Recovering from near bronchial pneumonia takes a toll on the healthiest of people.  It zaps a person’s energy and drains motivation to do anything constructive.  After a week of sitting in my chair like a zombie I decided I had to force myself to do something constructive. Looking out the window at the winter landscape reminded me I needed to resist the urge to go out in the cold winter air where I would be sure to relapse.  I needed a mindless project that required little consideration yet occupy me enough to keep me inside by the fire.  That’s when I decided to construct a set of reproduction Plains Indian arrows.   Sounds crazy I know, but our home is decorated in a western motif and it needed a set of framed Indian arrows.   Besides, it was all I had the energy to do at the time.

Years ago I used to enjoy spending winter evenings sitting in front of our old open fireplace chipping obsidian into arrowheads.  It was a hobby I enjoyed to pass the time and after a while I became fairly proficient at it.   I had constructed a bow out of a branch of seasoned Mountain Mahogany and backed it with artificial sinew for both spring and strength. I back twisted hair from my horses tail into a very strong cord to be used as a bow string. It worked well enough and after some practice I became fairly proficient at constructing arrows accurate enough to shoot an occasional rabbits or other small game for the dinner table.  I wouldn’t have wanted to rely on my skills for survival, but I thought if the chips where down and all else failed I could use what I had learned to provide the basic needs for my family.  Learning survival skills such as identifying edible plants, constructing small animal snares and starting fires without modern convinces fascinated my innovative nature. 

Remembering these old skills that once brought me so much enjoyment I decided to see if I could remember how I   constructed arrows out of natural materials. In those days I collected such things as flint or obsidian, animal sinew, bird feathers (usually from road kills) and willow or Rosehip shoots for the shafts.  I even rendered down plants to produce die colors to stripe the shafts. Not having immediate access to most of those things I used what I could find around the place. I used a set of reproduction Flint points that I had bought a few years before. For sinew I resorted to frays of a nylon cord and when all was said and done I was satisfied with the authentic look of the final product.  Nancy wanted to put me in business selling my arrows on the internet of which I didn’t have the time, but after seeing the price of arrows in Indian craft stores in Scottsdale, Arizona a few weeks ago I thought it would in fact be a good way for someone living on the land to pick up a little extra money.

Tags: American history, Indian arrows, Plains Indians, rural life, Tri Robinson

Three years ago I sat up awake through the night, staring out my front window at a distant mountain burning from one end to the other. The fire raged so hot that literally hundreds of firefighters couldn’t control it and resorted to becoming bystanders. For miles around, officials evacuated people from their homes due to strong unpredictable winds. By dawn the fire had burned a devastating 25-mile swath that left nothing alive in its wake. The entire butte remained a heap of blackened ash until winter arrived and covered it with a blanket of fresh snow. By the following spring, the snows melted away and the butte transformed into a landscape of vivid colors. Wild flowers covered its slopes and the grass grew longer and greener than I had ever seen. God restored and renewed this beautiful butte with fire.

 While the balance God strikes between mercy and justice is often difficult for us to grasp, it is clear throughout the Bible that God places redemption and restoration as two of his top priorities. Through the prophet Isaiah, God detailed all that the Christ would do some eight hundred years before his arrival on earth. Isaiah 61 contains one of the most famous prophecies, the same prophecy that Jesus quoted when he began his public ministry as recorded in Luke 4. It is here that Jesus stated that he had come to heal the broken hearted, to set the captive free and to bring good news to the poor. It was also here that God explained the Messiah would come and turn ashes to beauty (see Isaiah 61:3). 

 From the ashes of devastation God would bring redemption and restoration. This is a picture of the intent and heart of God. Isaiah prophecies, “The Sovereign Lord will show his justice to the nations of the world.  Everyone will praise him!  His righteousness will be like a garden in early spring, with plants springing up everywhere” (Isaiah 61:11). Out of justice will come a new beginning and a restored garden. But not every doctrine ascribes to honor this perspective of Scripture.

 One common biblical view held by many Christians is that the unrighteous or ungodly will be destroyed by fire along with the earth at the final judgment. This is based on the scripture in 2 Peter 3 where Peter wrote, “Most importantly, I want to remind you that in the last days scoffers will come, mocking the truth and following their own desires. They will say, ‘What happened to the promise that Jesus is coming again? From before the times of our ancestors, everything has remained the same since the world was first created.’ They deliberately forget that God made the heavens by the word of his command, and he brought the earth out from the water and surrounded it with water.  Then he used the water to destroy the ancient world with a mighty flood.” Peter goes on to say, “And by the same word, the present heavens and earth have been stored up for fire. They are being kept for the day of judgment when ungodly people will be destroyed. ” A few verses later he writes, “But we are looking forward to the new heavens and new earth he has promised, a world filled with God’s righteousness. And so, dear friends, while you are waiting for these things to happen, make every effort to be found living peaceful lives that are pure and blameless in his sight.” Some have surmised that this consuming fire could be a result of nuclear holocaust—but who really knows?

 As I overlaid Jesus’ words onto Peter’s writing in 2 Peter 3, it suddenly occurred to me that God used the flood not to destroy the earth, but to renew it. Out of this devastating flood emerged righteous humanity and a restored creation. You might say that Noah, his family and all the animals with him stepped onto a new earth, but in reality it was the same earth. Noah’s flood was an Old Testament foreshadow of a New Testament reality; God’s heart is for restoration, reconciliation and renewal, and has never been for complete destruction in the form of obliteration.  In 2 Peter 3:10, Peter says, “The elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything in it will be laid bare.” The word translated “laid bare” literally means “shall be found” or “discovered.” Noah found or discovered a new world, even though it was the same physical earth. The word “destroyed” found in 2 Peter, chapter 3 verse 10 in the Greek is eurethesetai meaning “shall be found” or “to discover.” Noah found or discovered a new earth, even though it was the same physical earth. 

 This is important because if the second destruction of the earth is like the first one (only by fire instead of water), the same result will occur. Like the first time, God’s plan is not to obliterate the earth and create a new one somewhere else, but to renew and restore it by fire. Throughout the Bible water and fire have always been seen as agents of purification and refining. The Bible speaks of a baptism of water and a baptism of fire, both of which produce cleansing. Jesus provides a prime example of purification by fire when he speaks of our faith being refined by the “fire” of trials and hardships even as gold is refined by fire (see 1 Peter 1:6-7).

 In the state of Idaho, the Sawtooth Wilderness easily ranks as one of the most beautiful ranges of mountains. I have climbed the alpine peaks, fished the lakes and packed my horses in the backcountry of the Sawtooth Range since the 1960s. After our wedding in 1970, my wife Nancy and I backpacked into these breathtaking mountains on our honeymoon.

