We Lost the Farm

At our old state park, we had a lot of land around our house which made it possible to grow a lot of veggies (enough to start a farmers' market), run some pastured poultry (for healthy, non-medicated chicken), laying hens for delicious eggs, pastured pigs (hello, bacon!), and pets for the boys to learn some hands-on animal husbandry (and outdoor chores that built strong muscles, work ethic, and character).

Hello beautiful!

I smell bacon....bacon, bacon, bacon!!!!!
Alright they did not smell that good.

Let me out!!! Ready to be let out for the day,
this is as confined as our chicks got.

Oh, and then there were the pets.

Huck and Tom

 Tonto and Lucky (aka the hog and the dog)

Littlest Buckaroo's rabbit. His name changed daily.
Poor thing had an identity crisis and left for the loony bin. 

The 4-H Show Goats- Hiccup and Astrid

The day Uncle Bob brought them a horse, yes, a horse named Bucky.

Then...... we moved. And we got a fish.

The feed cost for animals at our house drastically reduced. All was well in our new world. A nice break from chores, finding someone to feed and water the animals when we went to our cabin, and everything else that comes along with pets and livestock living around your home. 

Then, motherless Fluffy came into our lives.

We (meaning me, moms end up doing most animal baby things) bottle fed her and although I am sure she misses her mommy, she has two little boys that love her.

I said no animals for the first year at our new house (aside of the nameless fish), but your blue eyes and sweet cuddles won me over. So, welcome to the family Fluffy.

First time cat owner,
The Park Wife

Farmers' Market Withdrawal

I love fresh, local food and have been a huge advocate for the local food movement for the past 5 years. I was on our state's farmers' market board, started and managed markets in two towns, and helped several other communities start markets. I grew produce to sell at these markets in my own little garden world. I speak at farmers' conferences in an effort to help them market and promote their businesses more effectively.

At market,
I traded produce with farmers who grew things I did not, 


planned events from music to a children's garden,


 met and became friends with some of the best, most down to earth people you will ever meet. Yes, farmers.

Little Buckaroo selling his eggs
 to his best customer, Ms. Margaret.

I taught the Buckaroo's first-hand where their food comes from and how to sell what they grow and their chicken's eggs (we call that consumer math in homeschooling).

 
Then, we moved. I love our new town and our new home. But, I lost my farming for market capabilities due to the lack of land. 

So, I am making do. I planted some vegetables outside of the state park restaurant for them to use, I will buy from the market here in our new town, and am getting creative with what I have to work with (yes, flower beds). However, I am still in Farmers' Market withdrawal. Getting up at 5 a.m. on Saturday's was rough, but once the opening bell rang at market, it was all worth it. The Buckaroo's with hands and face covered in blueberry stains, juice from beautiful, tasty heirloom tomato's dripping on our shirts, Ms. Crews sharing her pickle recipe with me. Sweet mercy, I need a local farmer to adopt me.

We are working to build our sustainable agriculture farm for when Big Buckaroo retires (um... about 15 more years), but until then..... farewell,

Until we meet again.

Alright, I know in reality I will be all up in the local food movement, just not as an active farmer.

Go out and support your local farmers at the market,
The Park Wife
formerly known as the Southern Belle Farm Chick

The Chicken Whisperer

This is a post from a while back, I thought of it since I am going to pick up 25 baby chicks this afternoon. I just never learn.


We have chickens. Lot's of chickens. We ordered 10 chickens for Little Buckaroo's 4-H project this year. I was excited, fresh eggs for the family and the extras we could sell at the Farmer's Market.

Yea, best laid plans. The 4-H truck delivers the chickens throughout the state to the different 4-H clubs. We were the last stop. There were 100 left on the truck. Yea, we brought home 100 baby chicks.

Thankfully, there were area 4-H'ers that needed chickens so we ended up with 28 chickens.

Then Lucky decided that he liked chicken, so we were down to 24. Bad dog.


They get to go out on fresh grass in the afternoons so now I have to chain Lucky (appropriate name because he is lucky to be alive) up. Then, at dusk when they go in, I let him off the chain.

The chickens started laying eggs the week of the last Farmer's Market for the season. So, now I get about 22 eggs a day. Call me if you need eggs, cluck, cluck.

Oh yea, the chicken trauma. So, whenever Big Buckaroo goes out of town there is inevitably going to be a chicken trauma. A few weeks ago, I heard a bit of a ruckus at about 10:30 p.m. and went out with a flashlight. All looked well until I looked up here (see photo below).

