When you believe, you have to do. Not you have to as in you must, but you have to as in, you can’t help yourself, kind of like James meant, I think, when he said, show me your faith without works. He didn’t mean the law says you’ve got to do stuff to qualify. He meant, where your heart truly leads, your feet can’t help but follow.

For a decade or more, we’ve believed in our homestead, our family farm, our living land. Have we done all that we should? No. By a mile. Sometimes we’ve done some of it well, sometimes other bits, sometimes nothing.

On the brink now of knowing, how we will carry on, we do know we will.

My online presence has tended to be fragmented – we have a storefront, and a personal diary. The one has felt local, the other global, yet so personal. Now i feel like that has to end. On the edge of this new era (and all good permaculturists know edge is productive) I know I need all the help and support I can get. So over the next few days, as and when I can work out the technology, I’ll be consolidating the blogs, and there will be one place, one me, one us, one dream.

It’s hard for me – I fear the different areas of my life getting muddled up – but hey, what’s the worst that can happen? You know me in real life and you never knew I was this crazy? So you do now. You’ve known me online forever and you never knew I could be this mundane. Welcome to me.

We are Christians who attend an amazing church of gloriously flawed and faithful people. I’m studying for the Diploma in Applied Permaculture Design, Neil drives a taxi, and a tractor, keeps Jacob sheep, British Toggenburg goats, and bees. We grow our food. We rent our land, and we dream amazing dreams of farming. That’s what we do.

If you follow either, please come with me – the adventure has been going on for so long, there are bound to be quiet spells, and one of those just passed, but trust me it was the calm before the party.

Next Generation

If you dream of your fingers in the dirt on a spring morning, your head against the flank of a dairy goat at dawn, your own wool, and honey, and cheese and eggs, a life of stubborn independence and relentless seasons – if you have a heart for creation, believe yourself a steward, believe there is more in less, believe the earth was created for all of us, not just a few - you may as well step inside. There’s no known cure. But we have therapy. The cry of the buzzard over the Downs, the sturdy Jacob ewes and their Biblically mottled lambs, the taste of fresh sweet raw milk.

Tomorrow, for me, another new chapter may begin – because I’m looking into pony power. Oh yes. The greengrass combustion engine. Between starting that one going, mastering the technology of blog merging, and the vigorous progression of the evil couch grass through the veg plot, I’m going to have my hands full.


Leave a Comment
Saying goodnight to the two Rhodies in the veg garden tonight, it struck me that the air was soft, dusk was falling, but it was still light enough to work. It was 8.45pm
I've forgotten to move forward.
The weather has been so awful throughout April, that coming in and calling it a day when the girls got home from school was reasonable, but now, that would appear to be wasting nearly 5 hours of working time!
When we first got a TV, it was around midsummer. I remember there was a new series of River Cottage on, while it was still good. We gave in andbought a TV because we feared we would work ourselves to death. We didn't stop til it got dark.
And I wonder why I don't sleep as well or as early as I did!
Now I'm not suggesting I toil til ten every day. There is a balance to be had! But that's half a day gone missing, and I'm wondering why I'm not being as productive as I once was.

Changing seasons is always tricky. What time do you have supper, and is that the end of your day, or simply a break? As the years pass and children's needs and schedules change, it's difficult to see how you can still make the best of the time - but somehow I must.

so we're thinking about it.
Powered by Blogger.