Category: Animals

Abuse, Animal Rights, Animals, Christianity, Community, Culture, Diversity, Faith, Fiber Arts, God/Jesus, Herbs, History, Homesteading, Human rights, Prayer, Reading, Religion, Scripture, Straw Braiding, Tradition

A House Built on Sand

Lisa Burbank

“Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so He giveth His beloved sleep.” (Psalm 127: 1-2)

Yep. The same line of Scripture referenced from yesterday’s post. I addressed the latter half of it…sort of. I mentioned being tired, longing to wind down and rest. Because I am guilty of rising early, staying up late, trying to be super-lady in control of everything, over-extending myself due to anxiety, an anxiety that says I am not enough.

Nope, I’m not.

But He is.

When I first started this blog it was with a vague idea of chronicling my journey as a homesteader. I’ve always dreamed of growing my own food. Most of what lines the grocery store shelves shouldn’t qualify as a “food”. I’m also a herbalist. Growing herbs, and mixing/making my own medicines and personal care products, is another goal. Again, what’s in our so-called medicines isn’t likely of medicinal value at all. Most of it is toxic, especially with prolonged use.

I love animals and have always wanted to rescue as many as I can adequately care for from the abuses of society. As the years have gone by, and I started working in living history, wearing natural fibers, and learning how to card and spin wool, weave, knit, and braid straw for hat-making, I started becoming more conscious of what’s also in the fabrics we wear. Where do our clothes come from? And, more importantly to my mind, what is the lot of the animals pressed into service to provide some of our clothing (as well as our food…)?

And, no, spun plastics are NOT the answer as they poison our water and our soil.

This ongoing awareness, and the skills needed to address these ills in our society, are all well and good. But they mean nothing without a solid foundation underneath them.

We’ve lost our way.

I challenge anyone reading this blog post today to read any book written before World War II. I’m not 100% sure why this seems to be a turning point, but it does. Yes, you will find long, descriptive passages…but stay with it. Start with the classics: Walden by Henry David Thoreau; Little Women by Louisa May Alcott; Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain. Then pick up some lesser-known authors: Lydia Maria Child; Mary Jane Holmes; Seebohm Rowntree, etc.

Pay special attention to the vibe. What do you hear?

A solid faith in God, and the solid foundation of a culture built upon that faith. It isn’t any accident that our Declaration of Independence references a “separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them” or being “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights.” Or that our currency states: “In God We Trust.”

Yes, yes, yes…I can hear the critics now. What about separation of Church and State? Well, you’re right…to a point. The United States of America was never meant to be a theocracy. That’s why the First Amendment states that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion…” This was, believe it or not, to protect the church from being intruded upon by the state…to allow coaches to pray before each game; to allow the Muslim to spread their sajjada in public spaces; the Jewish to openly don their Tallit and the Catholic to openly finger their rosaries…and to prevent the closing of the doors of houses of worship during times of pandemic, for example.

Freedom of religion allows any person here on these shores to worship whomever they choose, whether that entity is called God, Allah, Goddess, Buddha, or the Great Spirit. Our government cannot prohibit you from worshipping the god of your consciousness.

Separation of Church and State, however, was never intended to remove all mention of a Christian God from U.S. society and culture. He is the Rock, the foundation of that society and culture.

Yes, the United States was founded on Christianity.

I’m Mohawk and Narragansett. When my ancestors walked these shores before the arrival of Europeans here, this was not the “United States.” To be honest, I’m not sure these shores even had a collective name used by each and every tribe. We were segregated by “territories” based upon hunting and gathering needs, as well as religious beliefs and traditions. The Iroquois and the Cherokee and the Comanche, for example, all populated different parts of the land that is now the U.S. In some cases, there might be overlap, and yes, we often went to war against each other…so much so that had we banded together as one nation, we might not have lost so much of our culture and traditions to those early-Europeans.

We became the “United States” after the Revolution. We became the “United States” after the drafting of a Constitution and a Declaration of Independence that openly admits to our Rights being given by a Christian God, a Christian God who taught us to love our neighbors as ourselves…so much so that our Founding Fathers allowed each and every person coming to these shores the Right to worship their God, or the god of their consciousness, without censure.

Unfortunately, and this is especially true since World War II, we’ve allowed new peoples coming to this land to abuse this right to worship whomever and however they please. The “abuse” is in allowing these new neighbors to hammer at that foundation, removing more and more mention of that Rock from our society, so that it is now reduced to merely sand.

