One morning recently I casually passed by the television as Nancy my wife was cooking breakfast. She had the Today Show on and Ann Curry was beginning an interview with CEO and Chief Operations Officer of British Petroleum. She was asking him if BP was willing to offer an apology to the American people for the devastating damage of the Gulf of Mexico oil spill crisis which is now being considered the worst man caused pollution disaster in the history of the world (spewing more oil than the Valdez oil spill of twenty years ago every four days.) BP’s original claim that the leak was spilling 5000 barrels (200,000 gallons) of crude oil is now estimated by some scientists as being possibly ten times greater – nobody seems to know for sure. 

 As I passed by the television I couldn’t help but be drawn in by the intensity of the interview but also the devastating pictures that accompanied it. As this BP spokesman squirmed to avoid direct answers to Ann Curry’s questions across the screen were images from a mile under the sea showing the ruptured pipe gushing a massive stream of black oil upward and aerial pictures of the growing oil slick slowly spreading across the ocean’s surface. 

 Seeing those images brought to mind a picture of a severed human artery pumping dark blood outward forming a slow spreading pool on the pavement near a dying body. That picture coupled with the familiar new footage of dead and dying dolphins, sea turtles and birds coated in oil washing up on the southern U.S. shores gave me the morbid thought that I was observing a picture of the earth dying from a mortal wound. I thought of the scripture in Romans 8 where it says, “For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” (Romans 8:19-22)

As a pastor I have always exhorted my people to minister to what has been referred to as “a lost and dying world”. Somehow I had never equated it with the death of the physical earth. The reality that the earth could actually die right before my eyes really shook me. I know as well as any Christian that the Bible prophesied that horrible things would happen in the time period that is referred to as “the last days” or the “day of the Lord”. In my optimism I had always believed that it would be a time in the way distant future but I now realize it could happen in my lifetime. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: creation care, enviornment, Gulf oil desater, sustainability, 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

After our visit to Inland Desert Nursery I came home motivated to start off our small vineyard right from the beginning.  Having a close look at what Tom had done I realized how important it was to build a strong support trellis system before the vines had a chance to develop. Observing his trellis system gave me a lot of good ideas.  I also realized how expensive trellis construction can be so when I came home I decided to improvise using as many things as I could that were lying around the place. Our vineyard was obviously extremely small, but still part of the goal of sustainability is to use as few outside resources as possible. As a result I tried to take advantage of my junk pile.  For my main supports I used cedar posts that had been left over from the corral. I used surplus wire from my fencing supplies and unused drip line from the vegetable garden.  My posts were only seven feet long which meant having just five feet out of the ground, but after a little research I discovered that in our colder climate a shorter trellis would be sufficient due to the shorter growing season. I used 10 gauge non-galvanized wires for my main supports after hearing not only how heavy the vines would become when fully mature, but also that galvanized wire can become toxic to the fruit. (I’m not certain that every vintner would agree with this however).

Fencing ratchets can be tightened at any time to maintain tight wires

The first thing I did was dig three foot holes several feet beyond the arbor rows in order to construct anchors.  These anchors, also known as “dead men”, are used to stretch and hold the support wires taut.  I set a steel rod in each hole and filled them with concrete. I used leftover steel electric fence wire posts (again procured from my junk pile) Using an acetylene torch, I twisted the ends into rings so that I could later attach and stretch my wire from them.  I then set my cedar posts every sixteen feet down each row.  Two grapevines would later be planted between each post. Note that I also set my two outside posts at slight outward angles for extra support (see pictures).  I then drilled holes through the posts so that the support wires might be strung through them at appropriate heights.  Of the vineyards I observed I had not seen this done, but it seemed like a good idea to me.  Most modern vineyards use heavy steel posts that are specially manufactured for this purpose, but again I used what we had laying around.

Holes drilled trough the posts holds the wires and irrigation line

Finally, I stretched the wires from one end of the row to the other using fencing ratchets (which cost approximately $3 found apiece at places which sell fencing products.)  I decided to use these for two reasons: first, because they are excellent for stretching heavy gauge wire; and second, because they can be used at any time to tighten wires the lose tension as the vines increase in weight.

