The Deliberate Agrarian Update
31 August 2010

Tomatoes in August
These are Juliet and Tommy Toe tomatoes from our garden
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Summer is a time for vacations. But I’m not taking a vacation. There is far too much to be done around my home, especially with the home business. I’m not complaining. It so happens that I like my home and I like having things to do. Besides, I take mini-vacations. Like having lunch or dinner with Marlene out on the back patio. That’s kind of like a little vacation. Or when I drop into bed at night, exhausted. Sleep is like a vacation. Sleep is sweet.

Around the middle of the month I start thinking about this blog—I start thinking of what I’ll write for this single, end-of-month post. And then I start typing a little bit in the evenings or in the mornings. That’s kind of like a vacation too.

This month I’d like to begin with a letter and picture I received. People send me letters and pictures fairly often. It is always encouraging and inspiring to get positive feedback. To read such feedback is kind of like an enjoyable little vacation in the middle of my day. 



A Letter From Rebecca 
(in the United Kingdom)
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Hi Herrick,


I've been meaning for several weeks to get in touch to tell you that I've built my wheel hoe, and to send you a picture.  It was a great project to work on with my Dad, who has considerably more carpentry skills than I.  The handles are made from cherry from a tree that used to grow in our garden, many years ago, and we managed to get a wheel from the dump (municipal garbage and recycling station) after considerable bureaucratic hassle. The photo was taken on its inaugural hoeing session, and it has since made a great addition to my tool collection.  So thank you very much for taking the initiative of designing a more affordable hoe, and your generosity in sharing the design and making kits available.


...the whole process has been a pleasure, and I now have a tool that I will treasure, and will bring happy memories of working on it with my father.  I hope you are doing well at selling them in the US.  You certainly deserve to.


With thanks and best wishes


Rebecca L.
Rebecca’s story of making a Planet Whizbang wheel hoe with her father is powerfully endearing to me. It underscores one of the nice aspects of making things yourself. Rebecca could have bought an already-made wheel hoe but there is no joy of creation, no fellowship, no lifetime memory in just handing over money for a product.

I have heard numerous times over the years from people who have built one of my Whizbang chicken pluckers with their kids, or, as in Rebecca’s case, fathers have helped daughters, or friends have helped friends. Such feedback really brings a smile to my face.


You fathers out there: If you want to make great memories with your children, make something together. Something that will last—that they will look back on years later with fondness, remembering the time that you worked together to make it.


Thinking About Clotheslines
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If I had a nickel for every time my wife, Marlene, has told me she loves the pulley-and-cable clothesline I put up for her a few years ago, I’d be a.... well, I’d have a dollar, I’m sure.

The line extends from a corner of our house to a tree in the woods out back. It is 80-feet long and the end in the tree is 20ft off the ground. Marlene delights in hanging laundry neatly and orderly and seeing the line full. Her mother had a similar kind of clothesline when Marlene was a little girl.

I was inspired to put the clothesline up after a trip our family took many years ago to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where we saw so many long pulley clotheslines on the Amish farms.



When Amish families started moving into our area a few years ago, people in a nearby town got upset because they were hanging their laundry in the front yard. It was unsightly, or so some thought. This happened in a small rural township and the offending clotheslines were out of the town, on a country road. Some citizens actually complained to the town board about it.

Clothes out on the clothesline are considered by some people to be a symbol of poverty. There are laws against them in some areas of the country because, if your neighbor has clothes on the line, for all to see, it lowers property values.

Property values are a pretty big deal to some folks, but maybe now that property values in America are dropping like a rock, and a lot more people really are in poverty (or headed there) because of the recession/depression we’re in, it will become more culturally acceptable to hang your clothes to dry outside in the air. This might be a harbinger of the widespread return to agrarian life in America. :-)

After all, what could be more agrarian than letting the sun and air dry your washed clothes? Of course it’s more economical too. It is estimated that an electric clothes dryer will use $1,530 worth of electricity over it’s lifetime. Besides that, line-dried clothes last longer. They smell truly fresh too. And it gives you a good feeling when you put on line-dried clothes

I was surprised to see that there is an online petition to the White House about clothesline drying of clothes.

”We, the undersigned, ask the First Family of the United States to line dry their clothes on the White House lawn during a one day photo opp. This symbolic act will send the message to America and the world that our nation is ready to regain energy independence.
Imagine that. The web site’s stated mission is as follows:
”To promote line drying as a symbol of patriotism, intelligence, and environmental activism, rescuing it from the symbol of poverty and despair it seems to represent to many Americans today.”




It’s a pleasant web site and a nice little cause (and I like their banjo background music). Check it out at: right2dry.org


Agrarian Haiku Poetry Contest Update
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Agrarian haiku submissions continue to come in, though not as many as when the contest was first announced here. There are currently 82 adult submissions and 7 submissions in the children's category.

Not a single teen submission came in so I have joined that category with the adult category and the teen prizes will be given out in the adult category. So there will now be 8 nifty agrarian prizes awarded in the adult category.

If you have not yet submitted a haiku poem, you still have time. The deadline is November 25. Stop by The Web Site and check out the many fine submissions, many from people who tell me they have never written a haiku poem before.



Focus on the Family Economy
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Industrialism has been a culture-modifying Behemoth. In the relatively short span of a few generations it has reordered our entire way of life. Whereas America was once populated by people and families that were largely self-reliant and independent, now we have a civilization of industrial minions.

A minion is an “obsequious follower or dependent.” Obsequious means “full of or exhibiting servile compliance.” Servile means “slavish in character or attitude.” Slavish means “characteristic of a slave.” (I do love dictionaries)

One huge casualty of industrialism’s war of cultural domination has been the autonomous traditional family. Family structure has been coerced to conform to the industrial ideal, in order to best serve the industrial machine.

The traditional family existed and thrived within an agrarian culture. It was characterized by a healthy “family economy.” A family economy is what you have when a family works together to supply the needs of the family. Growing food, harvesting, and putting it up is a fundamental and important aspect of the agrarian family economy. So too is the preserving and cooking of food in so many ways. A host of manual domestic skills and seasonal “customs” are at work in a productive family economy. Everyone, from young children to older grandparents, contribute to this economy. Everyone works as they are able. Everyone is needed.

A family economy is the one and only unit of society that can and should legitimately operate according to the dictum: “From each according to his ability and to each according to his need.”

In the best examples of a family economy, there is also a family business that is integral to the support of the family. Small family farms afford an excellent opportunity for developing and perpetuating a healthy family economy. This ideal can also be achieved on homesteads and smallholdings.

Within families that have created a healthy family economy there is interdependence. Such families are typically strong and vibrant. And and when you have many of these families, you have a strong, vibrant, interdependent social order—you have a community of like-minded people (the Amish come to mind as a still-surviving example of this). Such communities were once the warp and woof of our American national fabric.

But these kinds of families and communities are a hindrance to Industrial Behemoth because they are not needy enough. The monster must have helpless, servile, consumer-families in order to perpetuate it’s domination.

A picture of family economy can be found in the following excerpt from Wendell Berry in his book, The Gift of Good Land:


Let us take a healthy marriage for example: a man and a wife who produce from their own small farm or homestead or town lot as much as possible of what they eat, and provide on their own as far as possible for other needs; who therefore have work at home for their children; who therefore have “home life” and all that implies. Such a couple may contribute immeasurably to the health of the nation, even to its solvency. But they are not good for the nation’s business, for they consume too little.

If this man and wife were to get divorced, their contribution to the economy would increase spectacularly. Their household, with all its productive motives, means, and energies, would be dissolved, and its members would live by consumption. Their dependence on the industries of food, style transportation, entertainment, and so on would be greater. So probably would their dependence on the industries of drugs, medicine, psychiatry, counseling, and the like. They would be worth far less to themselves, to each other, to their community, and to the world—but far more to the economy.


