Farm to Family

About six months ago, when Thomas was beginning to wean from me, I started doing research on the health benefits of raw milk, especially for children. Combining that research with the observation of how healthy my mother, father, aunts, and uncles--who were all raised on raw milk--are, I decided to forgo pasteurized milk altogether and switch Thomas directly over to raw milk, or "the magic elixer," as Lance calls it. Although I have always wanted my own Jersey cow, I concluded that now was not the time to take on such a responsibility at Walnut Grove, especially since my mother has drawn the line at milking a cow. ("I'll feed the chickens, goats, and horses, when you're away, but I'm NOT milking a cow!") Okay, fair deal. So, I found a local "milk group," who gets raw milk from a small family farm in Abingdon Virginia--the Templeton Family Farm. Since it is technically illegal to sell raw milk in TN or VA, members of the milk group buy shares in the cow herd and pay the Templetons to board, feed, and milk the herd. They store the milk at their farm, and we pick it up once a week. Recently, on one of my pick up days, Thomas and I scheduled a tour of the farm and a "meet and greet" with the cows. His friend, Anna, and her mother, Inge, tagged along for the adventure.

And for those of you who are wondering...Thomas LOVES raw milk, and he has not shown even the slightest signs of having digestive complications from it. As soon as he started drinking it, he weaned completely from me. Needless to say, I cannot compete with a Jersey cow!

(Heading to meet the cows)

(Look, a cow!)

(The herd, including Stumpy, Meadow, and Bessie)

(Thomas and the cows)

(Thomas and the rock that was more interesting than the cows)

(The calves, including Lily and Thunderbolt)

(Cotton, the watch dog)

(Ribeye, the bull calf, who may or may not stay "intact")

(Pumpkin, the barn cat)

(Rodeo, the pony)

(Solomon, the bunny)

Hike with "Aunt" Betsy

Last summer, my friend Betsy (who used to teach with me at ETSU), called me up and said, "Wanna go on a hike?" Excited to get Thomas into the wilderness, I said, "Sure!" So, we packed up and drove to the trailhead of Laurel Falls in Hampton, TN. Starting out, we both thought that the trail was smooth enough to accommodate a stroller and that the round-trip distance was around 3 miles. After walking about 100 yards on the trail, it was clear that no stroller was going to make it far across the bumpy, rocky, ground, so we turned around. At this point, I decided that I could carry Thomas, who was 9 months old and about 20 pounds at the time, for three miles. (Lord, women trekked cross-country with kids hanging all over them in the "olden days," right?) So, turning to my inner woodland Indian, I stuffed a couple of extra diapers in my purse, settled Thomas on my hip, and we headed out again. About a mile in, we saw the trail sign: "Laurel Falls 2 miles." Um, 2 miles? Yep. We re-evaluated. Could I carry Thomas SIX MILES? I was determined. Hail, pioneer woman! We kept going, over boulder, bridge, and lob-lolly, keeping Thomas amused with various hiking sticks, until we came to our prize...a beautiful waterfall tucked into the Appalachian Mountains. We sat, we snacked (on meager rations), and we dipped Thomas's toes into the chilly water. Then, we trekked back to the car, and we made it back without succumbing to de-hydration, exhaustion, or wild animal. Pocohantas! Oregon Trail Wife! English Teachers!

Afterwards, Betsy and I agreed that we should make a hike to Laurel Falls a yearly tradition.

And we did.

Last week, we hiked the trail again, with our friend Bridget's (another English teacher) kids Leah and Samuel tagging along. This time, though, we were less ambitious and more prepared. I lugged Thomas on my back in the invaluable "Deuter" child backpack; we packed plenty of food and water; and we decided to cut the hike in half. So, about 1.5 miles in, we found a comfortable spot by the creek and made our "camp." Thomas and Samuel spent some quality time splashing around in the creek, throwing rocks and sand, and sitting quietly in the current, contemplating life according to boys; while Leah, Betsy, and I talked about Harry Potter, Twilight, and how to understand life according to boys.

I'm already getting excited about next year...

Pictures from last year's hike...

Pictures from this year's hike...

Fun with the Cousins

It is always an adventure when family visits the farm, perhaps most of all when cousins visit! Take a look at all the fun Thomas had with his cousins, Jackson and Reese, last week...

Posing with Ollie:

(Jackson)

(Reese)

Strolling around in the wagon...

Cutting "vegetables" on the porch...

(Watch out! Don't cut Daddy's toes!)

Fun with the water hose...

A Wheelbarrow Full of Books!

Recently, Thomas received a very special gift: a wheelbarrow of books from Aunt "Jussie" and Uncle Bob! Of course, we had fun reading about Sal's blueberries, the little fireman, and the big blue octopus, but the best part was piling the books in the wheelbarrow and dumping them out...over and over and over again!

For those of you who don't know, Aunt "Jussie" and Uncle Bob are two of my very favorite people. Joyce--dubbed "Jussie" by me before I had mastered certain language skills--is my mother's sister, and Bob is her husband. They have owned and operated Haggle Shop Antiques in downtown Kingsport for over 40 years, and they have worked tirelessly to promote historic preservation, small businesses, and community values in their hometown. When I was young, I spent many days and nights at their house watching movies that Uncle Bob had taped on his VCR (I still cherish the copies of "Gone with the Wind," "The Blue and the Gray," and "North and South" that he made just for me!); drinking hot tea with extra milk made by Aunt Jussie to perk me up in the morning (always a challenge); helping them refinish furniture in their driveway (I can still smell the stripper!); and "loving" (more like "pestering") their gray tabby cat, Fluffy, (God rest her soul, I don't think she ever forgave me for pouring a bottle of lotion on her fur). And needless to say, they always gave good presents like jadeite bowls and home-taped miniseries and BOOKS. And love.

There is no doubt that Aunt Jussie and Uncle Bob shaped who I am today. In fact, if you ask my mother, she'll say I'm more like them than her...antiques, old movies, hot tea, cats...I think she's right! And don't be surprised in a few years to find Thomas curled up on the couch, Ollie cat in lap and steaming cup of tea in hand, watching Scarlet O'Hara shaking a radish at the world and pronouncing that she'll "never be hungry again!"

Apples to Manzanas!

I thought I would let all you language lovers out there know that Thomas has been making connections right and left between Spanish and English this month. When asked to point to "la luna," Thomas will find the moon and say, "moon!" When hearing the word "perro" (dog), he exclaims, "Chucha!" This one will take some explaining: Chucha is a black Chihuahua who belongs to Jose, a local Mexican man we hire to help out with odd jobs on the farm. This past week, we have been cleaning out our back barn, and Jose has been hauling off scrap metal for us. He brings Chucha every day. (As I understand it, "Chucha" is not a very flattering word; it means something like "little bitch come here!" in Spanish. So, we should probably nip that name in the bud before Thomas gets too accustomed to it--and subsequently gets smacked by a senorita he is trying to woo.)

And today, out of the blue, when Lance said "manzana" at breakfast, Thomas piped with conviction and gusto, "apple!" All day, our household has been full of "manzana-apple" banter, for in the words of Jose, "HE UNDERSTANDS, HE UNDERSTANDS!"

P.S. Music-lovers, don't despair. Spanish isn't the only "language" Thomas knows. He still can't pick out a melody on the piano, but Mommy's singing ("Feed the Birds," "My Favorite Things," and various and sundry Appalachian murder ballads--yes, you know I have to stay true to my roots!) is the most sure-fire way to get the little buck-a-roo to sleep at night. Dulces suenos.