Winter on the Farm in Pictures
Love
Wow A Whole Season Went By
The farm is silhouetted by this beautiful line of tall pines that catch snow, and sunlight perfectly.
I didn’t mean not to write all winter. When I first started this, I really thought I would write weekly but as it turns out I am not that disciplined in this area. I have been writing off the cuff of an idea, and when your idea is that winter is way too long, and you’re angsty about other things in your life, well it just doesn’t feel very inspiring. All that aside, I hope everyone had a great winter and found joy in it. Though it is our longest, and most tedious season here in Maine, we are a hearty bunch and usually do find our way through it with some pleasantries. We mostly got by this winter and welcomed the changes it brought, sometimes reluctantly but the blessings shone through, nonetheless.
Bone-in Ribeye, Ninja Foodi’ed to perfection.
Starting around October our family really started eating mostly meat, and we’re on the journey to quit sugar. After exposing our kids to sweet treats, we are still on the slope of not totally depriving them of their wants, but also redirecting them to better alternatives for enjoyment as well as health. This newfound way of eating really made me look at the families business in a whole new light. If the grocery stores all closed tomorrow, we have a pasture full of the perfect food for the human species that can convert grass into protein, and fat. The bioavailable nutrient profile on grass fed beef is quite impressive. If you’re interested, compare it to your favorite vegetable(s) to see how they measure up to each other. I may come back to this topic another time, but for now, onto other happenings.
Sunsets are always a peaceful time of day, all else goes quiet for a moment.
The cows fared well this winter, grandpa got back in his tractor, in his trusty John Deere’s, and back to his trips to Vermont in his trusty old Mack to ensure his herd was fed well, along with other folks’ animals in the area. Grandpa has spent much of his life toiling away at one thing or another, and it is quite a hard habit to quit, so on he goes, here and there, checking things off of his mental to do list. He got elastics, (a way of turning a bull into a steer if you know what I mean), on the oversized bull calves as they were weaned from their mothers, in preparation for another season of calving. There is always a few days to a week long stretch even when the mothers and babies are wailing back and forth to each other. As a nursing mother with a nursling currently, I can sympathize quite well with their troubles. But after all they are cows, God has given us as man dominion over his creation of animals, to steward them well, and weaning is just a part of that.
Though she wasn’t much into farming so maybe it’s strange to mention it here but, my great grandmother went to her heavenly home just before she was to turn 102, the day before to be exact. She lived here on the farm for 6 or 7 years, I believe in my grandparents (mostly Mimi’s), loving and comprehensive, full time care. So, her passing quite changed the family dynamic, she was loved and cherished up to the very last moment she was here on earth, and her going on was certainly a celebration of life. As Mimi, Grandpa David’s wife, is an integral part of grandpa’s life, and supporting his farming, it surely feels appropriate to give credit where it is due and include her in the picture I have been painting of Whites farm on the hill. Anyway, my grandparents now have their home, and their marriage back to themselves and are finding new ways to enjoy that togetherness as they go on about their work as homemaker and farmer in retirement.
My mother has caught a bug, its quite contagious I hear, it’s called “IfellinlovewithawildmustangandI’mneverlookingback”. So along with her daily chicken chores, selling meat, and hay, being a grandmother, and playing golf with her rather needy blue heeler Millie, she has another hat to wear, of horse trainer. I’m looking forward to watching that play out this summer. She also had to say goodbye to a longtime friend of hers, her old morgan horse Dakota. After 25 years caring for an animal, it is quite stark facing the world the day after they are gone, but she handled it all with grace. My dad continues his endeavor’s, of semi-pro-amateur league golfing whenever the weather will cooperate and he doesn’t have a project for Kara due, as well as being dedicated to his work at the PSNY.
Empathy, and a hand written note from a small person just hits ya differently.
As for my family and our little portion of this hill, well I suppose that will be for another post… Thank you for reading this if you’ve made it to the end. Thank you for supporting our small family farm. As with most things the unknown of the going-ons of others can be quite mysterious, but at the end of the day we are all much more alike than we know, no matter the work we are doing.
Be Blessed,
Lorin
When The Going Gets Tough
The old coyote, aka Grandpa David, doing what he does best, feeding the cows, farming grass.
The tough get going. That’s how the saying goes and that is what has to be done when you’re farming. The cows don’t stop eating, the grass doesn’t stop growing, the barn doesn’t stop needing to be cleaned, no matter what is going on in the lives of the humans running the show. So the family comes together and does what needs to be done, with the equipment needed to do it, in the way that we can when the leader is missing. I know, I know, lots of generalizations but in this very personal family that is how we roll.
When you get our family together, the ones that still live around here anyway, it’s always somewhat awkward. We all have this deep connection but it goes unspoken largely, and it’s often times difficult to find things to discuss. I’m not sure if all families are this way or if we are just weird, but anyway, if there is one thing that brings us all together it is the farm, White’s farm on the hill. Grandpa David has always been quite the quintessential farmer, gruff, tough, hard working, leaves a lot left unsaid, and never asks for help. I know this is out of the goodness of his heart because he never wants to make anyone feel like they have to do the work that is “his”, but we all want to do it anyway. So in recent times boy has there been a chance to.
Justin and Jonathan making their first hay.