Wendell Berry is well known as a champion of agrarian values. But, as the above excerpt illustrates, he is also a champion of biblical values. This is because,when you promote agrarian values, you can not help but also promote biblical values.

Notice that Berry begins with an example of a healthy marriage.  In so doing, he recognizes the institution of marriage as the foundation of a healthy family. That marriage is between a man and a woman. Notice too that children are a part of this healthy family. And, of course, the family economy is integral to the vitality of the family. This order, this unity, this purpose gives health and adds worth to all within the family, as well as the society at large. 




There is undeniable beauty in Berry’s example of a biblically sound family economy. The beauty is there because such a family order was created and sanctified by the God of all creation. It is part of His order.

But in the second paragraph of the above quote Wendell Berry presents us with a picture of the destruction of a biblically-ordered family through divorce. We see the ugliness and sadness of the juxtaposition. It is undeniable (especially if you've experienced it) and it is what you get when you fracture a family. To a very large degree, our industrial-minded culture encourages and condones such ugliness.

It is popular and largely acceptable nowadays to redefine and/or alter God’s created order for the family. But whenever this is done, the beauty fades. Of course, there are many who will disagree with that statement. There are always those who will deny the obvious, usually to justify their own acts of rebellion against God’s order.

I dare say that agrarianism and biblical Christianity fit hand-in-glove. Thus, to embrace the agrarian way of life is to embrace a way of life that naturally nurtures Christian values which translate into individual integrity. I hasten to point out that agrarianism in itself may or may not produce people of high moral character. But when a sincere and true Christian faith is pursued within an agrarian framework, the families that result are bound to produce exceptional examples of individual Christian character.


Certainly, one can be a Christian and raise a family to the glory of God outside the agrarian paradigm, but I contend that it is harder to do—kind of like growing a garden in a gravel parking lot.

That said, I suspect that most Christians who live and raise their families within the agrarian realm will agree with me on this. And, likewise, I suspect that a great many Christians who raise their families in the industrial realm would strongly disagree with my agrarian-minded conclusions. This is to be expected when communicating ideas that are outside the mainstream; most modern Christians are pacified by the industrial meme and defensive of their industrial alliance. Or they are simply blind to it.

I find it interesting that there are Christian organizations dedicated to preserving families, yet they miss the agrarian/home economy connection. Can you imagine the well-known parachurch ministry Focus on the Family encouraging families to separate from industrial-world conformity; to return to the land, to grow their own food, to pursue domestic crafts and domestic production—in short to develop agrarian-based family economies?

That’s not likely to happen.

But, maybe, someday, someone will catch the vision for a new ministry to families, and they will name it Focus on the Family Economy. Such a ministry would encourage families to develop self-reliant, agrarian-based economies where everyone—fathers, mothers, children, and even extended family members—deliberately pursue the wisdom of God’s order for the family.

I have thought of expanding on this subject and writing a book titled, Focus on the Family Economy. But I think about writing books about all kinds of things. :-)


Beyond Capitalism & Socialism: 
Rebuilding An American Economy 
Focused on Family and Community


Dr. Allan C. Carlson

The above title goes with a speech delivered earlier this year by a man whose work I greatly admire. I was first introduced to Allan Carlson, Ph.D.., through his book, From Cottage to Work Station: The Family's Search for Social Harmony in the Industrial Age. Then, a couple years later, I read Carlson’s, The New Agrarian Mind: The Movement Toward Decentralist Thought in Twentieth-Century America. And then I discovered many of his  speeches and essays at The Howard Center web site.

If the Focus on The Family daily radio program ever did want to interview an agrarian-minded man with a well-researched understanding of the importance of developing agrarian-based family economies, they would do well to start with Allan Carlson.

In the above-mentioned essay, Mr. Carlson begins by pointing out that capitalism is not really synonymous with conservative ideals. That is a common misconception these days among so-called Conservatives.

”Indeed, a curious aspect of political labeling in America has been the conflation of the word “conservative” with the interests of the great corporations.”

Then Dr. Carlson points out that there are political thinkers and activists who are more truly conservative in their thinking; who are, as he puts it:

”...seekers after a “Third Way,” a social and economic system that in important respects would be neither capitalist nor socialist.”
 Relatively few people in America are aware that there is an alternative to capitalism and socialism. That’s because the industry-of-mainstream-media does not discuss it. Carlson defines this Third Way as:
...an alternate Conservatism for the decades ahead, one combining a preferential option for the natural family with a more decentralized, human scale economy and a curtailing of the “national security state.”
It is worth emphasizing that the quest for this Third Way will not come from mainstream industrial-corporate-capitalist thinkers. It will not come from the top down. This Third Way will percolate from the bottom up—from common people who see and understand that capitalism is an oppressive, exploitive system, just as is socialism and communism.

I think that reality about capitalism is becoming more obvious with the deepening economic crisis we find ourselves in. People are now more receptive to Third Way ideas as they are introduced to them, primarily over the internet.

In his speech, Carlson goes on to introduce three American writers and activists, each a Third Way thinker. First comes Ralph Borsodi




Ralph Borsodi
1886—1977

Of Borsodi, Carlson says:
”..he saw modern finance capitalism working mightily to eliminate the free market. The real “competition” among corporations, Borsodi said, was a quest “to secure [political] privileges which enable their possessors to operate outside the competitive market.” He indicted not only state-granted franchises and subsidies, but also licenses, tariffs, special corporate tax breaks, and nationally-advertised trade-marks, all of which—he said—conspired to raise prices, crush diversity, handicap the small producer, and favor extreme centralization.


In his best-selling 1928 book This Ugly Civilization, Borsodi more directly attacked the status of joint-stock corporations. He emphasized that they were neither an natural nor an inevitable development. They rested instead on a grant by governments of legal privileges, ones denied to families and individuals.”

Not long ago I wrote here about professor Walter Prescott Webb and his book, Divided We Stand, published in 1937. It was an expose on the growing power and wickedness of the giant joint-stock corporations. It seems this may have been a widespread concern in the first half of the last century. But nowadays that has all changed. Mega corporations are considered as American as apple pie, and absolutely necessary to realizing the “American Dream.”  And so, now when they go bankrupt, our government helps save them with infusions of our hard earned money. Thus we have “Business Government” which will be mentioned shortly.

In his speech, Carlson quotes Borsodi:

”Against the family...the factory wages a ruthless war of extermination.... Industrialism seeks to root out individual devotion to the family and the homestead and to replace it with loyalty to the factory.”


Factories in this country are are not now what they were in Borsodi’s day. Now we have large office complexes and acres of Dilbert cubicles, reminiscent of animal stalls in a barn, or perhaps battery cages of chickens in a modern poultry operation. It’s still a form of factory.

Notice that Borsodi mentions the family. This is important, and an agrarian connection emerges when Carlson focuses on Borsodi’s answer to the problem.

” So, what was Borsodi’s alternative? The working home, the economically functional home, he said, had to be restored; and this needed to be done in a revived countryside. As he argued, “Man, no matter how often he has tried to urbanize himself, can only live like a normal human being in an essentially rural place of residence.”



Herbert S. Agar
1897—1980

Carlson introduces another Third Way thinker, Herbert Agar, a historian and Pulitzer prize-winning author who

... drank deeply from the well of Distributist ideas.  Briefly, this idea-system was rooted in a rejection of socialism as immoral and unjust.  Its proponents  rejected as well modern capitalism, which – the Distributists said – tended toward monopoly and toward a peculiar alliance of the great corporations with government:  what Chesterton called “The Business Government”; or what his collaborator Hilaire Belloc called “The Servile State.”  According to Belloc, The Servile State existed when productive property was concentrated in a few hands and when most adults derived their livelihood strictly from a wage, tied in turn to government benefits, or the welfare state.


