My dad with the 51 Dodge on the old ranch

Nancy and I were married in 1970 after graduating from the College of Idaho. We remained in Idaho for our first year of marriage before moving the first load of our modest household to my family’s old homestead in the mountains of Southern California. It was then that we purchased our first bona fide pickup; a 1951 half-ton Dodge with a flathead six engine. One of our first really memorable adventures as a young married couple was driving our newly acquired pickup back to Idaho. It was a journey of eight hundred miles across the deserts of Eastern California, Nevada and Oregon. We took it for the purpose of gathering the remainder of our meager belongings and transporting them back to our small rural cabin in California. Top speed on the old Dodge was forty-five MPH and as I recall, the trip took three days each direction traveling in temperatures that exceeded one-hundred degrees.

Daughter Kate helps load the truck - 1970's

The Dodge served all of us well for many years on the ranch. My dad and I used it for many years hauling firewood to keep us warm in the winter, carrying rocks and sand for construction, and transporting animals such as pigs, sheep, calves, our kid’s pet ponies, and once even a pair of full grown donkeys. In addition to a ranch truck I used the old truck for many years as a commuting vehicle between our home in the mountains and my work in town; a journey that took me an hour each way.

When we moved off of the California ranch and returned to Idaho some twenty years later the old Dodge was left behind, worn out and forgotten after having serviced our family for nearly twenty years. Leaving the ranch the old truck was parked and abandoned in what could have been its final resting place among the sage brush had it not been for Brook our son. After being settled in Boise for several years Brook had turned fifteen years old and started dreaming about reclaiming the old Dodge and using it as his first vehicle. With a lot of persuasion he eventually convinced me to return to

Brook drove the old Dodge through high school years

California to retrieve the 51’ Dodge with the intention of restoring it. He had visions of driving it through his high school years.  With the help of a friend who volunteered to transport it back to Idaho on a trailer, we once again headed back to the family homestead.  I’ll never forget seeing that lonely looking old pickup after so many years of abandonment sitting in the sagebrush with flattened tires and a cab and engine compartment filled with mouse and rat nests. It really was a sad sight for a truck that had served our family so well for so many years.  We checked the fluids and added what was necessary, aired the tires, cleaned out the nests and with the help of another truck pulled it to the driveway and started it rolling on down the mountain. After gaining some speed I popped the clutch and to all of our surprise the engine kicked and sputtered, belched a cloud of black smoke and in a matter of a few minutes took off running down the old county road.

Back in Idaho it took Brook and I nearly a year of work to complete our restoration project in order to make the old ranch truck road worthy once again.  For the next couple of years Brook drove it every day to school and took it on many adventures until he eventually graduated and headed off to the University of Alaska. Once again the old truck became forgotten, and  retired to a field at the back of our Idaho property. We moved several times after that, each time airing up the Dodge’s tires just enough to load it onto a trailer and transport it to its next out of the way spot; that is until the summer of 2012.

Hope and her grandpa pull the truck out of storage

Hope is our thirteen year old granddaughter. For years she had been hearing the legendary stories of the life and times of the old 51 Dodge as if it had been a part of the family. She heard it from her mother and her uncle who had both grown up with the pickup. She had heard of how it had served our family on the original homestead as well as of her uncle’s excursions during his teen years. And so it was; Hope announced to us all her desire and intention to restore the famous old truck to serve her as well though her teen years. She commissioned me, her grandfather, to begin the next restoration project as soon as possible so that it might be completed before her sixteenth birthday. What could I say?  So this is where my story now stands or maybe I should say, begins once again.

This past summer, Hope, Nancy and I cleaned out the mouse and rat nests, replaced the rotted tires and towed the truck to the workshop next to the barn. After power washing the engine and I might say the inside of the cab as

Hearing the old engine run again reminded me how this old truck had faithfully serving family for four generations - Brook & Kate late 70's

well, we replaced the six volt battery, poured five gallons of gas in the dry fuel tank, changed the oil, cleaned out the oil bath air filter and primed the carburetor. We were just about ready to see if the engine would turn over when Brook and his wife Andrea pulled up the lane. Now, the entire family was present, Brook and Andrea, Kate our daughter, Nancy and I and of course Hope (who is the fourth generation of the family to use the truck) gathered once again around that old Dodge truck to see if it had one more season left. I rapidly pumped the gas pedal, pulled the chock out as far as it would go and pressed the large silver starter button on the dash. The engine slowly cranked over complaining and protesting for several rotations of the tired old pistons until, to all of our amazement and joy, it kicked over and started to run. It spewed black smoke blowing out the cobwebs of neglect as it had done so many years before, but soon it began to smooth out with the familiar old sounds of a sixty year old pickup truck stirring our memories of past adventures and giving promise of things that yet could come.

Tags: 1951 Dodge pickup, country living, homestead, rural life, Small farm, Tri Robinson

Love at first sight

When Bandit, a big black gelding, first came to our ranch on Timber Butte he was immediately introduced to a small herd of mares. Bandit, being a big powerful horse could have easily thrown his male dominance around, especially among a group of mares who where infatuated with his presence.  Initially I had isolated him in a pen where introductions could first be made over a strong lodge pole fence rather than brave possible injuries due to the squealing and kicking that nearly always occurs when a new horse is introduced and pecking orders are being established.  Bandit’s introduction, however, was very different than the norm I expected.  His presence brought immediate peace in the corral. The mares never gave even a squeal as they, one by one, touched noses with him across the railed fence. Bandit wasn’t a bandit but rather a peacemaker especially when it came to a large quarter-horse named Cayenne who had, up until that day, always been number one in the pecking order.