There were 3 hens up there roosting because they did not make it back into the hen house before I closed the door. I know, I really should count the girls. I spent the next 30 minutes in my pajamas with a boat oar trying to coax them down and get them in the hen house for the night. I kept looking around to make sure I was not on candid camera. Ugh, life on a mini-farm.

So, last weekend while Big Buckaroo was out of town hunting, I went to get eggs and there were only five in there with all the rest broken. Yea, I forgot to get them the day before and someone benefited from my absentmindedness, glad someone benefits from it. Plus, there were some wing feathers on the ground, uh oh, not good.

The next day I made sure before dark that all the girls were inside and all the eggs were picked up. I heard a ruckus at about 11:20 p.m. Lucky was inside with me so he could guard the family during the night (if he could hear anything over his snoring). It was the rooster and a couple of hens making it sound like a Desperate Housewives cat fight.

I went outside, did not see anything. I started back in, turned around and looked up. In a tree by the chicken coop sat.....


a possum! (no, I did not take that picture, I was running the other way!)

What to do???? Where is Big Buckaroo???? I want my mommy! (not that she could help, she is afraid of chickens)

I went inside and got a pellet gun, I thought I would scare it out of the tree and maybe Lucky would run it off. Did not work. Neither did the rock I threw up at him.

At this point I am thinking how did I go from Memphis chic to chick defender?

I knew that if I did not take care of this situation I would have some dead chickens in the morning. So, I went inside to get the shotgun. Not a good idea because I am scared of it kicking back and bruising my shoulder. But, I was being bold, I had to defend Tara. Oh wait, I am not Scarlett.

I went back out with the gun, aimed, then stopped, talked to myself a while, aimed again. This went on for about 3 minutes. I finally got up the nerve, took off the safety and.....click. There was not a shell in it. I could not go through that again. So I walked back to put the gun up and thought about what Big Buckaroo would do.

Well, he would have put a shell in the shotgun, but anyway, I decided to get the small animal trap, put some dog food in it and hope for the best.

The next morning I went out and SUCCESS. I had trapped a possum, I am a real country girl now. Just call me Ellie Mae. Woohoo!

Next predicament ~ my husband was not home to relocate it, I was surely not picking that cage up, have it hiss at me and risk it rushing out and attacking me. What to do, what to do????

Thanks park maintenance for giving ugly, nasty possum a new home about 5 miles from us!

Going to make eggs Benedict,
The Chicken Whisperer


***Disclaimer: We are very good to our animals, all of them, from the rabbit to the dog to the goats to the chickens to the brand new Texas brown tarantula that I would rather not be good to, but I am. Just had to say that, there are some crazy folks out there who would want to cause a ruckus over me permanently eliminating (which I did not) a possum that was about to kill my chickens.

Blingity Bad

Uh oh, watch out, The Park Wife is on a bit of a tear. Yes, it happens, just ask my husband.

Really, I try hard not to judge, it is a bit of a struggle at times, especially when I am in a situation where PEOPLE WATCHING could be considered a sport. I was at a big festival recently and since I had my camera with me, I thought I would share something that my friend Jenn and I have been ranting about for a few weeks now.

Butt bling, with crosses no less. Now, I love me some Jesus, and I am in awe of His majesty, His grace and His power (among many other things). HOWEVER, I am not going to put some bedazzled crosses as an advertisement for people to look at on my bottom. Um, what exactly would that be advertising?

                                             

These were not the tightest ones I saw that day, I had to choose one that was not like a blinking arrow sign to post. You are welcome.

I don't think the Lord wants this type of advertising, actually I am pretty positive that He is just fine on His own.

I also hear they cost well over $100, yes ma'am, we are in a recession, people are losing their homes, food costs are skyrocketing, unemployment is up, but they have some bedazzled bottom jeans.

Mercy, you can tell I am in a bit of an uproar, but hold on to your bling jeans, when this little lady turned around, she had on this shirt.



Yes, this might send me over the edge. Are you kidding me? This is just wrong on so many levels. I don't think I can even go there.

A cross is not a fashion statement, it is a way of life.

The Park Wife

In Awe of Deborah Madison

I serve on our state's Farmers' Market Association board and the other 4 board members, yep, they are men. Can I get a "bless your heart"?

Our annual conference was last weekend and yes, I planned and implemented the entire thing....with a little, emphasis on little, help from the men. Thankfully, another woman was recently elected to the Board, FARM GIRL POWER!

It was a fantastic, informative, and rejuvenating (well, mentally, not physically) weekend. Just like every other year after a farmers' market conference, I spend every day of the next week out planning and working in my garden or perusing catalogs and ordering my seeds. A big shout out to the incredible Seed Savers Exchange, an organization that saves and shares the heirloom seeds of our garden heritage, forming a living legacy that can be passed down through generations. Check them out.