 On a recent trip to the Sawtooths, we discovered that most of the forest in the area had become infested with Bark Beetles. Thousands of mature pine trees, primarily Lodgepole pines, were dying and dropping their needles. What was once a breathtaking sight had become a landscape of devastating brown.  Due to the Idaho firefighters so diligently putting out the fires that would normally eradicate the beetles and regenerate life in Lodgepoles, the pines were dying while the Bark Beetles were thriving. At this point, the only hope for the recovery of this forest is a devastating fire that will leave the landscape charred and ugly for many years. Nevertheless, this fire is what will one day turn a sick forest into a thriving one.

God gave us an earth to love, appreciate and care for. He called us to environmental responsibility. In Genesis 9, it tells us that he gave us the resources of the earth for our provision so that we could reproduce and live. He gave us everything on the earth for our use, but not our abuse. Use turns to abuse when we express feelings of entitlement through our actions. When our use of something steps over the line of sustainability it becomes abuse. When we no longer think about the welfare of future generations but only of our own immediate wants, our actions become abusive. Stewardship requires an authentic reverence towards the Creator, something that every true Christian should have. When I hear someone say, “It’s all going to burn anyway,” it makes me think two things: first, that person has missed the heart, motive and character of God; and second, that person is denying the responsibility of creation care or environmental stewardship. The statement, “It’s all going to burn anyway” communicates an absence of Kingdom responsibility, much like the neglectful stewards that Jesus rebuked so harshly in Matthew 24 after he spoke of the characteristics of the last days.  

 The earth is a gift of God, there is none like it and it is the only one we will get. The Bible tells us that there is coming a day that it will be cleansed with fire, but like in the days of Noah it will be renewed and restored. And like in the days of Noah, two things will survive: God’s miraculous creation and righteous, faithful humanity.

Tags: creation care, Isaiah 61, Last days, restoration, Tri Robinson

For me, there’s something almost magnetic about the simplicity of the past.  I often dream of a slower pace and a more manageable self reliant lifestyle than the one the present world offers.  It disturbs me when I think of how my life’s umbilical cord has become so utterly and completely plugged into modern technology even to the point that disconnection would be fatal.  We have all subtlety become dependent on the computerized world of electronic banking systems, bar codes, power grids, medical care, transportation systems and communication.  Even in my fantasies of going back to a disconnected simpler way there seems to be no option but to conform to a post-modernized world.   It frankly frightens me to know that I can see my pickup parked in front of my house from space on Google Earth; and so can everyone else.  It’s downright scary not only that it can be done, but that we have all somehow accepted it.  The world has been transformed and so have we.

 Sometimes I dream about taking a trip back in time before things became so complicated and technical.  Ever since I was very young I have had an inner longing to have had the chance to experience the rawness of the American West before it was developed.  It has been such a strong desire that one time many years ago I decided to do something about it.

 I had done my master’s thesis in part on the Mountain Man era of the American West.  In my research I had read every book from the Lewis and Clark Journals to the beginning of the pioneer movement. I became familiar with nearly every main character of the Rocky Mountain Fur Trade Co. and had a quiet longing to experience the country in those days as they had.  Of these historic heroes my favorite was Jedediah Smith. Smith had a love for the country he explored and had the ability to describe it in vivid detail.  He experienced extreme hardship being mauled by a grizzly bear, nearly dying from lack of water time and again, and miraculously survived three brutal Indian massacres which took the lives of most of his comrades.   Jedediah Smith was a man of deep Christian faith and was admired and respected for his courage and leadership. He was the first to discover the southwest crossing through the Mojave Desert into California. The things he did and the country he explored in his short life was surreal.  Jedediah Smith was killed by Indians while scouting for water on another attempt to make the southern crossing.

 Our old ranch in California was very near to the place that Smith crossed the western plain of the Mojave Desert.  From our living room we could see this endless western desert that Jedediah Smith had ridden across.  After rereading his memoirs I decided to not only ride his historical path, but try to do it his way.  That included my dress, provisions and gear.  I had heard about a reenactment of a Mountain man rendezvous that would take place on the western slope of the Tehachapi Mountains and thought it would be a perfect final destination.  Two friends decided to join me and together we rode four days across the west end of the desert and into the Tehachapi’s.  It was a small thing really, not even close to the experience they had, but it was better than not doing anything.  We carried muzzle loading rifles in hope of shooting a rabbit or two, flint and steal to start our fires, and animal skins to store our water.  We searched for water and discovered desert and canyon springs as we picked our way across the country only crossing pavement once or twice and avoiding barbwire fences whenever we could.   On the fourth day we rode into the rendezvous unsaved, dirty, and ready for a real meal.

It was a historical fact that often times the original mountain men would ride into their annual rendezvous at a full gallop firing off their old rifles to announce their arrivals.  The temptation to do the same was hard to resist.   I know it was just a pretend experience, but riding into that historical camp with everyone dressed in full mountain man regalia was a thrill.  As we entered the camp that afternoon Kate and Brook (our two kids) ran out to meet us which made it all the better.  Nancy had brought the horse trailer to take me home.

Tags: American history, American West, Jedediah Smith, Mojave Desert, Mountain man, rendezvous, Rocky Mountain Fur Trade Co., Tri Robinson

I can’t remember the last time I was really sick. The best I can recall it’s been fifteen or twenty years since I’ve had to miss work because of illness and I’ll admit I’ve been a bit boastful concerning my perfect health record. As they say, pride comes before the fall, and for a week now I’ve been incapacitated by bronchial and sinus infections. I’m been rendered helpless and useless not even having the energy to walk to the barn to feed the animals.  Nancy reminded me that last Sunday was the first one I’ve missed in nearly thirty years of preaching due to illness. (I did miss one Sunday a few years ago when I hit black ice and slid off the road into a thirty foot deep ravine in my pickup, but that wasn’t an issue of sickness,  just carelessness.)

It’s been an inconvenient time to be taken out of commission.  It was my intent to be in Haiti with our first relief team this last week; instead I have begrudgingly sat day after day in my chair gazing out the front windows, giving Nancy constant updates on my sorrowful condition.   

As the week slowly passed by I noticed a small bunch of mule deer hanging out in our west pasture every afternoon.  There was something natural and peaceful about the way they silently showed up and then, just as mysteriously as they came, they quietly drifted over the distant ridge into the fading western sun.  One of those afternoons every single deer laid down as if in intentional synchronization.  It fascinated me and made me wonder, not only about the life and habits of deer, but about my life as well.  I thought about destiny.

