What does it mean to be an American? I ran across a couple of articles this week( that got me thinking. Not what does it mean to become an American or to be born one but what does it mean to BE an American. What are the common, core values that make up an American. Once upon a time, whether you were a woodsman in Maine or a cowboy on the plains, a businessman in Chicago or a trader in San Francisco you shared a similar outlook with regard to your mores, character, and your expectations of polite society.

Sure, we have always been a divided society. I grew up an Alabamian first and American second. But regardless of where I have lived around this nation and around the world whenever I have encountered other Americans there was always a shared bond of experiences and expectations. It troubles me greatly that this is becoming largely no longer true. We have become a postmodern nation of subcultures most of which are antithetical to what it used to mean to be an American.

I myself find I now have divided loyalties. After 20 years serving in America’s Army I don’t like to think of myself as an American anymore. There are other titles that are dear to my heart. I’m a Christian, I’m a libertarian, I am a Permiculturist, I’m a Hoodlum, and a Barfly. These things define my tribe. It’s clear looking at American culture in the 21st century that we are Balkanized. No longer is their trust in American institutions that we once established among ourselves preserve our life, our liberty, and our property. Once upon a time we trusted the police, the courts, and the jury of our peers to protect us from injustice. Once upon a time we entrusted our children to educational experts. Once upon a time we trusted our fellow citizens. No longer.

Now, we isolate ourselves, we categorize ourselves, not on our Americanness but on our otherness. We self select based on our economic-social strata, ethnicity or our religion or sexual persuasion. We no longer have common heroes or a common culture base. Very quickly we are going to find we are no longer Americans.

And here I find myself challenged. Will I continue to fight for an idealized America that only really existed in our ideals? Or will I Balkanized myself, surround myself with those I consider to be of my tribe, leaving all the rest fend for themselves as best they can? I don’t know the answer to these questions. I’m not naïve enough to believe that America ever has lived up to her ideals. But if we abandon those ideals to something smaller, something more comfortable for us, something more Balkanized, we may find it a very bloody business.

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2014 Seed Starting Workshop

Seed Day Flyer2

Come on out to the farm!

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Biochar Conference Notes

Here are some notes from a biochar conference I attended. I will be making a burner as soon as I can locate the right parts and looking for some old round bale hay to convert and spread all over the place. I also have a recipe for a homemade inoculant which keeps there from being a 1-2 year lag in production after applying the biochar.

Notes from Biochar conference, Lawrence, KS, 1 Mar 14.
Keynote speaker: David Yarrow

“The purpose of agriculture is not the production of food but the perfection of people” – One Straw Revolution by Masanobu Fukuoka
Definition: Biochar is fine-grained charcoal, high in organic carbon, largely resistant to decomposition, produced from pyrolysis of plant and waste feedstocks.
Per the USDA nutrient content of food has dropped measurable since 1940
Things to Google:
Mother Earth News Probiotics for the soil by Toby Grotz
Nutrient Dense Farming
Terra Char
Books mentioned:
The Biochar Solution by Albert Bates
Holistic Management by Dr. Allan Savory
Carbon Farmers of America by Abe Collins
1491 by Charles Mann
Under Cover Farmers
Living Web Farms
Application rate for gardening = 5-8% by volume or 1lb per sq ft or 2.5cm mixed in to top 30cm of soil.

Factors in evaluating Biochar suitability:
Particle Size
Surface Area
Structural Density
Micropore Density
Moisture Content
Ion Absorption
Microbial Activity
Residence (breakdown) Time

Hydroponic grow medium
Soil amendment
Water filtration
Fuel (burning and biomass gassification)
Medicinal (as is or processed into activated charcoal)

Biochar created at different temps has different pH. The higher the temp the more basic the char.

Steps to prepare biochar (4M’s)
Moisten: 5-10% moisture added by volume
Micronize: rice to dust size
Mineralize: Charge with minerals
Microbial Inoculation: specific blends or blend with compost or prepare your own

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Dealing with cold on the homestead

It has been historically cold here in NE Kansas, 100 year cold. Our low night before last was -11F. Our animals have weathered this very well, despite not being kept in totally enclosed spaces. I have found especially with the chickens that with the deep bedding method moisture is much more dangerous than cold or draft.

But, the cold has caused us a great deal of extra work in keeping the animals supplied with drinking water. We are changing out watering cans for the chickens about 4 times a day and busting the horses water trough each time as well. Electric heaters aren’t an option right now. So, yesterday and today I built a passive solar cage to put around the horses trough. It should be getting down to 12F tonight so we will see how it works and if the horse will even drink from it. I may need to pack hay or insulation around the sides as well. I’ll post updated photos tomorrow morning when we see how it works.