 After all my wires where in place I added my drip line, suspending it from the bottom wire.  The drip line is generally a foot above the ground so that it is out of the way of weed hoeing and mulching.  Note also that I strung my three wires at one foot (drip line wire) 30” and 48” (vine support wires). 

 Tom told me that if our first season goes well our vines should reach the first wire.  He told us to keep only the two most healthy shoots that come off the root to be trained on the 30” wire. These would become the two main vines to be trained on the 30” wire. He recommended that they be twisted when they reach the wire so that one goes each direction.  These two vines will grow down the wire four feet in each direction. For this reason each vine is planted eight feet apart.  The next year these two main vines will produce shoots that will be attached to the 48” vine and produce rich fruit there in the years to come.

Tags: country living, grapevines, organic gardening, Small farm, sustainability, Tri Robinson, vineyard trellis, Vineyards

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

A while ago I visited the Shaker Plantation in Pleasant Hill, Kentucky.  I love not only studying the construction of early American structures, but also such things as handmade tools, furniture, fencing and gates.  I get great pleasure in reproducing things here at Timber Butte so that they are in keeping with and give the feel of homesteads from years past.  We try to use as much of the natural rock and logs as it is functionally possible for this reason.  Whenever we visit places like the Shaker village I look extra close at things and take pictures so that I might incorporate ideas here at home.  I guess it is more of a hobby than anything. Like many others, I get deep satisfaction using my hands in my free time.  Generally I have far more projects than I have time for, but the vision to do them keeps me going.   

Building gates is not only functional, but can save tons of money, also there is something about handmade stuff that makes things look quaint even if they are only subconsciously noticed.  Recently Nancy and I have planted a new

Cutting plug & hole

lawn around the house which when established will be susceptible to the abuse of loose horses or cows.  It’s amazing what a horses hoof can do to a fragile lawn, especially when they know they are being naughty and decide to spin around and flee when trying to be caught.  It can be a mess.  For that reason we decided to fence and gate it off.  Because it is in our front yard we wanted it to stay in keeping with our homestead vision.  Here’s what I did:

First I cut lodge poles to appropriate lengths drilling them in the same way I did when I construct the lodge pole gate for the corral and entrance (See Builidng Projects - entry #94.) In this way I made both holes and plugged pole ends. (See picture) I then

Assembling the frame

screwed together my main gate supports.  Second I cut short lengths of lodge poles down the middle with a table saw.  This takes a little practice to make even splits, but perfection isn’t all that important.  Remember the object is to make things to look homemade not like they have been stamped out in some factory.  I always refer to my mistakes as a means of providing unique and quaint touches.  Then I screw these half pieces onto  the frame making sure things are as square as possible.  Making gates square will make them hang even when they are hinged to the upright posts. 

I’ve made dozens of gates like this in my life and have discovered that if they are done with care they will serve

Attaching half cut logs

you well for years. In the past Nancy has planted climbing roses or vines that grow up and over them covering up all of my mistakes making them look all the better.

Tags: country living, lodgepole fencing, lodgepole pole gates, Small farm, sustainability

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

House at Timber Butte

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

Our old cabin on Liebre Mountain

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

Improvised trap drain valve

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

Elk herd crossing Timber Butte

I confess – plumbing isn’t my favorite past time.  I’ve found most plumbing jobs require climbing upside down into confined spaces where tools and hands struggle to function.  Working under a sink, for example, has a way of reducing my worldview to the confines of a two by three foot cramped space forcing all of my focus to concentrate on a stubborn leak.  Sometimes a simple small problem like a silly leak can stifle long range vision causing us to miss the greater blessings of life.  This week I was reminded of this simple truth.

Every winter I try to plan a project that I can work on out of the weather. This winter I’m converting an empty room in the barn into a butcher shop.  I’ll be saying more about this venture at a later date but my point for now is to say that in order to accomplish my objective it’s been necessary to install a hot water heater, a deep sink and a drain system that has required a grinder pump capable of pushing waste about 200 yards to the existing septic system.  For a novice plumber like me it was a bit challenging.  When I tested the system for the first time I discovered one small but persistent leak which I’ll admit really aggravated me. It wasn’t a big deal but in my momentary state of frustration I was reminded of how easy it is to lose the perspective of blessing.