One of my favorite passages in the New Testament is in Ephesians 2:8 where Paul said, “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them”. I love the entire passage, especially the part about God’s grace, but the part I was thinking about that afternoon was where Paul said we are created for good works which God prepared in advance for us to do so that we might “walk in them”. That was a powerful thought that made me believe  that being stuck in a chair for a couple of days to contemplate them was worth the discomfort and inconvenience . When I saw those deer so peacefully laying in my field I wondered if God wasn’t trying to speak to me about taking a rest and regrouping before continuing on my journey with Him. 

Haiti needs help right now and going there with your sleeves rolled up isn’t a bad thing – it is in fact a very “good work”. As a leader that hopes to send hundreds of willing volunteers there with a strategic work plan over the course of the next couple of years, I wanted to lead the way. I wanted to experience the devastation and analyze  the needs firsthand so I could communicate our strategy from personal experience. I have always tried to do that in the past, but this time I had the impression that my desire was more my own than God’s, at least for now. As I thought about it I realized our first team of medical workers was being led by Tim McFarlane, the best person I know for the job – they really didn’t need me.  I also started to recount all the new things God was putting on my plate in the coming months. It took a couple of days of isolation and immobilization before I recognized that God was speaking to me about a season of walking out a new work He had preplanned for me to do.     

A life with God is a great mystery.  It’s often difficult to understand, but one thing I’ve learned through the years is that if you don’t voluntarily stop and take the time to listen, God may well sit you down in a chair Himself. This is another matter of His amazing grace.  He desires that every one of us would stop and listen so that we might hear His voice and walk out His preplanned destiny for our lives.  There is a lot of good work to do – especially in the times we now live. It is important that we walk in the right work, the work He has called each of us to do. This is where we find meaning for our lives, where we can be the most effective.  I would never have chosen to be sick but it caused me to be still, and once again reflect on this matter of destiny – the preplanned purpose God has for each of our lives.

Tags: Destiny, Mule Deer, Purpose Driven Life, Tri Robinson, Vineyard in Haiti

Lesson #3 –Makes a smaller footprint for a bigger handprint – Entry #151

Nancy and I chose unemployment and a downsized sustainable lifestyle for a reason.  I’ll admit, it was a joy living in the quiet seclusion of the old ranch for that season of time, but it wasn’t our intention to withdraw from society and live an inward reclusive lifestyle.  We had purposefully made the decision to downsize our life so that we could upsize our impact on the world around us.  Our experience in 1982 (see entries 149 & 150) taught and prepared us for a greater life of outward service. We had seen the broken world first hand and wanted to help make a difference with our lives.   We had also observed many with a heart to do significant things yet unable due to excessive debt load.  Many had lived beyond their means and were owned by material possessions.  We wanted to be in a position of freedom, not in the bondage of financial debt.  It was our goal to learn to make a smaller footprint with our lives by consuming less, owning less and not allowing the possessions we had to possess us. We wanted to express the viewpoint through our lifestyle that we had come into the world with nothing and would leave with nothing. We believed that it all belonged to God anyway.  We knew we were called to be stewards, not only of the land we lived on, but of all the things God cared about, especially suffering humanity.  We wanted to make a smaller footprint so we might be able to make a bigger handprint; the handprint being the imprint of God on the world around us.  It was with this thinking in mind that I eventually wrote the book, “Small Footprint / Big Handprint – How to live simply and love extravagantly”.

Now back to my story.  If you recall from my former blog, this whole adventure started when we felt called to Thailand to help a hill tribe people group called the Karen.  They had lived in Burma, but because of ethnic cleansing by the Burmese government, many had been forced to flee across the border into Thailand in an attempt to avoid mass murder and extreme persecution.  My exposure to the Karen was my first experience with such atrocities up close and personal. Getting the chance to know them and even live among them gave Nancy and me a kind of love that’s hard to describe.   The experience was so life-changing we knew at once that we could never live solely for ourselves again.  Our worldview had been shattered.  In the years to come we couldn’t watch the atrocities in places like Somalia or Darfur without being broken for the people involved. We desperately wanted to somehow help alleviate the suffering.  Even natural disasters such as hurricanes, tsunamis, floods or earthquakes and the pain they inflicted upon the extreme poor challenged us. We could no longer be spectators; we had to get involved.  No longer could I turn my back on things like human trafficking, world hunger, world health or

environmental degradation.  I knew these things where breaking the heart of God and should be breaking mine as well.  We realized that life had much more to offer than to simply withdraw and live for personal security, comfort, and survival.  We wanted to be part a greater cause.

If you want to successfully live a sustainable lifestyle you have to have a vision that is bigger than yourself.  Becoming a social dropout is tempting at times, but in the end it will lead to emptiness.   Nancy and I have tried to develop Timber Butte into a sustainable homestead not to pull back from society, but to add to it. We are striving to become more energy efficient for the sake of future generations.  We are attempting to learn better ways of organically producing food because we know how damaging mass production of factory farms can be to the environment and health.  We care about forestry practices because we have seen the effects of deforestation in the developing world where there is little or no restraints on clear cutting. We care about the preservation of water because we have seen the effects drought and pollution have had in so many parts of the world.  We want our lives to serve as an example for others to follow.

 When I resigned from my job is 1982 I used the time to redesign myself.  I spent time evaluating what I thought was really important and how I wanted to spend the rest of my life.  We decided to put our financial concerns second to the pursuit of a life that had purpose and value.  I decided not to look for a job, but rather for a lifestyle that had meaning while still providing our basic financial needs.  I guess that’s how we ended up in the type of ministry we did. We didn’t want just any ministry, but a ministry that was intent on capturing the heart of God and fulfilling the commission of Jesus to love people and bring healing to broken humanity.  It was our aim to be part of a people who desired to be on the frontlines of suffering humanity, not merely to be content watching it on CNN.

 The third lesson I learned from being unemployed was that it gave me an opportune time to take a new direction and go after the things that would instill a new and lasting passion for life.

Tags: Chrisitan missions, country living, hill tribes, Karen tribes, simplified life, Small footprint Big handprint, Sustainable living, Tri Robinson

Lesson #2 – Less can sometimes give you more – Entry 150

Moving back on the ranch after several months of living in the back country of the Sierra Nevada Mountains felt like luxury. (Read entry #149) Sleeping in a real bed, taking a shower without having to heat the water over a campfire, cooking on a real stove and storing food in a refrigerator that produced normal ice cubes is something that most of us take for granted. It felt good to be home with our pack gear cleaned and stored away ready for the next time.  While we lived in the back country we had not only been making money, but we were stuck in a place where we couldn’t spend it.  We had a small nest egg that could sustain us for another month or two and the relief it gave felt comforting.  The only problem was that living a normal life does cost money without even thinking about it.  Gas for the vehicles, propane for hot water and cooking (and because we lived off the grid it also powered the refrigerator and lights).  Food is always an expense no matter where you live, and of course there are clothes to buy, household goods and things like books for the kids schooling and so on.  It didn’t take me long to realize that I had to keep looking for work.

