A few weeks ago I passed the chicken coup while walking out to feed the horses.  It was a mild evening and the air was fresh and calm until a ruckus suddenly broke the serenity of the moment.  On the back side of the chicken coup I heard Nancy yelling in anger saying things like, “If you want a piece of me big boy come and get it!!!”   Frankly it was alarming until I realized she was yelling at Theodore the rooster who had attacked her for the third time that week.  He used to be such a sweet rooster, but in recent months had started listening and responding to the voice of his bad angel who must have been telling him to get in touch with his testosterone.

As you may remember, Theodore was an orphaned rooster that had found me one day while I was collecting rocks out in the middle of nowhere.  He was mysteriously sitting under a bush half starved when I first spotted him and he immediately came to me for rescue when I stretched my hand in his direction.  He literally jumped into my arms. (See Entry #91 – June 9^th, 2009 – “Our new mystery friend”)  I brought him home and Nancy, being who she is made a special place for him to recuperate.  She had lovingly cared for him and protected him from the other chickens until he was finally strong enough to hold his own.  For months he was docile and friendly letting anyone pick him up and lovingly hold him in their arms.  It took awhile for us to even figure out what kind of a bird he was much less his sex.  He was always different than the other chickens and for a long time unaccepted, especially by the older rooster.

Theodore during his adolescence

Early one morning I approached the coup before daylight with the feed bucket, and as I cracked opened the door I heard an adolescent sounding crow.  As I turned on the light I spotted Theodore sitting on a high perch looking somehow different.   I think the noise that came out of him was as surprising to him as it was to me. From that day on he started to change.  He had gotten in touch with his masculinity and within weeks was choosing off the older dominate rooster.  Actually it was kind of sad. Not only had we lost our sweet little pet, but our older rooster who had taken his job running the roost with dignity was overpowered by Theodore’s new aggressive urges.   Theodore was now the king of the harem and it soon went to his head.  Unlike the older rooster (who eventually died of a broken spirit) Theodore could fly.  He could fly not only to the top of the coup fence (his new found place of superiority), but over the fence where he was not afraid to challenge dogs, cats, innocent children and to his demise, Nancy and I.

Even Lily fears Theodore

Even Lily our Labrador became intimidated by him and our granddaughter Hope started to arm herself with sticks and garden tools when walking across the barnyard.   One day Theodore even chased a thirty year old friend of our son Brook into the back of his pickup truck. He was trembling in fear while avoiding the macho young rooster’s aggressiveness (at least that’s how Brook and his other buddies related the story to me.)   That’s when Nancy had enough.  Theodore was either going into the stew pot or going to receive some serious therapy.

Theodore learns not to mess with Nancy

Nancy soon learned that fighting fire with fire only made the problem worse. For example, kicking and hitting him over the head with a feed bucket in response to his spurring charges only seemed to make him meaner, feeling justified for his sneaky stealth attacks.  Theodore always attacked when you least expected it.  Not knowing where else to go for help Nancy finally resorted to the internet.  As amazing as it seemed to me she actually discovered an article on taming mean roosters.  It had been written by an old farmer who evidently had had the same dilemma.  Anyway, for the past two weeks she has been catching Theodore any time he even gets that sly devious look in his eyes.  She holds him tight in her arms and taking her index finger presses down his beak into his chest holding him in submission for up to ten minutes at a time.  I don’t know if it will work, but it’s her best effort to save him from sure death and her from the trauma of losing her cool and ringing his poor little rooster neck in a fit of unladylike rage.

The following is a great article on taming mean roosters: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20070503071406AAJC8T1

Tags: Chickens, country living, homestead, Rossters, Small farm, Taming a mean rooster, Tri Robinson

When I built the horse barn I hadn’t dreamt it would one day become the place that we would host a rehearsal dinner party to celebrate the wedding of our son Brook and new daughter Andrea.  Last Friday evening however, over fifty people sat down to eat a wonderful meal together while a live Bluegrass band played in the hayloft above. 