Like many people I am a person of focus.  Even when I eat I have a tendency to eat my steak before I can focus on my potato; I guess it’s just how God made me. In the same way I move from one visionary project to the next and in the process have the tendency to put great energy on solving the crisis at hand.  This characteristic can make people like me become highly productive in life, but to our detriment can also cause us to neglect to stop and smell the flowers along the way.

I was concentrating on my leaky fitting when Nancy called from the house.  She needed help with some Christmas decorations and asked if I could take a minute to give her a hand.  Reluctantly I left my leaky dilemma dripping in a tin can under the sink and walked from the barn to the house to see how I could help.  I was a man on a mission, going to help my damsel in distress, yet all the time thinking of a solution to the leaky pipe crises in the butcher shop. I was looking down at the snowy frozen ground as I charged along. 

As I approached the house I became aware of the sound of a small plane flying over Timber Butte.  It caused me to look up just long enough to see a large herd of elk crossing the hillside above the barn.  There were nearly a hundred in the group spreading over a mile of the butte’s steep slope.  It was a magnificent sight that caused me to stop everything simply to look.  All at once, my dripping pipe problem seemed insignificant – literally a non-issue.  My perspective had moved from the cramped confines of a sink cabinet to the splendor of God’s great creation.

Nancy came out with the binoculars and together we leaned against the corral fence and watched them pass. We stood in silence as we listened to the cooing of cows and calves and the distant bugles of bulls grazing along the hillside.  The lesson became acutely clear – Never forget to look up from the momentary problems of life and take the time to see the blessings of God. 

Perhaps it is our human sinful nature that so often entices us to focus our energy on the momentary problems that tug at our lives. Unfortunately it often robs us of the many reasons to have hearts that celebrate with thankfulness. 

Ironically, when I later returned to my project in the barn the leak had stopped of its own accord.

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

Uncle Floyd's handmade plane

Folks who desire to pursue sustainable lifestyles quickly discover a need to become semi-competent on a vast variety of many basic skills. Sustainable lifestyles require the courage to dive in and try new things, the creativity to be innovative, and a desire to gain the satisfaction that can only be achieved by building and doing things with one’s own hands. Living sustainably requires sweat equity, physical productivity, a willingness to be intellectually stretched, and maybe most importantly, the acceptance of non-perfectionism. I for one am a Jack of all trades, but clearly not a master of any.  

Having lived the majority of our married life an hour from the city has forced me and Nancy to build and fix things without the luxury of hired expertise. Not only is it expensive to get professionals to drive this far every time something goes wrong, but it’s been our experience that most things of importance decide to break in the night, during holidays or heavy snow storms.  Our choice of lifestyle has motivated us to develop the basic skills of welding, household electrical, plumbing, carpentry, cabinetry, shade-tree mechanics, food preservation (like canning, freezing and drying) as well as a plethora of other things simply for survival sake. Along the way I’ve learned to work with leather using rivets and awls in order to repair broken harness and saddles, while Nancy learned to sew ( originally on a treadle machine). Together we’ve learned to do emergency veterinary work, agriculture projects of all kinds, install irrigation systems, build fence lines, perform masonry work and pour concrete. We do none of these things well enough to make a living at them, but find great pleasure accomplishing and creating things with our own hands. The money we have saved by doing things ourselves has provided thousands of dollars which has enabled us to invest in other new projects.

Dad still mixing cement at 91

Being a do-it-yourselfer requires two essentials: the attainment of some basic tools and capable people who can teach you how to use them. Now that I’m in my 60s I have an adequate work shop, but for years Nancy and I didn’t have the available resources to purchase decent tools. In the early days of our marriage when we lived off the grid, we learned to do most everything with what now might be considered archaic hand tools. Most of those tools were hand-me-downs from my father and Great Uncle Floyd, who not only gave me tools but also taught me how to use them. In retrospect, the apprenticeship I received from them was invaluable for our life today. I learned the basics of building construction while spending endless weekends working on our old family ranch together. I’ll never forget how Uncle Floyd, being too old to climb up tall ladders or straddle beams, would instruct my dad and I as we teetered on ceiling rafters above him. Every 2×4 had to be cut perfectly square with the hand saws that he had skillfully sharpened for us. Every board had to be accurately measured and hand nailed into its proper place. For Uncle Floyd, carpentry was an art form – a value he joyfully passed on.