Thinking about our next move Nancy and I made a decision.  We realized how much we had enjoyed being together as a family over the past several months and decided to figure out a way for me not to go to town in search of a real job.  We knew that in order for that to happen we had to do two things; first, we needed to down size our life and live on a fraction of what we were used to, and second, to find just enough work on ranches in the area to meet our financial needs.  We felt challenged by the idea.

Several years before I had built an addition on our small home and in order to make the plumbing work I had added a second forty gallon hot water heater to supply the master bedroom.  The first thing we did was to turn the new water heater off and share our kid’s bathroom shower. Nancy’s kitchen had two stoves in it, one ran on propane gas and the other was a wood burning cook stove.  She decided to do most of her cooking on the wood stove and sometimes in the open fireplace.  The third thing was to cut down on our driving and other gasoline consumptions.   Living and working at home cut our need for vehicles down to nearly nothing.  Previously I had been driving an hour to town six days a week which gouged a huge chunk out of our monthly budget.  I had shot a really nice buck during the reminder of the deer season which supplied us with our meat needs, and our root cellar was still fairly well stalked with canning.  It was amazing how little it took us to live on just by being deliberate in our lifestyle. Not only that, but it was rewarding to feel like you could beat the system of status quo living.   

Over the course of the next few months I got work from three different neighbors who needed things built.  I built two hay sheds for ranchers and a small addition on an older ladies home.  I never had to travel more than five miles to reach the jobs I was hired to do and the work was honestly refreshing and enjoyable. When I found myself in between the small jobs I had been hired to do I used the time to cut firewood.  I harnessed our horse Sunday and spent days on the mountain snaking out pine logs to a place where I could reach them with the old ranch truck.  I cut and split wood not only for our own use, but to sell in town.

That fall, both in the Sierras and on the old ranch was one of the most memorable times of my adult life.  Since those days I have had remarkable experiences ministering in cities and remote villages all over the world, but looking back on that season of unemployment now I realize God used it to prepare me for a radical life of faith he had predestined me to live.  He taught us that living with less in the form of material things would actually enable us to do more with our lives together.

Tags: country living, Harness, homestead, rural life, Small farm, sustainability, Tri Robinson

Lesson #1 – Learning to trust God for unexpected provision & blessing – Entries 149

In the summer of 1982 I made a life changing decision to quit my job.  It wasn’t easy – in fact it ranked high on the scale of the trauma events of my life.  The choice I made with Nancy’s blessing challenged every logical bone in my body because for the first time I had no plan, I was reacting to what I sensed was God’s leading for our life.  I had been a secondary school teacher for the past twelve years after having completed six years of university work which ended in a master’s degree in administrative education.  Turning in my resignation meant not only throwing away everything I had prepared for and accomplished in the past eighteen years, but the security of tenure, health insurance and a growing retirement fund.  Not only that, it was a job I loved.  It was crazy.

I had been sent into the mountainous border between Thailand and Burma by our church to minister to the Karen Hill Tribe people the year before and the experience had changed my worldview and my priorities. I had discovered a greater cause and a passion to use my life in a more meaningful way.   I felt the call to God’s service, but had no idea how I would support my family.  I felt clearly called and had the faith to believe that God would cover our act.  He did – in amazing ways.

 After we had made the final decision I remember finding myself in a mild state of after-shock wondering what I should do next.  Unlike those who are caught in unemployment of the current day recession, my season of unemployment was my own doing and because of it I felt whatever transpired was going to be my own fault.  My emotions were all over the board; one day I would feel confident and courageous in my choice while the next I felt reckless and irresponsible.  Realizing that my resignation was a spontaneous reaction to conviction and passion rather than a well thought through long range plan I wasn’t financially prepared and knew I needed a quick means of paying the bills.   Before I continue I need to say that what we did isn’t something we would readily recommend for others to do, but for us it was the beginning of an amazing adventure I’ve never regretted.  It’s an adventure that we are still living to this day.

 We were not planning to return to Thailand for at least another six months and I had to somehow generate the finances not only to support my family, but to get us all on an airplane to the other side of the world.  That’s when I learned how faith really works.  When things seemed darkest Nancy and I committed our dilemma to prayer and as a result of it something happened that I never expected or anticipated.  We were nearly out of money, living off our dwindling savings account when our old friend Pat Armstrong called out of the blue saying he needed help building a section of the Pacific Crest Trail near Lake Tahoe.  The Pacific Crest Trail is a hiking trail that stretches from Mexico to Canada along the crest of the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California and the Cascade Mountains of Oregon and Washington.  Pat was a trail building contractor who had been working on the Pacific Crest for years.  I had known him from our days at the College of Idaho and in summers past he had hired me during my two month break to lend him a hand.  Even when our kids were in diapers we would pack into his camps and join his small crews.  His call that summer gave me great relief.

 We drove to the ski area at Squaw Valley just north of Lake Tahoe and unloaded our pack horse out of the back of the pickup. We traversed the ski slopes and climbed beyond the chair lifts until we crested the nine thousand foot ridge above.  Crossing through a saddle we started our descent down the other side until we spotted a meadow a thousand feet below that we figured to be the location of Pat’s summer camp.  The view of the country was breathtaking and I remember feeling a sense of God’s goodness when I realized it would be our home until the fall snows would eventually force us to leave.

For years I had been meeting up with Pat in remote mountain places, yet I never got over the feeling of relief and accomplishment after locating one of his hidden camps.  In those days there was no such thing as GPS’s, only government topographical maps and Pat’s verbal descriptions of trails, valleys, and streams.   His camps were usually located a bit off the beaten path in somewhat secluded places where there was a fresh water spring and plenty of good grass for the livestock to graze.  The camp that year was one of his best.

 During the weeks that followed we worked long hard days.  He had taken a contract with the U.S. Forest service to construct about ten miles of new trail through this high rugged country and wanted to finish it while weather permitted.  Much of the proposed trail traversed through large granite outcroppings, over a steep pass and in places through heavy stands of brush and timber.  Because we were in a designated wilderness area all the work was required to be done without the aid of motorized equipment such as chain saws.  We were however granted a special blasting permit to aid us in places that needed to be shelved out through solid rock.  Our greatest assets were Pat’s two mules, Monty and Mike who worked in harness pulling a heavy ditching plow and a spring tooth harrow.  The harrow was used to pull up smaller rocks and roots, loosening the earth so that the plow could then be used to grade the trail bed level.  I loved the work, and always felt a sense of satisfaction seeing what we had accomplished at the end of every day.