As Chesterton framed the matter, the Distributist alternative rested on the premises that public life exists to defend private life, that property secures liberty, and that “all political and social efforts must be devoted to securing the good of the family.”  Put another way, the Distributists held that private property in a home, some acres of land, and basic tools were so important that every responsible family should have them.  Again, this broad distribution of property was the Distributists’ answer to both the “wage slavery” of monopoly capitalism and its close partner, the welfare state.  Chesterton was also a fierce foe of British imperialism.  Adventures abroad, he believed, always came at the expense of the common people at home; local communities would be sacrificed to globalist dreams.

The final American Third Way thinker that Carlson introduces (and the only one now living) is Wendell Berry.


Wendell Berry
1934—

Pervious to this discussion, I gave you an idea of Wendell Berry’s view of the importance of the agrarian-focused family economy vis-à-vis the industrial family.

There is a common theme among Carlson’s Third Way thinkers and activists—each of them understands that any social, economic, or political system that fractures and weakens the traditional family is fundamentally immoral. True conservatism is not schizophrenic, championing the family on one hand, while also championing an industrial-capitalistic system that has done so much to destroy families on the other.

Allan Carlson’s entire speech can be read at this link



Contemplating Chicken Gizzards
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My family has raised our own meat birds for over ten years. And, of course, we harvest the critters ourselves in the backyard using our homemade Whizbang chicken plucker. It is a good feeling to have a year’s supply of chicken from birds you have carefully and responsibly husbanded all the way from day-old chicks to wholesome meat packages in the freezer (and canning jars of golden chicken stock in the pantry).

But for all those years I’ve never eaten any of the bird’s organs. That’s a shameful confession for a man who calls himself a deliberate agrarian.

The thought of eating livers and hearts and gizzards has never appealed to me, nor to Marlene. I don’t know what her excuse is but in my case I think it goes back to my mother.

My mother was a very good cook. No one could make a better pie crust than my mother. And her homemade bread was pretty special. However, my mother did not do so well when it came to liver.

When my mom cooked liver it was dry like shoe leather. As a little boy, faced with liver for dinner, I found that I could cut it real small and swallow the pieces down whole with milk, thus bypassing the need to chew, or taste, the dreadful meat.

But, as time went on, I came up with a better solution to my liver problem... When my parents were not looking, I slipped the liver pieces into my pocket, and flushed them down the toilet later.

I should mention that not eating the liver was not an option. I was expected to eat everything on my plate. I was not allowed the luxury of being fussy. I remember once not eating something my mother had made for dinner. I had to sit there at the table long after everyone else had finished and left, but still I didn't eat whatever it was (and whatever it was wasn't in a form that would fit well into my pocket). Mother put Saran Wrap over the plate and saved it for my breakfast.

The only time I didn’t have to eat something as a little boy was when it was so bad that  my parents didn’t like it either. Like the time my mother cooked tripe in some vomit-like sauce. She cooked the tripe because my stepfather had fond memories of eating tripe when he was a kid. But it was bad. Real bad. No one could eat it. For those who don’t know, tripe is cow stomach.

As a result of my youthful experiences having to eat everything on my plate (except tripe) it is rare that I don't eat everything on my plate at meal times now. And if Marlene doesn’t eat everything on her plate, I’ll often finish it up for her. But I digress. This is about chicken gizzards....

This year when we process our chicken flock (in early October) I have decided that we will NOT throw all the birds’ innards into the gut bucket, which typically gets carted downwind a long ways and thrown into the hedgerow for the coyotes to feast on.

This year I will deliberately set aside the hearts and gizzards and, yes, even the livers. And I will cook up and eat the gizzards and hearts. I  might even eat the livers, but I’m not so committed to that idea, at least not this year. Maybe next year. As I’ve said in the past, the agrarian journey is a step-by-step process. This year, gizzards, next year, livers! Maybe (childhood trauma, you know). 

I feel powerfully convicted about eating chicken gizzards this year because a friend of mine—a city guy who has never raised a chicken in his life—told me the following chicken gizzard story:

I mentioned to my friend that I had seen him a few days before on a certain street in the city where he lives (he was actually the mayor of the city at one time). He asked me if he was driving his van when I saw him. I said yes, and then he informed me that he had just picked up 240 pounds of chicken gizzards.

I thought maybe I didn’t hear him right. “Did you say chicken gizzards,” I asked. he replied in the affirmative and I asked the next logical question: “Are you kidding me?”

Well, it turns out he was serious and really had loaded 240 pounds of chicken gizzards into his van. Furthermore, it turns out he has been buying chicken gizzards in quantities like that for a lot of years.

It so happens that my friend has a clambake catering business that he took over from an old guy named “Smokey” a long time ago. He learned the clambake business from ol’ Smoky and Smokey always served chicken gizzards at his clam bakes.

Maybe this is a widespread custom. I don’t know because I’ve never been to a clam bake in my life. And maybe my friend made this whole story up. But I don’t think so.

Anyway, he told me he was catering a clambake at a church in the city and those people ate 200 pounds of his chicken gizzards. My friend had bought 240 pounds of chicken gizzards with the intention of serving 125 pounds at two different clam bakes. But those churchgoers ate more chicken gizzards than he thought they would.

Now that is a pretty amazing story and it got me to thinking real seriously about chicken gizzards. Clearly, my friend must know how to cook chicken gizzards real well. In fact, I figured the guy has to be some sort of chicken gizzard cooking master. When you meet somebody like that, you should learn from them.

“So, how do you cook chicken gizzards?” I asked, thinking that he would probably tell me it was a secret.

To my amazement, he told me how he cooks those things. I asked lots of questions and he answered them all. He told me the secrets. And I have them all. They’re locked in my brain.

Now I’m excited about the whole idea of cooking chicken gizzards. I think about it every day. I go over the recipe in my head. I ponder all the steps in the process of cooking chicken gizzards. And when I feed and water my little flock of growing meat chickens I think about their gizzards. Every one of those chickens has a gizzard, and not a one of them is going to go to waste this year. Me and my family are going to feast on those delicious internal organs.

So, of course, I told Marlene all about this. I think she is excited about the gizzards too, though she doesn’t show it. She told me I can cook ‘em. I said “Okay. I’ll cook ‘em” And you’re gonna’ love ‘em!”

I was talking about chicken gizzards to my sons one day. To my surprise, Robert informed me that he loved chicken gizzards. I was shocked. “Where did you eat chicken gizzards?”

He told me he had them up to Mr. Flynn’s Fourth of July fireworks party. Well, that figures.  Our country neighbor, Kean Flynn, is a real agrarian guy. The genuine article. I should have known he was a gizzard eater. I’ll be sure to ask him how he cooks his gizzards next time I see him.

At this point, you’re probably wondering if I’m going to share Ol’ Smokey’s chicken gizzard recipe with you. Well, sure I am. But not right now. I’ve blathered on enough about gizzards already. I’m going to let the anticipation build for a month or so. Then I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you the secret recipe. Yes. I sure will.

Stay tuned.


The Christian-Agrarian Movement
A Recap And Update


I have discussed, explained, promoted and celebrated a worldview and way of life that I like to call Christian-agrarianism here on this blog for the past five years.

My book, Writings of a Deliberate Agrarian, published back in 2006 is something of a Christian-agrarian manifesto and, as such, it was groundbreaking. Here is an excerpt from the back cover of the book:

In response to the myriad ills of our industrialized culture, a growing contingent of dedicated believers is taking steps to restructure and refocus their lives. They are going back to God’s original mandate: back to the garden, back to simplicity, back to self-reliance, back to family, back to community, back to the basics of the faith. These are the Christian agrarians.


With a newfound respect for the past, and assured hope in the future, these new Christian pioneers are reforging the old paths and embracing the virtues found only in the agrarian way of life. In the current age, their countercultural beliefs are nothing short of revolutionary.
The book has not sold in large numbers, but it has served an important purpose as has this blog. That purpose has been first, to point out the obvious problems that anti-Christian industrialism has created in our civilization—particularly in the family. And, second, to present a sound solution, which is the deliberate pursuit of Christian life within the agrarian paradigm.