The highlight of the entire weekend for me was meeting the extraordinary Deborah Madison. Yes, I am in awe of this woman. She was everything and nothing I expected. I expected a celebrated chef, local foods advocate, author of 11 cookbooks, former farmers market manager, and the founding chef of San Francisco’s Greens restaurant. What I did not expect was for her to be so down to earth, warm and welcoming, to have a kind spirit and radiate such health, beauty, and class.

She and her cutie-patootie husband Patrick joined us for our board dinner (which was delicious thanks to Chef Lee Richardson of Ashley's at the Capitol Hotel) and she was immediately supportive and enthusiastic about all we are doing for local farmers and markets in our state. On Friday, she spoke at our conference and was full of wisdom and ideas leaving all the attendees wanting more. That evening was a Farm to Table Dinner with a book signing at The Peabody.


I got over to The Peabody and visited with a few people, then I wandered over to her book signing table. She welcomed me as if we had been friends for life. I purchased her book, Local Flavors which I HIGHLY recommend and before I walked off she asked if she could sit with me at dinner, yes at the event she was speaking at. Um, yea!


There were two tables full of farmers amidst the crowd of attendees, yes, we were the ones wearing cowboy boots, and yes Kim Severson of The New York Times, I wore my cowboy boots with a dress.

Deborah Madison wowed the crowd and hopefully the attendees got her message of the importance of local foods and the farm to table movement.

I firmly believe that God puts people into our path to learn lessons from, admire, and that will encourage us to be better people. I am thankful that Deborah Madison crossed my path.

Remember, you too can eat pure, healthy, local foods. Visit your local farmers' market or hey, order some seeds and give gardening a try, you might love it like me!

Going to get my toes in the dirt,
The Park Wife

Winter Garden Sprouts

I did not eat anything green, except for green beans, until I was 19. The fact that I am a small farmer and run a farmers' market is quiet humorous to my mother who frequently found my veggies hidden in napkins, fed to the dog, and many other creative ways I found to clean my plate without actually having a veggie cross my lips.

Last week, we had a couple of beautiful days in the 60s that I was able to get out and work my garden, prepping it for this summer's market garden. Then, it snowed. Crazy weather.

I had one problem while laying out my garden, a good problem. I still have beautiful brussels sprouts growing from my first ever winter garden.

This crazy weather has not hindered the plants one bit! I wish I could say that for my washing pile, two boys playing in the snow and putting on dry clothes all day will wear a Maytag out. Oh, and wear a mom out too.
Look-a-there, beautiful. Brussels sprouts for dinner when I was a kid would have been a very traumatic event, ranked right up there with beets.

They are delicious and my kids LOVE them. And, guess what? Fresh, PROPERLY PREPARED brussels sprouts ARE NOT SLIMY. It’s true. They are solid, and crisp, and taste great!

Here is what you do: Wash the brussels sprouts well. Trim the stem ends and remove any raggy outer leaves. Cut in half from stem to top and gently rub each half with olive oil, keeping it intact (or if you are lazy, like me, just toss them in a bowl with a glug of olive oil).

Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil over medium heat in your largest skillet, I cook strictly with cast iron which I am sure makes everything taste better. Don't overheat the skillet, or the outsides of the brussels sprouts will cook too quickly. Place the brussels sprouts in the pan flat side down (single-layer), sprinkle with a couple pinches of salt, cover, and cook for roughly 5 minutes; the bottoms of the sprouts should only show a hint of browning. Cut into or taste one of the sprouts to gauge whether they're tender throughout. If not, cover and cook for a few more minutes.

Once just tender, uncover, turn up the heat, and cook until the flat sides are deep brown and caramelized. Use a metal spatula to toss them once or twice to get some browning on the rounded side. Season with more salt, a few grinds of pepper, and a dusting of grated cheese (if you want and who would not want cheese?). While you might be able to get away with keeping a platter of these warm in the oven for a few minutes, they are exponentially tastier if popped in your mouth immediately.

Try it Mikey, you'll like it!
The Park Wife

Wilma Working Hard in the Garden

Now that the county fair is over, it is time to get back to life at home. No more focusing on goat showing, crafts, or BBQ cook-off's until next year. It was fun, but, whew! I am worn out.

My focus this week (aside of the gigantic piles of laundry, cooking and educating kids) is my garden! Since we do not open the Farmers' Market in the Fall here, my Fall/Winter garden is just to feed our family (and friends when I have a surplus).