Horse trough2 horse trough3 Horse trough1

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Economic Justice


*Planning how to improve water access in a remote Iraqi village, Diyala Province.

Economic justice. A very good, very, very smart friend used that term today and, unknowingly, spurred me to feverish mental activity. Not sure any of it will be any good, but feverish!

Economic Justice (EJ) is a loaded term for those who pay passing attention to politics. It implies you have come down on one side of the political spectrum and wholly embraced the Left wing philosophies, redistributionist rhetoric and Occupy Wall street philosophies of modern progressivism. Now, rarely does any one individual wholly subscribe to all of any party or groups doctrine. The vast majority of people self-identify with a group because they agree with enough of their doctrine to be getting on with and just living with the bits they don’t agree with. This kind of compromise is essential if you’re going to operate as more than a party of one.

EJ is a term adopted by modern progressives, it’s use does a couple of things. It self-identifies a user as part of the “in” crowd for other progressives. In that sense it is like many other terms taken over by modern socialism around the globe. By owning the terms and symbols and corrupting and re-defining historical terms they can confuse and mislead the majority of folks who are simply going about their lives only mildly engaged in politics. Take EJ as a perfect example, it has little to do with either economics or justice. for the progressive left it simply means that there is inequality in income distribution (thus violating the rule “from each according to his ability, to each according to his need” or, if they are playing to a Christian audience in violation of the early Church communalism model). The solution for an EJ user is to have the organs of the State re-distribute that income to level the economic playing field. The usual bogeyman for the EJ user is capitalism.

And this is why terms are important. Like communism, there is now, and never has been, an example of capitalism being executed in any society. True, Libertarian free-market capitalism is as much a fiction as Marxian Communism. To use the term communist for any system or person shows a complete ignorance of what communism is. It is as ignorant as thinking that the current western economic model has anything to do with the capitalism of Hagel or Bastiat or Mises.

I traveled for three weeks across the then Soviet Union in the summer of 1991 as part of an exchange program. I visited with soviet families, stood in line in their stores and even attended an underground church. As preparation for that trip I studied in some depth Communism and all its bastard children. What was practiced in the old USSR, along with most of their allies, was a form of socialism. EJ if you will. One group of elites replaced another group of elites who had been organized along a feudal hierarchical model. The new group organized along a “classless” system that left some pigs more equal than others and then stratified into a ruling elite dedicated to utilizing a planned economic model to redistribute the wealth of a nation to level the economic playing field. The communist theory is that once that income has been re-distributed sufficiently, a form of enlightenment will occur, the perfect Soviet Man will emerge and the more equal pigs will voluntarily step down from their more equalness and a form of Utopia will have been reached. Of course it’s so much stuff and nonsense as once the more equal pigs have their perks they have no intention of ever becoming enlightened enough to give them up. And, with the reins of State firmly in their hands, why should they?

Of course, the idea that America follows a capitalism model is equally false. Here, we threw out the feudal elites and set ourselves up a nice, new Republic. And, promptly had it taken away from us, often enough with our help, by another group of elites who began gathering and using the reins of State (see all the similarities?) to create not a capitalist Utopia (though that idea worked well to sell the masses on) but a mercantilist state that, technically, can’t be called anything but fascist.

The old Soviets fell apart, and for a time it looked like their people might have a chance at grabbing a large chunk of Liberty for themselves. That hope is now fading as the former elites use their ties and money to re-gather the reins of State. It won’t matter much which ideology they follow, follow the money trail and you will see where the power lies. The pressures in our society are building up to the point that we will most likely soon see some sort of effort to remove the current crop of elites. One of two things will happen. We will hang most of them in the streets and usher in a new crop of elites who will then begin gathering the reins of State for their own ends while selling the masses one form of pap or another or we will see “reform” of one sort or another that doesn’t usher out the current crop of elites but eases the economic pressure enough that most people’s pool water isn’t uncomfortable enough for them to make much of a fuss.

There really isn’t much the average Joe can do about all this. It is a rhythm as old as society. I think Christians have always had the answer to this, but it became less obvious the more we adopted the mores of society (thinking we were converting the society and forgetting that Jesus died for individuals, not groups). The early Church model of voluntary collectivism is a good example to follow. It promotes community over self, re-focuses ones energy from amassing goods to amassing relationship in order to survive hard times and provides the maximum latitude for the exercise of Freedom and Liberty within the group because the individual, based on his relationships, self-limits some behavior out of respect for others rather than fear of consequences.