I have endeavored to do this, not by declaring doctrines, but by presenting my own life and family as a testimony. As I have said in the past, I and my family are NOT the best example of a Christian-agrarian family (I rarely, if ever, speak of my failures and disappointments—some bitter— in this regard). But I can tell you that my Christian-agrarian worldview is central to the way I think and live my life.

My thoughts on this subject are not original. I’m not that smart. I was influenced greatly by the writings of Howard Douglas King.  King is a Reformed minister. He helped me to see that the Bible was an agrarian book, written for an agrarian people, and that industrialism in its many manifestations is not a biblically sound framework for living one’s life. Kings writings on the subject of Christian-agrarianism revealed a truth that I knew intuitively but never knowingly put together.

It was clear to me before I began writing this blog that I was not the only deliberate Christian-agrarian “out there.”  I knew something was up when I was selling my chicken plucker plan book to so many people who were Christians. I knew this from the notes they wrote and from so many checks with Bible verses that I received. I remember telling Marlene that  it was amazing how many Christians were buying my book.

I perceived that these people—so many of them— were serious about their faith AND about pursuing a more agrarian-centered, self-reliant lifestyle. They were people just like me.

I recognized this Christian agrarianism as a movement and called it such. Some Christians took offense at that, like I was promoting something new and extra-biblical. But I have never done that.

What I have promoted is something old—an old path that was lost (or almost lost) in the blinding fog of industrialism’s cultural sweep. And far from being extra biblical, Christian agrarianism is entirely biblical because, for one thing, it is a secessional path away from dependency on the dominant anti-Christ world culture, to a greater dependency on God’s grace.

Some have equated Christian-agrarianism with legalism, but it is only legalistic if you make it legalistic. I simply equate it with wisdom.

Mine has certainly not been the only voice for Christian-agrarian renewal. Not at all. Others have promoted their own ideas of this worldview on the internet. More followers of Jesus Christ are doing this all the time. Many are doing this without using the term, “Christian-agrarian” and that’s fine.

For example, I recently came across a web site called Sustainable Traditions, which is clearly Christian and agrarian in its outreach. At another web site, Christian Exodus, I learned of another group that is combining Christian-agrarian thinking with the Christian-patriot-survivalist movement, or so it appears to me. Political action is an important aspect of the group as is radical separation.

I think it is safe to say that the Christian-agrarian “movement” is expanding and being adopted by different groups of people. Along the way, it is inevitable that Christian-agrarian thinking will be misunderstood or misapplied by some people and some groups, just as Christianity without agrarianism is.

Which reminds me of a woman in the past who was excited to discover the whole concept of Christian agrarianism. Then one day she wrote to inform me that she believed Christian agrarianism was a cult and she was repenting of it. This came as a result of heresay accusations on the internet about a group which espoused Christian agrarianism. I told her I could not comment on the group and the situation because I had no firsthand knowledge. I told her I respected her decision but I thought she was throwing the baby out with the bath water. Nevertheless, she had made her mind up.

That was a sad and sorry outcome but it has been more than offset by the many letters I’ve gotten over the years from Christians who tell me they are energized by the Christian-agrarian worldview—that it resonates with them. I know the feeling.

On a personal level, I am rarely (if ever) dogmatic about the joining of Christianity with agrarianism. My attitude can be summed up in a phrase I recently read in Tabletalk magazine regarding matters of Christian doctrine:

In the essentials, unity. In the nonessentials, liberty. In everything else, charity.
[for those who may not know, “charity” is the biblical word for love, or brotherly love.]

As one who calls himself a Christian agrarian, I see the Christianity as essential, not the agrarian. And when I say Christianity, I am referring to orthodox biblical essentials like the holiness and sovereignty of God, the inherent natural sinfulness and separation of all mankind from Him, and God’s amazing plan of redemption and salvation (from an eternity in hell) by grace through the shed blood of his son, Jesus Christ. Further essentials would be the deity of Christ (a part of the Trinity) and the clear biblical teaching that there is no other way to forgiveness, salvation and restoration of fellowship with the Father, except through faith in His son, Jesus Christ.

Such a declaration of essentials, once commonly understood and embraced in America,  is sufficient in itself to separate me from most of the 300 million people in this post-Christian nation. But when you add in my anti-industrial, agrarian beliefs, I am even more of an alien.

One might think it all a recipe for misery—to be so different—but there is a peacefulness, a contentedness, a joyfulness, and a gratefulness that comes with all of this. And so it is that I continue to define, discuss, celebrate and promote the Christian-agrarian worldview.



Dan & Paige Built A Cabin

This is a reconstruction of the cabin that Millard Fillmore, 13th president of the United States, was born in. It is located in Fillmore Glen state park, which is a few miles from where I live. Small cabins like this were once common houses in this country. We've come a long way, haven't we?


I've told the story before about how, many years ago,  Marlene and I worked and saved to buy a piece of land with cash. Then we borrowed $10,000 from her father and that, along with some of our remaining savings, is what we built a house with. It measured 16ft by 24 ft and had two stories, with no basement. We still live in the house. Though it has been remodeled and added onto a couple times, the place is still relatively small. It was paid for years ago. We never had a mortgage.


I will admit that our house has been too small at times and we have long dreamed of a bigger "farm size" house. But if I had it to do all over again, I would build small to start and not borrow very much—if any— money. I have no regrets about that. Here's why...

If we had borrowed a lot to have a big house from the start, Marlene would have had to work to help pay the mortgage. That would have been counterproductive because we felt very strongly that our children should have a full-time mother. That was more important to us than a nice big house.


Cabins are like small houses. I tell my kids that if they just get some land, they can then build a cabin to live in. Then they can save money to build a house. Avoid the mortgage. Don't fall into the trap of debt. Don't expect your wife to go to work and help support your family. Make sure your children have a full time mother at home like you had. Yes, I have strong feelings about this subject. But, again, I digress...


I was impressed with Dan and Paige a young married couple who recently built themselves a simple 14ft by 16ft cabin with a 6ft porch and sleeping loft. They built it in 12 days. And it's a nice cabin!


No, it's not their house. Their cabin is at a church camp, with a lot of other little cabins. I'm not familiar with church camp cabins, but it looks like a neat concept. 

You can check out Dan & Paige's new cabin at this link: Cabin de Rohe


I Propose...
A Society of Christian Agrarians

At one time, there was a suggestion that an official Christian agrarian organization should be started. I resisted this because, in part, it violates the biblical and agrarian tenet of decentralization. Besides that, when you create a centralized "authority-organization" you create a target, and then you have to spend precious time defending it.

I think it is far better for this movement to be low-key and spirit led, which brings me to a new proposal. It comes from Liberty Hyde Bailey, sort of. 

For those who don’t know, L.H. Bailey was an agrarian-life advocate of some acclaim, and the author of several books back around the turn of the last century (early 1900’s). Having read one of his books, I don’t think I would label Bailey as a Christian agrarian. He was more like a spiritual agrarian.

Anyway, Bailey once proposed a “Society of The Holy Earth” which, offhand, I don’t know anything about. But I recently happened upon the words of his proposal for this society and I saw that they were just perfect for my idea of a “Society of Christian Agrarians.” Therefore I am appropriating the words, and here is my proposal:



I propose a Society of Christian Agrarians. Chapters and branches it may have, but its purpose is not to be organization and its practice is not to be the operation of parliamentary machine. It will have nothing to ask of anybody, not even of Congress. It will not be based on profit-and-loss. It will have no schemes to float, and no propaganda. It will have few officers and many leaders. It will be controlled by a motive rather than a constitution. The association will be a fellowship of the spirit.


News From Planet Whizbang
.