A few months before when Brook asked about the possibility of using the barn for such an occasion we naturally jumped at the idea.  We hadn’t guessed at the time that June would be one of the wettest in recent history.  Literally an hour before the party started on Friday evening a lightning storm blew through bringing with it not only the crashing of thunder but a torrential downpour of driving rain.  I also hadn’t considered the idea that the invitation list might grow at the last minute to be more folks than our four horse barn

The High Desert Bluegrass Band

could possibly accommodate.  The fact of the matter was, we were all so excited for the occasion our enthusiasm would override any obstruction.  We were blessed to be asked and started to plan the event right away.  Nancy figured out the food and I started to clean out the barn. With some great help I shoveled out a mountain of manure which had been accumulating all winter and even painted all of the interior walls. (See entry’s #167 & 162)  The day of the dinner we had fun doing the finish work with some wonderful old friends who have known and loved our kids for years.   We covered the floor with wood shavings, set up tables and decorated them.  In the end nearly sixty people comfortably sat down to the BBQ dinner.  

Rand Thompson and the High Desert Bluegrass Band set up in the hayloft and played through-out the entire evening.  Not only did the night turn out to be a joyous celebration, but the rain and wind moved on leaving behind only the cool fresh smell of spring in the air.  When the evening ended we all recognized that God had blessed the night and the marriage covenant which was about to be made between Brook and his beautiful bride Andrea.

Tags: Barns, Bluegrass, country living, homestead, Sustainable living, Tri Robinson

I think everyone who loves to garden ends up accumulating a plethora of various kinds of digging tools.  Spade shovels, flat nose shovels, scoop shovels, rakes, pitch forks, etc. are all a necessity for those of us who spend the warmer months digging in the dirt. What’s really frustrating however is when you need a specific tool but can’t seem to locate the proper one when you need it the most; not only that, but having tools lying around everywhere makes your place look untidy and disorganized.   That was our case and the frustration of it finally motivated me to figure out an inexpensive solution.  Most of our tools generally seemed to end up leaning against the garden fence line and I realized if I was to build some sort of a rack to hang them on the best place to locate it would be where they would naturally end up.  Because my new tool rack would be outside where things would be close at hand I decided to construct something that could stand up to the weather during the spring and summer seasons.  Here is my solution.

"A" - 1/2 inch foundation bolt

Looking around through my junk I spotted some left over ½ inch foundation bolts.  They were ten inches long and had a perfect “L” shaped hook at the end.  (See picture A) I realized that their threads where just long enough to be bolted to a left over 2X12 I had scrounged from my scrap pile.  I drilled sets of ½ inch holes four inches apart down the 2X12 leaving 10 inches between each set of two.  I bought an extra set of washers and nuts for each bolt so that I could put a nut and washer on each side of the plank.  (See picture

"B"- Bolts anchored in 2X12 plank

B)  After cinching them up tight I bolted the ten foot rack on the garden fence and gathered every tool I could find and hung them between the foundation bolts.  Already this small simple invention has made our lives easier.  Not only is it easier to find the tools we need but it did in fact make the garden look uncluttered and tidy.

Tags: country living, Garden tools, homestead, organic gardening, Small farm, sustainability, Tri Robinson

Our scarecrow shivered during the end of May

When people live close to the land and even depend on it for the substance of life they become acutely aware of change.  For years Nancy and I have planted our garden in mid May. Not the frail things like tomatoes and peppers, but the early crops like potatoes and peas.  This year was a bit different – the fruit trees had already budded and blossomed.  The potato plants were six inches tall in the garden and the alfalfa had been growing in leaps and bounds over the past month even though it had been wet and unseasonably cold.  Everything was on schedule until a late unexpected snow storm dumped two fresh inches of snow on the ground and the temperatures plummeted to below freezing during the night.  As a result, this year’s fruit will be lost for the second year, the potatoes died back and even some of the alfalfa froze in the field.  It was crazy. 