The current western economic system is incredibly productive, but incredibly fragile. To properly address that fragility without killing the productivity requires some things to happen that probably won’t until we can kill off, figuratively or literally, the current crop of elites. It requires a societal re-awakening to the importance of relationships. It requires a re-ordering of priorities away from a work hard, save, retire model to a live well and passionately now and rely on the community to support you in your dotage clan model. It requires a turning from consumptionism and pop-culture dreams to respect and adoration for those who can make creatively or at least productively. It requires an abandonment of the current regulatory structure where someone who violates another’s person or property pays “society” through fines or prison to a direct, to the offended party, payment method. This would, at a stroke, eliminate 90% of the State’s purpose for existence and radically pump up the economy but would require an almost complete restructuring of the judicial system as well.

All that to say, if you really are bothered by EJ in this day and time, and you are looking for the reins of State to come to your rescue, you are part of the problem, not part of the solution. You have been duped into believing that if only OUR group of elites were in power they would make it all better. If you really want to see poverty reduced, focus on making those in poverty more resilient. Usually, that involves a whole lot of one on one relationship stuff that has very little to do with how they earn their living. If more and more of us became resilient, the power base of the elites would be eroded. Neither the State nor the Corporate elites have a solution for how to maintain their power, if the population is focused on becoming locally resilient, other than force. And, the use of force in the face of popular opposition tends to eventually end with the elites swinging from lamp posts. Who knows, if we had that kind of revolution among a people who were dedicated to becoming personally and locally resilient, maybe we would forget to put some new elites in charge of the reins of State this time!

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The 1st Amendment makes me Happy, Happy, Happy!


So, Phil Robertson said some things the homosexual community doesn’t like but which accurately, even tenderly and forgivingly, reflect mainstream thought within the Christian community. Is anyone surprised by this? If you are unfamiliar with the controversy, Phil gave an interview to GQ and in it he named homosexuality, along with bestiality, promiscuity and a host of other things, as sins. He then went on to admit his own sinfulness and encourage GQ’s readers that, just has he found hope and redemption for himself in the faith of Christ, so could they.

And, for this terrible thought crime he has been censored. I’m 100% certain, in today’s litigious society, that A&E is within their contractual rights to censor Phil for pretty much any reason they want. That is standard contractual boilerplate. But the real reason they chose to do so was to appease what they see as their primary customer base. What I believe they will find is the only reason folks who watch the Robertson’s watch anything on A&E is because OF the Robertsons.

Whichever side of the homosexual “issue” you personally fall on, we should all take a moment to regard with utter loathing a group of people willing to vilify a man simply for publicly stating his personal beliefs. I am surrounded daily by ideas which I do not agree with, and which cast my hillbilly self in any number of disparaging lights. Yet you will never see me calling for the suppression or public disavowal of any one or group for publicly expressing those ideas. You see, I don’t give them the permission to make me butt-hurt. I have my ideas, others have theirs, and as long as they don’t want to take away my right to express myself, I have no right to deny them theirs. But, increasingly, the homosexual community and their progressive ilk seek not to beat me in the arena of ideas, but to use governmental authority illegitimately to stifle the very debate they seem unable to win on its merits. Rather than win persuasively, they seek to win a summary judgment that forces the majority of society to meekly accept their ideas.

I don’t have a beef with homosexuals, and I don’t believe Phil Robertson does either. At least, no more than with any other form of sin, and I am chief of sinners. I extend grace to myself, through Christ, every day for the sins I commit. And because I am so very aware of my own failings, I find it abhorrent to castigate others in their sin. But I also seen no reason to publicly say it’s ok for someone to believe 2+2=5 just because not publicly saying so makes little Johnny butt-hurt. The stance against sin, not just homosexuality, but all sin, is a basic tenet of Christianity without which it stops being Christianity. If you don’t like it, fine. But I’m sick and tired of being told not only do you not want to believe it, but I can’t either. There are consequences to siding with the censors.

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Christmas Traditions

I love this whole series, but this episode is particularly fitting right now.

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Quick update

Sorry for so long between posts. Temps here have been in the single digits with highs in the low 20’s for almost 2 weeks. Ive spent the last 3 days planning our spring garden. If you plan to put food in the ground this coming year (if not, why not?) you need to be getting your seeds in by Feb.

