Merry Christmas from the happiest little farmer and all of the rest of us on this 129 acres.
We hope that your holidays are filled with joy, peace and love.
Thank you for reading along with all of our adventures. We’ll be back with more in the new year.
In the 1970s, my Dad got into latch hooking (or rug hooking, as he called it). He made a big wall hanging, a Christmas wreath and, when I was born, my Christmas stocking. He went on to make stockings for each of my sisters and my brother as well.
When Matt and I moved into our first house, I brought my stocking with me. Matt did the same. They don’t match. They’re not large. They are certainly not trendy. But they are full of meaning and memories for us.
When I realized Ellie needed a Christmas stocking, I wanted hers to have the same meaning. As she grows, it will take on more memories. But I wanted it to be special right from the start.
I’ve written before about how we’re trying to keep my Dad alive for her, so I decided that I would latch hook a stocking for her. I found a company online that had lots of kits, and Matt picked out the pattern–a puppy, of course.
It arrived at the start of December and I worked diligently (sometimes feverishly) every day to finish it by Christmas. Every time I sat down with the yarn and the hook and the mesh, I felt connected to my Dad. It feels so special to know she’ll have this stocking, chosen by her Daddy, inspired by her Grandpa and made by her Mama.
For the first time, we have three stockings hanging above the fireplace. It’s so special to mark this first Christmas with our new little family and add to our memories together.
I hope that you all have a wonderful holiday, filled with memories and family.
Last week you saw some of the repairs that we did this fall on the barn’s foundation. Today, I’m sharing some other work that we ended up doing on the siding.
It took four cousins, two very tall ladders, a pile of lumber, hundreds of nails (and we still ran out), and a few other assorted other tools and supplies.
We replaced missing boards, renailed loose boards and closed a trap door that had swung open a couple of years ago. It might seem odd that Matt and I left the door open for a couple of years. However, it was at the peak of the gable, and the climb was a bit daunting. One of my cousins brought a climbing harness and ropes, so he went up.
Working together felt so good. Not just because of how generous and kind and caring our family is. And not because it was a chance to balance Mama-me with DIY-me. What was best about the few hours we worked together that morning was how strongly I felt my Dad.
All of my cousins worked with my Dad at various points. We know how to do so many things because he taught us. We also know how to work together because we all learned from the same person.
There was such a great rhythm between all of us as we talked things through, divided up the tasks and did the work. We trusted each other to make the right cuts, choose the right materials and hold the ladder steady no matter what–even when it was fully extended and nearly vertical.
“You happy?” was always my Dad’s line when he and I were working together. That meant, “Is your end good? Can I nail/screw/glue/attach mine now?”
A short while into the work, my cousin at the top of the ladder called to the guy at the bottom, “You happy?”
Hearing that, I was definitely happy.
Most of the time, walking with Baxter is a highlight of my day. I love getting outside. The quiet of the farm and the dog clear my mind or give me space to think things through. Usually, Ellie is with us and we savour the farm, the three of us together.
Like me, Sarah in Illinois is trying to slow down and be in the moment. Her time with her favourite furry fellow, Blitz, is special for her too.
The older I get, the more I try to find ways to improve myself. One way I do this is to try to slow down and appreciate things around me. Especially everyday things that I tend to take for granted.
One thing that I realize I am very lucky to have is a nice quiet safe road to take Blitz on walks.
This road is mainly used for field access so most times of the year it is untravelled.
I take a leash with me just in case but for the most part Blitz is free to roam. There are always smells for him to check out.
I got in a great habit of going on a 20-30 minute walk every day after work. However, now that time changed and our daylight has shortened, we don’t get to go nearly as often.
I sure do miss those sunsets!
Blitz and I will both be anxiously awaiting spring and longer daylight hours.
Do you have a favorite walking spot? Do you dread the dark days of the winter months? Do you take the time to watch sunsets/sunrises?
This looks like a great spot to spend time with Blitz, Sarah. We do road walks occasionally at the farm, but our road is pretty busy, so usually we walk in our fields–not a hardship at all!
I find that one “bright” spot of shorter days is that I catch more sunrises and sunsets.
When we were looking for our farm, I think our real estate agent started to think we were buying a barn rather than a house. I love the beams and the stones and the history, and we fell in love with pretty much every barn we saw.
Fortunately, our barn is in pretty good shape. In fact, previous owners had done quite a bit of work on it–more of an investment than we would ever make.
But we had one issue come up–or down. Some time in the spring, a section of the barn foundation caved in.
The stone foundation is double layered, and the outer layer under one of the windows fell down.
The inner layer stayed in place, but as I looked at the wall and thought about fixing it, I came up with a new plan. Take down the inner layer, remove the window and make a door.
The cave-in happened in the corner where I want to put our coop, so having a door would make accessing the birds a whole lot easier.
But first we had to access the barn. We’ve not done a good job of yard maintenance around the barn, and we had all kinds of trees and brush. Matt’s Dad brought his chainsaw and spent a day clearing the mess.
Then our mason was able to remove the stones and pour a new threshold for us.
Matt, Ellie and I all put our handprints in the cement (then Ralph and Baxter trampled all over them to add a few prints of their own. I retrowelled the cement and we smushed our hands in again). I love so much that our prints will be here, part of this farm and this beautiful old barn.
My brother and sister-in-law came for a visit, so I took advantage of the extra help and my brother and I removed the window and framed up the opening.
Then the mason returned and rebuilt the wall up to the new jamb. This is the same mason that built our fireplace, so he’s very skilled in working with stone and enjoyed the puzzle of fitting everything together. (These pictures give you an idea of the width of these fabulous walls. The jamb is a 2×10, and it’s just about half the wall.)
We haven’t figured out the door itself yet. The opening is blocked with plywood, which will likely stay up for the winter. Next year, we’ll build a door. I haven’t quite made up my mind whether it will be sliding or swinging. The opening is very large, so whatever door we have will be heavy.
I often feel that we are stewards of this property, and I feel the same about the barn. It existed long before we arrived at this farm. And hopefully, with a bit of care from us, it will exist long after.
Home on 129 Acres 