As soon as the snow started to fall I scrambled to get Nancy’s vegetable starts which she had set out to harden for planting back into the greenhouse.   We knew that the spring seems to extend longer year by year, but to get a freezing snowfall a couple of weeks before it is officially summer seemed outlandish.  Talking to my neighbor, Craig Krosch, who has farmed the Timber Butte area for years, he said he is confident that the weather changes here are not just a fluke, but very real. For three years now he has lost dry-land alfalfa to hard frost a month before it was to be harvested. I didn’t even know such a thing could happen, but then I’m a rookie compared to him.  

New potatoes peeking through fresh snow

Folks everywhere are denying that “Global Warming” is really happening, not understanding that it will manifest itself in different ways in different regions.  I personally believe that the term “Global Warming” challenges a debate as to if the changes are human caused or naturally caused.  Personally I feel that debate distracts from the fact that the climate is changing and farmers especially are and will be facing grave new challenges.  No one can deny that hurricanes, tornadoes and disastrous flooding are on the increase in both quantity and intensity nationwide for whatever reason. Meteorologists are alerting us that because the Atlantic Ocean waters are the warmest they have been in recorded history they may well cause another bad year for hurricanes in the southern coastal regions.

Blossoms on a snowy morning

As human beings we hate to admit that things are changing, especially for the worst.  By nature we hate change and we secretly want everything to stay the same.  The Apostle Paul once wrote about this when he was speaking about the changes that would occur right before the second coming of Christ.  He said, “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.”

 I, for one, don’t want to find myself in that camp; I’d rather admit things are changing and try to deal with it as best as I can. Next year we’ll wait a few weeks before we put our garden in.

Tags: climate change, enviornment, Global warming, homestead, organic gardening, Small farm, Sustainable living, Tri Robinson

I had been dreading the thought of painting the interior walls of the barn for months. The thought of cleaning it out masking windows and doors, and spraying some 3000 square feet of walls (walls that are 18 feet tall) overwhelmed me.  By myself I knew the job would take me several days and dozens of trips up and down tall extension ladders.  I wanted to do it, but thinking about the effort it would take kicked in that old enemy of progress, procrastination. 

Last Christmas our son Brook announced his engagement to a girl we all love, Andrea Dotters.  He proposed and gave her a ring on Christmas Eve and the excitement and preparation of a June wedding went into motion, especially at the Dotters house.  Other than having the privilege of facilitating the service as the marrying pastor, my only real job was to prepare the barn for a rehearsal dinner here at Timber Butte.  The thought of the party was exciting and motivating, especially considering the blessing of the occasion and so even though the size of the task was challenging, the vision of what it was for spurred me on. 

Several weeks before we had shoveled out a mountain of horse manure after a winter of accumulation (See entry #162) in preparation for the paint job we had scheduled for this past Saturday.  After a winter of thinking about it, the day had finally arrived.  I got together the paint and

Nathan & Nathan climbing ladders

supplies needed and headed for the barn early last Saturday morning where I started to clean the walls of hanging tack and the floor and loft of tools, bales of left over hay, welding equipment and miscellaneous paraphernalia which had accumulate in the many nooks and crannies. After a couple of hours of prep work I was ready to start masking and fire up the airless spray rig to start painting. That’s when I heard the welcome sound of Nathan’s diesel pickup coming up the road. 

As the pickup came to a stop two young guys jumped out eager to lend me a hand.   Not only did Nathan Harknes who had helped me do projects on two other occasions, but he brought Nathan Evans who had come over from an island in Hawaii to attend our VCOM school of Biblical Action.  They were a welcome sight and without delay we all got to work.  Later in the day Josh and Melissa Fishburne showed up after having run a thirteen mile half marathon that same morning and jumped in as well.  Nancy cooked a great meal for everyone keeping the moral high and by five o’clock that afternoon not only were the walls and stalls painted  but the spray rig was cleaned up and all the tack and other paraphernalia was hanging back on the walls again.   The barn looked more beautiful than I had expected and ready for the celebration we were all anticipating with excitement. It goes to show that the Amish people are right when they say, “Many hands make light work”.