 During the days Nancy cooked for our crew and homeschooled the kids in camp.  At noon she and the kids would hike or ride down the newly built trail and deliver lunch and words of encouragement.  She would always comment on our accomplishments which was of course good for our male egos and motivated us to work all the harder the rest of the afternoon.

 At the end of every day we would arrive back in camp tired and filthy.  Nancy started heating large buckets of water over the fire in the late afternoons in preparation to fill the hanging canvas shower bag at the edge of camp.  It felt wonderful washing off the days dirt with a hot shower revitalizing us for another recovering evening in camp.   Sometimes Nancy and Katie would bake pies in the Dutch oven using the fires coals which added to the joy of eating together.  After dinner we lounged around the fire recalling the events of the day and retelling stories of the past adventures we had had together in other camps.  Sometimes we took turns reading out loud from books like the Tales of Narnia which sometimes lasted long into the night.  After catching the mules and horses that had been hobbled in the meadow for their evening graze and securely tying them for the night we crawled in our tents grateful for the invention of folding cots, Thermal-rest mattresses and comfortable down sleeping bags. 

That fall was the first time in my life that I had ever witnessed the Aspen trees turn to their vivid yellow and orange colors in the crisping high country air.  In previous years I had always been in the confines of classroom walls unable to experience the mountains so late in the year.  It was a small thing, but I distinctly remember getting tears in my eyes thinking of the privilege I felt.  

 We left the mountains and returned to our ranch sometime in early October, but in the months that followed we watched God do miracle after miracle providing us with the means to pay bills and keep food on the table.  We not only survived financially, but we spent rich times together as a family. We learned to live on much less and because of it we gained much more.  My first lesson from being unemployed was that God is faithful.  When I was most fearful of not being able to meet my families needs He provided us with a very special kind of provision that money couldn’t buy; He provided us with an experience that enriched our lives with memories none of us will ever forget.

Tags: country living, homestead, Pacific Crest Trail, Pat Armstrong, sustainability, Tri Robinson, U.S. Forest Service, unemployment

Building a butcher shop in the back room of our barn has taken most of my free time this winter and I still have quite a bit to do before its completion.  In a previous blog I mentioned a few unique things I incorporated into the plumbing system, but neglected to mention that I was working on a butcher-block counter top at the same time.  I finished the main counter a few days ago and was really satisfied with the way it came out.  I was especially happy with the fact that when it was all said and done it cost less than fifty dollars in materials to complete.

For about eight years I have been packing around several bundles of used maple hardwood flooring that I had scrounged from an old high school gymnasium floor.  I originally procured this used flooring when we built our mountain cabin and had re-bundled and stored the leftover scraps thinking I might one day have use of them. It’s good stewardship to incorporate recycled, resold and reused building materials when you can, and it saves money besides.  I’ll admit that there has been a time or two I’ve been tempted to cut them up for fire wood just to get them out of my hair, but in the back of my mind I always felt they were too valuable for such a fate even though much of it was warped and unusable for their conventional

intent.  When I envisioned building our butchering room I knew I had finally found a home for them. Here is what I did:

First I estimated how much would be needed for the square footage of the countertops we would need.   Gathering up what I thought would satisfy the need I cut the tongs and grooves off of both sides of each individual piece.

Second, using Gorilla Glue I generously coated back and front of each length, setting them on side for lamination.  I did this until I had enough in place to make more than the two foot counter width I

desired.  I made them wider than they needed to be with the intent of trimming them to their needed dimension later. 

Third, with the help of my granddaughter Hope, we squeezed them tightly together with furniture clamps leaving them to dry for several days.  You might notice in the picture how we clamped the two pieces that would eventually be fit together as forty-five degree corners.  After these were dry I cut them to fit.

Using a belt sander with heavy grit paper I sanded the pieces, (first across the grain and then with the grain) until all the high ridges were taken down making the counter top pieces flat and even.  This took a little time and patience.  The final sanding would be done after the laminated pieces were set into their final place with fine grit paper.

Next, using tubes of Liquid Nail I thickly coated the bottoms of each piece and fit them together on top of the reinforced cabinet I had prepared for them. It gave great satisfaction to see the corners slide together and fit.  (I think I’ve mentioned along the way that I’m not a perfectionist and when things actually work out the way I envision them it always surprises me a little.)  

Finally, I did the finish sanding and calked the sink and backsplash board to avoid later leakage. I coated the maple wood top with mineral oil which sealed it and gave it a beautiful final appearance. (Using mineral oil on a food preparation surface was recommended to me by my friend Rand Thompson who does professional counter top work.)

Tags: Butcher shop, Counter tops, country living, Gorilla Glue, homestead, Liquid nail, simplified life, Small farm, Tri Robinson

Recently I watched the moon descend in the cold evening sky, slowly disappearing behind Squaw Butte. It caused me to stop and consider the miracles that so commonly happen in all of our lives.  I considered the fact that so many people see unplanned life experiences as being results of random happenstance, coincidence or even luck. In doing so, they often miss the richness of everyday life.  Personally I don’t think there is such a thing as an accident when it comes to the big plan of God.  I believe he divinely puts people and events in our life path for the purpose of bumping us into trajectories that will lead us to his “good, perfect and pleasing will” [Romans 12:2] .  Most of these things, the experiences we encounter or the influential people we meet along our journey, aren’t fully appreciated until later when they can be observed in retrospect.  Seeing our experiences in hindsight requires taking the time to reflect and recognize the sovereignty of the greater plan.  Viewing life in this way gives depth and meaning that motivates us to take nothing for granted. It prompts those of us who see it that way to give thanks even for the difficulties and struggles.  That’s just what I was doing when I watched the moon go down the other evening. Seeing the moon that night caused me to recall a chance relationship that had miraculously fell in my path – this encounter was with a guy who had actually walked on its surface more than once. 

I met David Scott in 1973, two years after he had commanded the Apollo 15 spacecraft that made human history in 1971.  I was a junior high school teacher in the 70’s, teaching in the MGM (Mentally Gifted Minor) program at Parkview Jr. High School in Lancaster, California.  Lancaster was the closest town to Edwards Air Force Base, the famous center where much of the early pioneering space program took place.  One day in 1973 I was called into our principal’s office for a closed door meeting. There I met Lurton Scott, wife of Commander David Scott, for the first time. After being introduced I was told that I would be receiving the Scotts’ twelve year old daughter as a student.  Lurton was there because she wanted her daughter to be treated as normally as possible by both staff and other students even though her father was a well-known national hero and celebrity.   Apollo 15 had been a special mission considered by NASA to be the most successful manned flight ever achieved. David’s lunar module, Falcon, remained on the lunar surface for 66 hours and 54 minutes (setting a new record for lunar surface stay time). He had logged 18 hours and 35 minutes in extravehicular activities conducted during three separate excursions onto the lunar surface.  NASA labeled it the Apollo 15 mission.