We have two mares that are both named Pepper. Both were named before we owned them, and both are worthy of their names. (Full of spunk & life) Because one was previously named “Red Hot Pepper” and the other “Cayenne Pepper”, we call one Pepper and the other Cayenne so as not to have too much confusion in the barnyard. Although they are both very good looking, it was Cayenne that Bandit was drawn to and immediately bonded with. It was love at first sight. Ever since that day they have been close companions, grazing side by side, sharing the same feeders in the barn stalls and just enjoying each-others company in general. Before Bandit came Cayenne had been the queen-bee and spent a lot of aggressive energy proving it. She doesn’t do that anymore; she is now much more tolerant and less assertive not only to Bandit, but to all her companions.

Friends for life

You don’t read a lot about horse bonding, at least with their own kind, in most equestrienne literature.  A lot is said about people and horses bonding as well as how to keep horses from bonding with each other so as not to become barn soured. A common problem horse owners often try to combat is over bonding between horses so that when separated they experience dysfunctional anxiety attacks. Cayenne and Bandit never panic when separated, probably because I most often ride alone and can only ride one horse at a time. As a result they have learned to accept separation as a part of the norm, but this isn’t the issue I’m speaking to. What I’m talking about is deep friendship that is developed between certain animals. I believe, that just like people, animals in general build personal relationships that are very real and tangable. Like people they can have more chemistry with some individuals more than others, even of their own kind and these friendships are life long.  On the other hand some horses become loners, and do actually like human company over their own kind much like a household dog might. My other horse Pepper is like that. In my lifetime I’ve owned a lot of horses (or maybe they have owned me) and after getting to know them I’ve discovered each has a personality unique to itself accompanied with emotions and feelings. Relationships are important to them.

Believing that horses bond with each-other and learn to feel at home in certain places it has always been hard for me to be to be a horse trader. When I get a horse that bonds with both the place, other animals and myself it is hard to get rid of them. For this reason most every horse Nancy and I have owned has been able live out their life in the family and because of it they often live long healthy lives well into their thirties.

Tags: country living, homestead, Horses, Tri Robinson

A saddle shop and a place to dream

For me, barns are special structures. They are places that stir nostalgic memories of times past when life was simpler and maybe a bit more adventurous. My barn is the place I go when I want to think outside the norm of normality and listen only to the peaceful voices of horses intermingled with the content sounds of munching hay. It’s a place I go to become lost in my thoughts and at times visit the memories of years of past ventures; of bygone horse packing trips into the mountains of Idaho and California, of old elk hunting camps and the years our family spent in summers living in the backcountry constructing trails with our good friend Pat Armstrong. Sometimes I think of high mountains lakes that need visiting again, places where the horses were hobbled in lush meadows and Cutthroat trout would hit my fly nearly every cast. When I’m in my barn I relish the smell of the tack room; the pungent odor of stale horse blankets and ageing saddle and harness leather.

"Monday's" last pack trip

Because I’m most satisfied when my hands are somehow busy doing something of value I find working with leather and restoring old tack is a perfect way to pass those times of quiet contemplation. Saddle repair is in many ways a menial work yet an art form in its own rite; one that is rapidly becoming lost in a world of technology and modernism.  For these reasons, both nostalgic and practical, I decided the perfect thing would be to set aside a place for saddle repair in a corner of my barn.  It has already proven itself a wonderful addition; here is a case in point.

On a recent fishing trip my old pack horse “Monday” fell and rolled on her load breaking the rigging in at least a half a dozen places.  The leather was old, there was no question about that, and although I knew restoration was imminent I hadn’t given the task much thought until I was tightening cinches at the trailhead.  It only took one bad tumble on a steep rocky trail that caused nearly every leather strap on the old wooden sawbuck saddle to be damaged beyond repair.  Jury-rigging things the best I could with pieces of rope got us home giving my memory bank one more experience to remember, as something to fix.

My dad and his wild horse named "Utah" - 1938

It was nice being able to come home to a place I could re-rig that old saddle which had served our family ever since my ninety-four year old father had ridden and packed two horses out of the Escalante canyon country of Utah in the 1930’s. Speaking of memories, as far back as I can remember I loved hearing my father tell me about the many adventures of his youth. I loved hearing the story of how he had milked cows for a summer at a remote homestead after wandering the canyon country where he had captured and broke a wild mustang that he had naming “Utah”. He named him because his unique coloring which matched the distinctive red toned rocky cliff and canyon landscape he had inhabited. After a summer of milking and doing other ranch work he was paid with a second horse, a riding saddle and the old sawbuck pack saddle I still use to this day.

My great-grandfathers harness still in use

Standing at my tack repair bench I can’t help but think of the richness of heritage as I reflect on the adventures my saddles and worn sets of wagon harness have experienced through the many years they served both the cowboys and farmers of my families past.  I still cherish a set of work harness my Great-grandfather used to farm the old family ranch, forever amazed at how it can continue to function after so many years with nothing more than a dry place to hang, a little loving care and some periodic maintenance. For me these things are simple treasures that I’m sure very few people could understand. My work bench is a place to see, to smell, even to hear the creaking of saddle leather that stimulates my senses, my memories and my dreams of what the future years could yet bring.

Tags: country living, Harness, homestead, Horses, rural life, saddles, simplified life, Small farm, Tri Robinson

Ducks quake in jubilation and horses buck and snort gleefully running into an open pasture

Freedom is an attribute of the health of uninterrupted creation.  In the beginning it was the way life is intended to be. When we experience it we feel right; not only in the welfare of our physical bodies, but in the liberation of our spirits.  To be imprisoned is to suffer because we weren’t created to be confined or in bondage. This is a simple truth that most of us recognize not only in our own being, but for those of us who are country livers we see it daily. We see it in the behavioral actions of all created things, even among our barnyard friends.