Being as it’s the Christmas season, here is a story I wrote some time ago. I keep meaning to go back and add more to it, but life keeps getting in the way!

Can You Hear Those Sleigh Bells Ring?

Nick passed through the kitchen on his way out of the house, patting his wife’s round bottom on the way by. She made a half-hearted attempt to flick him with the dishtowel in her hands and gave him a coy smile.
Nick threw on his fleece lined leather coat and work gloves and strode towards the harness shed. A three-quarters moon shone on six inches of new snow, broken only by the paths trod by the house elves who had spent all day preparing his sleigh and harness. He took a moment to let the cold, clear air sweep the cobwebs from his mind. His mind settled into crystal clarity allowing him to absorb his surroundings. He saw the moonlight, tasted the flavor of snow in the air, caught the delicate scent of the surrounding pines underneath the more immediate scents of wood smoke from his chimney and apple pie which had followed him from the kitchen. His ears reported the crunch of dry snow under his soft boots and the creaking of snow laden pine boughs. His skin was sensitive all over, reporting contrasts between his silk underclothes and wool outers. The leather of his gloves and the cold band of his wedding ring.
He entered the shed and began inspecting his equipment. The sleigh was light brown stained Holly with black iron accents and runners. It was heavily scroll worked and had a smooth, satiny finish from its recent polishing. It was just big enough to carry him and one other on the front bench seat with a small cargo area in the rear for his bag. He ran his hand lovingly along it as he headed towards the long tables where the harness was laid out. The heavy leather harness had been polished and checked for dry rot and cracks. The silver bells attached to the backlines were likewise freshly polished and tinkled seemingly too long at the slightest touch.
He paused for a few minutes, reflecting on the years. This was a touchstone for him, a time to remember all that went into this night each year. Like little medals he took out small memories of heroic victories and painful defeats of years past. With a sigh he turned back towards his home, retracing his solitary footsteps.
He passed through the empty kitchen, dropping off his coat, gloves and boots in the mudroom. His bride was seated at their dinner table. She presented a study in contrasts to his eyes. Her flawless ivory skin and deep, brown eyes gave the impression of a lass of twenty years or so. Her care worn hands and silver shot black hair put her solidly in middle age. The look in her eyes, though, full of wisdom and compassion, comes only to those who have lived long and well through many trials and seasons. She wore a heavily brocaded black velvet gown with a plunging bosom and a short string of pearls. A single, simple silver band adorned her left hand. She rose and took her husbands hands. He placed his on her hips and pulled her close, kissing her lips lightly and then smiling down at her. She was no small woman, carrying a full figure well, but he was a veritable giant, well over six feet tall with heavy shoulders rolling with muscle. His hips were still relatively trim but his belly had spread to become “generous”. He seated his lady and took his place across the small table from her. The room was lighted by several silver candlesticks on either end of the table. They illuminated a veritable feast for two. He took a biscuit and crumbled it onto his plate followed by shredded venison roast and brown gravy. He dipped potatoes and carrots that had cooked with the roast to his plate and poured a tall glass of sweet tea. He held both his wife’s hands across the table and spoke grace over the food, asking for God’s blessing for the night’s duties and thanks for the many years of past blessings. They completed their meal with a slice of apple pie and mulled wine.
Nick rose and kissed the top of his wife’s hair. She held, briefly, to the hand he placed on her shoulder and he turned and entered his private rooms. His valet, an aged elf, had drawn his bath and laid out his cloths for the evening. He soaked himself in the hot water and neatly trimmed his flowing beard and mustache, neatly dividing it and braiding it in two forks, tied off with blue glass beads. His long, now mostly salt, salt and pepper hair was neatly clubbed behind his head and his valet tied it off with a black, silk ribbon.