With the boys help and my trusted friend Wilma.....oh, wait, you did not know I have a garden helper named Wilma. Oh, you thought I did it all myself, oh no ma'am, I have been holding out on you.

Meet my friend Wilma!

Wilma is a hard worker, reliable, and pretty cute when she is cleaned up. I thought about painting her pink, but I loan her out and I think some of the men using her might feel a little embarrassed if someone drove by as they were working their garden with her. Hmmm...on second thought, I might go buy some pink paint at the hardware store today.



Oh giver of fresh veggies, let's get going! You have been neglected for weeks, I am so sorry.

I love tilling the garden. It is relaxing, yet energizing. As I go down each row I imagine its potential and envision the bounty that will grow there. Then, my mind wanders to how much I love being a part of the land and the blessing of being a part of a group (farmers, gardeners, foodies, etc) that desire to connect people to each other, to the farm, to our food.

Get out and enjoy this wonderful time of year. I will call you if I have too much broccoli!
The Park Wife

Farm Meets the Fashion World

I have some fabulous boots, they are quiet FARM FLASHY as I wrote about here.

I do not subscribe to any magazines that are about fashion, unless you count Mary Janes Farm or Country Living, well, no you can't count those. I left my "gotta have the hippest, in-style wardrobe" life in my 20s. But, I do know that the fashion industry is undoubtedly a mirror of culture (I know, scary), so I was pleased (well as pleased as I can get about fashion these days) when I saw that food and farming had entered the psyche of Chanel and Ralph Lauren for their 2010 spring fashion lines.

Can you imagine being at that photo shoot? A bunch of hungry models playing in the hay, on tractors and in barns in designer clothing wishing for a big steak as they looked out in the field. However, it does validate what many in the sustainable food movement are calling a modern day farm revival. Oh, how I do love that!

Here is a photo from Ralph Lauren's Spring line

So, I guess that this year is not only the year that USDA rolled out their "Know Your Farmer" campaign, but it is also the year that shopping at Goodwill and dolling up "frugal and make do" can be fabulous. Who knows, maybe this fashion trend could influence people to slow down and get back to a simpler lifestyle that focuses on the condition of the heart where God, family, friends, and good, healthy local food are what matters.

The Park Wife
(who is not afraid to pair a sleeveless dress with cowboy boots, according to Kim Severson of the New York Times)

Farmers' Market In Full Swing

Life on our little farm is full blast right now. From squash to zucchini to tons of cucumbers, we are reaping the benefits of our hard work. We are enjoying the farmers' market. It is so worth the time we spend preparing everything.

We have almost doubled our number of farmers, with 13 on average each Saturday. All grown and produced locally!

I have also met many new friends and even reconnected with one of Big Buckaroo's cousins whose girlfriends family is one of our major farm families.

My goal is to give the residents of our town & consumers in the region an opportunity to have access to a wide variety of locally/sustainably grown, & produced goods. I am happy to report, we are doing a pretty good job of that. People are becoming educated on eating what is in season and eating fresh, local foods. I hope we are also saving some family farms along the way and preserving the fabric of small towns and the values in which they are made.

The kids are having a blast! They spend the days at the market playing with their friends and making new ones with any kid that comes to the market with their family.

Oh, and every once in a while they might sell a cup of lemonade, if they have not drank it all.

I hope that we are being good stewards of all we have been blessed with -- land to grow healthy food and kids to grow into healthy, Godly young men. Now, that is truly sustainably living.

Time to wash ANOTHER load of clothes.

The Park Wife

Southern Belle Farm Chick

The new logo is done, check it out!

Farm Girl Chic

You would think by now that I would not be surprised by the way my life goes. You know, one day you are living in the city and you have your life planned out and then you turn around and are on a state park with an extraordinary husband, two kids and dirty fingernails from farming.

However, I am finding that the two lives do mesh (in some strange, twisted maybe Park Wife world). It is possible to be a wife, mom, farmer, have a farmers market and still have a little pizazz.

Branding our "farm", the farmer's market and even myself as a "foodie" has utilized my marketing and PR skills more than I could have ever imagined. The fun thing about this aspect is that I love breaking down stereotypes. No, I do not wear denim skirts and wear my hair in a bun but I am a homeschool mom and I don't wear overalls, walk around with a toothpick in my mouth, but I am a farmer. I can't tell you how many times I have been interviewed or been at a meeting and people think I am kidding when I say I am a farmer. So, I think I am going to coin a new term, I am FARM FLASHY. Watch out Project Runway, a niche market here? And, I might actually wear it, unlike some of the things we see models wear these days.