I would like to stress here that this is NOT a call to do harm to anyone. In addition to reading books published before WWII, I also challenge anyone reading this blog post to pick up a copy of the Quran, the Bhagavad Gita, the Tibetan Book of the Dead and read. Learn about these new neighbors. We’re more alike than you may think (and, yes, I have read all of these myself…). But instead of hammering at our own beliefs, we should be welcoming any differences in our beliefs alongside of our own…not instead of. And, while you’re at it, pick up the Bible and read it, too. There’s a lot of misquoting going on in our society today. Get your information from the Source.

If the sign of His Cross offends you, how much more so does your insistence of its removal from our public life offend the sensibilities of the people you chose to move in next to? Would you allow me to erect that Cross in your public square…and, more importantly, remove the symbols of your faith that are such an inherent part of your identity?

What does all of this have to do with homesteading?

Everything.

Homesteading is a return to freedom: the freedom to think, worship, act, grow and create for ourselves…as well as a freedom from the toxins that destroy everything that we hold dear. It is a return to using the tools and unalienable rights endowed by our Creator. Homesteading is a form of worship in and of itself. No, it’s not a church service. But prayer, and a faith in Someone greater than ourselves, goes into the making of that homestead as surely as the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears.

We can’t go back, but we can learn from our history. It’s being repeated. The First Nations’ peoples who first populated this land gave up much as they graciously allowed others to move in…and then couldn’t prevent the take over. Again, not a call to arms, but a call to stand firm upon that Rock. This is who we are. This is how we came to be. If we forget that, if we erase the sacrifices of those who came before us, then the United States is no more.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Books, Christianity, ecosystems, Exhaustion, Faith, gardening, Gratitude, Herbs, Homesteading, Nature, Plants, Writing

Winding Down

Lisa Burbank

“Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so He giveth His beloved sleep.” (Psalm 127: 1-2)

As summer winds down, the garden–what little I planted–dies back, herbs and flowers go to seed, and at work, summer reading ends. On this last, we all breathe a sigh of relief. This year, we nearly tripled our participation, which fills me with joy to see so many neighbors and friends enjoying their summer with good books, fun games, prizes, and snacks.

On the homestead, I’m harvesting more cherry tomatoes than I know what to do with…except maybe as a healthier snack instead of reaching for chips or popcorn. Brussel sprouts are still growing, as is some cabbage (despite the cabbage larvae that nearly decimated both earlier in the season…). We have a few small sugar pumpkins, and some unnamed variety of heirloom bean drying in their pods on the vine. Something ate the peas. The green beans didn’t produce nearly as much as the amount of plants suggested. And it’ll be quite some time before I know if the American chestnuts (a hybrid designed to bring this legendary tree back from extinction by grafting it to a Japanese root stock that is resistant to the blight) survived the long winter in refrigeration and then into the ground.

Yes, we still talk about relocating…now more than ever due to the cost of living and the explosion of “urban development” in this once-rural community. But I leave it in His hands.

For now, I’m working towards making this place, this space, as self-sufficient as possible. The fixer-upper needs a ton of work, and now costs me far more each month to hold on to than it’s market value suggests. Perhaps there’s a solution down the road. Perhaps not. And between cats and herbs, we’ll need a Mack truck to do that relocating. Still, what is slowly happening here fills me with joy.

In addition to some veggies, I planted hibiscus, borage, bee balm (although it is not true Monarda didyma with it’s scarlet petals, but another hybrid with magenta petals; the hummingbirds don’t seem to mind…), catnip, calendula, rue, tarragon, and basil. This last, I simply love the smell…and the taste of fresh pesto mixed into some gourmet pasta. This weekend, there are plans to pick up some elderberry bushes from a friend who has an overabundance of them and doesn’t know what to do with them all. What a blessing!

Speaking of birds, though our little flock of chickens and ducks is down to just 7 geriatric birds, the wild birds are visiting in abundance. The birdhouses hosted new life yet again this year. The chickadees, cardinals, juncos, sparrows, titmice, nuthatches, and grackles are now joined by blue jays, mourning doves, orioles, woodpeckers and, yes, hummingbirds. And the mountain mint I planted a few years’ ago is covered with honey bees, bumblebees, and various other bees that I am unfamiliar with. I’m still waiting for the big bottle-blue wasps that tend to feast on mountain mint. I’ve only seen one on occasion this year. When I maintained the herb garden at the living history museum, their mountain mint was covered with these striking-looking wasps.

Again, what blessings! And I’m savoring every one…no matter how small they may seem.

The revisions on the first novel are about 3/4 of the way done. I’ve also started another book. This one, a Young Adult tome. So, despite once again neglecting this blog, it has not been due to laziness, or a lack of respect for any readers still out there. I’m hoping as we head into fall, and the work in the garden, the yard, etc. winds down, that I’ll have more time to devote to it, to develop some healthier, more sustainable habits so I won’t fall off the proverbial blogging wagon again.