Tags: Barn construction, country living, homestead, Small farm, Tri Robinson

We were heartbroken last March when I discovered that our first colony of honey bees had abandoned their hive.  It had been our first experience raising bees and we had been elated at the plentiful harvest we experienced at the end of a first season.  Our industrious bees had filled two supers with harvestable honey after storing away two main boxes which would be an ample amount to sustain them through the coming winter.  It’s hard to explain the fealings of depression we felt, (unless you have had the chance to raise bees yourself) but we had actually built a kind of relationship with them.  Even before winter began I felt a type of parental concern worrying about their welfare as days become shorter and colder.  I knew that they had plenty of stored honey to get them through the cold months ahead, but felt concern for the bitter cold subzero temperatures they would be facing.  I looked on the web in hope of discovering how to winterize the hive and even asked for advice from folks who had far more experience than me, yet I still felt uncertain.  

Annual Bee clinic in Fruitland, Idaho

In an effort to protect them from the cold north winds I built a protective wall of hay around three sides of the hive leaving the sunny south facing side open.  I also fashioned a sheet of roofing steel over the top to keep the driving rains from saturating them and the deep snows from burying them.  In my mind I couldn’t understand how zero temperatures wouldn’t freeze the little guys into a solid block along with their stored honey supply when they were merely protected by a thin walled wooden box.  After tucking them in the best I knew how I left the hive alone until March when I decided to put my ear to the cover lid in hope of hearing the buzzing sounds of life.  I didn’t – the hive seemed empty. 

Nancy behind the veil

I had heard reports from our bee keeping friend Mike Lutz and a neighbor down the road who both had lost their bees to what they considered to be hive collapse syndrome or disorder and so I decided to have a look.  Carefully prying up the lid I looked in only to discover they too had disappeared.  I felt a little heartbroken and really discouraged but after discussing it with Nancy decided not to give up but to try again the following spring.

Every year there is a beekeeping clinic offered in Fruitland, Idaho on the first of May for folks like us who are complete rookies when it comes to bees.  I had attended the clinic the year before and purchased our first colony.  This year I asked Nancy to go along with me hopeful that between the two of us we could ask more questions and retain more information. 

 The week before the clinic was scheduled I decided to empty the old hives and prepare them for the new colonies we would be bringing home. We decided to try two hives side by side after hearing that bee colonies do best in partnership. Opening the hive and pulling the old frames I discovered the abandoned combs were loaded with several gallons of honey. I couldn’t understand why a seemingly healthy bunch of bees would leave such a gold mine in the middle of winter. As I removed the last frames from the bottom box I discovered a dead mouse and a nest right in the middle. I wondered then if the mouse was the reason for the bee’s evacuation or if he had moved in after the bees had already left.  I had no idea. 

The new bees come home

At the clinic I shared my finding with an experienced bee keeper and he told me it was common for mice to run off bees in winter when the bees are too weak to fight for their hive.  He said that by pilling hay around the hive I had actually provided a good habitat for the mice and had even encouraged them to take up residence around their hive. He also told me that I could fashion a mouse guard made out of a piece of angle iron with holes drilled in it and fasten it in front of the hive entrance.  The holes are large enough for bees to enter and exit but would keep the mice out.

Learning is a lifelong process I’ve discovered and many if not most lessons learned seem to come by way of failures and mistakes.  I was tempted to give up on our beekeeping venture after my first failed attempt, but with Nancy’s encouragement decided to try again.  We now have two new hives full of buzzing bees in our vegetable garden where we are able to watch them daily.  They are already getting established and making themselves at home enjoying the first blossoms of spring.