I think teaching us somehow gave his life more value knowing that the skills he had attained were appreciated and wanted and wouldn’t end with him. I never owned a Skill saw or an electric drill motor until I was nearly thirty years old  and still cherish the handmade wood plane and other tools Uncle Floyd gave me before he died in the 70s. The work we accomplished over the course of a long hard day then could later be done in a matter of hours with the aid of modern tools, but the satisfaction of a job well done somehow was more rewarding because of the labor intensive work it required. There was something very special about being a young boy included in men’s work, something that is being tragically lost with the epidemic of broken families and absentee fatherhood. I took those special times for granted then, but now realize what an advantage they gave me later in life. Even some of the rock walls I’ve built here at Timber Butte have my dad’s fingerprints on them as he occasionally still drops by and lends a helping hand at age 91.    

I took the skills my dad and uncle gave me and later supplemented them by reading “how-to” books and inquired of people who knew things I was yet eager to learn. My long-time friend Paul Taylor spent many days teaching me how to weld as we constructed a steel flatbed trailer together. That was over 30 years ago and the old trailer is still functional, moving hay from our field to this day.

Our son & daughter Brook & Kate work on a foundation while our granddaughter Hope inspects

 I learned to electrically wire a house from another friend and basic plumbing again from my dad. In the early days we used all galvanized steel pipe, custom cutting and threading each piece with an old die set that I still occasionally resort to when not using newer plumbing products. Building materials are constantly changing and improving, which keeps all of us want-to-be handy men on our toes, forcing us to keep our apprentice hats on for life.     

Society has changed since I was a young man and in many ways, not for the better.  Because of these changes opportunities to grow in these basic skills are sadly being lost.  In my earlier days apprenticeship wasn’t thought of as a deliberate training process, but was rather naturally rooted out of necessity and sometimes even survival.

A few years ago, realizing the value of families working together Nancy and I decided to buy a small piece of wilderness land and invite our kids to join us in building a family cabin together. The project took us nearly five years and in fact still goes on to this day. (See entry 123 & 117) At one point we had four generations of the Robinson family working together as my dad built his famous rock walls and my granddaughter entertained her mother and uncle while they worked together.

Hope (the next generation) helps lay a hardwood floor

Apprenticeship was meant to be a generational matter in families, communities and churches. One of the greatest examples I know of is found in the Gospels as Joseph apprenticed his son Jesus in the skills he knew (he too was a carpenter) and how Jesus then took the value of apprenticeship and in turn made disciples of those that desired to carry on his teaching and legacy. Apprenticeship has always been God’s idea but is rapidly being lost in today’s godless culture. If we are to live more sustainable lives we must turn back to this basic biblical value once again so that our next generation may have something of value to gain and to pass on. It is a matter of survival.

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

Tuesday morning we woke up to a thermometer that read one degree below zero and a heater that didn’t work.  Earlier in the week it snowed four to six inches in Boise, but for some strange reason completely missed our area leaving the hills barren, dry and bitter cold. The wind blew across an uninsulated landscape and with the chill factor it was scary cold.

When temperatures fall below zero cars, pickups and tractors have a hard time starting, water lines in crawl spaces have a tendency to freeze and farm animals need an extra dose of loving care.  The bitter cold reminds us all how frail and vulnerable we really are.  Even becoming temporarily stranded with a flat tire while driving our eight miles of icy unsurfaced road on the way to town can be life threatening. Everything takes extra thought, care and caution.  

I recall a conversation Nancy and I had with our builder Cliff Robbins when we first designed the house up here at Timber Butte.  Cold winters were a big part of our consideration when it came to heating systems (both electric and wood burning), window selection, insulation, controlled crawl spaces, protected water lines and a propane backup generator. One of the things we labored over was the type of wood stove we should install.  Of course expense was an issue; it always is when you’re building a new home and cutting corners is a temptation. We were constantly trying to separate the wants from the needs.   We knew however from past experiences that an efficient wood stove in a place like this was a necessity not a luxury. 