Of course, this blog is also going through a little mental re-vamp as I go about my job at work, chores here on the farm, or write/revise books. All-in-all, I’m looking forward to the months ahead. This is my favorite time of year.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Books, Faith, Finances, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Homesteading, Scripture, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Writing

Mistakes and Other Misdemeanors

Lisa Burbank

“For there is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not.” (Ecclesiastes 7:20)

Not so much mistakes, although I’ve made plenty of those, but mishaps and failures. And I judge myself for them far more harshly than I ever would another human being.

He’s been giving me little messages over the last few days to lighten up on myself. Yes, there have been a lot of setbacks in recent years. Yes, I have a lot of work ahead of me. And, yes, if I think about it too much, I do feel a little overwhelmed. No, the outcome won’t be perfect. I’m learning I don’t have to do it all in one fell swoop, as they say, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes long for a nose like Samantha Stevens that could just make it all happen in an instant.

It’s been a long time since I’ve really talked about homesteading. At this point in time, I’m really thinking much smaller. Some of it is an age thing: 60 is looming ever closer. Some of it is location: another big box store going in down the road from us. And some of it is the need for more land without the means of obtaining it…at least not at the moment.

What can I do here?

I am incredibly grateful to have beaten foreclosure two years’ ago so, I’m taking care right now not to lament any financial or zoning restrictions that might throw a monkey wrench in my future plans…or any physical limitations that may crop up as I “mature”. I haven’t forgotten the stress or the fear, and I don’t want to suddenly appear ungrateful for the miracle that allowed me to keep my home.

The “mistake,” or “misdemeanor,” has been the ongoing push for more, more, more. Instead of truly learning, or enjoying, what is. It’s been the overextension of my personal resources, not just financial, but strength and stamina, and the same 24 hours in a day as everyone else is allotted. It’s been the lack of planning for the future I dream of…and the lack of acceptance that what I dream of may not be in His plans for me at all.

I suspect there will always be a part of me that keeps overfilling my proverbial plate. Call it a self-esteem issue, searching for worth, for fulfillment. Searching for something in the world…rather than through the only One who can truly fill me. I fill and overfill because there is a part of me that will always think I’m not “enough”. So, starting right here with what I have right now is a good way to truly heal those feelings of unworthiness. Taking baby steps, doing what I can with what I have on hand, and considering the results a year from now…or 5…or 10.

My home was saved for a reason. He has a job for me to do here. Whether it’s the library where I now work full-time as director, or something else entirely, I have no way of knowing, but I trust Him to show me the way in His time, rather than my own.

Of course, I keep reminding myself that my first priority has little to do with homesteading. My first priority on this earthly plain is to pay off student debt and focus on my writing. The first novel is completed. It’s now in the revision stages.

Will it sell? Will it attract an actual publisher, editor, agent? Or will I be forced to go the self-publishing route? And “forced” is too harsh a word, really. I’m actually considering serializing my book as writers of old used to (Mark Twain, Harriet Beecher Stowe). Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Scaling back on my homesteading endeavors to fit the current just-under-an-acre footprint isn’t really a sign of failure, or a mistake. Mistakes are meant to teach us something. The only true failure is when we refuse to learn the lessons they teach.

It’s been a hard lesson, indeed, to learn that, yes, I do have limitations. That doesn’t mean I’m giving up, or giving in. It’s more like fine tuning. I’m finally learning to enjoy the journey instead of obsessing over the destination. How ’bout you?

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Bereavement, Brothers & Sisters, Exhaustion, Faith, Family, Gratitude, Grief, Holidays, Homesteading

New Year’s Eve 12/31/2024

Lisa Burbank

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes: and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” (Revelation 21:4)

A year ago today I was MESSED UP. I only acknowledge this now after reading last New Year’s belated post (I neglected to even create a New Year’s Eve post until January 2nd!). I mentioned the loss of Faith (no pun intended) the Plymouth Barred Rock chicken in that post, but not the loss of either rooster. Not a big deal when stacked up against the loss of my Aunt Sandy and Uncle George, but still worth noting.

This year, not only are we rooster-less at The Herbal Hare Tomestead, we’re also goat-less, having lost our beloved Felicity, the last of our Nigerian Dwarfs in early spring. As with Chester, whom we lost towards the end of 2023, age was a factor. But, I think without one of her own, loneliness may have also been a factor. Sure, chickens and ducks shared her world, and humans, too, but she and Chester were the last two for so long, I know she mourned the loss of him right alongside the rest of us.