He stepped into the padded arming doublet and high, wool socks. His valet assisted him into his leather covered, steel cuirass and then the un-dyed wool sur-coat. The sur-coat was a work of art heavily filigreed with gold wire in a swirling Edelweiss pattern. It was almost criminal, he felt, since it would return in the morning sliced and pierced and stained with blood and grime. It was held in place with a wide, black leather belt and brass buckle. He donned greaves for his forearms and highly polished knee length black hobnail boots. Their only adornment the golden spur affixed to each. . He tucked heavy, leather gloves into the belt and attached a strap running from the rear, left portion of the belt over his right shoulder and to the left front of the belt. He placed a simple, steel cap on his head and covered it with a long, pointed wool one. His aide entered from a side door carrying his long, hand-and-a-half sword in its tooled leather sheath. Ororoan (Golden Ruin) was a “special” sword, able to cleave both in the flesh and the spirit worlds. He slipped the sheathed sword into the frog over his shoulder. He nodded to both elves and stepped into the hall to a large, wooden door fitted into a stone arch. He pulled outward on the two iron rings set into the doors center and it split, revealing a long nave leading to an alter. The small chapel was dimly lit by candles set in sockets around the walls. He strode down the center isle and removed his sword, setting it point down into a setting below the alter. He bowed, using the sword as his cross and began to pray. His prayer was simple, beginning with adoration of his God, praising His might and power and beauty and mercy. He then confessed his sins, his willfulness and unbelief. He gave thanks to God for His sacrifice, for purchasing his soul and forgiving his sin. For his many blessings and the joy of his life. Finally, he prayed fervently in supplication for himself and his household and his domain. For all those he would come into contact with this Holy evening and their souls.
He crossed himself and rose, re-sheathing his sword and stepping towards a side door. As he opened it the elf warriors lining the hall broke into song, the Carol of the Bells. Each came to attention, raising his spear into an arch. Nick strode through the arch and out the side door of his home. The courtyard was now lit by hundreds of torches, each held by an elf. All were there, Elf warriors and artisans. Elfesses’ and Elf maidens. He strode out, into the courtyard and looked towards the wood just across the small cleared space out from the yard.
Like ghosts, materializing from the snow a line of reindeer appeared. Each was creamy white with dark brown muzzles and socks and, even from this distance, huge antlers. As they paced towards Nick it became apparent how huge each truly was. Standing over 16 hands high at the shoulder and weighing over 1000 lbs each was a living, breathing example of perfect freedom. The leader approached him first, accepting his hand to sniff and then rubbing his huge head along Nick’s shoulder in affection. He greeted each of the nine reindeer individually and then led the procession to the center of the courtyard. Each of the reindeer took his place in pairs with the lead out in front. Elves ran the sled up behind them and began buckling up the harness. Nick stood back, inspecting the harness and again chuckled to himself the current foolishness revolving around his own myth. The reindeer before him were the embodiment of wild and free and to compare them to the concept of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was truly laughable. These reindeer suffered themselves to be harnessed once a year because they were his allies. All but the two new reindeer bore the scars to mark them as veterans of past Christmas Eves’.
Finally the last buckle was cinched down and the last strap tightened. He strode towards his bench and was met by his wife and five of her elf-maidens. She was still in her velvet dress, but had added an ermine cape. The lead maiden carried a silver tray with a wooden goblet and a clay plate. His lady took the cup of wine and offered it to him. After he had drunk she took it back, drank from it, and placed it back on the tray. She then took the flat loaf of bread from the plate and broke him off a piece. He ate it and she ate hers. She stood up on tiptoe, kissing him passionately and stepping back. The second maiden handed her a black cape, worked with silver wire. She placed it around his shoulders and closed the Celtic knot clasp. He stepped into his sleigh, settling himself. In a holder to his right was a filled flask of black coffee, heavily laced with good Irish whisky. Behind him was a bulging leather sack. It, like the sword, was “special”. Anything that would fit through its neck would fit in the sack and the sack could never be filled up. All he had to do was imagine the person he wished to gift and the appropriate item would come to his hand.
He looked one more time at those around him. The artisans whose work and skill made his mission possible. The warriors who guarded his domain and household. The ladies and house elves who served his family. And, finally, his beautiful beloved. She who sent him off each year with all her love and faith and heart, risking all, trusting his skill and competence and heart and, most of all, their God. He raised an arm in farewell, grasped the reigns in his left hand and spoke to the reindeer “Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night!”