I read a report recently that revealed an alarming fact.  In the 1930’s one out of every four American families lived on small farms and were responsible for producing the majority of our nation’s food supply while today there is less than one in one hundred.  Not only so, but in the present day, some eighty years later, three-fourths of our food supply is produced on commercial factory farms, where I might add, everything is controlled, manufactured and animal life is raised never experiencing freedom of any kind.

In the morning I have a routine.  It’s a routine that I’ve fallen into after years of living in the country with lots of animals to care for.  I awaken early, put on the coffee, feed the dog (who knows the routine well), put on my rubber farm boots, and head for the barnyard where I commence to open corral gates and pen doors for the morning liberation of horses, cows, chickens and ducks.  Everyone goes free after a night of purposeful captivity for the sake of protection from looming predators. It’s an outrageously  noisy time when the goose and rooster sound the alarm of liberation, ducks quake in jubilation and horses buck and snort as they gleefully run into the adjoining open pasture.  It’s sincerely a joyous time on the homestead for everyone. The chickens run for the corral where they enthusiastically pick through the previous nights treasured manure piles, the ducks dive into favored water seepages and mud wallows while the goose nibbles shoots of fresh new foliage refreshed with morning dew. Every barnyard inhabitant seems genuinely overjoyed with the freedom of another day and all present communicate the exhilaration they feel with noise and action that anyone present could not help but understand.  It’s the way, even domestic animals, are meant to exist, and because of it the products they produce for us (eggs, milk & meat) are healthier, tastier and more life giving. Everyone benefits.

America needs the revitalization of the small farm. We need to create a culture where words like “free-range”, “organic” and “sustainable” are once again not related to the trendy diets or an elite segment of people who can afford to spend extra money for what is now being referred to as “real food”, but where real food is the normal and natural way of doing things once again. There is no question, returning to a system of food production like this is a big order.  Some would call it unrealistic and even impossible in a world that is annually growing in hunger.  Yet, nothing is impossible for those who believe it is a God given responsibility to care for the hungry and poor (Matt. 25) not just with a quantity of food that fills the belly, but a quality that nourishes and restores the body.  From my vantage I see many who recognize the ultimate long range solutions to world hunger are found and implemented through the grassroots of people movements rather than through the implementation of more government subsidies and temporary handout programs (which in fact are necessary bandages in the short run).  Those in this camp might agree that the ultimate answer lies in two basic concepts: First, the old adage that compares giving a man a fish rather than teaching him how to fish (an issue of education and information – A responsibility, especially for those who accept God’s commission to care for broken humanity), and secondly, a faith in the fact that God’s M.O. is for freedom and health and that freedom is at the root of the solution.

God’s heart for liberation isn’t just for mankind but for his entire creation, yet man is always the recipient of a creation that is functioning in accordance to His plan. Romans 8 tells us that the creation suffers (even groans) when man is out of God’s will or way of doing things. In this regard some would say that much of today’s food production is motivated more by the monetary gain of a few above doing what is right for the earth and its struggling inhabitants. If a method of food production is undermining the environmental condition of the earth (water, soil, climate, etc) then it is endangering the sustainability of long term food availability. Romans  also tells us that the very welfare of the creation is directly tied to man’s sin and bad choices and in the long term everyone (especially the poor) will pay a horrible price.  “For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are. Against its will, all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering.” (Romans 8:19-23) In the end, if we knew the truth concerning both who God really is and what His perfect will for us is (and if we were obedient to it), the world would experience the kind of freedom he has always intended.  It was Jesus himself who said, “And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”(John 8:31)

Small farms aren’t the answer for a world of greater freedom, God clearly is, yet those who have experienced what I’m talking about can understand that seeing freedom played out every day, even in a simple barnyard, is a picture of how things should and could be.

Tags: country living, creation care, homestead, organic living, sustainability, Tri Robinson

The "Mittleider Method" of irrigation at work

Not long ago Nancy and I were invited to teach at a Vineyard Church in Grand Junction, Colorado. It is a church very much like the Boise Vineyard in both vision and size and they also have been investing heavily in a large organic garden that volunteers maintain for the purpose of feeding the poor in their area.  Up until that time I hadn’t seen a community garden project of a scope that could compare to the one at the Vineyard Boise, but this one without question did. They weren’t producing the annual tonnage of vegetable produce as the Boise project had been, but some of their gardening techniques and systems were unique and impressive.  Two things caught my eye: one, a large aquaponic system that raised both fish and vegetables simultaneously located in a large greenhouse and second, an irrigation system that would water a 30 to 50 foot row of vegetables in a matter of minutes without wasting water.  Rick Kenagy, the man in charge of the project, told me it was called the Mittleider Method and was growing in popularity around the world. I was so taken by it I decided to incorporate it into our vegetable garden here at Timber Butte and at my request Rick gladly explained in detail how to construct and install the system.

Drilling over 4000 tiny holes took time and patience

I soon discovered that the construction of the Mittleider irrigation system was painstaking; almost so that I debated if it was worth the time I’d have to invest in setting it up. In retrospect I’m glad I bit the bullet and went for it. The most tedious part of the project was spending the time to drill literally hundreds of tiny holes down the full length of fifty foot stretches of ¾ inch PVC pipe. (In order for the system to work properly it requires drilling three small holes every four inches down the full length of the pipe.) Rick was adamant about the fact that the holes had to be drilled with a .57 drill bit which requires real care due to its very small diameter. He warned that because a .57 diameter drill bit could not be purchased at a local Home Depot and usually required special ordering, it would be wise to order a half dozen bits due to the certainty of breakage. In the end I drilled over 500 feet of pipe (4500 holes) and broke about five bits in the process. I used schedule 80 (thinner walled) PVC not only due to the cost and ease of drilling, but because it holds a greater volume of water than the thicker walled schedule 40.