In addition to Felicity, MIG and Radar (roosters), we lost the last of our Black Australorps, Phantom; the last of our Buff Orpington chickens, Diamond; Taffy, our Silkie chicken, Basa, one of our Polish crested hens, and Strawberry the Pekin duck, who I am sad to say, lost her life from one of our remaining chickens. It happens. It sucks. And it breaks my heart. But I will forever wonder if I could’ve done anything better/different. Was the new coop too small? It didn’t seem so with chickens and ducks having separate houses and only sharing the barnyard together, something they have done their whole lives. As for the others? We are a homestead of geriatric critters. The uncertainty of whether we would keep the farm, or lose it to foreclosure, meant I haven’t restocked for a number of years in case we were forced to rehome them. I’ve simply been caring for those that remain, helping them to live their best lives for whatever time they have left.

It may stay that way.

Despite the tab labeled, “The Dream”, I am also acknowledging my own aging process. No, I’m far from ancient, but my lower spine gave me a painful reminder that I’m no more a young, sprung chicken than my feathered friends when it came to burying Chester and Felicity’s remains. As their name suggests, Nigerian Dwarfs are a smaller breed of goat. Felicity wasn’t so bad. However, Chester was rather large for the breed. He was wethered by his previous owner because he was too large for the breed and any offspring might’ve been too large for a standard-sized Nigerian Dwarf doe to safely birth.

Felicity

He was also too large for someone 55+ to be lifting and then lowering into a grave.

All of that being said, I’m not giving up on my dreams. I’m simply being careful not to spread myself out too thin going forward, weighing options, and considering the future. Also, the recent threat of foreclosure, the loss of loved ones, and a thesis to complete for graduation last August, have all wreaked havoc on me (Can you say “burnout”?). It may be a while before I’m ready to take on a fully-fledged farm again…and when I do, I’m considering only bees and bunnies. Time will tell…

Of course, we’re not completely out of this season of loss. As we lost my father’s sister, Sandy, and her husband, George, last year, my mother lost one of her sisters, my Aunt Donna, this year.

It has been very hard trying to be strong for Mom, while also mourning the loss of another beloved aunt. I’ve mentioned often about having a stepfather who wanted “too much to do with me” as a child. When I first opened up about the abuse, Auntie Donna was with Mom when I told her. She was a well of support in the weeks and months that followed, even to going with me to therapy one afternoon.

More importantly, she was Mom’s closest sister. Mom is one of 11 children in what I can only describe as a very dysfunctional family (and, yes, I know that term has been bandied about far too much over the years…). Good people, all of them, but they don’t talk. They take offense too easily. Despite being sisters and brothers, they have the equivalent of high school “clicks” amongst them. And income, or the lack thereof, has often been a determining factor in who gets to be in which “click”. Mom has been widowed and living with me for over 10 years now. Only one other sister calls to check up on her from time to time. To say that she’s feeling this loss keenly is putting it mildly. I can only hope that 2025 will be a better year for our family…and yours!

Auntie Donna

To be honest, I don’t know if He is finished with this season of loss with us or not, but I think this year’s word will be “Hope”. I am hopeful about so many things, I don’t know where to begin listing them…despite the recent losses. On that score, I am also grateful to have been able to share my life with these loved ones for as long as I did. Maybe I took some of them for granted. Maybe I could’ve been there for them more than I was, but my love for them was always deep and never-ending…and it always will be.

So here’s to 2025…a year of Hope.

As for the usual song of the year? I’ve decided this year that I will be sharing a new video/song, as well as a line of Scripture, every day on my social media accounts, so there isn’t any one song this time around. And that’s okay.

Happy New Year, Everyone! May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Christianity, Community, Faith, Family, gardening, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Herbs, Homesteading, No-dig Gardening, Prepping, Scripture

Here or There?

Lisa Burbank

“Put your outdoor work in order and get your fields ready; after that, build your house.” (Proverbs 24:27)

Well, that about sums it up. I have trays of chestnuts bedded in soil in the refrigerator with the hopes that they will germinate, putting down roots to be potted out next spring (yeah, there’s a metaphor somewhere in there…). There are plans afoot to purchase some dwarf varieties of fruit trees as well…and maybe an arborist to come look at my apple trees, those that came with this house 20+ years ago, and tell me if they’re worth saving (I hope so! RI Greenings are a pretty awesome tasting apple…).

Planting a tree of any kind is a symbol of hope for the future, a future I may not see, but one I plant anyway.