Because we planned to eventually convert the house to solar or wind power in the future we had to make the house all electric.  That meant that when the power grid failed so would the central heating.  When temperatures drop below zero and heat is lost in any house, water pipes become vulnerable to freezing and major damage can simultaneously occur.  I know this because I am a voice of experience. 

As a result we bit the bullet and made the decision to install an airtight soapstone wood stove rated for a house with 500 more square feet than ours.  That foreseen decision was a Godsend to us this past week. I know little about repairing modern day furnaces and often during cold snaps like this it can be difficult finding repairmen who aren’t up to their ears in work.   This is one of those times when preplanning has paid off. Having struggled so many times in the past with the results of extreme weather I am grateful for what past predicaments and hardships have taught us about being prepared.

Besides being thankful for the warmth of a good stove, I was sitting in my quiet chair this morning recalling how grateful and secure I feel knowing that all of our water lines are buried four feet beneath the ground with frost-free hydrants.  I was grateful to have planned for electrical outlets in locations where we could use heaters in horse troughs, heat lamps in the chicken coop and a place in the hay shed to plug in the heating element on the diesel tractor.  I realized that through my past mistakes I had managed to do things better over time.

Nancy reminded me of how a week of below zero weather without snow to insulate the ground could exterminate the larva of next year’s grasshopper infestation and what a blessing that would be. (See entry #104)  I realized how human it is to fret over things like a short spurt of harsh cold weather rather than taking the time to stop and look past temporary difficult circumstances and realize that God most often does his best work in the midst of the struggles and in seasons of anxiety.  It is the mistakes of the past that can motivate us to mature and do things better in the future, especially if we submit our mistakes to God.  It reminds me of the passage in Philippians 4 where Paul said, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Tags: country living, homestead, Small farm, sustainability, Tri Robinson, Water development, wood stoves

Elliot's kitchen

I have heard of deep frying turkeys but up until this Thanksgiving I had never personally experienced one. Until this year’s celebration around our house deep fried cooking has been considered nearly as sinful as Jews eating pork during the Passover.  With my cholesterol count soaring out of control without daily medication Nancy holds me on a short leash when it comes to saturated fat.  

We decided to share our Thanksgiving at Timber Butte this year with available family and some friends who had no particular place to go. Everyone took part preparing various dishes, but the most unique addition happened when Elliot and Marilyn Sheffield volunteered to deep fry the turkey.  

Elliot is a Southerner by birth and like all folks who are raised in the south he believes that flavorful food requires deep fried cooking.  I have always been told that Southerners all know that deep frying can kill you but most ignore the AMA’s warnings believing it is more important to die with a smile on your face.

All joking aside, we discovered that a deep fried Turkey isn’t unhealthy (if you stay away from the skin), but when cooked properly is amazingly delicious.  Watching Elliot as he methodically unloaded his pickup bed with a high BTU propane stove, special pots, heat resistant gloves, protective glasses, an array of cooking thermometers and a large container of seasoned peanut oil made me understand that what he was about to do was not simply cooking, but rather a lifelong ritual; an art form if you will.  

Elliot fired up his stove placing several gallons of peanut oil in a large pot over the flame which he heated to 400 degrees.  He told me he used pure peanut oil rather than other oils advertised for deep fry cooking because it is the only cooking oil that can be heated to this high temperature without burning. After checking the temperature (which he emphasized as being a critical factor) he gingerly lowered the pre-seasoned bird into the steaming inferno.  Checking again, the oils temperature dropped to 350 degrees which he said was perfect.  Both he and Marilyn set timers at that moment knowing that removing the turkey 30 seconds too soon or too late would change the outcome.  Timing in this process is evidentially critical.   The perfect formula calculates 3 minutes and fifteen seconds of cooking at 350 degrees for every pound of turkey.  Too soon and the meat will be raw under the wings and drumsticks, and too long and it will become dry. 

When the timer buzzed Elliot put on his rubberized insulated concrete gloves and quickly removed the perfectly cooked turkey.  It was a masterpiece that everyone acknowledged as being worth all of Marilyn and Elliot’s expertise, detail and extra work.

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