To make the job easier and with less drill bit breakage I decided to make a jig using a small drill press and a ten foot piece of channel iron. I welded feet on the channel iron so that I could skew it down to a solid plank along with the drill press. I marked the channel iron every four inches so that the PVC pipe could be easily marked without the repeated use of a tape measure. (500 feet of irrigation line required drilling 50 ten foot lengths of PVC so just the marking alone was a tedious process.) Every four inches down the pipe I then drill my three holes around the bottom at about four O’clock, six O’clock and eight o’clock.  (See picture).

Watering one row takes only a matter of minutes

The other thing I did was bury a 1 inch main line from my primary water source to each row and install a ¾ inch  valve in order to better control the flow down each row. At the end of each row I put a threaded plug so that the line could periodically be flushed out.  I felt this would be necessary due to the small size of the holes. For this reason I also installed a filter in the main line that fed the entire system.

It’s important to note that the Mittleider irrigation system is not a drip system, but rather a high pressure system that quickly injects water right to the roots of your vegetables. At first look I thought it might do damage to my young plants but I found that due to its many holes the water is quickly distributed down the row before erosion occurs. We did however turn on the system before planting and made note of the small divots in the soil each jet made and then commenced to plant both seeds and seedlings between them as best we could. For more information you can look up the “Mittleider Method” on line.

Tags: country living, homestead, irrigation, Mittleider Method, organic gardening, rural life, Small farm, Tri Robinson

The first day of spring

March 20^th marked the March equinox and the first day of spring. Here at Timber Butte it was accompanied by a harsh cold storm that covered the already thawing earth with six inches of wet snow. It was only the day before that we planted bare root fruit trees in our new small orchard, and trenched a main water line through the vegetable garden. Getting snow in late March is not unusual but it still felt a little out of place – much like the last protest from a winter season that was finally losing its grip.

Seasons always change. It’s just what happens year after year, but the weather patterns that accompany them are not always so predictable. Working with the land requires timing; I’ve discovered that what seems like nothing more than a bit of good old fashioned luck on the part of a farmer is actually a sensitivity to both the seen and unseen world. Great farmers have a gift.

For the last two years I’ve anticipated the reseeding of our west hay field which recently had become overrun with noxious weeds. About five acres of the field were so encroached with Skeleton weed that it had lost all productivity. It was even to the point that I hadn’t bothered to cut and bail it the season before. The only hope for renewing this acreage required replanting it with new seed, a process that first involved disking up the old fallow ground and harrowing it smooth enough to take seed. In order to do this the soil can’t be too wet to drive a tractor on, or too dry to effectively be broken up; especially with the small farm equipment we own. I have discovered after two years of failure it is a tricky matter which provides a very short window of opportunity. A week ago I woke up with the feeling that this window of opportunity had come. The bite of winter was still in the air and the idea of driving around all day sitting on an open tractor seat made my old bones ache just thinking about it. But, somehow I knew it would possibly be my best and perhaps only chance to get it done. In truth I wasn’t very excited about it. However, by the end of the day I felt very blessed. Nancy and I managed to hand broadcast a hundred pounds of dry-land alfalfa and grass mix over the entire pasture. And to top it off, the very next day brought a driving rain which continued for the better part of a week. It actually ended with those six inches of wet snow on the first day of spring. All this to say – our timing was perfect and a great lesson was learned.

Broadcasting seed between the storms

I am constantly reminded of Paul’s exhortation in Romans 1:20 where he tells us that man is without excuse from knowing God because he has revealed himself through his creation; his eternal power, invisible qualities and divine nature. In other words, his supernatural nature can be clearly seen in the natural world. One of the characteristics which we can clearly see is the fact that he is a God of rhythms and seasons. He loves constant change, but it is change that coordinates rhythmically and in harmony with his greater plan in the context of creation. For years a farmer’s success was dependent on his ability to be sensitive to these rhythms and seasons – even to the point of becoming a part of them. It wasn’t the farmer’s goal to alter or manipulate them, but to flow with them. This wasn’t simply a matter of predicting weather patterns, but the stewardship of soil, water, pollinating insects, and everything else that would inevitably negatively impact the long term health and productivity of the land.

This reality doesn’t end with farmers and land, but can be translated into every aspect of life. It gives us an understanding of why we as humans need to have sensitivity to the rhythms and seasons of life. It reminds us of the importance of flowing with them rather than resisting or fighting against them.

One famous quote by Solomon says that there is a season for everything under heaven; not just to plant and harvest but a time to be born and to die, a time to kill and to heal, to tear down and to rebuild, to cry and to laugh, to grieve and to dance. (Ecclesiastes 3)  For me there are two key issues revealed through this passage: one is to simply comprehend the fact that God works in all seasons of our lives so that we don’t fret so much during the harder, dry seasons. The second is that we might grasp and nurture a greater sensitivity to God’s rhythms – so we can more effectively participate and flow with his will rather than fighting against it.