Oh, I’d love for “The Dream” I’ve shared of more acreage and more animals and endeavors to become a reality. And maybe that’s in His plan for me. Someday…

But, for now, here is home. And it may be the last home I ever have here on earth. I know that sounds morbid, but we never know the number of our days. Here there is a full-time job that I love. More importantly, it’s close to family and friends, and a community of which I enjoy being a part. A community that has been there for me during the tough times, as well as the joyful ones.

That’s nothing to sneeze at.

Yeah, Maine would be awesome. But I’m older now. Do I have it in me to build that home out of cob? Is it even still allowed there? It’s been a long while since I first started planning all of this. And, considering the chestnut trees I’m starting, if it’s to be Maine, I would have to move pretty quick on that dream.

I’m not sure I want to…but I will, of course, go wherever He leads.

The chestnut trees will be potted for their first few years anyway, so it’s still early enough to take them with me…ere the ruminations keep churning round and round.

This house needs some serious work. The sills are rotted in places. The roof needs replacing. The exterior needs a serious paint job…and it’s asbestos siding so, a costly job. Inside, it needs new flooring, new ceilings in some of the rooms, and the walls all need new paint…or wallpaper, which I prefer. But a new paint job will do and it’s the easiest out of that list…it’s also the last one I need worry about.

As the Bible verse above says, I’m getting my outdoor work in order and my fields ready. More raised beds, painted pale green, are going up from as many salvaged materials as I can lay hands on. And then the food forest on that overgrown half-acre. What lines much of the supermarket shelves doesn’t even disguise itself as food anymore so growing my own, especially with the threat of more supply chain interruptions, is important.

Having access to organically-grown natural remedies is also important. The bulk of those raised beds in the front yard will be herbs, most of which flower and look quite attractive.

Then there’s the zoning issues that I thought resolved if I’m to ever raise goats here again, or to consider sheep.

None of this is impossible. Sometimes I think it would be easier to start somewhere else but, I’m starting with here. Because here is what I’ve got. And I am ever so grateful for here.

It’s in His hands, as ultimately everything always is. If there is a “there” in my future, I trust that He will lead me to it, and pave the way to get “there”.

There are endless possibilities no matter which way I look. Amazing to think just a little over a year ago, hope was such a tenacious thing hanging by the most gossamer strands of faith…

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, ecosystems, Environment, God/Jesus, Homesteading, Nature, Scripture

If You Build It, They Will Come

Lisa Burbank

“Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘Go to Pharaoh and say to him, ‘This is what the LORD says: Let my people go, so that they may worship me. If you refuse to let them go, I will plague your whole country with frogs.” (Exodus 8:1-2)

If I was Pharaoh, I’m not sure this would’ve been considered a punishment in my eyes. Perhaps Pharaoh didn’t either because, as I remember from Scripture, he didn’t let the Lord’s people go…and in came the frogs. God’s word is true.

I also didn’t built “it”…not intentionally anyway.

A couple of autumns ago, I drained the kiddie pool with which my ducks used to swim. As always, once drained for the winter, I propped it up against the outside wall of the barn to keep the rain from pooling up inside and then freezing, thus, possibly cracking the “pond”. Well, winter winds and/or heavy snows knocked the pool facedown. The following spring, the pool was full of water, but upside down.

Said kiddie pool is quite large, and especially heavy with all that water pooled up on it. The drain is now at the “top”. And, it seems like every time I start bailing the water out of it, we get more rain and it refills. This past spring, I started to bail and noticed some frog eggs amidst the dead leaves and duckweed floating on top of the stagnant water so I left it alone. Come summer and on into fall, I’ve had quite a number of tadpoles swimming around in that “pond”.

This weekend, friend Robert came over to help reinstall the inside door to the basement. There was a point where he needed to use the skill saw, which would produce a lot of sawdust in a small and confining place, so he recommended I step outside until he was done.

I wandered over to the chicken coop to visit with the chooks and ducks (Incidentally, the ducks have been given smaller pools that are easier to manage…there are also fewer ducks these days).

Then I wandered over to the upside-down pool-turned-vernal-pool. The tadpoles have either been eaten by the family of stoats we discovered living under the Florida room floor, have morphed into their adult selves, or have gone deeper since a recent frost (Do tadpoles hibernate like their adult counterparts? Or do they die off in the cold?). However, I found three rather large frogs, and another that looked to be either a juvenile, or perhaps simply another smaller species of frog (or are some of these toads??).

No matter, I am thrilled with my new neighbors and now spend every evening visiting. A vernal pool was in the “future” plans for this homestead; what a blessing to find Mother Nature produced it herself.