Chapter 2

Lifting high on the reins, the sleigh with its lead of reindeer shot rapidly almost straight up. He anticipated his enemies would lay a picket line of minor demons around his domain, seeking to delay his departure long enough for the larger, more deadly demons to arrive from where they circled high above. On many years, he would use his knowledge of the surrounding terrain to fly nape of the earth, between the very tree tops and rapidly out-distance the smaller, slower pickets. But, some years, just to throw off his enemies he rose straight at the greater enemies, meeting them high above the earth in combat to win free into the wider world on his way to his nights missions.

This year was no exception. He could see the smaller pickets, dark oil stains against the white and green background, seeking to rise behind him in a loose circle around his home. Above, the greater enemies floated, bitter clouds with ember eyes, waiting to fall on him. There were three of the great ones this year, coming into line with each other they charged straight at him, one behind the other. Reaching behind him with his right hand, he drew Ororuin from its scabbard and prepared to meet his foe. At the last instant, the lead demon sought to rise above him, doubtless planning to wing around and fall on him from above and behind. He reckoned without Nick’s allies. As the lead demon rose the leader of the reindeer rose also, bringing Nick’s sleigh still further vertical and allowing him to gut the demon from chin to crotch as it rose past. The reindeer’s antlers blazed silver-blue holy fire and the demon’s remains fell past Nick in a cloud of ash and cinders. The second demon in line at the same instant attempted to fall below the sleigh and Nick heard the score of his claws as he found purchase on the bottom of the sleigh, seeking to rip the belly from the craft. The last demon made the fatal mistake of attempting to rip the lead reindeer’s throat out as it reached for the first and was simply trampled down by the nine-thousand plus pounds of reindeer as they passed over him. Nick took his sword and reached low, jabbing with the point of the long sword underneath the carriage until he felt the smoky, slimy resistance of spiritual flesh. He jabbed hard and with a flash of silver-blue light and oily smoke the sounds of wood rending underneath the sleigh ceased.

Nick brought the sleigh down in a hard drive, making for the East. The minor demons still rose in a netlike formation below him but with hoof and sword and his superior speed he simply ran through their formation, making for distant parts of the earth. He surveyed the damage. The lead reindeer had taken a talon cut on the back of the head where the first demon’s paw had sought to turn his head. All of them were coated liberally with ash and cinder burns. He looked beneath his feet and saw that the Holly floor had been gouged clear through in a spot about a half by three inches. Otherwise, there did not appear to be any significant damage. He chuckled a little darkly to himself. The children of the world who had seen him in years past had taken note of his many cinder marks and ash stains and begun the rumor that he came into their homes down their chimneys. As though he wanted to sit on a fire! Still, it had become a little part of his legend that made him smile.

Now that he was free of his pursuers, at least temporarily, he could get on with his mission. Long ago he had been gifted by the Creator with a special mission and the gifts to complete that mission. He would travel the world tonight, outside the confines of time, with the sole mission of bringing the joy and peace of the Savior’s birth to those most in need. For him it would seem a single night but for his family the time would stretch on. He would seem to be gone from home, sometimes for a month, sometimes for a year or more. Then, a year would pass for him at home until the next Christmas Eve in this world.

He surveyed the land beneath him. The world was brighter in many ways than in decades past. Electric lights had supplanted torches, lending the world a sparkling quality under the moon. But the same dark spiritual blotches roamed the streets of the more populace land. Feeding on the fear and anger of Men. Swaying them to live in their woundedness, feeding their base hungers. Clouding their vision so they are unable to see their noble purpose in Creation.

Guided by an instinct he could not name, but had come to trust he steered the sleigh to the South, coming to rest on the lawn of a large mansion, well back in the trees from the light spilling from the many windows.

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Work Weekend

This past weekend we hosted a work day here on Centurion’s Faith Farm. A number of our friends from the Fort Leavenworth Chapel community and Kaw Permaculture came out to help us get the place ready for winter. I owe each of you who came out a great debt. Not only did you help us get some projects done we simply haven’t been able to get done or physically couldn’t get done by ourselves but you validated our whole purpose for doing this great experiment by exhibiting the very heart of community. I can’t stress enough how blessed we are in the community we live in and among. Nothing we do here will mean much of anything if it does not grow family and community.

My special thanks to the Batchelor, Curry and Hanson families and Pete Maynard of Cedar Sky Farm ( for all their hard work.

Among the projects we tackled were breaking down a loafing shed in the pond pasture and relocating it to the horse pasture. We now have the corner posts cemented in and will be putting the framing and roof back on this week. This is a major project I could never have done myself which is essential for the health of our horse this winter. The barn and tack room got cleaned (thanks for braving all the spiders ladies!) the kids put plastic around the chicken tractor for use as a cold frame and we built one bin of an eventual 3 bin composting system.

I love this work. I love my family and this farm. I am VERY grateful to each and every one of you who helped out, not just because it aided our family, but because of the investment you made in the future of the community we are trying to develop here. I am excited at where this is all going and I can’t wait to see what comes next!

Loafing Shed

Chicken Tractor Mulch


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Work Day!

Announcing the first official event at Centurion’s Faith Farm!

Work Weekend Flyer

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