Tags: country living, creation care, Hay, homestead, Small farm, Tri Robinson

Home grown / homestead dinner

Have you noticed that there seems to be an awakening of social consciousness concerning not just the nutritional value but the health quality of the foods we are eating in America? It may be the media’s illumination of life threatening conditions such as diabetes, obesity, cancer and food allergies which has been inspiring a new level of deep social concern – or it may be something more. I don’t want to over spiritualize something like diet, but everywhere I look I see a plethora of common-sense, God-fearing folks changing their attitudes concerning what they put in their mouths. I’m not speaking of fad type diets for the sake of losing unwanted seasonal pounds, but rather life changing patterns and behaviors for the sake of life, and a better quality of human existence. I’ve been thinking that this new level of concern for food quality may not simply be a matter of social concern, but maybe more. Maybe it is God renewing our minds concerning a deep biblical relevance. He has done it before.

Home-cut lambchops

Much has been said about diet and food in the Old Testament. Entire books have been written about ancient Hebrew diet according to the old covenant law and how healthy it is, even in today’s world. The problem many of us have had validating Moses’ dietary laws (much of which is found in chapter 14 of the book of Deuteronomy) is that it seemed to be discredited by a passage found in Acts 10. Up to that point in scripture the gospel had not effectively spread beyond the Jewish religion. In Acts 10 Peter was asleep on the roof of Simon the Tanner’s house one afternoon when God gave him a vision. In that vision a sheet came down from heaven full of every kind of food including things not prohibited by Jewish law. Here is how the story is recorded: “Peter went up on the roof to pray. He became hungry and wanted something to eat, and while the meal was being prepared, he fell into a trance. He saw heaven opened and something like a large sheet being let down to earth by its four corners. It contained all kinds of four-footed animals, as well as reptiles and birds. Then a voice told him, “Get up, Peter. Kill and eat.” “Surely not, Lord!” Peter replied. “I have never eaten anything impure or unclean.” The voice spoke to him a second time, “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.” [Acts 10: 9-15]

Fresh from the garden

At first look it seems as if God is changing the rules, and in a way I guess he is; but not completely. First the scripture tells us that Jesus came not to abolish the Old Testament law, but to fulfill it; and secondly, the key phrase here is, “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean”. In the context of the bigger picture of the vision, God is preparing Peter to share the gospel with the Gentiles which is an entirely new idea to Peter, but at the same time he is talking about a new concept in eating; that is “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean”. When I reread this with the concept of food in mind it dawned on me that natural God-given food, (food created by God) is good. Foods genetically altered, grown with pesticides, herbicides and fertilizers, or those unnaturally processed or filled with preservatives, are perhaps not so good.

Chickens provide organic eggs & meat

One of our motives for moving onto the Timber Butte Homestead property was to engage in a more active and healthy lifestyle. We had always been hard workers, but because we’ve never suffered from poor health or obesity we hadn’t had to give a lot of thought to the importance of diet. For the most part, eating for us was a matter of substance and taste. Having lived the country lifestyle most of our married years, much of what we ate we have either grown ourselves, shot or caught during the various hunting and fishing seasons. Much of our lives together, Nancy and I have lived off and with the land, not so much for health reasons as for economic necessity. It wasn’t until years later that we became aware that those practices are now referred to as locally and organically grown foods. And that they truly are the healthiest and most desired food sources available for those who care about their whole state of being. It has created a renewed passion to produce as much of our own food as possible over the course of a year; eating fresh produce in the summers and preserving the surplus for the remainder of the year. We do this by canning, freezing and now more recently, dehydrating.

Organic grapes harvested from the vineyard

In addition to our Timber Butte Homestead garden, vineyard and orchard production, we raise and butcher our meat as well. Besides the chickens and ducks that lay eggs and are an excellent source of protein, we are now raising enough lamb and beef to meet our personal needs as well. Not only does this homegrown meat taste incredible, but it’s also natural and organic, as we only feed our animals hay that we have grown on our own acreage. No hormones or antibiotics are ever administered to any of the feed animals under our care.

Our vision for the homestead is not farming and ranching for financial gain, but rather as a means of sustainability and health. For us, the development of the homestead lifestyle has been about physical, emotional and spiritual returns. Our prayer for Timber Butte is that it will not only provide for us a more natural and functional life, but also inspire and encourage others as they pursue a more healthy and sustainable lifestyle.

The point of our blog site here at Timber Butte is not to teach people how to do what we do. Instead, it is to document our own journey as we seek to live a more whole and fulfilling life while being good stewards of all the Lord has given us. Like so many others, we are on a fast track learning curve out of necessity and desire. The desire is to not only put the best of food available on the table, but to eat foods that make us whole and healthy as well. This is not just about what we eat, but for us it is a matter of how it’s grown as well. In all things we desire to live our lives in such a way that honors God and his creation while leaving the earth a better place than we found it.

Tags: country living, food preservation, homestead, organic gardening, Sustainable living, Tri Robinson

The cabin was finally closed in for the winter

Sometime during the fall I distinctly remember telling Nancy that I no longer considered the log cabin we had been building to be a construction job but rather an art project.  Although this new guest cottage was small, (it sat on a 14 by 20 foot foundation) it had taken a good deal more time and effort to build than I had originally anticipated. There had been a lot more thought and detail than anticipated, yet instead of becoming frustrated I had instead been challenged and invigorated. Working on it had sired up my creative juices.  When we had first decided to build a guest house I had envisioned a small cabin that would portray the ambiance of an early Idaho homestead. What I hadn’t considered was how much painstaking craftsmanship it would require beyond a normal conventional structure.  You may recall that we had designed the cabin after a Thomas Kinkade painting called, “A Peaceful Retreat”. (See entry #190 – March 14^th – found under the Construction project category.) From the beginning we had it in mind to create more of an experience for those who would be staying in the guest cottage than simply a comfortable place to sleep. This not only required some creative thought, but quite a bit of extra work. Constructing the chimney was one good example of this.