One of my friends is working on my logo to put on my produce and signage for the farmers market, I am very excited. Of course as soon as it is done, I will be sharing it with you. Just think Southern Belle Farm Chick and let your imagination go with that. Hey, send me your ideas as well, that would be fun.

One last thing, the Farm Flash Fairy was watching over me the other day. There is a new consignment shop in town so I stopped by to ask about bringing some of the boys clothes in, mostly the ones they never wore because if you have boys, you know how they tear up clothes. So, I walked in and saw these sitting by the counter.

Yes, these are the very same ones that Ree owns, and no, I did not spend what she did on them. Oh mercy, they are fantastic. I am going to wear them next week to speak to the Lions Club. Of course I will wear a cute skirt (not denim) and something pink.

No more pearls, but definitely not rhinestones,
The Park Wife

The Sustainable Dream

I am all for immediate gratification, that is why I have Dr. Pepper in my fridge. But, I married a planner. When Big Buckaroo and I got married, he talked about having a sustainable farm one day. I had a 3 year plan, he had a 40 year plan. My downtown Memphis living self just rolled with it, it was the Wranglers and boots, I could not help myself. But, then reality set in. He actually meant that I would need to learn to farm.

Pastured poultry, not so bad raising, the slaughter, another thing entirely. Then, there were the pigs. Thankfully they went to the butcher and I did not have to witness Wilbur's death. I must say, the bacon, YUMMY. We have laying hens that provide the extra yumminess needed for an outstanding omelet. And, now my black thumb is getting a little green while my feet are turning a nice brown color, not from the sun but from the dirt in my garden. Then, last year, a few friends and I started a farmers' market in our town and KAPOW! the Southern Belle Farm Chic was born.



We are acquiring the necessary skills to be able to be full time farmers. Big Buckaroo will always be the Big Buckaroo Park Ranger guy until he retires in oh, 20 or so years, but I have two little farm hands to assist in our venture until his retirement. Yes, child labor my friends. Now, don't go calling the authorities, these boys are working hard, playing hard and learning hands on. The little buckaroo's have a great life.

I have, or maybe let's say HAD, the romanticized notion in the beginning when it comes to a family farm. It conjured up all sorts of Norman Rockwell images of a simple life where man and woman come together pitch fork in hand, building a life on a picturesque rural plot of America. Nostalgic images like those in Country Living (I love that magazine, surprise, surprise) of old barns and farmhouses with picket fences. Lush kitchen gardens and cute little boys in overalls collecting eggs from the chicken coop.

And, it is some of that, however, I don't have someone that stages my house and garden for beautiful photo layouts. Nor do I have someone that washes the dirty little boy clothes that they wore while burying themselves in the newly tilled garden, nor someone to wash the arugula for the third time, nor someone to clean and package the newly slaughtered chicken before putting it in the deep freeze.... we don't even have a great farm dog (our Boxer is no Lassie).

But, I do have a plot of land I have worked for almost 5 years now, amending the soil to make it rich and wonderful for growing vegetables that I will feed my family and other families that buy at our market. I have acquired a tremendous amount of knowledge in gardening, farmers' market start up and promotion, and how to keep our family the center of our family farm.

I am passionate about growing and promoting high quality, locally grown fresh fruit and vegetables. I want people to meet their farmer and know where their food came from. And, I want the cute farmhouse with the picket fence. And, the old barn where I can hold Harvest Dinners. Yes, I want and am striving for that picturesque life at a place we call Rockwell Farm.

Eat local, Eat Fresh,

The Park Wife,
aka The Southern Belle Farm Chic of Rockwell Farm

*all photos are from this morning. I will keep you updated with pictures so you can see how my garden grows.

Good Friday, Good Life

I am busy getting my garden going, the opening of our farmers’ market is just around the corner. I was told years ago by a 93-year-old mountain woman that my plants needed to go in the ground on Good Friday. That was during my gardening infant stage when my thumb was as black as my cooking was that first year of marriage.

Since then, I have fallen in love with living a more simple life. Gardening, less clutter, spending quality time with my guys reading books and playing rather than in the car being overscheduled and worn out, and let’s not forget my passion for farmers’ markets. Pretty big jump from living in downtown Memphis in the rat race, striving to make more, do more and be more. Thanks goodness, no, I thank God that I now have a little more clarity on what “more” really is for me.

To me, “more” is being able to snuggle with my kids every morning knowing their thoughts, their dreams, and their hearts. Growing and picking fresh veggies, teaching my kids hands-on how to plant, grow, harvest, and prepare a salad or salsa that can not be bought at any store. Being a good steward of the land. Sharing my life and experiences with others. Relishing in the simple things in life that I was once too busy to even recognize.