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Animals, Appreciation, Culture, ecosystems, Global Warming, God/Jesus, History, Homesteading, Memories, Nostalgia, Scripture, Tradition

The Comfort of Fire

Lisa Burbank

“Love each other deeply. Honor others more than yourselves. Never let the fire in your heart go out. Keep it alive.” (Romans 12:11)

I shared the photograph below on social media over the weekend, but it bears sharing here, too. Because nothing brings about a sense of tranquility and peace like a warm fire blazing in either a fireplace, or in my case, the woodstove. It really is a comfort.

Yes, I know a few European countries have banned the use of fireplaces and woodstoves, citing climate change, pollution and air quality as the reason. But how much more is our air quality challenged by the smoke stacks of various manufacturing facilities, jet exhaust, crop dusting, and the mining for various minerals and precious metals that go into our electronics and so-called “green” energies? Even with the recycling of some of those components, it doesn’t completely offset the harm done of this last.

Yes, my minor was environmental science. I’m familiar with the science, have seen the evidence that the climate is changing, and that Mankind is responsible for this change. But it’s not you or I driving back and forth to work each week, or the woodstove you’re lighting to save money on heat each winter, that’s the cause. Both are just a drop in the bucket against corporate violations.

But that’s neither here nor there. I’m here to talk about fire…the good kind that satisfies the soul on a chilly autumn night. Can anything else compare? Surely no electric, oil, or even gas, heat soaks into the bones as readily as the fire on the hearth.

What is it about fire that soothes so much? Is it ancestral memory? Surely our ancestors spent their winters gathered around such, praying, reading, telling stories, making music together, sharing a pot of tea and a wedge of pie.

Granted, before woodstoves were invented, they wouldn’t have been warm. Houses from the 19th century and before were not insulated. And, while the fire on a true hearth (i.e. fireplace) satisfies almost as readily as that in a woodstove, much of the heat actually escapes up the chimney. It’s one of the reasons why woodstoves caught on: the heat stays locked in the cast iron, radiating throughout the house. With a fireplace, unless you’re sitting right in front of it, you cannot feel its warmth.

Perhaps the ancestral memory goes back even farther…to days of living in caves and the crackle of a fire keeping predators away. Is it that sense of safety and security that make it such a joy? While we may not need to keep a fire going to save us from being eaten by a saber-toothed tiger, perhaps there’s a transference of that safety and security onto the knowledge that, in the event of a storm and subsequent power outage, we’re still safe from freezing to death.

It’s likely we will never know the true answer to that, but what a time to mourn if we’re ever denied the comfort of that fire as some of our European neighbors have been. It truly is a gift…as Miss Zelda would agree (below).

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Books, Christianity, Exhaustion, Family, Fiber Arts, Friendship, gardening, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Herbs, Homesteading, Plants, Prayer, Prepping, Reading, Religion, Sleep Deprivation, Spinning, Straw Braiding, Weaving, Writing, Yoga & Fitness

Keeping It Simple

Lisa Burbank

“For God is not a God of confusion, but of peace.” (1 Corinthians 14:33)

I’m feeling my age…and the stress of the past year: navigating, and eventually, mitigating foreclosure; the loss of my beloved aunt and uncle; new job position that I absolutely love but, it also keeps me hopping with an ever-changing schedule; thesis courses demanding 15,000 new words to my first novel to be turned in every 4 weeks. And now, another beloved aunt struggling with health issues. I also have a cat under veterinary care right now and a geriatric goat with some special needs. To say that I am spent would be putting it mildly.

And yet, on the upside, through His grace, I have successfully navigated foreclosure and, at least for the moment, am keeping my home. I am blessed beyond measure to have aunts and uncles that I can call “beloved”. I am also blessed beyond measure in a still-tanking job market to have the job that I do. There’s a certain thrill to see the story in my head and in my heart coming out on paper. And it’s another kind of blessing to have pets to share my world, to care for each day.

But I’m still spent.

I stood up one of my best friends this week for an event that she and I were supposed to attend together. She was worried something bad might’ve happened. Then I forgot I had agreed to cover as Lector last week for a fellow parishioner. Father Ben teased me about it. He wasn’t angry, but I was angry with myself…for both instances.

I either need to simplify, or get better organized. Perhaps it’s a little of both. An accountability partner would be a blessing right now, too, but I can’t have everything…

“The Dream” section of this blog/website is still in my heart. Every time I think of simplifying, another point from that bulleted outline rears up and says, “Don’t forget me!”. And I don’t.

Still, there’s a shifting inside that is looking to modify it a little…at least until I’m through with college.