Plans for the Planet Whizbang wood-and-wire garden tote 
(shown above with 33 cukes—and room for 33 more) 
are available at This Link
.
Speaking of a family economy, Marlene and I are working together more and more to develop our Planet Whizbang business into something more substantial. As I think I mentioned last month, Whizbang Books is fading into history and Planet Whizbang is emerging to take its place. We have great hopes and dreams for this home business. Here are some insights into what’s going on around here lately:

—Planet Whizbang now has a new internet look. I invite you to stop by the web site and see the new Planet Whizbang logo.

—Word has it that Mother Earth News magazine has a brand new, homemade Whizbang apple grinder and cider press displayed in their lobby and that they will be telling their readers about the Whizbang cidermaking system in their next issue. With that in mind, I have been busy making and stocking up on my inventory of cider press parts.

—After a surprising amount of time and effort, we have located a source for high-quality cider pressing fabric. It is due here any day and we will be able to offer this to our cider-making customers.



—Another reliable report I got is that the good folks at Maine Organic Farmers & Gardeners Association have made a Whizbang chicken plucker and it will be on display at the Common Ground Country Fair in September. I'd love to be there. We had a wonderful time the one time we went a few years back.

—I am in the process of making minor revisions to and reprinting the book that started our Whizbang family adventure—Anyone Can Build A Tub-Style Mechanical Chicken Plucker.

—I am working to develop an accessory attachment for the Planet Whizbang wheel hoe that will accommodate cultivating teeth and a plow point.


Boy Stunts

I probably should not show you the following video because it is an unsafe example of boy craziness. But it gives you some idea of what Marlene and I have to deal with around here.


This video was taken by my son, Robert, (he is the filmographer and narrator) and the kid on the ATV is my other son, James. A neighbor boy is standing with Robert and can be heard speaking and laughing. The cell-phone movie quality is not very good but you'll get the idea. This was spontaneous, zany fun. A short while later they were helping the neighbor load hay into his barn.





The July 31, 2010
Monthly Update Has Been Posted



As explained below, I am no longer writing daily blog essays here.  


But I am posting a single end-of-the-month update
for those who are interested...


This new format is something like a monthly "Blogazine." 

You can read the current "issue" at this link:

Deliberate Agrarian Update For 31 July, 2010


If you are new to this site...

Welcome To The Deliberate Agrarian!


After four years and hundreds of essays, I ceased writing
almost-daily essays for this blog in April of 2009. But my body of
past writings remain here as a relevant testimony to the wisdom
and goodness found in a Deliberate Agrarian lifestyle.

I invite you to peruse the Deliberate Agrarian Archives
(links are in the column to your right)

There is a wealth of down-to-earth inspiration 
and how-to information to be found there.
I also invite you to read my last essay before 
changing to a monthly format. Here is the link:


Yours truly,
Herrick Kimball
(hckimball@bci.net)


The Deliberate Agrarian Update
31 July 2010


I am ever-mindful of how blessed my sons are to have been born and live out here in the wide open rural countryside of upstate New York. They have not grown up in the squalid realms of a packed suburban housing development, as I did. Neither have they suffered the pains of divorced parents and all of that, as I did. And, being homeschooled from the beginning, they have not been institutionalized by years of government schooling. Furthermore, within this God-fearing, home-centered, agrarian way of life our family lives, they have been shielded to a significant degree from the pernicious feminizing forces of our popular culture.


So it is that  my boys have been able to run, and ride, and climb, and explore, and shoot, and trap, and fully experience the manifold thrills that are available within this fresh and free world of rural living. Such a childhood, once common, is now relatively rare in this nation where most of the youth are housed in urban or suburban centers.


Swimming in a farm pond with your friends on a hot July day certainly qualifies as a rural thrill, especially when the water is deep and there is a dock to jump off. The pond is in a field back behind our house and my kids swim there compliments of a good country neighbor.


The picture above shows my middle son, Robert, grandstanding for his brother’s camera. And this next shot is his brother, James.



And this next picture gives you an idea what these sons of mine often look like before they go swimming.



Such pictures warm my heart because this is the exact kind of life Marlene and I deliberately set out to give our children many years ago.


Some fathers want their sons to have a better education than they had so they’ll grow up to get a high-paying job. But those things are not big priorities to me. I wanted my children to grow up with a better childhood than I had. And, thank God, they have.


Barns & Memories




Garth Fout, the enterprising, multitalented Ohio artist and Etsy entrepreneur, has me thinking about barns here at the end of this short, hot, muggy month of July 2010. That beautiful barn pictured above happens to belong to Garth. Before I tell you about Garth’s barn, I want to tell you about a barn I remember from my youth.


No, it wasn’t in the crowded housing project. There were no barns there. Just houses—street after street of so many little one-story ranch houses, all pretty much the same.


The barn of my youth was in the veritable wilderness of Aroostook County, Maine, way up there near the top. You take US Route 1 north until the end of that road, then you keep going.


My grandfather, Percy Orlan Philbrick of Fort Fairfield, Maine, had a big white barn built into the side of a bank, with a cavernous, cool, dark  potato cellar underneath. His barn was full of stuff he had accumulated over a lifetime. I remember it was packed to the rafters in places and everything was covered with a layer of dust.


My grandfather’s barn was a great place for curious boys to explore and that’s exactly what my cousin, Peter, and I were doing the summer after Percy passed away in 1971. I was 13 and Peter was a year older.


Here’s a picture that my Aunt Irene, of Bridgewater, Maine, sent me awhile back. It is grandfather Percy and me, or so she thought. But I’m quite certain it is actually Peter. I can tell by the eyebrows.


Anyway, years later and all growed up, while exploring in our grandfather’s barn, in a drawer full of big old rusty bolts, Peter and I found something very exciting...


“What are these?” I asked Peter, holding the little paper cylinders up in the air.


“Those are firecrackers!” Peter exclaimed, while reaching to quickly take them from me.


I had never seen firecrackers up close, but I certainly knew what a firecracker was. Peter put them in his pocket... for later.


Squeezing between some old farm equipment in that barn, I snagged myself on a sharp piece of metal. It sliced deep into my thigh. The gash probably could have used stitches but Band-Aids sufficed. Today, the clearly visible scar is a reminder of that summer—the summer Peter and I found the firecrackers in our Grampie Philbrick’s barn.


A couple weeks later, back at Peter’s house in Springfield, Mass., we decided it was time to light one of the firecrackers (all the adults were gone). We had been eagerly anticipating the moment for a long time. Having no experience with fireworks, we were a little bit scared. It was decided that Peter would light the fuse and throw the firecracker away from us, on the blacktop driveway, and that’s what he did. 

We stood there, half turned away, fingers in ears, eyes squinted almost shut, watching the little object, anticipating the big bang.


The fuse quickly sparked down... and nothing happened.


The firecracker just sat there with a little smokey haze wafting above it.


"It’s a dud.” Peter said.


We walked over and looked at the firecracker. I reached down to pick it up.


Peter yelled, “Don’t touch it!”


I stopped, my fingers almost on the firecracker, and started to pull my hand back. At that instant, the firecracker exploded.


Had Peter not yelled, I would have been holding that little stick of explosives in my hand when it blew up. It was a close call.


==========


I can not let the subject of my grandfather’s barn pass without telling you about the barrels. In a room under the barn, right next to the cavernous dark cellar made for storing the potato harvest, there was a small, stark room with a south-facing window (I just checked Google Maps for the direction). It was used by my grandfather as a workshop to fix damaged wood-stave potato barrels. Here is a picture of the kind of barrels I’m talking about.



Percy was retired from potato farming by the time I knew him. His health was declining. But he made some money fixing potato barrels for other farmers. They would bring their damaged barrels to him by the truckload.


I was maybe seven years old when this recollection took place. I was visiting for the summer, staying some of the time with my Grandmother Kimball in town and some of the time with my Philbrick grandparents at their farm. Those were the good old days for me.


My grandfather would have his breakfast and then go to his workshop to fix barrels until lunch time. Some days he would work in the afternoon too. I tagged along. The shop was cool and he would start a little fire in a small stove, fueling it with broken barrel pieces.