Tags: Beekeeping, hive collapse syndrome, homestead, organic gardening, Small farm, Sustainable living, Tri Robinson

Every time I turn around these days Nancy is raising or growing something new in our bathtub.  First it was two kittens who she named Mercy & Gracie, then seedlings for the vegetable garden, and now three small Muscovy ducklings she has named Daisy, Lazy & Hazy.  Responding to her grandmother instinct I notice she constantly ventures into the local feed store and heads straight to the bins and cages of live baby things; little chicks, geese, rabbits, ducklings, puppies, or anything else that is peeping or meowing out for a loving mother figure.  That’s what happened with the kittens last winter. As she walked by their cage a small Siamese kitten slyly reached his tiny paw through the wire of the cage that imprisoned him and gently touched Nancy’s passing arm.  As you can imagine her heart melted like wax and in a moment of weakness he was in her arms. Not wanting to separate him from his fuzzy and equally cute twin sister she brought both kittens home and prepared a cozy bed for them in the master bath tub.  His original name was Mercy but later was renamed Mad-Max (due to a significant puberty behavioral and attitudinal personality change). When challenged on what we were going to do with two new cats Nancy’s only response was that they were free.  Free that is until she had to purchase a state of the arc litter-box, a matching set of food & water dishes and the half dozen toys needed to keep them from becoming bored, not to mention the additional expense of neutering Mad-Max and giving him a plethora of kitty shots, worming medication, etc. etc.   Realizing that having two kittens in the house along with Lily was a bit much;   Nancy gave Max’s sister to a friend’s granddaughters who desperately feel in love with Gracie (much to our relief).

Now, about the ducklings.  Again it was a stop for feed at D&B Feed and Farm Supplies, a stop we frequently make on our way home from work.  For several weeks I noticed Nancy eyeing a large feed trough filled with peeping ducklings and new born chicks.  Week by week I watched as she fell deeper in love with the ducklings. She kept commenting about their tiny bills and webbed feet which I knew was a bad sign. She also commented on the fact that they were gradually being sold off and were decreased in number every time she stopped by the store – that was another bad sign.  For a while I managed to talk her out of taking them home by reminding her that although we had a large half acre pond below the house we didn’t have a duck house or pen to protect them from the coyotes, skunks, raccoons, bobcats and foxes that called Timber Butte their home.  My strategy was working pretty well until she spotted a copy of Hobby Farms Magazine on a rack by the cashiers counter as we were leaving the store.  As only providence could have it the magazine had a

Mad-Max meets Daisy, or is it Lazy

portrait of a Muscovy duckling on the cover that was identical to the ones being sold. Nancy knew at once that it was in fact the hand of the Lord telling her she must take the remaining ducklings home.  As you might guess, the rest was history. 

Once again the master bathtub no longer belongs to the master (that would be me) but rather is now a duck habitat filled with wood chips, a poultry feeder and waterier.  Daisy, Lazy and Hazy are a content part of the family as plans are being drawn up for our future duck pen and house.  It’s just the way things work here at Timber Butte Homestead and as tough as I sound Mad-Max contently lays on my lap every morning as I drink hot coffee and have my quiet time. He has become my good friend and has even accepted the ducklings as something more than a convenient snack.

Tags: Hobby Farms, homestead, Muscovy ducks, rural life, simplified life, Small farm, sustainability, Tri Robinson

Winter at TImber Butte Homestead

Winter is not only a confining time but a difficult time to keep things tidy. Winter has a beauty of its own; there is no doubt about it. But, living in snow country has the tendency of being confining and conducive to the buildup of clutter both in the house and barn.  With warmth and lengthening of spring days the time of dormancy lifts and not only brings renewed life to the land, but in a special way to our human spirits as well.  As doors and windows fling open allowing the freshness of the new season to enter in we become simultaneously ready to get out in the fresh air. 