I’ve blogged before about how I overfill my time. I tend to have “scatter syndrome” from too much “busyness”. I forget things like dates with friends, additional commitments, and even prayer. The flip side is, if I simplify too much, the brain turns to mush and the forgetfulness increases, rather than decreases. I need to find that sweet balance.

Or a staycation where I can do some much-needed spring cleaning that’s nagging at me and get better organized.

But, back to simplifying…if I stay right here in northeastern Connecticut, then The Herbal Hare may get whittled down to what everyone sees in the icon: Bunnies, herbs, and honeybees. I’ve already determined, unless I do find that place in Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire…or Missouri, then Felicity will be my last goat, and the few chickens and ducks I have left, also the last.

And does that ever cut!

But my life has become an endless litany of sacrifices. I sacrifice time with friends to keep up on my studies. I sacrifice writing time to help out somewhere. I sacrifice things like yoga, exercise, time with this blog, etc. to “catch up” on some much needed sleep. And then I beat myself up for not “making” the time for these other things. In short, with my time–and I have only 24 hours a day like everyone else–I am perpetually robbing Peter to pay Paul.

So, it’s time to prioritize. And then, once I’ve graduated, I can re-evaluate.

My priorities are likened to those times that prove, or have proven, to be the most satisfying to my soul:

Time spent in prayer.

Saturday evenings playing cards and Scrabble with Mom.

Chatting with my brother, sister-in-law and nieces on the phone.

Outings with friends to hike through the park, peruse the bookstore, visit a museum, share a meal.

Family get togethers.

Time spent on the water, either cruising the lake on my uncle’s pontoon, or sharing the paddle boat with a cousin or two.

Walks with my dogs…when I had dogs.

Bunny-time…when I had rabbits, the time spent each night in their room letting them free-range outside of their cages. Sometimes I would simply read while they stretched their legs. Most of the time, I laughed at their antics…especially when the cats joined in and all of them played and cuddled together.

When I worked in living history museums, the mornings spent walking through the herb garden I was in charge of with a cuppa tea in hand, deciding what “chores” needed to be done today while stopping to inhale the scents of my favorite plants.

Working in the garden.

Making tinctures, salves, decoctions, infusions, or spice blends.

Spinning wool into yarn, filling the niddy-noddy with it, or weaving new cloth.

Braiding straw with which to make hats.

A whole Sunday spent cooking and baking for the week.

Watching honeybees at work gathering their nectar.

Time spent in the barnyard.

Reading a passage of a book, or story, that I’ve written that came out particularly well.

Reading a good book.

Spending my early mornings with a cuppa tea and working on a blog post.

And, one of the most satisfying moments of my life was about 10 years’ ago. I cooked a simple meal of pasta, salad and bread, topped it off with a cup of hot chocolate. The pasta sauce had come from tomatoes I’d grown from seed and canned. Most of the salad fixings came from my own garden. The bread was made from scratch. And even the marshmallow I’d placed in my hot chocolate had been made from scratch. It was that feeling of accomplishment.

The new job has those moments, too, especially when I’m hosting a writer’s workshop, or a book club, or a knitting/crocheting group and that sense of community ensues.

These are the things that fill me with peace, things I long to get back to. And, anything in The Dream, or in present life, that does not lead me to one (or all) of these ends, will have to go. That’s a tall order, but it’s one worth filling.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Bereavement, Christianity, Exhaustion, Faith, Family, Friendship, Gratitude, Grief, Healing, Holidays, Homesteading

Goodbye 2023

Lisa Burbank

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

Another year winding down to a close. This is often, in my mind at least, a time to reflect upon the year that’s passing.

I’ve been shying away from that.

It’s been a tough year filled with uncertainty…and some losses that have cut me to the bone. Yet it’s also been a year that’s filled me with hope…even as my prayer life has hit one of those dead zones.

This time last year I was staring down the face of foreclosure, scared silly I’d lose my babies, the cat, goat, chicken and duck “babies” that share this homestead with Mom and I. I wasn’t even sure where Mom and I were going to go if we lost the home. I promised myself–and Him–that if He saved my home again, I would shout His praises from the rooftop. There’s been a praise and song in my heart, but I’ve retreated so far inward, well, I’m hoping the Bible studies I’m taking on Wednesday nights at church will help me navigate this spiritual desert. Right now everything is just numb…yet maybe a little raw, too.

This time last year we also had intermittent running water. Then from April until late-July we didn’t have any running water at all. Praise God–and Robert–for helping us get the water back on. And my heart was truly singing during and after that first hot shower in a very long time!