With so many documentaries (Food Inc, Fresh) and TV shows (Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution- it is on tonight, don’t miss it) magnifying our food problems in America, I hope America is waking up and making changes. Not just for yourselves but for our future generations. I am so saddened by the statistic that says today’s generation of children are predicted to be the first which will die at a younger age than their parents due to obesity-related bad health. Not only does that make me sad, but it makes me mad. It should you too. Nearly one in three (32%, 23 million) American children are obese or overweight. And, don't think that because you have a skinny kid that they will not have health problems as adults when they eat McYuckNuggets and high fructose corn syrup laden foods on a regular basis.

It is Good Friday, so get out there and plant a garden and I hope and pray that you will spend the day pondering and celebrating that Good Friday is the drama of the love by which our every day is sustained.

He is Risen!
The Park Wife

Dirty Work and Dirty Fun

I have been a little busy lately because at long last, the sun has been shining!

About a month ago, I started planning this seasons garden for my family and for me to sell at the farmers' market.

I love to sit and imagine the bounty. I have come a long way in the past few years, I started with a black thumb now I sell at a farmers' market. At the beginning of the season, I always envision my garden looking as beautiful and productive as Barefoot Contessa's. I am often barefoot in the garden, but that is about as far as the comparisons go.

That's Ina's garden, not mine. I knew you might be wondering, haha.

Anyway, I got a call from our postmaster (yes that happens in really small towns), well it is a lady so I guess she is our postmistress (sounds a little raunchy to me) to tell me some sweet little things that I ordered arrived from:

I have spent the past week tilling and planting. I love the smell of freshly turned dirt. I know, my old friends and my family are wondering what happened to the Southern Belle that I was 10 years ago? Even though I find it important to have my toenails painted the entire Summer (without chips ladies), I spend an enormous amount of time scrubbing the dirt stains on my feet. Priorities people. Is Southern Belle Farmer an oxymoron?

The garlic, a few varieties of lettuce, spinach, arugula, carrots, and onions are in the ground. I started my herbs indoors a while back and they are popping up. I need to get on the tomatoes soon. As you can see by the seed catalog, I am trying my hand at heirloom varieties this year.

I better go soak my feet, they are filthy (but have a very pretty pink polish on them),
The Park Wife

aka The Southern Belle Farmer

Dirt Under My Nails

I had a blast at our state's farmers' market conference. It got me excited about the year ahead. I have already tilled my garden since getting back and ordered the remainder of my seeds.

On Friday, the meeting was for farmers' market managers and Saturday was targeted more toward farmers. It was informative and I met many wonderful people.

I had a funny thing happen to me at lunch on Saturday. Before I tell you this, I must preface it in case you are a new reader. I grew up in the deep South, I was taught all the "right" things to do and to wear. If you don't understand where I am going with this, Google Southern debutante.

Since I was in the big city, I had my face on (meaning make-up and hair fixed). That would be in contrast to the pony tail and yoga pants that I usually am wearing in the garden, oh the glamour.

ANYWAY, I was checking my email on my laptop and an older gentleman came and sat down with me. Here is what happened next:

Older farmer: "hi, what are you doing here?"

The Park Wife: with a confused look on my face, I said, "oh, I am just checking my email." (I did not think he would get the whole "I am a blogger thing" so I left it alone)

Older farmer: "no, I mean what are you doing at the conference, are you a reporter?"

The Park Wife: with a little giggle and a smile "oh no sir, I am a farmer".

Older farmer: "really?.....a farmer?"

The Park Wife: "Yes sir, I am a farmer, I cleaned out the dirt from under my nails before I came to town."

It took a few minutes but he finally believed me. Isn't it amazing how we stereotype and judge people? I ran into that a few other times this weekend, but all in all, everyone was very accepting and kind. The main reason was the connection we have that comes from being passionate about fresh, healthy, seasonal foods, and fostering a sense of community through our farmers' markets.

We are getting ready for our first farmer's meeting for our farmers' market and I will keep you posted on the progress of our garden. Even if you live in the city, grow something for your family. Grab a pot, some soil and some seeds and show your kids where their food comes from!

Buy Local, Buy Fresh: Support Your Local Farmers Markets,
The Park Wife

An Organic Getaway

I am going away for the weekend.

I get to spend the night in a hotel. Without kids. This does not happen often. Woo-Hoo!

I am just going to lay around, eat bonbons, watch movies, and do nothing for 48 hours....not! I am going to a conference and every bit of free time that I do have, I have filled with meeting a fellow blogger for dinner and coffee with a veteran homeschool mom who I think is going to be a great, forever friend for me.

