cooked meal.  We’d have time to play outside and enjoy our own yard and the surrounding parks and beaches before bedtime.

I got married, and had another baby.  I stopped working altogether.  Cloth diapers were in full swing for the first time.  I refused to use commercial lotions, shampoos, soaps, diaper creams on her.  I started making my own laundry detergent.  I would wear my baby everywhere and started everyday with the mentality that I could do it better for my children.  I started baking and cooking from scratch.  My first few attempts drew many a wrinkled nose, but they would encourage me to continue.  I have a few supporters, but many more would soon follow.  I taught myself to sew, knit, and crochet.  I gave birth for a fourth time.  I buy local, organic, and in massive amounts.  I bake from scratch.  Cook from scratch and plan dinner menus months in advance.  I try not to buy new if I think I can find it on Freecycle or Craigslist first.

Now, I am more determined than ever to provide a simpler, slow, homemade life for my children.

Tory’s blog: Champagne Wishes and Coupon Dreams

Danielle Leszcz, Yellowtree Farm

“I’m half of YellowTree Farm, an urban homestead that I founded with my husband in late 2008. Together, my husband and I grow vegetables and raise animals on less than 1/10 of an acre in St. Louis, Missouri. We speak publicly about urban farming, sew, and make our own toiletries.  I don’t have children. I have animals, which is kind of the same thing as being a parent, except I eat my babies.”

I’ve helped raise plenty of animals at our homestead over the past couple of years.  Some, like several of our chickens and ducks, had friendly monikers like “Danny DeVito” and “Mr. Bojangles.”  Our goats were named “Gumby” and “Gidget.”  Others, like our quail, were too numerous to name.   We cared for some starting as day-old chicks, others we watched emerge from eggs we incubated ourselves, and still other creatures came to our farm at several weeks or even months old.

Out of all the animals I’ve helped care for at our home, I am sure the current tally of those I’ve helped kill has far surpassed a hundred.  Still, the slaughter I helped enact was done with deliberation and preparation.

However, today’s post isn’t about the planning involved when you decide to slaughter livestock you’ve cared for.  It’s about what happens when Mother Nature does the killing for you.

More than once, I’ve been awakened by my husband early in the morning, before my alarm sounds, to have him hurriedly shout to me news that “our chickens are dead!”  In 2009 we lost roughly thirteen chickens to a raccoon attack, and a couple more to an unrelenting hawk.  So far in 2010, we’ve discovered a total of roughly thirty chickens, ducks, and squab all killed in the dark of night.

Even with netting in place to protect our poultry from predators in the sky, and even with metal wire reinforcements on the interior of their coop, Mother Nature still finds a way to prey on our animals.

…Which is precisely the reason why I’m writing this to you.

We can spend hours, weeks, or longer scrutinizing what sorts of breeds of chickens to raise.  We can browse hundreds of plans searching for the perfect coop design.  We can dote on our animals as if they’re little children or companion pets.  We can ensure that they are never without fresh food or clean water.  We can even give them all names, forming intimate attachments.  And though we may occasionally slaughter an animal to serve for supper, we are no match for the Ultimate Farmer; we are no match compared to the whims of Nature.

Just as blight may wipe out our entire tomato crop, just as Japanese beetles may devour all of my beautiful zinnias, so too may a raccoon massacre nearly all of our birds.

It is incredibly important to keep in mind that as farmers we can plan, but we can never control.

More now than ever, media makes us witness to how arrogance and agriculture do not mix.  A pompous farmer is a dangerous farmer.  Rather, humility creates a cautious farmer, a respectful farmer.  The killing of our animals has instilled in me the constant reminder that there are forces at work greater than any defense or plan I can conceive.  The potential death of any life we cultivate, whether animal or vegetable, is part of the game.  Sad as it may be whenever we discover any of our animals dead, it is also most humbling.  In fact, these tragedies provide me with a renewed sense of humility that, despite all the despair involved, I’m thankful for.   I hope that similar positive lessons can be found should Nature ever plague your own flocks.

Yellow Tree Farm’s web site: http://yellowtreefarm.blogspot.com/

Recently there was a flurry of online conversations about urban farming, organic farming, “intentional communities” and why people choose to take these paths. Some of you may have seen Michael’s cheeky titling of the CNN story: “Hipsters, is there anything they CAN’T do?” in the Show and Tell section of HOMEGROWN.

Neysa, an aspiring organic farmer from Dissertation to Dirt ranted (her word) about the same CNN video in her post: “The Magic of a Cucumber On a Vine…Holy Jesus“:

What is it about white progressives that everything we do has to be saving the world, usually through some epic spiritual journey?  Can’t we just do something and shut up about it?  It’s like every time we’re on to something good, we get so pleased with ourselves that we end up screwing up what was once an honest and humble cause.

Longtime HOMEGROWNer, AlizaEss, wrote about her conflicted response to the new Grist comic “My Intentional Life“:

In this week’s episode, a white kid in his upper-twenties adopts a duck, has his heart broken, rides across Europe on a bike, and ends up moving to an intentional community in the city.

You can read more about Gabriel Willow’s housemates in their intentional community here. They raise bees on the roof and chickens in the backyard, lead wilderness tours in the city, and raise money by DJing and working for non-profits.

In short, they’re a lot like many of the people I know from various collective and projects here in Baltimore City.

And I feel kind of weird about that! I know it wasn’t their intent, but “My Intentional Life” made me feel like this is all just some kind of scene.

And referring to a New York Times article about similar activities in Detroit, “Wringing Art Out Of The Rubble of Detroit“:

A lot of insecure feelings and sociological questions got stirred up in my head as I read about these fun foodmaking adventures. I am familiar with these tight communities, and know that most people involved are from a certain section of the social pie.

Or as one commenter on the “My Intentional Life” page put it:

Am I the only person who is tired of this classicist, white washed, hipster crap? They deliberately move into predominantly communities of color and do little to engage with/interact with the local populace.

Yikes.

We thought it would be interesting to explore these ideas a bit further…Check out the comments on Dissertation to Dirt, as well as on “My Intentional Life” and tell us: What do you think?

What drives YOU to live a sustainable, DIY, agrarian life?

Do media misrepresent our intentions?

Is organic farming and “Living HOMEGROWN” idealized in the media?  Does this image help or hurt young people who are trying to pursue organic farming as their career?

Maybe you’re a current or former farm worker / intern with a unique perspective on this. Maybe you’re an urban homesteader who never gave it much thought beyond what you grow, make, build, brew and do in your own back yard. Chime in, it’ll be fun!