Not having television reception at our old ranch I knew little about the scientific endeavors of the Apollo flights but did recognize David for being the first to drive the Lunar Rover across the moon’s surface.  He was a hero in our day, and living near the Edwards test center made us all the more aware of it. Being entrusted to teach his daughter and later his son was a great honor.

I was teaching in the mentally gifted program at the time and they encouraged me to get my students off campus to what referred to as “quantitatively differentiated curriculums”.  I often used our old ranch homestead as a classroom.  Tracy Scott was a brilliant young student.  Even at an early age she had a certain charm and poise that was unusual.  Her enthusiasm for my class made teaching a joy and helped motivate me to be creative in my teaching style.  While covering a course on the American West I decided to develop a course of study I called “Lost Arts of the West”.  I gave the students an assignment to learn skills characteristic of earlier days such as blacksmithing or spinning wool, sewing on a treadle machine, milking cows and hand churning butter.  One of the projects required that students spend a day at the ranch doing hands-on exercises with people who could demonstrate some of these old arts. Many of the parents came along, and David and Lurton Scott were among them. 

David was a regular guy with an inquisitive curiosity about everything.  That day at the ranch he acted as if he was as interested in those events as he was about space exploration.  He was very easy to get to know, and by the end of the day we had already made plans for them to come back for one of Nancy’s home cooked dinners.  I remember that he asked if he could bring his hunting rifle along. He had been invited to participate in a special antelope hunt the following fall in Wyoming and needed to sight it in. Right away I knew he was my type of guy.

A couple of weeks later the Scotts showed up and David did have his rifle in hand.  We spent the afternoon shooting targets and enjoying a beautiful California day together. 

Recently while going through some old files, I came upon the thank you note that Lurton had handwritten us.  I had kept it because it was written on a card with a picture David took while on the moon.

A few years later the Scotts were transferred to another base, but I’ll never forget the opportunity we had to get to know such amazing people. Looking back, I feel very thankful to have spent quality time with a person like Dave. I’d have to say it was more than a chance encounter.  I realize now that it wasn’t about space exploration or even rubbing elbows with a famous person; it had more to do with what God wanted for my life.  Meeting Dave gave me not only a desire to do more with my life but also not to simply live the status quo day to day existence. Dave modeled what a true hero is to me. Not because he took careless chances, but because he had a sense of purpose for a greater cause than himself.  He wanted his life to count and he was willing to sacrifice and take some risks to do it. 

In later years I chose to leave behind security and status quo to join what I felt was the greatest cause the world has ever known.  I decided to invest my life in an endeavor to impact humanity with the cause of Christ. It would be a life that would take me to nearly every continent, deep into remote jungles and onto distant islands.  It would take me to the enemy lines of ethnic cleansing and among some of the poorest and most desperate people on earth. God would use me to motivate others to leave their comfort zones to share in the heart of Jesus for broken humanity.  To do this I would need to capture something that only a guy like Dave could give.  I would have to embrace the courage to turn away from a life of security; not taking risks for the sake of an adrenalin rush, but instead for the sake of others.  Knowing Dave for the short time I did, I recognized his humility and how he could enjoy the company of a regular guy like me.  He was a real person, not a superman, but a natural man who made a choice to go for it.  I wanted that quality for myself.

 Gazing at the moon that evening reminded me again to give thanks, not only for the influence the Scott family had on my life, but for all the amazing people God has placed in my path.  All those who have helped me become the person I am today.  Marveling at the descending moon I am thankful to the Lord who has blessed my life through many rich and meaningful relationships.

Tags: Apollo 15, Commander David Scott, Lunar Rover, moon, Tri Robinson

When I was a young man in my 20’s a neighbor stopped by our old ranch one day asking if I would be willing to repossess a horse.  He explained his dilemma. He had sold a young bay mare on a hand shake several weeks before to a rancher who lived in the next county but had never received payment.  When he had confronted the man on the matter he was run off at the point of a 12 gauge shotgun. Our neighbor Chuck had been deeply shaken and in a state of distress went to the local sheriff who advised him to hire someone willing to repossess the horse on his behalf.  That’s why Chuck came to me. He knew  I had admired his young filly before the sale but hadn’t had the money to purchase her myself.   He was so angry he offered me a new legal bill of sale for twenty-five dollars just to go get her.  Being young and a bit foolish I said I would and at 2 o’clock the next morning snuck her out of the ranchers corral without incident. 

Her name was Sunday, she was a yearling and she was beautiful.   She had a gentile disposition and when she turned two years old I started her training.  She never bucked one time with me or anyone else in the thirty-two years we owned her.  She died on our Idaho ranch in 2007 after living a long happy life.

When Sunday was six we bred her to a friend’s mustang stud.  Like many mustangs he was smaller yet muscular and tough.  He was of appaloosa decent and had colorful brown spots from head to toe.  The following summer in 1981 Sunday gave birth in our front pasture to a beautiful little foal who we named “Sunday’s Monday” or Monday for short.  From the beginning Monday took on more of her mustang father’s personality than the friendly docile manner of her mother.  She was leery of humans, especially adults and as small as she was she had an uncanny way of avoiding human contact. Katie, our daughter who was seven at the time, was the only one able to catch and handle her which she did until Monday started to relax and trust the rest of the family.    That was nearly thirty years ago and today Katie’s eleven year old daughter Hope now considers Monday her own.

I started riding Monday in the mid-eighties shortly after she turned three years old.  Unlike her mother she wasn’t passive when it came to accepting the strange new feeling of a saddle or rider.  During our first year of training she successfully managed to buck me off two different times when I wasn’t expecting it.  One of those times I was riding alone through some juniper covered hills several miles from the ranch.  We’d been riding for several hours and I thought she was really starting to settle down.  I remember thinking how much progress we had made together on this one day when I decided to break from a

fast trot into a canter.  Even when she was young she had amazing endurance and strength for a horse her size and I loved working with her.  In the middle of my endearing thoughts of thinking how we were really starting to bond, out of nowhere she bucked and twisted until I found myself lying on hard rocky ground.  I fully expected to see her disappear over the horizon heading for the home corral, but to my surprise she stood over me trailing her reigns in my face as if daring me to try it again.  I did, and we rode home together all the wiser for the experience.  This event happened just one more time before she realized I was too stubborn to give up on her and she surrendered never bucking again that I can recall.  After another year of use I trusted her behavior as a hard working dependable and even gentle horse. It was always obvious that she liked the kids more than more aggressive adults and because of it our son Brook began to claim her for his own.  Brook was only seven when he started to ride Monday on a regular basis.  Kate had her own little mare and Brook had outgrown his faithful little Dusty.  (See blog #33 under livestock category)  For the remainder of his childhood and into his early teen years Monday became Brook’s horse.  When Brook was twelve we moved off the ranch in California to Idaho bringing four horses with us, two of whom were Sunday and Monday.  