Setting the final chimney capstone

I’m not fond of fireplace chimneys that are veneered with artificial cultured stone; from my perspective they look too perfect for the homestead appearance we have endeavored to achieve here at Timber Butte. For this cabin especially we wanted the chimney to look as if it were a hundred years old and built by a non-professional. (Not too hard to achieve when you’re a non-professional.) Because of this it had taken me a good deal of time just to collect enough squared off pieces of granite to stack the required twenty foot high column. Because of the weight of the rock and mortar I was only able to build a couple of feet of chimney a day in order to allow adequate drying time between sets. As a result it took me more than a month to build it to its full height. It was tedious painstaking work that required dozens of trips up and down an extension ladder carrying rocks of every size and bucket after bucket of wet mortar.  Putting on the final cap stone gave me a really wonderful feeling of satisfaction.

Eric chinking a corner log

Chinking between the logs was another all consuming project.  I didn’t know if I had either the patience or the skill that would be required to chink the cabin’s walls both inside and out. This job was not only necessary to keep the cold winter drafts for seeping in, but also to keep the mice, bugs and wasps from making homes within the many open cracks. It was a smart decision when Nancy suggested we hire our friend Eric McCray to take the project on. Eric was by profession a tile setter. He is a detail guy and a perfectionist and although he had never chinked a cabin before we knew he would undoubtedly be the right guy for the job.  Eric is the overseer of our Bible school at Boise Vineyard and because he and his wife Melissa raise their own financial support for ministry he accepted the offer. Watching Eric work was, again more like watching an artist than a construction laborer.

Homemade windows

Figuring out what to do about windows was yet another dilemma. We felt that commercially vinyl or metal windows would look totally wrong for the feel we were looking for. We also knew that contemporary small-paned wooden framed windows were out of our price range. Finding windows that had the homemade vintage style we had envisioned were nowhere to be found. We desired windows that would not only look like they belonged in a heritage log cabin but were energy efficient as well; double pained and tight fitting. In the end we decided that our only option was to construct them ourselves. This I did, first building the wooden frames and grids and then custom ordering the double pained insulated glass inserts that would be set into them.  Again, this project required many labor intensive hours of meticulous woodworking, yet in the end we installed the ten windows needed for the price of one high-end store bought wood-framed window.  Not only did our handmade windows give the little cabin the right look and feel, but having built them gave us a great satisfaction that could have only come though exercising creative imagination rather than a commercial purchase.

We are still a long way from being finished with our project, but because we are holding the perception that what we are doing is art rather than simply a building project has allowed us to enjoy the process.

Tags: country living, Log cabin, Simple living, Sustainable living, Tri Robinson

The young ducks were basking in their freedom

If you are a faithful follower on the Timber Butte Homestead blog site you may recall reading about how Nancy commissioned me last spring to construct a floating duck house. (See entry #193 – April 18th 2011 – found under poultry) She decided to release three of her most precious Rouen ducks (Hazy, Lazy & Daisy) on the pond at the bottom of our property.  Again, as you may recollect in an earlier entry, she had raised these particular little ducklings in our bathtub the year before. (See entry #164 – May 1st 2010 – “Meet Daisy, Lazy & Hazy or is Nancy just a little crazy”.) All this to say, these were not just any normal barnyard critters; these little ducklings had experienced some special rearing by the grandmother of all ducks. Anyway, the minute the door opened on their new house, out into the open world they fled, into the wild in a state of terror. It was as if Nancy was hiding in a duck blind blazing away after them with a 12 gauge shotgun; which of course she wasn’t. Of the three (a drake and two hens), one hen was never to be seen again. I reckon she became some coyote’s dinner that very first night.  The remaining two did however manage to survive the ordeal and soon were happily swimming on the pond together, at least for awhile.  After a few weeks, to our dismay, the second hen disappeared as well. At that point the poor lonely drake sat by himself among the overhanging willow trees at the edge of the pond day in and day out. He looked lonesome and forlorn but clearly had no intention of being recaptured and returned to captivity. Nancy faithfully left deposits of cracked corn on the porch of his floating duck house, which although he pretended to ignore anytime we were around, he managed to consume day by day.  This went on for weeks until to Nancy’s elation the missing little hen finally showed up one evening swimming across the pond followed by ten fluffy baby ducklings. It was a great day of celebration on the homestead.

Throughout the remainder of that spring and summer the small little family grew to maturity until it became difficult to discern between the parents and babies. Two of the babies had been lost by an overzealous Lily (our little golden lab) who had somehow gotten in touch with her forgotten bird dog DNA. I might add that Lily was quickly and somewhat severely reminded that ducks were off limits no matter who she thought she was. After that brief unfortunate incident (for both Lily and the ducks) everything remained tranquil on the pond until the first freeze in October. That’s when the coyotes realized that the remaining ducks were somewhat easy pickings now that it was possible for a full grown carnivorous animal to walk on water. Two more of the family were lost within days. In a state of desperation I was once again commissioned to construct a large duck contraption. This time a duck trap.

In late October the trap was set and baited with a tempting pile of cracked corn and the following video was captured on a cell phone of a friend, Eric Mc Cray, who happened to be present on that famous day of Nancy’s great duck rescue. Just a note before you watch this – it was very difficult to get all the ducks in the cage at the same time and when the last small hen did eventually enter I prematurely sprung the trap. Nancy’s reaction was a result of the fact that the heavy door fell on the little hen’s neck as she attempted to escape. I was certain that she (the duck) would become that night’s dinner but was surprised to discover that Nancy managed to release her unscathed by the traumatic ordeal. In all honesty I was actually more concerned about Nancy running down the snowy bank helter-skelter than the welfare of the duck. All ended well as you will see.

