I've known since I was fourteen years old, working afternoons in my father's health food store in Monterey Park, California, that one day I wanted a home with acreage.
My sisters and I visited our grandparents in New Mexico every summer, and as a kid I fell in love with my great-grandmother's flock of chickens, that she kept for eggs. One summer she let me care for one of the chicks, which I promptly wanted to take home, but even at that age I knew he was much better off where he was, as our cat at home was an able and frequent hunter.
We all fell even more in love with our cousins' horses, that they kindly let us ride when we visited; and which, along with camping with our grandparents in the Rocky Mountains, was what we most looked forward to each visit. It was horses for which I really wanted the acreage, as I've loved horses from the start, and still do. I'd also really like to have a milk cow, and some milk goats, for making kefir and cheese. All in time.
My initial goal was to raise much of my own food organically, improving the soil and the adjacent ecosystems, while vastly improving my own health in the process. I wanted for about three-fourths of the property to be wooded, optimized for local wildlife, and protected from poaching and large predators as much as possible, with fencing and, most likely, with livestock guardian animals.
My long-term dream was to establish an organic orchard and tree farm, growing only open-pollinated and heirloom varieties, selected for their superior nutrition and taste, to propagate them in order make them more readily available, to spread them far and wide, allowing for more people enjoy the experience of what real food is supposed to taste like, with a gamut of amazing flavors that no big box store can possibly offer.
As trees can continue producing and creating value for many decades, long after I am gone, they will continue feeding and providing for my loved ones and this earth I love so very much.
I also wanted to teach others, particularly those in the city without access to rural land, how to grow their own nutrient-dense organic food, even if all they can spare is a small bit of shelf space. Thanks to Steemit, I'll be doing so right here.
After nearly three years of searching for the right place, which took us from Florida to Virginia, North Carolina, West Virginia, Washington, Oregon, Northern California and back again, we finally found our current home in rural Middle Tennessee, roughly equidistant between Nashville, Knoxville and Chattanooga, about twenty miles due south of Cookeville.
Because our nearest large city is an hour and a half away, we have very little light pollution, and on most clear nights, we have a magnificent view of the Milky Way. The only place I've seen more stars is far offshore, in the open ocean, or in the high desert.
This is a star-gazer's paradise.
We have great air quality, which is hugely important to me having grown up in Los Angeles, and very good water quality, as the river that borders our property on the east is spring-fed. We have at least one year-round spring that runs beneath our property, possibly more, and a large spring that the neighborhood has taken water from for generations is two miles from the house, and drains into the Calfkiller River.
This part of Tennessee is known for its springs, waterfalls and caves, and we are surrounded by some of the most beautiful countryside in the nation, along with amazing state parks such as Burgess Falls, Fall Creek Falls, Rock Island, Bone Cave, Virgin Falls, and many more.
I'll be posting additional photo-essays of Fall Creek Falls, which is the highest waterfall in the U.S. east of the Mississippi River; Burgess Falls, and Rock Island, over the next several days.
Here are some photographs I've taken around our mini farm both before and after our recent snowfall . . . it was very, very cold, but very beautiful.
The front of our property as seen from the road. The land looks deceptively flat, but actually slopes gradually toward the back of the property, and once you enter the woods, and pass the barn, it gets steeper and steeper until you come to the river.
This whole part of Tennessee is rolling hills, and our place has several ridges and hollows, which results in great diversity in the species found here.
This is a photo of the front of our house, after dark, in the snow.
You can tell from the porch lights that I am a sailor. Kidding aside, they are an easy landmark for visitors, as they show up clearly even in broad daylight. Without them, most GPS systems direct visitors several properties beyond ours. Ah, technology.
The back of our house, looking westward toward the road. To the right you can see our poultry enclosure, which houses our chickens and ducks, as well as our rabbits and guinea pigs. The rabbits and guinea pigs will be getting nice new digs in the near future.
Following our driveway into the woods, you can see the original house off to the right, which we refer to as the studio, with the barn and shed beyond.
In the foreground, you can see a couple of fallen trees, that we lost a few months back in a heavy thunderstorm. The one furthest from the camera was an ailanthus, which is an invasive non-native tree that we were happy to see uprooted. We are in the very early stages of trying to eliminate them from our property, which is much easier said than done, as they seed heavily and they are everywhere, plus they resprout aggressively once cut down.
The tree in the foreground is a native oak, which surprisingly snapped clean off near the base - not what you typically see in mature oaks. But then, it was a hell of a storm.
Still, it makes me want to get one of our foresters out here, and make certain that our remaining oaks are healthy.
This is the view as you make the turn in the driveway and head toward the studio. This is an older mobile home, and was the original home on the property, but it is set on a full basement and has wood siding, so if you didn't know it was a mobile, it would probably not be your first assumption.
Although not as large or as recently built as the main house, I like the location of the studio better, as it is far more private and not within sight of the road, or of all but one neighbor . . . and we can't see his house, or he the studio, in summer when the trees are fully leafed.
There are natural hollows in the land between the main house and the studio, and between the studio and the barn, each with its own sinkhole. The driveway follows a natural ridge, and the hollows, which are essentially bowl-shaped depressions in the land, form protective microclimates that are typically several degrees warmer in winter than the main house, which is far more exposed to the prevailing winds. They are also typically a few degrees cooler in summer.
The view from the driveway toward our barn and shed. The barn is nice sized, with two regular stalls and a larger stall, originally for horses, plus a tack room, which I am currently using for feed and hay, as I can lock the goats out of it when they are out during the day.
Our two wethers (neutered male goats) are the only current occupants of the barn, aside from the usual cadre of rodents, but the rodents are much better controlled since Marek caught a large black snake, and we released it into the straw bedding of the goat stall.
Where before I was regularly finding mice drowned in the goats' water bucket, and once three in one day, now it is a rare occurrence. And I surprised the snake one afternoon in November, several months after we released him, so it looks as though he likes his home in their bedding - undoubtedly among the warmest places to be in the dead of winter.
Oddly, the barn has no main door, although there clearly was one at some time in the past. One of the many things needing to be addressed on our place. The goat stall itself has a stout door, so it is not a major issue, as they have thrived despite its absence.
We do, however, need much better fencing in the barnyard. The previous owners logged the place just before they moved, dropping several large trees directly onto the barn fences, and so at this point I am tethering the goats to keep them from roaming.
Being allowed to simply roam as they would, safely behind stout fencing, would be an obvious improvement in their quality of life.
This is a better view of the studio, which we are currently using for storage, and will ultimately become our art and music studio. The floor plan is quirky, but I like it, as the room in which the art studio is housed has a vaulted ceiling, and it has a basement. The living room is large, as is the main bedroom, thus lending to their intended uses as main studio space and control/solo room; and it has a smaller bedroom and a full kitchen, so guest musicians will have a built-in place to stay, along with plenty of available food and drink.
I am strongly considering putting up an entirely new building to replace this one, as its building quality leaves a lot to be desired, but we have yet to make the final decision, and may just renovate it in the end.
At the very least it needs a new roof and one entire wall rebuilt. Time will tell.
Enough for tonight. This is the first in what will be a continuing series, on not just our farm but the surrounding areas, and on different crops to grow and prepare, tips on animal housing and care, and lots more.
If you have any questions or suggestions for future topics, simply leave a comment below.
Thanks for your time!