He gave me a hammer and a big screwdriver and showed me how to use the tools to pry loose and remove cracked and broken wood cleats that were nailed under the bottom of the barrel. Any nails left sticking out of the barrel bottom needed to be pulled out with the hammer claw. The job suited me.


Percy worked quietly and steadily and methodically. In my mind’s eye, I see him sitting by the window, silhouetted against the light, a bunch of small nails between his lips, taking one at a time as needed to pound into the new bottom blocks.


Next to him, on an old workbench was a large-diameter rope attached to a ratcheting mechanism. He would put the rope around a barrel and turn a handle to tighten it. Once tight, the rope would hold the barrel together while he removed and replaced a broken hoop.


I have seen such a workbench once since then, in an agricultural museum here in New York. It was a tool from the 1800’s and I stood there a long time, looking at that old thing, thinking about my grandfather. 

In the 1960’s and early 1970’s he was using a tool that was probably a hundred years old to repair potato barrels, just like men in that region had done for generations.


I wonder if there is anyone anywhere still doing this. Probably not. Wooden potato barrels and hand-picking of the potato harvest is, for the most part, a thing of the past. We are, after all, now in the agribusiness era. The old skills have disappeared with the old ways.


I helped my grandfather on more than one occasion with the barrels and I know I was a good helper because he told me so. And I heard him proudly tell other people.


Many years later, my mother asked me if I remembered helping Grampie fix the barrels. Yes, I sure did. I don’t suppose I will ever forget it. 

It’s funny what events register clearly in a young boy’s mind—for the rest of his life.


==========


The barrel hoops my grandfather used were split from tree saplings. They still had the bark on them. You can see such hoops on the barrel in this next picture.




Percy kept the hoops coiled up in galvanized washtubs full of water outside the workshop, under the eaves of the barn, taking a few at a time as needed. He would notch one end, wrap the long, wet hoop around the barrel, and mark the other end to notch. Then he would make that notch and use a hatchet to chop off any extra material on the end, before interlocking the notches and setting the hoop over the barrel. A hammer and a block of wood were used to drive the hoop down tight. Then some nails were used to secure the hoop there.


And, again, I wonder.... 

Did that youthful experience helping my grandfather fix musty potato barrels in a dark little workshop under his barn influence me so that, years later, I gravitated into a career as a carpenter and woodworker?


==========


Here is a picture of me back in the day. I’m all spiffed up, a proper gentleman, on the porch at my Grandmother Kimball’s house in town. Grampie Philbrick called me a “little city slicker.”




Those summers of my youth spent in Northern Maine were a study in contrasts. On the one hand, Grammie Kimball was relatively well-to-do because my grandfather Kimball was a doctor and had been wise with his investments. Grammie Kimball had a fine home in town and drove a big Cadillac. She always dressed real nice, and bought me all kinds of things, including comic books, which I dearly loved reading. And she had a big color television, all the better to watch episodes of Daniel Boone and Bonanza . 

Then, on the other hand, my Philbrick grandparents lived a harder, more sparse lifestyle on the farm. They did not have much money.


==========


One day my grandfather Philbrick took me with him to get a new supply of the barrel hoops. We did not get them from the woods. We got them from “the Indians.”


Knowing that I was going to go see real Indians filled me with anxious anticipation. My grandfather drove an old, beat-up, dark green VW bus. It was somewhat offbeat for a old potato farmer to be driving, but the big roll-open side door was practical. He rearranged his fishing gear and hip waders to make room for the hoops.


My grandfather drove slow and, like every farmer I’ve ever known, his eyes were continually surveying the fields, checking out the crops. This would inevitably lead him to gradually veer off the road, toward the ditch. But every time, just in time, he would come to his senses, realize that he was about to drive us in the ditch, and quickly steer back onto the road (I may have brought the impending crash to his attention a couple of times).


I remember telling two visiting cousins, Lisa and Jeff, as we were all about to ride with Grampie to the “Fairmont” country store (memorable to me for its creaky wood floors and lack of much to buy) that they needed to be aware that Grampie might drive off the road—and be prepared for the crash. Sure enough, he was watching the fields out the window to his left while slowly, gradually steering the VW towards the ditch on the right. But we never did go into the ditch. I know cousin Lisa still remembers that ride.


Getting back to the indian story.... 

We did go and get hoops from the indians but I was greatly disappointed when we got there. None of the indians I saw resembled Mingo, Daniel Boone’s sidekick on television (played by Ed Ames, who, it turns out, was actually Jewish). There was no village with teepees, no loincloths, no feathers in their hair, no tomahawks and no bows and arrows. The indians were dark skinned with black hair but they pretty much looked like regular people. Far as I could tell, they weren’t real indians.


Here is a picture of my grandfather and grandmother, Percy and Gertrude Philbrick, taken back in those days. 


Also, on the cover of this book, is a picture of Percy and me. It is the only picture I have of him and I together (because I’m sure that’s my cousin Peter in the other picture I showed you).


About Garth’s Barn 
Now I’ll tell you about Garth Fout’s barn. Garth’s barn might well be the most picturesque barn in all of Ohio. Back in 2003, an enterprising 23-year-old painter named Scott Hagan painted the Ohio Bicentennial logo on a selected barn in each of Ohio’s 88 counties. Garth’s barn (not owned by Garth at the time) got two logos. If you go to this web site, you will find links to all the “Bicentennial Barns” in Ohio. Click on “Defiance” to see Garth’s.


And while you’re at it, you can go to this web site and see lots of other neat old (and some new) barns from Ohio and elsewhere. There is one category for “religious theme” barns. Like this one, in Stephenson County, Illinois....



Or this one in Lenawee County, Michigan......



Update On The Deliberate Agrarian Haiku Poetry Contest


Last month, when I told you about the Agrarian Haiku Poetry Contest I was sponsoring, I wondered if anyone would participate. Well, I’m not wondering any more. Thus far, 68 haiku poems have been submitted.


Every poem submitted thus far is a good one, but some are exceptional. At this point Marlene and I are in agreement about the best one of all. But that could change because the contest runs until November 25th and I hope/expect to have a lot more submissions by then.


Please stop by the contest web site and see which haikus you like the best. Then, if you have not done so already, I hope you will compose and submit some poems of your own. There are some great prizes, which brings me to a small announcement and a new idea....



Thoughts on the 2nd Annual Deliberate Agrarian Haiku Poetry Contest


The picture above is a functional artistic creation made by none other than Garth Fout, the fellow with the beautiful barn in Ohio. Garth calls it a “Piggy Back Massage.” Nice.


Garth has donated this agrarian-themed object as a prize in this year’s Haiku contest. You can see it listed with all the other great prizes at this link.


Garth’s offer to donate this prize has me thinking about prizes for next year’s contest. I’m thinking that other down-to-earth craftspeople from across the country could contribute items they create as official prizes in the contest. 

By next year, the contest will be really well known and really popular and a really LOT of people will be stopping by to check it out (I’m really thinking positive about this). So those who donate a prize to the contest would get some good online marketing exposure.


I'm not sure this is something I'm going to actually do yet. But if you have a home business crafting items of beauty or functionality (or both) and you might like to contribute a prize to next year’s contest, send me an e-mail: hckimball@bci.net



Wounded in Action

My US-Army-soldier son, stationed on the DMZ in South Korea has been wounded in action—water skiing action. 

He took a bad fall and broke his tibia (or maybe it was the fibula—I can't remember right now). Doctors operated for two hours and used a metal plate with seven screws to put him back together. That was two days ago and he will be healing for awhile.


Our Annual Rt 90 
Garage Sale Safari


Last weekend was the annual 50-mile-long Route 90 Garage sale, which I’ve written about here in past years. We typically go as a family but this year Marlene and I headed out by ourselves, while Robert and James went together in Robert’s truck.