[Please note: no ducks or wives where harmed in the filming of this video]

Tags: country living, Ducks, homestead, Small farm, Tri Robinson

Our first small harvest

Every homestead requires some sort of a cash crop. Considering this Nancy and I spent a considerable amount of time investigating various enterprises that might be a good fit for us here at Timber Butte.  In the end we landed on the idea of establishing a small test vineyard on some rock terraces I had built  next to the root cellar behind the house. We learned that Timber Butte sat at a pretty high elevation (4000 feet) for a productive vineyard, but we also knew that we had other characteristics which were highly favorable for such a venture.  We had ample south facing slopes that received long uninterrupted days of sunlight, adequate soil conditions, and a consistent flow of air.  We also knew that although the summer months were long and warm, the winter months experienced temperatures that plummeted below zero for sometimes weeks at a time.  Not knowing for sure how grapes would do under these extreme conditions we decided to put in a small test vineyard of fifty cabernet franc vines  and observe their vitality over the course of a couple of seasons rather than put too much on the line right away. (Cabernet franc is a variety that does well in colder climates).  After planting those first fifty vines in the spring of 2010 we put in a second fifty the following spring with the help of our kids.  Things went better than expected and although we weren’t looking to be able to pick grapes for at least three years we ended up with a small but encouraging harvest several weeks ago only days before our first fall freeze.

Planting our first vine in 2010

We knew little about grapes or vineyards but the learning curve became both energizing, fascinating and fun. Over the past few years our vacation times have been invested in visiting vineyards throughout California, Washington, Oregon and southern Idaho. We’ve read books, studied online and made inquires of anyone we could find with knowledge and experience.  Through all of our efforts we’ve learned valuable skills concerning such things as pruning techniques, watering systems and trellising.

In addition to learning the elementary skills of a vintner our investigation has illuminated to us why the Bible so prolifically uses the metaphors of vineyards, grapes and wine as an allegorical picture of mankind’s relationship with God. Jesus teaching in John 15 may be one of greatest examples of this where he said, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine dresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.”

Planting the second fifty vines in 2011

Working in our first small vineyard has taught us many parallel truths between the life of a grape and our own. Some of these simple truths help me understand why God allows me to live in the tension of blessing and struggle. It’s a known fact that grapevines do best when they are forced to struggle.  Fertilization which other plants demand will actually set back the growth of a vine; grapes do best in rocky and arid soils. In the same way too much water in the later days of summer will cause the vine to die back after the first hard freeze of winter. In my desire to pamper my vines I’ve had to force myself not to irrigate my thirsty plants during the hot dry months of August and

Plowing hillside terraces

September. Radical pruning is another necessity for the vine if it is to produce an abundant functional harvest.  Grapes require a strong breeze for pollination and long days of sunlight for the fruit to fully ripen.  In a vineyard, everywhere you look there are powerful analogies of the human struggle for spiritual maturity. For reasons like these I feel God’s presence as I labor in my vineyard both working the soil and tending the vines. I find it a good place to be at this time of my life after laboring some thirty years as a pastor in the church we have so lovingly called the” Vineyard Christian Fellowship”.  Although our first harvest was very small it was an encouraging sign of God’s ultimate intention for the future of his Vineyard.

Tags: country living, Grapes, organic gardening, organic living, Small farm, sustainability, Tri Robinson, Vineyards, wine

Introducing Buddy / Bandit

We weren’t looking for a new horse until we heard Tiara, a friend from church speak of her need to find a loving home for a big black gelding named Bandit. She told us about a long time friend of hers named Kernea who had raised and trained Bandit from a colt but due to the changing circumstances of her life as a busy wife and mother had reluctantly decided to find a new home for the horse she had lovingly cared for since her teens. Bandit is a beautiful black twelve year old, sixteen hand Canadian gelding with a long flowing main and tail.  He is beautiful on the outside but more importantly, sweet-spirited on the inside.

A year before, Nancy and I had lost a Buckskin gelding named Dusty (see entry #109- under Livestock category ) to a fatal foot injury and still missed his gentle personality.  It only took a minute to discover that Bandit possessed this same gentle attitude even though Kernea hadn’t been able to work him for quite some time due to pregnancy’s and the full time job of raising two energetic boys.

When Bandit arrived at Timber Butte everything was new for him, especially the freedom of open spaces and the introduction of three curious mares. It didn’t take long however for him to put everyone in their place and move to the top of the pecking order which he somehow managed to do without so much as a single bite or kick.  Riding him was another matter.

Because of his long sabbatical from the saddle and bridle, Bandit was afraid of every new thing. He shied at nearly everything and needed to be reminded once again how to respond to reign and leg controls. He was especially terrified of four-wheeler’s and other noisy machines. (Frankly, I didn’t hold this against him since I share the same irritation.) To remedy this problem I decided to take him on a long fifty mile ride from Timber Butte to High Valley and back. I was amazed to discover that although the ride took us over a high pass and the days were warm he barely broke a sweat.  It was on that ride that we became good friends and I lengthened his name to Buddy / Bandit.  For us he will always be known as Bandit because Nancy said that like a bandit he had stolen our hearts.