When we landed in Idaho we lived in the city for the first time in our married lives. This was fine for us, but required us finding pasture outside of town for our equestrian friends.  Paul and Sharon Taylor, a family that made the journey north with us offered a pasture on the new forty acre farm they had just bought.  It was a perfect place except for the fact that our horses had neighbors in an adjacent pasture.  This was a new experience for them and Monday, still having feelings of mustang superiority, decided to pick a fight with a mare on the other side of the barbwire perimeter fence.  This ended in grave injury for her.  Catching her leg in the wire she nearly sawed it off at the knee joint.  At first glance I thought she was beyond help.  Up until then I hadn’t experienced a leg injury on any horse that looked this disabling.

I was struggling with the hard choice to put her down when Brook pleaded her case for a chance of recovery.  We had used every financial resource to make the move to Idaho and I was broke.  The consideration of a vet bill at that point was out of the question, but between Brook and Nancy’s cries for mercy I broke down and took her in despite the circumstances.  The vet was a young woman named Dr. Scott who we all felt was a God send.  Seeing the situation and knowing we had moved to Boise to start a new church she voluntarily doctored Monday mostly at her own expense. Knowing we couldn’t afford to board Monday at her clinic she trained Brook to doctor the mutilated leg.  Brook did this twice a day for the next six months and by the following summer Monday could not only put full weight on it, but use it well enough to take a thirty mile pack trip into the Sawtooth Wilderness.  At first she walked with a stiff leg, even having to drag it over low deadfall trees lying across the trail, but the exercise seemed to loosen the scared joint and allow her to regain flexibility.   After that she never missed a back country trip either packing or hunting.  She was the horse that you could always depend on in the roughest of country.

Recalling Monday’s life reminds me of the many rich adventures the past thirty years have given us.  Looking back through picture albums which recorded many back country exploits of hunting, fishing and pack trips, Monday was nearly always present.   Over time her reputation grew as one of the most reliable surefooted animals we had, not only as a saddle horse, but a common sense packhorse as well.  I started believing she would do almost anything I asked of her until she proved me wrong one time during elk season in the mid ninety’s.  We were miles from camp in a dense stand of Lodge-pole pines in steep rugged country and we needed to pack out four quarters of a bull elk we had shot.    I had just loaded her mother Sunday with the heavier hind quarters and was about to load the front quarters on Monday when her reputation became tarnished.  As I hefted the heavy pack in her direction she rolled her eyes back and bared her teeth at me.  Her eyes looked crazy and scary.  All at once she spun around flailing her hind feet in my general direction forcing me to duck for safety.  Losing my balance I fell head over teakettle down the

hillside with a hundred pounds of raw meat landing on top of me.  She had reached her limit of congenial domestication and decided putting a dead animal on her back was beyond the call of duty.  I didn’t attempt that mistake for ten more years at which time I found myself in a bind and had no other choice but to ask her to try again.  Being wiser and not taking her for granted I was much more cautious.  This time I packed the meat in clean heavy plastic bags before she had the opportunity to see or smell what was being loaded in her pack bags. My deception worked and from then on Monday joined her mother carrying game out of our hunting camps every fall after that.

 In addition to being used under saddle, Monday also followed in her mother’s foot steps being used in harness.  And like everything she was asked to do Monday took right to it.  Being a no nonsense animal she became a great buggy and wagon horse working as a single and in a team (See blogs #196 & #42 under livestock category).  

Monday is turning thirty years old next year and remains a loved part of the family and continues to pull her load here at Timber Butte Homestead.  She has been, and still is to this day, a blessing from God to our family.  In recent years she has taught our grandaughter Hope and her little friends the joy of horseback riding.

Tags: country living, Harness, Horses, Small farm, Tri Robinson

For the first twenty years of Nancy’s and my life together we raised our two children in a cabin on my family’s original old ranch.  The first fourteen of those years we lived without electricity and therefore without adequate lighting.  Because the cabin sat under huge Coulter Pines on the north slope of Liebre Mountain, we were blocked from the winter sun for at least three months of the year.  The winter snows that sometimes would dump up to three feet in one storm were reluctant to melt away even when the days started to grow longer.  The cabin’s only source of light was provided by permanently mounted propane lanterns fueled from a 500 gallon storage tank in the backyard. Although we could see the direct sunlight on distant hills we lived those winters in the mountain’s shadow.  In order to capture as much light as possible the original cabin had been built with many windows by my dad. Most of those windows had been salvaged from other structures before being incorporated into what later became our home. As the years progressed we continued to add on space and improve the cabin’s ability to

retain heat, but it was never what you would call efficient by today’s standards (or any for that matter).  The fires never went out day or night during the winter months which required Nancy’s constant attention while I was away during the day. We felt blessed having the opportunity to live the way we did, yet the winters were long and dreary, especially for Nancy who spent much of the daytime homeschooling the kids and keeping things warm.

When we decided to build our farmstead at Timber Butte many years later, we knew it too would have to endure long cold winters. Learning from our past experience we made two decisions right from the beginning. First we would build our home in a location with a sunny south exposure; and second, we would construct it for high energy efficiency. The house at Timber Butte would be a house for all seasons.

For years Nancy and I worked together remodeling and selling older homes until we could generate the resources needed to construct the house we hoped to one day build.  It would be our final home after having bought and sold properties seven different times. At first I thought I would build the house myself but realized I neither had the time or expertise needed for the quality of house we dreamed of having.  Knowing how much more time Nancy would be spending at our home, I wanted it to be designed for her. She searched the internet for several months looking at floor plan ideas until she came upon a design called “Grandma’s log home plan”.  It had just two bedrooms, but the dining room, kitchen and living room were all one large open room like our original cabin had been. This openness would make the plan much less conducive to cabin fever during times of winter confinement. . Our friend John Lane studied the concept and taking Nancy’s ideas, designed what was to become the first drawing of our future home. John also introduced us to Cliff Robbins, a builder who had extensive experience building energy effect homes in cold mountainous locations like Lake Tahoe.  Cliff not only built the house, but he and his young family became our good friends in the process.

