THIS OLD HOUSE.

We are just about exactly one year into our move to the new farm. It was one of our busiest years ever, growing-wise, and one of the mildest seasons we could have been given for our transition. Plenty of rain, warm-but-not-too-warm, great CSA members and just an all-around great year.It was also a confirmation of our decision to move: abundant family time, a reconnection to community and involvement, and a new opportunity for us to serve the food-insecure. We miss our friends and neighbors, but we know this is where we are supposed to be.We just returned from vacation (a real, actual vacation!) in Asheville. We had an amazing time, eating and hiking and eating some more and visiting farms and farmers markets. One of our days was spent in Pisgah National Forest, where we sort of stumbled into “The Cradle of Forestry” - a museum/tour that explored the old Biltmore Forest School established by the Vanderbilts in 1898, known as the "birthplace of science-based forest management."We walked along a paved hike and explored all of the old buildings from the school - the residence cabins, the schoolhouse, the offices, the store. Jesse and I both felt a twinge of sadness walking into the log cabins - the smell very reminiscent of our own house in Bugtussle. Touring these structures made us realize that there has been one thing missing this past year at our new farm: our cabin.Now, to be clear: we are not homeless. We have a perfectly decent house, a mobile home, in fact. It is lovely and, in many technical aspects, an improvement on our tiny cabin. It has almost double the square-footage, with running water and electricity, a REAL bathroom and even a washer and dryer! We are SO GRATEFUL for this home.But we do not love this home. It is the polar-opposite from our little, hand-built home. It is not attractive, it is not solid-feeling, it is not ours. Again, we appreciate it SO MUCH and have admittedly appreciated some of its conveniences, but we actually want to get back to some of the simplicity of the cabin. We miss being in control of our water and power - we had a string of tragic plumbing issues this summer, not a good thing when your garden depends on irrigation! The desperate calling, trying to find a plumber (how are there not more plumbers?!), being at the mercy of their schedules and their prices - it was horrifying to us. Same with electricity - we have yet to install our woodstove, because it is just not safe for an older mobile home. We never had these problems at the cabin - it was hard work, but we had control (and peace of mind) when it came to our water turning on or our plants staying warm enough in the greenhouse.  Our walk through those handmade buildings in the woods in North Carolina really affirmed something for us, or perhaps simply ignited it: let’s build another cabin.We came back from Asheville feeling inspired and refreshed. We are so fortunate to have this house - we live our lives in it everyday, sheltered, and we will be able to continue to live here while we (one day) start to build a new home, with our own hands, our own ideas, and our own needs in mind. Being excited and inspired is such a good feeling - and exactly the way you hope to feel after returning from a vacation. We also ate a lot of great food and a visited a beautiful farm - leaving us equally inspired to strive for better in the kitchen and the garden. We really had the best time in Asheville - thanks to everyone who offered tips and suggestions!-Hannah. 

VIDEO: PERPETUAL MOTION MACHINE (AKA RAM PUMP)

Inspired perhaps by yesterday's relative video success, and the fact that we're about to take our ram pump down and move it, I thought I would do a video on how it works. Again, big thanks to our engineering guru, David Ladnier, for helping us get this thing set up. It's truly a marvel of technology. All machines should aspire to be this ingenious.-Jesse.

CABIN UPDATE: LET THERE BE LIGHT.

This weekend our dear friends David and Sarah Ladnier are here for their annual (at least we hope it's annual) visit. And with them, they brought their two wonderful boys... and light.You see, a few months back I contacted David about helping us set up a mini solar system, something that could power the Internet. For three years we have relied entirely on going into town to post for our blog, check email, anything. For a while I had 4G, so I could drive up on the hill and stand in the exact right spot to get some internet. But that was obviously not efficient. Nor was driving to town. So we needed a fix.We had a solar fence charger we weren't using and David thought we could convert it to what amounts to a small voltage regulator in a beautiful cigar box, "I couldn't bring a plastic box to this amazing cabin," he told us laughing. He also as a surprise (and a bonus) rigged this box to charge a small LED light that basically illuminates the entire house, no sweat.We have asked David, if he gets the time, to detail how it works as best he can for a blog post and I really hope he does. It is an unbelievably neat, relatively simple system, and maybe an idea other off-grid growers––or anyone, really––might be able to utilize.Words are hardly capable of describing how lucky we are to have such amazing and ingenious friends. We have met so many wonderful people through this blog and they continue to enrich our lives every day. The amount of time spent keeping this site going has definitely made us question whether it was worth doing sometimes. But friends like David and Sarah––who we may not know without the blog––eliminated that question. It has definitely been worth it. They are great company, inspiring people (who built their own amazing house), and we are proud to have them in our lives. So with that said, with Internet and light officially in the cabin––this being the first post ever from the comfort of our home––we just have to say thank you all so much for reading, thank you David and Sarah, let the blog roll on, let there be light.-Jesse.

SELF-INSUFFICIENCY.

Hannah and I are not survivalists. Not on purpose, at least. We did not move to the country for fear that the world would collapse and we'd need to be self-sufficient. Sure, we thought it would be good to know how to grow our own food, but not necessarily because we felt we'd ever have to, but because, well, we're curious humans. And we like good food. And we like living simply. And we like the countryside.That being said, living off-grid we find that many of our interests overlap with those of survivalists, preppers and the like, respectfully. But one area where our interests do not overlap is in the area of self-sufficiency. To us, this is not an interest. To us, there is no such thing. We have found that there is community-sufficiency and then there is insufficiency.What I mean by that is, having lived rather primitively for the better part of six years now, we have come to see the value in having a good relationship with our neighbors. I am not ashamed to say, we are dependent upon this relationship. We depend on them for feed corn, for hay, for large tractor use, for general savoir-faire, and for friendship.Would we perish without them? No––I guess we could get along on our own if we had to. But we hope and work to never have to, and we definitely never want to. And we hope they would never want to get along without us, either. We want to build a relationship with our community strong enough to survive any disaster, any end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it scenario, not because we feel it's necessary, but because that is the type of relationship you should always have with your community.All of these off-grid magazines seem more focused on the individual––on guns and survival techniques––than on community. And I get that to some extent. I get the increasing fear (and the increasing population of these magazines). Climate change is having its way with the world. Tensions and temperatures are high. Especially for those who live in a city or near the ocean––people are starting to worry. And without our neighbors, I might be inclined to worry, too.For us, though, we are always practicing survivalism whether we claim it or not. We need our neighbors as much now as we would should the world ever crumble––because sometimes it does crumble a little and they swoop in––that is survivalism to us. Maybe we are survivalists in that sense. Maybe we should all practice a little less self-reliance, and rely a little more on the people around us to survive now, while things are good, so that if things ever turned bad we'd hardly notice. We'd just turn to our neighbors and say, "You need any help with anything, you let us know."And I have no doubt they'd say, "You do the same now, you hear."- Jesse.