Nancy spring cleans her gardening room

 Spring has a special way of motivating and energizing us to reorganize and clean things up.  Every year it offers us a new beginning; it’s a time to prepare the garden for another growing season, turning over the rows and setting up irrigation line for easy maintenance. It is a time to prepare the green house for fragile plants not yet ready for early planting due to erratic climate changes. It is a time to muck out the barn and mound up a winter’s accumulation of manure in preparation for next year’s compost. It’s also a time to fix broken pipes that had become casualties of the subzero winter temperatures because they had been inadequately drained in the previous fall.  Spring is a time to reorganize and prepare for the animals on the homestead; time to feed the bees and let the chickens out of their coup so they can free range once again.

 Spring cleaning is liberating to the soul.  There is something wonderful about ridding oneself of the chronic buildup of unneeded clutter.  After years of living out this spring cleaning scenario I’ve realized that it must be a common characteristic of our human natures to accumulate unneeded stuff. Unused

Our friend Nathan lends a hand mucking out the barn

possessions have a mysterious way of filling our closet shelves, cluttering drawers, being stuffed under beds and in the once spacious places of garages and barns. I’m speaking of the things that we once believed we needed, but soon cease to have any real functional value. Cleaning out the clutter not only takes deliberate effort but the honesty to admit we really don’t need a lot of extra stuff.  Simplicity is a gift once it is achieved, but it is a gift that requires a deliberate choice and effort to go after it.

 A number of years ago I wrote a book entitled, Small Footprint, Big Handprint – How to live simply and love extravagantly.  It was based on a series I taught which I called, The Biblical Pursuit of a More Simplified Life.  The book and teaching were a challenge for folks to downsize their lives for the sake of upsizing their impact on the world around them. It spoke of a mega spring cleaning of their personal lives, not just for the sake of simplicity, but for the sake of effectiveness in the lives of others.  It illuminated the fact that far too often our

This years manure is next years compost

possessions own us more than we own them.  It showed how things in our lives can encumber us with physical, emotional and even spiritual debt.  God’s intent is that we would not be in bondage from the things of this world but be free and in fact, “free indeed” [John 8:36]. It is in freedom that we then have the liberty to become the people God originally intended us to be.

Fixing pipes that didn't survive the winters freeze

 I don’t want to over spiritualize this “spring cleaning” thing, but I do believe that the reason it feels so wonderful when we choose to do it is because it is a physical picture of a more important spiritual reality.  In our heart of hearts we want to be free from the things that encumber us.  Life has a way of stuffing away the destructive clutter of memories that are unedifying and even painful. These memories start to override God’s goodness and His greater purpose for our lives. They encumber our minds and hearts causing us to lose the freedom we were created to have.  That’s why Jesus said in John 8:36, “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”  It is God’s heart and intention that we experience real freedom.  His provision of Jesus provides the greatest spring cleaning of all – the cleansing of our souls.

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

We planted potatoes and onions on Monday and they were covered with snow by Thursday, which just happened to be April Fool’s Day.  I’ll admit that I’ve got a bad case of spring fever and the joke was on me. Last week Nancy and I took a walk along the south facing slope of Timber Butte and saw some early flowers peek their heads up in warm protected areas. It put hope in our hearts, but then the weather changed and it was like the proverb states, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick…” (Proverb 13:12a) I, for one, am more than ready for a new season. Next Sunday we will celebrate Easter which is all about resurrection and new beginnings.  This is more like the second half of the same proverb, “…but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” (Proverb 13:12b)

During this hard season of recession many folks are struggling in a lot of ways.  There is a scary uncertainty in the air not only economically, but on many fronts.  As a pastor I am constantly aware of people’s fears and personal crisis issues. The stresses of life have a way of causing relational struggles in marriages, with friends, employers and extended family.  Even physical health can be affected.  Most everyone I know is ready for a brighter new season in their lives and like the last few weeks up here at Timber Butte we get glimpses of warmer sunnier days to come. But, then on the heels of the temporary hint of spring weather comes another snow or windy hail storm. 

