Fixin’ Fences, The liturgy of the land
A rainy week. Just over 2.5 inches. As I’ve said, I’d rather it be too wet than too dry. We filled beef and pork shares while it rained on Monday.
Another group of baby chicks in the brooder and another group of big chicks to the field. Now 20 shelters filled with chickens to move to fresh grass daily. My body is finally getting back in the rhythm of pulling shelters and carrying buckets. I’m not getting any younger. Though the kids are getting older and stronger, they’re still a couple years out from moving the shelters on their own.
Lots of tics this year.
Lately Hasten has been more enthusiastic about helping me fix fences, which has made me more enthusiastic about fixing fences. It’s one of those jobs I dread doing by myself but thoroughly enjoy when he’s tagging along with me. With four kids, sometimes it’s hard to get one-on-one time with them. They grow up in a hurry. Hasten said, “The bad thing about broken fences is the cows can get out, but the good thing about broken fences is we get to fix them.” Thankful for broken fences and quality time with my son repairing them.
Wednesday I cleaned out another section of the pig barn, and Amy helped me add new bedding. Itchy job. She’s also been keeping the broth simmering in the on farm kitchen.
Yesterday afternoon the kids stayed with my parents while Amy and I made the Bristol and Kingsport deliveries together. Date #5 for the year afterward. I like her.
This week I finished listening to THE LITURGY OF THE LAND by Jason M. Craig and Thomas D. Van Horn. The more society has shifted away from the homestead, the more the need for finding balance in life between work and family and everything else. The authors make the case that returning to the homestead removes the need for balance because it brings all those aspects together into one whole.
My favorite chapter was the concluding chapter “From Independence to Interdependence.” Too often the romantic idea of homesteading gets woven into the same chord as being totally self-sufficient. The reality of being totally self-sufficient and independent not only soon looses its romantic appeal, it’s impossible. We can’t do it all. We’re not supposed to do it all. The answer lies in community. Producing what we can as a family, not just for our family but for others around us. And for what we can’t produce ourselves, trying as much as we can to depend on other families we know and trust for the rest. Easier said than done. But worth the effort trying. Being totally independent is not a realistic option. I’d rather be interdependent with those around us than helplessly dependent on global systems I don’t know and don’t understand.
“Our goal as homesteaders… is not merely to recreate some point in time… We are also not merely rejecting everything modern and accepting anything old. Man lives from the earth. It is a reality ever ancient and new. What we are trying to do is live in accord with our created nature, while accepting and responding to the realities around us. What we are going back to is the philosophical principle that the homestead is the first and most natural place for the family, and that is the reason that it is a place of human flourishing and happiness.”
“The self esteem of ‘know how’ is not information but experience. Competency, learning how to do things well, not only builds character but provides tangible proof of ability to both society and the individual… good work done for the sake of something good. It is in this gift of work that one proves, not only that he can do something, but that he will do it for the right reasons.”
“Surely we live in a time of foolishness, a time that doesn’t see God in nature because it doesn’t see nature.”
“Part of our conversion to the homestead is rethinking the relationship of man to nature. By submitting to nature’s ways, we are submitting to God as Creator.”
“I learned a hard lesson: more is not always better; rather, better is always better.”
Have a good week.
Will