Marlene brought along some ice water, homemade tabouli salad, cucumber slices and homemade hummus for us to snack on. We took our time, enjoyed the beautiful day, saw some friends along the way, bought some fresh peaches and nectarines at an orchard overlooking Cayuga Lake, and had a good time. Here’s a picture of one place we stopped. I took it to show you the nice little barn in the background.


Of course, we found some great stuff along the way. Marlene’s best find of the day was a 1961 first edition, second printing, of Julia Child’s classic cookbook, “Mastering The Art of French Cooking.” It’s in great shape. She paid 50-cents for it and will probably sell it on Ebay (they typically sell there for $50 to $75).


I found a great book too. It’s titled How to Go About Laying an Egg, by Bernard Waber (published in 1963). Here’s a picture of the title page.


The book begins with “Rule 1: Make sure you are a hen,” and then proceeds to help you “decide whether or not you are a hen.”


It is a silly little book that people are paying $10 to $20 for on the internet. I bought it because of the chicken art. I’m sure my friend, Jax Hamlin, the chicken folk artist from Nonesuch, will love the book.


My best find of the day was a  strap-on, one leg milking stool...



There was no price on this simple, functional old tool and I asked an older lady at the sale how much she wanted for it. She asked if I was an antique dealer. I said no. I told her I planned it use the stool—that I was going to strap it on my wife so she could sit down while picking beans in the garden.


The woman said I could have it for two dollars. I didn't feel right paying two dollars. I gave her five.


The stool was made in Holland. I asked how long ago it was last used. She said they used it back in the 1940’s when they were milking 17 cows. But then they got a milking machine and didn’t need the stool. Today the farm milks 85 cows.


On the way home, while discussing our different sale finds, I asked Marlene if she would be so kind as to model the stool so I could show all my blog readers how it straps on one's rear end. She just laughed.


But I have strapped it on myself and I can tell you it is a very comfortable seat. The base of the leg has a spring that acts like a shock absorber.


Speaking of beans, here’s a picture of Marlene (taken by herself) after picking green beans on a wet July morning...




Breakfast in July

Yogurt with granola, topped with lots of just-picked raspberries (I guess you would call it a parfait, which sounds very French to me, but I do not find "parfait" in the Julia Childs book). That, along with a cup of coffee, outside on our patio, in our back yard, in the stillness of the early morning, here in the rural countryside where we live, is one of the best examples of “the good life” that I can think of.


Our raspberry canes have yielded very well and been such an enjoyable treat in this July now past.


In addition to the weekends, I’ve been home for such breakfasts two weekday mornings each week because I’ve been working only three and a half days at the prison job and the rest of the time at my Whizbang Books & project parts business.


Marlene and I have  also been spending a lot of time tending to the various needs of my ailing stepfather. One of those needs in July was to buy his house. We don’t intend to ever live there, but buying the place was the right thing to do under the circumstances. 

I can tell you that we would not have ever been able to do such a thing were it not for the relative success of the Whizbang business. And I can’t help but think what an awesome, sovereign orchestrator of events God is by providentially foreseeing the need and providing the financial resources for this purpose.


Land Update
It has been months since I announced here that we were probably going to buy 1.5 acres of field and woods right next to us. We had offered the owners an exceptionally good price for this section of their property. They accepted out purchase offer. We were thrilled at the prospect of doubling our acreage.


And then we waited... and waited... and waited. We waited a lot of months. Well, now the waiting is over. It turns out we are not going to purchase the land.


The owner has just re-listed the whole property (house, barn, and all the land) with a new real estate agent. At this point, we could re-offer to purchase the section of land, but we are feeling that we should not. We will just wait some more (we’re good at waiting) and see what develops.


They have put a high price on the property. Too  high, if you ask me. There are other, much nicer properties around us for considerably less. I will be surprised if it sells. They can come to us if they want to sell the section. We would still buy it—but not for the exceptional price we offered before.


So now we will do what we have always done, which is to say, we will do the best we can with what we have, right here where we are, while being content, and waiting (always waiting) to see what Providence has in store for us next. 


Update On The Planet Whizbang Garden Tote

Back in January of this year I showed you a picture of the wood and wire tote that I made. We have been putting that tote through the paces around here and I can report that it is a very handy homestead tool. It’s also has an attractive tool.


In the picture above, the tote has a variety of gardening tools in it, and even a sledge hammer. Hanging over one end are numerous wires that were used to make tire sidewall cloches which are part of my Whizbang Squash Planting Secret.


You’ll also notice a long-handled hoe resting on top of the tote (it rides there very nicely). The tote will carry all of those things comfortably, with room to spare, and I’m very pleased with the tote’s durability and usefulness.


That particular tote happens to be my 5th prototype; I made four different versions earlier this year and scrapped them all. After putting some use on this tote, I’ll make some additional minor modifications when I put together a final version this winter.


It is my intention to publish inexpensive, step-by-step directions for making these homestead totes. (Update 4/14: Plans for making the tote are now available at This Link)


Uncle Clyde’s 
Just-Published Memoir



My uncle, Clyde Kennedy, out in Ohio is 87 years old and, with the help of his children, has just published an autobiography of his life during the years of the Great Depression. It’s titled, The Hard Surface Road.


I read about half the manuscript around ten years ago (he has been working on the book a very long time) and knew then that Clyde’s experiences and recollections were an important historical chronicle of that difficult era—an era that precious few people alive today can relate to.


Uncle Clyde (who married my mother’s sister, Dawn, back after WW2) was a child during the Depression years but his memories of those days are clear and poignant.


There were no unemployment benefits back then—no food stamps—no social services of any kind to speak of. There was, however, family and families helped each other. But Clyde’s family on his father’s side, were one rough bunch of Eastern Ohio coal country moonshiners.

The book is dedicated to Clyde’s mother, Anna Statzer Kennedy. Chapter 1, titled, Homeless and Adrift, begins with these words:
The stubborn pace of time cannot erase from my mind how fate, in one of its bleakest forms, set our family adrift in the throes of the Great Depression. Born on the first of January in 1923, I was seven years old when the Roaring Twenties curled up and died. Dad lost his job, the bank foreclosed on our mortgaged house, and our good life vanished like a dream at sunrise. Dad’s brute strength, craving for work, and devotion to Mom kept our heads above water as we battled those cruel hard times. I wonder, though, what in the world would have become of us boys had it not been for our indomitable mother, who stood at the helm with her trust in the Lord.
If and when this book is published in a more affordable format, I’ll be letting you know about it here. You can learn a bit more about the book at this link.


The Next Depression....

Speaking of economic depression, the talking heads on radio (and probably television, which I don’t watch) are continually worrying about the economy. They are now suggesting that we may be headed for a “double dip” recession. That’s a laugh. A double-dip recession is mild compared to what is more likely in store for America. Double-dip recession is like a head cold compared to terminal cancer—with terminal cancer being the kind of economic outcome we’re likely to encounter.


Some people interpret such a prognosis on my part as much too negative, and pigeon hole me as a “doom & gloomer.” Well, I don’t consider myself that. I’m just a guy who has enough historical perspective to know we are not immune to collapse, and I understand pretty well the fundamental economic flaws inherent in our debt-money system.


I also know very well that human nature is flawed too. So we have flawed people trying to save a floundering, flawed economic system. It’s just not gonna happen. They can stretch out the inevitable, but not forever—and then what?


God only knows. But I can’t help thinking it’s going to be very, very difficult—primarily because we live in a civilization that, for the most part, has disengaged from the land, is not accustomed to hardship, and is so incapable of providing for its own needs.


There is sufficient reason to believe the upcoming economic crisis will be worse than the Great Depression (this short article provides some pertinent insights).


Faced with such a scenario, the question always arises... What about me? How will I and my family fare in an economic collapse?



None of us knows these things. But I can tell you this much... If you are living a lifestyle that is totally dependent on the government, the industrial providers, and/or your fiat-money reserves, you are in a dangerous position.


