An Art Form

In 2006 Nancy and I were driving across the state of Indiana. I had co-written a book called “Saving God’s Green Earth”. The subtitle being, “Rediscovering the Church’s Responsibility to Environmental Stewardship”. The book was one of the first of its kind and it created a bit of a stir across the country and I was to be interviewed on a television station just south of Chicago. We had flown into Indianapolis, rented a car and headed north towards the small Amish community of Shipshewana.  As we drove further across the countryside we noticed the influence of the Amish people. Nancy and I were taken by the uniqueness of horse and buggy transportation and the breathtaking farmlands. For a long time, we traveled in quiet just taking it all in when Nancy broke the silence, “What do you notice the most?” She asked me.

After thinking a minute I said, “Everything seems so clean and orderly.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” She spoke. “It’s like a picture out of a fairytale. If we were driving through ranch or farmland in many regions of the west there would be old pickup trucks and broken-down farm equipment cluttering up the landscape.” Even the barns, outbuildings and handmade wooden fencing were picturesque.

The conversation made me wonder if possibly their strong faith had something to do with it. I told Nancy what I was thinking. “I know these people are people of faith but I think there must be more to it than that. I’ll bet it’s a value that has probably been passed down for generations.  These farms are almost like an art form.”

After writing another book, “Small Footprint – Big Handprint”, a book which challenged people to live more simply and sustainably, I came into relationship with another kind of people. I discovered that they, like the Amish, seemed to have a deeper sense of pride for their land. They too had a tendency to be orderly and less cluttered. It was like the process of using land for a strategic purpose where every inch was important in fulfilling the vision to become sustainable made a difference as to how they cared for it.

Once a friend of our family, a guy named Dean Estes, came to Timber Butte for a visit with his wife. The two of them had a look around noticing everything Nancy and I were endeavoring to accomplish. Dean is an artist by trade and a quiet man. At the time I was in the process of thinking about building a chapel on the hill overlooking the homestead and I mentioned it to him. I told him I hadn’t gotten around to it because I had been too busy building the infrastructure for the ranch and couldn’t see how a chapel would fit into our plan.

Dean quietly gazed around the property and took in the structures which had all been built, not just for practicality, but with materials which gave the place a turn of the century ambience. Structures and fencing were blended and somehow fit the land they were built on.  Dean looked at me and said, “Tri, I think you should build a rock chapel not just because it would be a statement of your faith, but because it’s your art form.” I will never forget that.

Thinking about it later, I realized every time Nancy and I developed a piece of property we had two things in mind. One, that it would be organized is such a way it could be functional and productive so it might produce vegetables, poultry and sources of meat. And two, we always wanted our properties to say something. To be inviting and hospitable. We wanted them to have a sense of creativity, a feeling of comfort and beauty for those who might come here. I believe Timber Butte Homestead has become a special place for that reason. It is not merely a place to live and grow food, but for us, it is our art form.