Tags: Canadian horse, country living, homestead, Horses, Tri Robinson

Nancy's faithful side-kick Lily

This year’s garden at Timber Butte has been maybe the best in Robinson horticulture history.  The raised beds were a great addition, but having a year of minimal grasshopper infestation and a wonderfully abnormal mild spring and summer had a lot to do with its outcome as well.

After the initial work of building cedar raised beds, preparing soil and setting up the watering systems I turned the day in and day out gardening work over to Nancy and her faithful side-kick Lily. She devoted most mornings and evenings to planting, weeding and watering which provided bountiful produce for the kitchen table most every night.  As the days have grown noticeably shorter Nancy is again busy in her kitchen freezing, canning and storing the fruits of her labor in preparation for the onslaught of yet another winter; one which is already showing signs of inevitable approach.

Tags: country living, homestead, organic gardening, sustainability, Tri Robinson

Mr. Mudd pours the foundation

Last March I wrote an entry in the Timber Butte journal I called “Moving vision from a dream to reality” (See Building projects under categories). I shared how we had finally gotten started on the log guest cottage we had dreamed of building when we had first started developing the homestead here at the base of Timber Butte.  This entry is a progress report on a project that is now well underway.

When the ground finally thawed out enough to set forms we called in a friend of ours who attends the Vineyard Christian Fellowship, Brian Wheeler or otherwise known as “Mr. Mud”. Brian’s crew amazingly formed and poured the foundation in one day.

Triumph Log Homes crew preassembled the cabin

After submitting our rough plans to Triumph Log Homes, a newly established family owned log cabin kit business in the nearby community of Horseshoe Bend our new little cabin began to really take shape. As the logs were milled inside the old Boise Cascade warehouse they were meticulously preassembled on the spot.  Because our little cabin was the first to be built by this new company extra care was taken to work out the bugs. It was a joy to be a part of that process and watch the small crew lovingly figure everything out. In the end we developed not just a working relationship with the folks at Triumph Log Homes but real friendships.

Sub- floor being layed

Our good friends Josh and Melissa Fishburne volunteered to help me set the floor joists and lay the sub-floor after the foundation forms where stripped. For the first time we could grasp a sense of the small cabins actual size and shape.

The first logs being set in place

After the guys delivered the log bundles I knew that I needed help not only figuring out how they would go together, but lifting and setting them onto the walls.  For this I called on the faithful ROMEO’s, otherwise known as “Retired old men eating out” to lend another helping hand.  As I have mentioned before in previous entries they have been a huge blessing to Nancy and I on many occasions.  On this new project however they went the extra mile spending two long days lifting and assembling the exterior walls. This phase require extreme accurate measuring, drilling, pegging and driving several hundred 10 inch timber skews. When the walls were finished they ended up being within a quarter of an inch of perfection from top to bottom.

The main beam & rafters were lifted and set

About a week later yet another group of friends and family came up to finish erecting the log gabble ends, lift the main beam into place and cut and fit the rafters. The main beam was a twenty-four foot 6X12 that weighed hundreds of pounds. For weeks I had been thinking about how we might manage to lift it to its 16 foot high perch without a crane.  In the end it happened by sheer brute force. I was more than thankful for the young backs that did it.  This is as far as we have gotten on the project so far, but I feel a sense of relief and satisfaction knowing that most of the major lifting is over.

Tags: country living, homestead, Log cabin, Mr. Mudd concreat, Tri Robinson, Triumph log homes

The new raised beds in action

I wasn’t too sure at first, but now I’m a believer. Raised beds are worth the investment of both money and the initial effort it takes to set them up. It is only June here at Timber Butte and after a very late and frigid spring planting I wondered if we would ever get anything to grow. We had decided to build raised beds clear back in March (See entry #191 – April 5^th 2011 – Under agriculture category) but waited to plant even the early stuff until late in May due to unexpected snows and constant driving rains. It has been an unusual spring everywhere. Farmers fought every kind of weather and natural disaster from extreme drought to record breaking floods which has and will continue to result in escalating food prices. This of course makes planting a  backyard vegetable garden a really good idea.  All this to say, raised beds are a good way to go. Here are six good reasons why:

The old traditional beds took a lot more work

1. Soil control – Raised beds hold their soil from season to season while traditional mounded rows have a tendency to erode or flatten out and redistribute their soil during the winter months. Raised beds retain the rich compost we build into them season after season along with earth worms and other organisms that are essential to make stuff grow.

2. Weed control – I love raised beds because they require much less maintenance.  We lay gunnysacks in the pathways between the beds which not only make the garden look tidy but serve as effective weed barriers. Because the beds are raised they require less bending when weeding is required.

3. Water control – Normal mounded beds have a tendency to round off as the growing season commences and water naturally runs off into the low spots taking top soil with it. Raised beds hold their shape causing water to stay where it belongs around the plants. This alone is an advantage worthy of the effort.

4. Organization – For some reason raised beds are easier to organize. Walkways are more defined and, in our case, we have placed cross bracing every eight feet which also defines growing spaces.  These spaces are numbered and labeled which also helps organize irrigation drip lines so that we can more easily keep track of what’s been watered and for how long.

5. Annual spring preparation – I love raised beds because they drastically reduce the work I have to do every spring rebuilding all of our beds. Because they retain soil and nutrients the amount of dirt I have to move is minimal. It also decreases the effort it takes to reset drip lines.

6. Higher yield in smaller spaces – The greatest advantage is the fact that vegetables grow better in fertile raised beds and thus provide higher yields.  As I compare the present progress in both quantity and quality of vegetation compared to the same time in previous years I am amazed at how much better things seem to be doing now that we have transitioned into raised beds.

Tags: country living, homestead, organic gardening, Tri Robinson