If you don’t have access to a debt-free section of land to live and grow food on, you are in a dangerous position.


If you lack the tools and hands-on skills needed for  self-sufficient living, you are in a dangerous position.


If you do not have a stocked larder, you are in a dangerous position.

If you don't have contingency plans for living without running water and electricity, you are in a dangerous position.

If you do not have a network of family and friends that you can depend on in difficult times, you are in a dangerous position.


If you lack the faith-based worldview needed to comprehend and accept the ugliest of scenarios, and to sustain yourself through them, you are in a dangerous position.


That said, it is my contention that Christianity, properly understood and lived, can sustain a person through any crisis he or she will ever face here on this earth—bar none—right to the end.


But I can also tell you that Christianity, properly understood and lived, tells it’s followers to sever their dependencies on the dominant world system. 

Precious few of those who profess to follow Christ seem to understand this. They limit their response to this biblical call for cultural separation because, frankly, they love their bondage to the world system—they have no desire to pursue the harder way of life that naturally follows the active pursuit of separation.


To a degree, I must admit to being among these “worldly” Christians—but only to a degree. The fact is, I have the tools, the skills, the land, and the spiritual resources to accept and deal with the coming adversity. I may not survive it, but I’m equipped to deal with it.


This is all something to think about as the myopic talking heads blather on and our government feeds us a continual stream of economic data skewed to make the situation seem better than it is (and that’s getting harder to do all the time).



A New Vision For 
The Retirement Years


I have read Gary North’s writings for a long time. In a recent essay titled, Two Bad Investments: Stocks, Bonds, North reiterates something he has been saying for many years, which is that your average person can not rely on conventional investments for financial support in their “retirement years.” In the recent article, after explaining why stocks & bonds are a bad investment, North states the following:
The average American has no pension. He has Social Security: a political claim against the future wages of people just like he is, only younger. His security is no better than Federal Reserve monetary policy, Congress's ability to persuade younger workers not to revolt, and his children's willingness to bail him out when the first two prove to have been false hopes.


The median net worth of Americans 55 and older is around $200,000. That was before the housing decline..... Think about this number. If a man is worth $200,000 at age 60 or thereabouts, or maybe $230,000 at 65, how much passive income will this generate at today's bank CD interest rate? Under $2,000 a year. So, he will have to sell his equity. But wait! The bulk of that $200,000 is the equity in his home – or was. So, he will have to sign up for a reverse mortgage. He will sell his house in stages.


The point is, if he lives for 20 more years, and his wife outlives him, they will be in poverty at death. He will have to sell at least $10,000 in assets each year to supplement Social Security. Inflation will speed up this process as the dollar depreciates.


His medical bills cost the government about $1,000 a month. Can you see why people hold placards at political rallies: "Don't touch my Medicare"? They are trapped. If they had to pay for their own medical care, they would be in poverty within a decade of retirement.


This is the reality of pensions and retirement. Yet the people on Tout TV do not tell listeners, "Sell your stocks. Start a home business. There is no way that you can retire in comfort with money in the stock market."


People want to believe that they can write a check each month and forget about the future. They delegate responsibility for their future to experts who get paid whether or not their investments pan out.


This is madness. It is universal.


Such reasoning from Gary North was like a kick in the pants when I read it years ago. It was a powerful incentive for me to begin a home business writing and self-publishing Whizbang books, and to start selling various project parts, while still working a full time “day job.”


I did not undertake my home business with fast money in  mind, I did it with my older years in mind. I also did it because I hoped it would eventually enable me to come home from my prison job.


I have no money invested in stocks or bonds. It is invested in inventory, marketing, new product ideas, and, hopefully, a good name in the minds of my customers.


My concept of retirement is not leisure and non-productivity. It is continued simple living and frugality combined with hands-on work and creative pursuits—but not working in a conventional job for someone else. Lord willing, I’ll be realizing this kind of retirement soon and will be productive at it for many years to come.


I’m telling you this because I think Gary North is right on with this idea—it makes incredibly good sense to develop a home-based business, with your retirement years in mind. You can read the above-mentioned essay and several other Gary North articles at this link.


In The Final Analysis

Unemployment. Inflation. Deflation. Recession. Depression. Societal collapse. Whatever. History marches on and you and I are not going to change the historical course.  It does no good to worry about outcomes. But it does us some good to respond wisely.


And to my way of thinking, the wise response is a deliberate and agrarian one. If there is a common theme to my writings over the past five years, this is it....

Humble yourself. Ground yourself in the spiritual sense (see above). Ground yourself in the physical, earthy sense so you can grow some of your own food. Stock the pantry. Eliminate debt. Downsize. Simplify. Make do and be content with less.  Learn the various hands-on skills of self-sufficient living. Establish one (or more) small home businesses. Embrace the little pleasures of life. Thank God for His blessings....

....Like, For Example, Tomatoes

Last year was not a good tomato year around here. There was a blight. It was very discouraging. But the tomatoes are looking better this year. 

Those four beautiful tomato fruits shown above are of the "Tommy Toe" variety. They are indeterminate tomatoes, which means they grow up in the air instead of bushing out, so you can grow them on a trellis.


Trellised tomatoes are easy to take care of and very satisfying to grow. Here's a picture of these trellised tomatoes...



That trellis section is 6ft long and 5ft 6 in. high. I planted three Tommy Toes in the span. The trellis structure itself consists of two t-posts, topped with two of my Whizbang T-Post trellis fittings (not yet available) which support a length of sumac tree trunk. 


Sumac is pretty much a weed tree and I cut it out of the hedgerow across the road from our house. This is actually the second year I've used that particular length of sumac to span t-posts. Strings are tied top to bottom for supporting the tomatoes and grass clippings around the bottom keep the weeds down.


I have let the tomato plants grow to about 6 ft high. Now I'll prune them as needed to keep them that height while the tomatoes start ripening (they ripen from the bottom up).


Another Kind of Trellis Structure



Marlene likes to grow morning glories. They are a flowering vine and I have come up with another Whizbang idea, which you can see in the picture above. I call them Trellis Triangles.


Trellis Triangles are little triangles designed to hold short or long lengths of dowel. You screw the triangles to your house or garage or barn. Then slide in a length of dowel and tie strings between the dowels. The strings support your climbing plant.


At the end of the season, simply snip the strings and leave the triangles with dowels in place for stringing again the next year.


As you can see in the picture above, you can attach a longer dowel to the underside of a soffit and fan the trellis string out.  I'll show you a picture of this same support next month.


Here is another view, looking down, from triangle support to triangle support, by our patio in the back of the house. The black you see is tar paper "siding."




I'll have more to say about these Trellis Triangles (Whizbang Trellis Triangles, that is) later this year. They are made of HDPE plastic so they're impervious to the rain and cracking and all of that, like wood would be.


One Last Barn

Probably the most remarkable old barn I've ever been in is at the Hancock Shaker Village in Pittsfield, Mass. Here's a picture of the outside.



==========


That's all for this month. Thanks for stopping by. I enjoy posting these monthly Updates and I hope you enjoy reading them. 

Best wishes,


Herrick Kimball

The June 30, 2010
Monthly Update Has Been Posted



As explained below, I am no longer writing daily blog essays here.  


But I am posting a single end-of-the-month update
for those who are interested...


This new format is something like a monthly "Blogazine." 

You can read the current "issue" at this link:



If you are new to this site...

Welcome To The Deliberate Agrarian!


After four years and hundreds of essays, I ceased writing
almost-daily essays for this blog in April of 2009. But my body of
past writings remain here as a relevant testimony to the wisdom
and goodness found in a Deliberate Agrarian lifestyle.

I invite you to peruse the Deliberate Agrarian Archives
(links are in the column to your right)

There is a wealth of down-to-earth inspiration 
and how-to information to be found there.
I also invite you to read my last essay before 
changing to a monthly format. Here is the link:


Yours truly,
Herrick Kimball
(hckimball@bci.net)