Oh the conference, hmmmm, is it a blogging conference? No, but my new blog friend Fawn at Instead of the Dishes and I are going to be talking about one over dinner.

Is it a how to marry a park ranger seminar? Nope, I took the best one, but I can give you tips.

Hint: It is something I am passionate about and I get to wear my cute apron and handle produce. Cooking in Ree's kitchen? Wrongo again.

Yea, I am going to our state's farmers' market conference. I am so excited. I get to talk with other farmers' market folks, farmers, and even chef's. It is going to be a blast.

I know it is cold outside, but get your seed catalog's ready, I will be back with a ton of information for you.

Better go get in shape so I can till the garden!

The Park Wife

Cabin Update

Our mountain cabin is coming along. I have not been there in a couple of months because, ummmm, it is COLD! Hopefully this time next year the windows will be in, siding on and smoke will be billowing from the wood stoves pipe.

Big Buckaroo and I went for a night away date when my mom was in town (more on that trip later) and we stopped by so he could show me what he and his dad had been working on while I was warm and toasty at the Park.




Looking good! The metal roof is on, a slippery job, but he got it done without falling off.



He even has some wood stacked on the porch! Um, the wood stove is in our barn at the park, so until it is up at the cabin and it is cold outside, I will not be spending a night at Rockwell. I have become a wimp in my old age.




Scaffolding has been built and work done on one of the end walls. It is high!

The inside still looks the same, I love it. Look at those hand hewn beams, my man rocks.

We have arranged to have our well drilled, caulked the old farm windows we re-did, and bought much of our siding. Just need some warmer weather. We can't wait to spend next Christmas in our little cabin in the woods.

Staying warm with my cute wool socks on,

The Park Wife

Don't forget to enter the giveaway for The Pioneer Woman's T-shirt.

Julie & Julia- The Park Wife's Review

Big Buckaroo went to work on our cabin in the mountains, man language for going hunting and pounding a few nails in the siding of the cabin when not hiding from Bambi with the intent to kill.

After a fun day with my friend Dore' and her Divas in Training on my Little Buckaroo's 7th birthday, I put the Buckaroos to bed and got all comfy on the couch to watch a chic flick. Whew, no shoot 'um up movies since my man is off being all manly.

Yep, I watched Julie and Julia last night. I never got to the theatre to see it, surprise.

The movie is a must see for bloggers. The Julie side of the story explores all those blogging themes you’re familiar with: the ease of blog creation, wondering if anyone is reading, the thrill of the first comment, the puzzlement of family over this “blog thing”, craving the approval of perfect strangers, the struggle at times to continue posting regularly, and the dream of a book deal (well, a book deal is not in my future, but maybe for some of my bloggity friends).

But, oh my, the blogging part is not what inspired me the most.

Now, I am not what is termed a foodie, but I love to eat, the extra weight really is not considered baby weight anymore. However, I am not a great cook and have been known to use the smoke detector as my kitchen timer...on many occasions. So, the cooking was not what inspired me either.

So, it was not the blogging and it was not the cooking. What was it?

It was Julia (oh, Meryl Streep WAS Julia). It was Julia Child's spirit, her great love for her husband, her courage, the pursuit of her dreams plus the fact that she used real butter! Julia Child began learning to cook when she was thirty-seven years old, wow, there is hope for me yet, although I am a year behind, I better get going. She started because she wanted to feed her husband Paul. She started because she’d fallen in love with great food, because she was in Paris and because she didn’t know what else to do. I can understand that, well, except for the Paris thing.

It was about doing something--- be it cooking, blogging, exercising, parenting, etc. --- brilliantly and with gusto. I love that and I want that.

Confessions time: I flip flop on so much in my life with the things I am doing, I am not sure what it is that I am passionate about (aside of my husband and kids) and what it is I do out of obligation. I ponder that often.

One of my favorite scenes is when the Child's and their friends celebrate Valentine's Day. I saw an expression of love and trust so deep and enduring and joyous and sexy that it makes most expressions of movie romance feel like whipped cream made with skim milk and Splenda.

I am blessed to have a supportive husband that just smiles and tells me to let him know where to be and what time to be there so he can support whatever it is I am doing. Plus, he adores me and still loves me passionately 10 years into our marriage, I could not ask for more in a husband.

But, I am running in circles, doing what I think should be done, not what makes me come alive. And, honestly at times, I am doing so many things at once that I am doing none of them well.