I plan on writing more about the detail of the house at a later time, but I will say that it is the most energy efficient house we have ever lived in.  Even though it has a high efficient heating and cooling system, it is rarely needed.  Heat is almost totally provided by a soapstone stove that consumes a fraction of the firewood of other stoves we have previously owned.  One thing Nancy requested right from the beginning was high quality windows and enough of them to take advantage of the winter light because of our past experience.  We made sure that happened and the windows have already proven to be a huge blessing both for the purpose of letting in light in the winter and fresh air in the summer.  The ranchstyle overhanging porches shade the windows from the hot summer sun but receive passive heat from the lower southern arched winter sun.    In addition to this, Cliff framed the house with 2×6 studded walls, making sure to caulk every joint as well as also insolating the floor, walls and ceilings to the hilt using three different insulation products. One product that was new to us was closed cell foam, a sticky expanding Styrofoam-like substance that fills every crack.

Unless the Lord has other plans for us in the years ahead it is our prayer that Timber Butte will be our last and final place of rest.  It really is a home for all seasons.

Tags: country living, homestead, rural life, sustainability, Tri Robinson

 On New Year’s Eve it snowed a heavy wet snow as if trying to decide if the warming temperature merited snow or rain.   It was the kind of weather that would motivate most any creature to hunker down and find shelter.  As I do every evening, I trudged to the barn and cupped my hands in megaphone fashion shouting my familiar high pitched call for the horses to come in.  It’s a call they recognize and have learned to trust knowing from many years of experience that their obedience to it will provide fresh hay, a possible handful of grain and the security of a dry stall. 

Between my repeated calls I stood under the protection of an overhang listening into the darkness for a sound of response.   I knew I had been heard but also knew that the distinct tone of my call always takes a bit of time to sink in. Knowing the little I do concerning horse psychology I’ve become acutely aware that whenever my call is heard a decision process takes place.  A choice must always be made between the freedom of the open field and the benefits of obedience.   I’ve been observing it for some thirty-five years and it usually happens the same way every night.  First, all four horses raise their heads and perk their ears toward the beckoning call.  They stand frozen for several minutes until one horse (generally it will always be the same one) will take a few steps in the direction of the barn.  Next, the other horses not wanting to be left behind start to join the leader, tentatively at first, but with every step the pace quickens until  a race begins for the corral gate.  Last night I was listening for the sound of galloping hoofs on the distant hillside and looking for the first sign of my small gang to appear out of the storm.  As many times as this evening ritual plays itself out I never stop feeling a sense of relief when they all arrive.

For me this was a hopeful and prophetic picture of the New Year.  It was a picture of a faithful people running with expectation out of an uncomfortable storm into a better place of security.  It was a picture of many responding to the Master’s call for provision.  But mostly it was a picture of victory.

2009 has been a stormy difficult year for many.  As pastors of a church that cares for a lot of folks we have seen and experienced heart ache. As a city, Boise has been hit hard with massive unemployment as has much of the nation.  Like the rest of the country many people who had aspiration for retirement in their sixties have had plans and dreams stressed with the loss of mutual funds.  Some have lost their homes to foreclosure and many who started the recession with savings have resorted to using them for survival.  The church’s food bank has been stressed with demands that have doubled its normal output.  Economic and social pressures have put undo stresses on relationships exasperating the problems.  It’s been hard.  And because no man is an island, especially in a tight church community; it’s been hard on everyone, especially for those who have hearts of compassion and deep feelings of empathy.  It’s been a storm, but in the end it has awakened many to the Masters beckoning call to trust Him for security and comfort.

Nancy and I believe that the Lord is calling all who will respond to his voice into a new place of victory in 2010.  This doesn’t mean that the storms won’t continue to rage, but for those who choose not to rebelliously remain in the open range, he will provide provision and refuge.  Like my horses, a decision to respond to the master’s voice must be made.  In every small group some must rise up and take the leadership to be willing to take the first steps of radical obedience in order to begin the charge.  This will require long term vision; even eternal vision.  It will require people to stop dwelling on their short term crises and see the bigger picture of what God is doing.   This will take people who have their ears perked, sensitive to the Lords beckoning voice, always listening with faith, believing that his voice can be heard above the distracting roar of the storm.  It will take a people who are weary of the storm, eager to be in a new and better place; a people who are not satisfied or content with the misery, but ready and willing to move (even to run) through the darkness towards the distant light of the Lords fresh provision.   We believe that 2010 will be a year of great victory for many as they beckon to His call for obedience and surrender.

Tags: country living, homestead, Horses, simplified life, sustainability, Tri Robinson

As I have previously mentioned I’ve lately been converting a storage room in the barn into a butchering shop which includes a hot and cold running water sink.  One of the challenges has been to install a plumbing system that could easily be shut off and winterized after each use during the cold winter months.  Freezing water lines is always a risk here from October through March and keeping the heat on simply to protect sporadically used vulnerable pipes for six months of the year is both costly and a poor act of stewardship when it comes to energy usage.  The only answer as I see it is to shut off and drain the entire system;  the hot water tank and all water lines and sewage traps, and be able to do it without undo hassle.   Here are two things I have incorporated in my butcher plumbing system to help me accomplish this.

The first thing I did was to incorporate a way to quickly empty the sink trap without having to pour antifreeze into it after every use. (Antifreeze is a toxic substance meant for the radiators of cars not to be consistently poured into the ground.)  I accomplished this by gluing a small plastic drip-line irrigation value on the bottom of the sink trap (see picture).   A sink trap serves two major purposes; one to “trap” or catch objects such as wedding rings from going into the septic system before being able to be retrieved and second, to block sewage smells from coming back up from the septic system.  Water caught in the “U” trap serves as a vapor barrier thus stopping odors from passing back by.   In our case, the sink drain empties into a non-sewage tank and thus odor isn’t an issue.  If it were an issue a rubber stopper could serve to accomplish the same thing.  By installing a valve in the trap the drain can easily be emptied when winterizing the system to alleviate an ice blockage and thus inhibit drainage at a later usage.

With these two simple additions I can shut off the main water source, open the drain valves and free the system of all potential freezing water in a matter of minutes after each winter use.

Tags: country living, enviornment, homestead, plumbing, Small farm, stewardship, sustainability, Tri Robinson, Water development

From the Robinson family and all of our animal friends from top to bottom – left to right: Top Hope and her little dog Sara sitting on Dusty (Dusty’s story – see Entry #43  Feb. 4th) - On the left is Kate – then Nancy holding Max the new kitten - Tri and Theodore the rooster on the right (Theodore’s story – see entry #91 June 9th ) - Brook with Emma and Lily the two lab cousins on the bottom.