In all of this, the good news always is the same – God is a God of redemption and renewal.  He is a God of new beginnings and fresh new starts.  Romans 1:20 tells us that God reveals his nature through all that he has created and he created changing seasons. Winter will eventually turn spring even if our hope gets deferred a time or two in the process. God’s intent and promise to those who love him is for the gardens of their lives to spring up and grow in the full sunlight and warmth of his presence. In a way you might say this is the message of Easter.  Jesus came to humanity to bring the provision of redemption to anyone who would accept and receive it. For those who choose to praise him he pours out his grace, healing and the promise for new life. Isaiah put it like this, “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.”(Isa. 61:11)

Tags: country living, Easter, homestead, sustainability, Tri Robinson

Each morning I have the habit of rising early and feeding all of the animals while a pot of coffee brews in the kitchen.  By the time I get back to the house the coffee is freshly perked and the fire is crackling in the soapstone fireplace bringing the house back to a warm temperature. Then I sit in my chair drinking a cup or two of coffee waiting for the morning’s light to gradually illuminate Squaw Butte on the distant western horizon. During this quiet time I am listening for the Lord’s voice in hopes of receiving direction for the approaching day. This has been my routine for as long as I can remember and I have grown to deeply value not only the peace it brings, but the inspiration and clarity for decisions I must make and actions I must take to tackle the challenges the new day will bring.

Sitting there in the early morning darkness the fire’s reflection illuminates a series of hand sculptured tiles inlayed across the hearth. They are tiles my parents had created by a local artist, Dean Estes, for Nancy and me. Dean is not only a gifted sculptor, but a long time family friend who took nearly a year to lovingly sculpture nine wax blocks with images taken from a series of black and white illustrations. They came from a book my dad had written which tells the story of our family’s westward journey by wagon train in the 1800’s. Dean transformed the wax sculptures into individualized clay tiles that he carefully glazed and fired.  Each tile represents a significant event which occurred on the long and difficult passage across the Great Plains and over the Rocky and Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Seeing these images every morning provides me with a reminder of my roots and heritage. They give me courage during seasons when my life becomes overwhelming. Thinking about what those early pioneers willingly chose to do somehow grounds me as a person living in the 21^st century – a time when everything feels uncomfortably uncertain.  They challenge me to remember the pioneer spirit and strong values that motivated my early family to risk everything for the sake of a free and wholesome life. They urge me to embrace those values and that spirit for myself.

More and more people are looking for the life that Nancy and I have been seeking as we moved onto Timber Butte. The word sustainability has emerged in recent years to describe a desire to regain the pioneer spirit.  It speaks of breaking away from the confines and the feelings of vulnerability when living a day to day existence that is literally at the mercy of an uncertain social system.  Modern day homesteading (which can take place in the country or the city) is an effort to produce healthier food, drink better water, use renewable energy sources and experience the freedom to raise our families with righteous values for the sake of better and more meaningful lives.  The Apostle Paul once said as he concluded his letter to the Philippians, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about these things.” [Phil 4:8] Although he didn’t say it, I think Paul would agree that we shouldn’t just think about such things, but must have the courage to pursue them as well.

Looking back at my heritage gives me the courage and motivation to break away from status quo. It causes me to strive to recapture the values that must have driven those early pioneers to rethink and restart their lives outside the confines of a social system that no longer focused on what was true, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable.  They longed for a new way of life and a new beginning, and they were willing to sacrifice to achieve it.  When we lose sight of our heritage it can cause us to flounder and lose our way.  I think of our nation for example; every time we begin to forget the principles and intent of our founding fathers we begin to redefine our values becoming weakened by division.  In doing so we forget who we are and why God once blessed everything we put our hands to. In the end we begin to gravitate towards being a society much like the one our founders rebelled against.  This can be true in our personal lives as well. Looking to the past can help us regain purpose for a preferred and better future. Even the bad things of the past can be used to launch us into a better and more fruitful future.