I honestly am not sure what my thing is. What I do know is that in this season I am to focus on being the best wife and mother I can be. And, hope and pray that I will find what it is that Julia found, something that made her passionate, knowledgeable, and completely fearless.

I am one of the "servantless" American housewives Julia wrote for, now if I can quit burning or serving raw meat, I will be happy. Well, actually Big Buckaroo will be very happy. I better go buy her cookbook.

Bon appetit! (said in my best Julia Child voice)
The Park Wife

A Tradition Junkie

Hello, I am The Park Wife and I am a tradition junkie. (Let me hear you say "Hello Park Wife"). And, of course I love all things Southern. So, I covet Southern Christmas traditions, yes I know I am not supposed to covet.

Here is the twist, I like the simplicity of my life and am trying to keep the holidays from getting out of hand. Oh, what a quandary, but I am learning to embrace it.

Here are a few of the things that happen around our park home during the holidays.

I love baking and cooking while listening to Christmas music. I even break out in a little kitchen jig with the Buckaroo's every once in a while, when I really get in the spirit. You know, a little Jingle Bell Rock gets me cutting a rug. Plus, the maintenance staff loves my cinnamon rolls, hopefully they won't stop by during our dance sessions, it would mess up our groove.

Our boys always get matching pajamas for Christmas Eve and then they have to sit in front of the tree for pictures. I make sure they are soft and comfy so they will tolerate me saying "just one more picture". Then, we sit by the fireplace and read the Christmas story from Luke.

As far as decorating, our home will not be featured in Southern Living any time soon. But, it is warm and cozy and I even have a little bright and shiny going on this year. Of course, there is always a Charlie Brown Christmas tree at our house, I am learning to deal with that.

Our kids get three gifts from us, um....that is how many Jesus got and by golly it is HIS birthday we are celebrating. Although I grew up with Santa Claus and am not totally warped, we choose not to do that at our home. We focus on the reason for the season. Plus, with friends and grandparents getting them presents, they get a little over indulged. Remember I strive for simplicity, it does not come easily. We have taught the boys that they do not tell other kids there is not a Santa, we tell them it is a game some families play and we don't want to ruin the game for them. And, most of all, we do NOT judge people who choose to celebrate with Santa. Enough judging others already!

We also love to drive around and look at Christmas lights in our nearest town. You know I search out the tacky ones, I can't help it, it just makes me laugh. Then I think about how much their power bill will be next month and am glad that we are not lit up at our house.

There are a few more traditions we do and you never know, I might add a new one this year. These traditions give our children a shared past that they can pass on to future generations. Remember, there’s no reason to purposely create a tradition if it doesn’t fit with your family culture, or if it doesn’t mean anything to you. Enjoy your holidays, have fun and make wonderful memories.

In all your ways acknowledge Him,
The Park Wife

Ask The Park Wife- Holiday Party Interaction

Dear Park Wife,
It is the holiday season and I have been invited to many parties that I need to make an appearance at for work purposes. Here is the thing, I am uncomfortable in big groups of people and look like a goof just standing there. Any recommendations, aside of staying home and eating cake?

Oh sweetie, I love me a party, but I understand your predicament as I am married to a hunky ranger that would rather be in the woods appreciating nature than standing in a room full of people talking about what he would consider nonsense. Oh, but I thrive on it.

The key is to becoming a good conversationalist. Here are a few tips to get you through the merriment or scaryment.

You are going to have to spark a little conversation at some point. There is only so much eating that can be done, I know, sounds crazy, but true. You need to be sincere or genuine because people will see right through it if you are not. Don’t talk about yourself, ask questions of them, everyone likes to talk about themselves, well, almost everyone. Use some tried and true ice breakers: Where are you from? Where did you go to school? How do you know the hostess? Have you seen Precious or any other movie that just came out? Did you try the spinach dip?

Within a few questions you will hit on something that will make a deeper, livelier conversation. Try to avoid yes or no questions. Also, you have to act interested. You can do this through facial expressions; interest, understanding, sympathy, awe. Practice your acting skills at home if you need to, make sure that candid camera is not around, you are going to feel goofy. Watch out Angelina, there is a hot new actress in town!

Now, a Southern woman’s lesson on complimenting. Oh, this is dangerous territory. If you are going to compliment someone, mean it! People instinctively know the sincerity or insincerity of a compliment. This is the surest way to dig yourself into a hole. You know the big necklace your boss’s wife is wearing is ugly, just don’t go there.

Follow your instincts, not your impulses. You can do this and you might even enjoy it…GASP!

And, for goodness sake, please remember to send a thank you note to your host and/or hostess the next day.

Pretty is as pretty does,
The Park Wife