Of course, New Year’s Eve is always that time when I remember those I’ve lost throughout the year. Close to home, we lost Mountain Dew Duck, Jeep the Rooster, Faith, the last of our Plymouth Barred Rock chickens, and our sweet and lovable Nigerian Dwarf goat, Chester. Also, Herman the barn cat disappeared about a month ago. He’s been gone before, but usually not more than a few days, a week at best. Herman was incredibly shy. We tried capturing him, but he knew what a live trap was and avoided it like the plague.

On the human side, in April I also lost my Aunt Sandy, which if you’ve been following my blog, you probably saw the post about that. Her husband, my Uncle George, followed her in July. I might be able to find something metaphoric in the times of their passing vs. the water shutting completely off and then, praise the Lord, coming back on. However, it’s too great a mental exercise right now.

You see, this has been my time to weep, to mourn, to give up (or, in my case, give it up (to God!)), to be silent. It’s been the worry over the home; the stress of so many repairs and replacements; the grief…this last is the hardest. And now the feeling of being overwhelmed as I try to clean up, shape up, pick up the pieces and move on…while also in the midst of the first of three thesis classes. Go figure!

Then just before Christmas, a friend of a friend found mention on the probate court website of another friend’s estate. Duncan had not been heard from since August and we had been very worried about him. He lived alone and he wasn’t returning phone calls. A few visits to his home showed no one was there and no one had contacted my friend to let him know what happened. Whether Duncan passed away at home, or later in a hospital, we may never know. He was never a visitor to the homestead, but his best friend is, and his loss is still felt.

Despite all of this, all of the struggles and the losses of family and friends, both human and humane, I truly do feel blessed. Blessed to have shared at least part of my life with everyone mentioned here…and I praise God for those who are still here to share this life with me. Here’s to hoping 2024 will be a much happier year!

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Animals, Appreciation, Christianity, Emergency Preparedness, Finances, Friendship, Homesteading, Minimalism, Nostalgia, Poverty, Prayer, Scripture

Coming Out of the Darkness

Lisa Burbank

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.” (Psalms 46:1-3)

Phew! The last three weeks have been a whirlwind of plumbers, notaries, electricians, lawyers, well-drilling technicians, and mortgage lenders…fits, starts, stops, highs and lows.

The good news is we now have safe and reliable running water again. We’ve been doing the bowl bath thing, heating the bottled water that I purchased every couple of days at Walmart and washing up that way…since November 2021 (Yes, you read that correctly!). To say that first warm shower last Wednesday felt ambrosial is an understatement. And I dare say, my infatuation with 19th century living has been tempered a bit. Had I the infrastructure of our ancestors, such as a pump at the kitchen sink, it might not have been quite so bad, but I’m not complaining. I feel like a lady of luxury these days (Thank you, Jesus…and a very special shout of “thanks” to Sir Robert the Welcome!).

Granted, we did have running cold water until April of this year. It wasn’t safe to drink but, we could at least fill kettles, pots and pans at the sink to heat for dishes and bathing so the cost to refill gallon jugs at Walmart was somewhat manageable…even if it was a pain you-know-where.

It actually feels strange not to have to stop every few days, not to have a mountain of empty jugs piled up in a box on the back seat to refill, not to have to look for an empty grocery cart nearby to haul those 15-20 empty gallon jugs into the store when I park my car. I keep thinking I’m forgetting something. Again, I’m not complaining. But what a habit to maintain out of necessity!

Thursday morning there was a moment of panic when I noted the lonely little gallon jug in the corner and I still hadn’t fed the goats, chickens, and ducks their breakfast, which always includes a refill of clean water. I barely stopped myself from berating myself for not stopping the night before for refills. The feeling of wonder when I remembered to turn on the tap and watched clear, cool water run out into their buckets must’ve been akin to what our ancestors felt when indoor plumbing was first invented.

And it’s amazing how He works. Despite all of our financial difficulties, somehow we always managed to have enough to buy in the water we needed. He always provided…even if we did rob Peter to pay Paul a few times. I’m feeling truly blessed right now.

There really isn’t any bad news, not even where mortgage lenders, attorneys and notaries are concerned. It’s just frustrating news. As mentioned in my previous post, the final date for the signing of the permanent modification paperwork got pushed out another month. It would appear the lenders are not happy with my ability to make mortgage payments. However, it’s very satisfying on this end to be able to write those checks again.

I have 9 days to go before we meet again. I spoke with my representative a couple of days’ ago and she said everything was correct this time. So, third time’s a charm, I guess, but praise God for the blessing of friends…and co-workers willing to take time out of their busy days to act as witnesses.

I’m asking for lots of prayers, good wishes, positive thoughts, etc. that Mom and I, and our little farm, can get right-side up again permanently. As always, many thanks!

May God bless you & keep you!