The old adage, “history repeats itself” generally holds a negative connotation. It is true, many times the child of an alcoholic can become an alcoholic, an abusive person has often been abused, but it doesn’t have to be that way.  Our negative past can help us strive towards a positive future.  It is all about looking back and learning not only from the valor of those who went before us, but from their mistakes as well. History will only repeat itself if we ignore and deny the past, refusing to make courageous choices to turn away from the bad so that we might cling to the good.  It is for this very reason that Nancy and I have dedicated our lives to Christ.  Making these kinds of life-changing choices is nothing short of miraculous – it’s something that only God can do. He came to forgive what needed forgiving from our past so we might live in freedom from habits, hurts and the painful memories that paralyze.  What he does is real and tangible, and for this reason faith was a key value for our pioneer ancestors. Regaining that pioneer spirit and the values that accompanied it – this is the hope for the challenges we now face in the 21^st century.

Tags: homestead, Pioneers, Sustainable living, Tri Robinson, westward movement

Winter has seemed long this year.  It could be my age, or maybe I feel like this every March but forget the feeling of dreariness from the previous year. February was a cold month that brought low, cold clouds rolling up the foothills slowly engulfing us to the point of causing our worldview to become small and bleak.  More than once Nancy and I would spontaneously sing the line from the Broadway play, Annie, “The sun’ll come out tomorrow; bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun!”  Singing it felt encouraging and somehow optimistically prophetic when everything around was so gray.  

Then one day it happened as it always does at this time of year – the clouds lifted taking with them the drabness we felt.  The sun broke through, melting away the remaining snow and allowing the ground to absorb heat and finally thaw.  The air was still crisp but the hope of a new season was renewed and so was our vision for the creation of yet another productive vegetable garden.   

Our friends, Elliot and Marilyn, feeling invigorated by a stretch of warmer weather themselves, offered to lend us a hand for a day.  We graciously accepted and along with our granddaughter, Hope, we spent the better part of a Saturday prepping raised beds in the garden. Elliot and I turned over the soil, reforming the mounded rows while Marilyn and Nancy raked in gypsum and planted Winter Rye grass.  Gypsum helps to loosen the compacted soil while breaking up clay. Winter Rye on the other hand is a green crop that adds nitrogen when spaded into the rows later in the season in preparation for vegetable seeds. 

Hope worked alongside us driving in stakes and stringing lines so Elliot and I could construct the new rows straight and even. As we all labored outside for the day, we used muscles that had been dormant all winter. Although those muscles would let us know about it the next day, our spirits were renewed and revitalized as we enjoyed the fresh air and the beginning preparations for a promised harvest to come. 

If there is a moral or point to this short story it might simply be this: The sun will always come out tomorrow and when it does, it’s not a time to sit but to rise up and act on the renewed hope it will surely bring.  Life is full of seasons, and every season has its purpose.  As King Solomon once said, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven…” [Eccl. 3:1]

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

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

Nancy cooked in the open fireplace

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.

The wood cook stove in old ranch kitchen

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.   

Snaking out logs for firewood

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

A family trail crew in 1982

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.

Pat Armstrong with Monty & Mike

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.

Grading out the new trail with Mike

 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.

Nancy takes the kids fishing after bringing us lunch

 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.

Nancy cooks in the campfires smoke

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.

Katie serves pie and coffee to a tired crew

 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. 

Pat washes off the dirt after a hard day of trail work

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.  

Brook packing his pony Dusty

 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.

Cutting off the tong and grooved sides

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

Coating both sides with Gorilla Glue

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

Clamping the glued maple strips

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

Sanding slabs level

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.

Backing slabs with Liquid Nail

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.

Fitting corners into place

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.)  

Application of mineral oil

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