Jake, Grandpa’s son, and his two sons, Justin and Jonathan, have come to help finish up the hay season with my mom, Kara and my Dad too, actually. It was fun to watch the boys intuitively pickup the controls of Grandpa’s tractor from their experience using other equipment for logging and excavating. There were a few late nights, and surely a lot of lessons learned, and I can’t wait to see what can be done next year when Grandpa is back in his tractor, or back in the hayfield anyway. It will be so neat to see him have the chance to pass on his decades of knowledge on how to make good hay. It is a science, and it is an art, and it takes years to procure the methodology that leads to a nice mold free crop that the animals will enjoy. Since being back on the farm it has been so interesting to see just how little to do with the animals there is to do, and how much to do there is with everything else! Fences to mend, maintenance to do on barns and equipment, butcher appointments and arrangements to make, the customer facing side of things, making sure there is enough food for winter for the animals, making sure everyone has water, the list goes on.
God does always have a plan, and although it is so hard to be patient enough to watch it play out and find your role in the waiting, His plan is always supreme to our own. Thankfully my mom, Kara, Grandpa David’s daughter, has been Grandpa’s shadow for the past two years as they have worked closely to sell beef, pork, and hay together. My mom has been able to dedicate the majority of her days taking care of the cows, keeping them fed, and trying to plan the events to come to make the wheels keep rolling on this small family operation. This time without Grandpa here, has provided a looking glass of sorts into the future as well, thankfully short term, because it has revealed that Grandpa is very much needed as a leader. In fact he needs to step into his role as a leader even more, by being the teacher I have talked about in past posts, to enable the success of future generations of farmers in our family, to continue his legacy.
Garden times, 2022 she has upgraded to the big John Deere tractors now for the work that needs to be done, but she still hasn’t upgraded her shoes….. hehe
It has been a beautiful thing to witness three generations of farmers come together to tie up loose ends and get the farm fields ready for winter, mowing and baling the last of the fall hay. There is much to come though, moving cows off of their summer pasture, getting elastics on the bull calves, putting up hay equipment for safe keeping, mending fences, dealing with bulls, weaning calves. It is all a labor of love, and it is all a labor of passion, and all farmers might be just a little crazy for loving such a thing, but thank God for all of them. After all, the food doesn’t grow on the shelves of grocery stores.
Sweet Summertime
Wildflowers from a walk with Mimi, perfectly imperfect.
Summertime in Maine, although full of rain, has been much more abundant and joyous than I remember. Year after year, as I get older and my husband and I mature in our marriage, we watch our children grow, and life looks different. Whether it be a ride to the pasture on the buggy to watch the cows, an afternoon with the slip and slide, or a family trip to the beach, I find myself trying to savor each moment fully.
As I have grown as a woman, I have been in the pursuit of improving myself, and not through the lens of some self-help book, although if that is your thing carry on, but through my Bible and relationship with God. In that I have been blessed so fully and so greatly. Each day is an opportunity to find something to be grateful for as well as a fresh chance to serve and honor my family. Are those days full of mistakes and face palm moments, why yes of course, but without the notion of conviction to do what is right and just by the Lord I wouldn’t have the self-awareness to enjoy life fully. What does this have to do with farming? I’m glad you asked.
Tucking the girls in after late night chores.
We have recently gone through a bit of a situation, with the potential to move off of the farm, and build a house right down the road. With this we were looking at sacrificing being here on the farm every-day and maybe even giving up on our first year of milking our girls. Went it got right down to it, and I mean right down to it, we couldn’t do it. My husband hasn’t told me but I know he came out to find me in the barn one morning and peeped a scene of me giving Daisy a kiss on the nose as I was finishing up chores, headed into the house to see how I could be of any help. I know this tugged at his heart strings and by the end of that morning we realized what we would be giving up was not worth a shiny new house.
Now for us this way of life is a gift from God and, also from hard work by my Grandparents to keep the farm going. Even now we couldn’t be doing this without their giving nature. For others this way of life is achieved through their own hard work and sacrifice. For others still this way of life may not be anything they would want, but something is. Have a vision for yourself, or for your family. Go after it. Do what you have to do to make it happen. Be all in. Don’t compromise.
Already looking forward to growing more of these next summer.
I have this saying, God takes you through the steps you need to go through to get where you need to go, and He definitely did that with this. He lit a new fire in our lives, a brand-new conviction all of our own to be all in, here at White’s farm. Even if you haven’t met God yet. Start noticing the beautiful little things in your life, that you take for granted. Notice the way stopping to check in with your mood and set your heart on joy and gratefulness can change your entire day. Notice the things that you’re going through that are terrible even, and see where they lead. Think back on your life on these things, not with self-pity, but with a heart of strength and vigor, forgiving the hurts and embracing what all the experiences have made you into.
These days I have less room on my plate for vegetables, and more for the meat raised here on this farm, and organic dairy products raised locally here in Maine. My heart is sometimes all twisted up at the mere idea of not knowing what the future holds, but it comes untangled so fast when I take a deep breath and take everything into perspective. We will talk again soon; until then fill your plate with a ribeye, or some savory slow cooker stew beef to welcome a new season.
Be Blessed,
Lorin
Ebbs and Flows
Vintage tractor on it’s third generation of use, deemed the “wrapper tractor” because that’s it’s only job, wrapping baleage.
“When tillage begins, other arts follow. The farmers, therefore, are the founders of human civilization.”
– Daniel Webster.
Planting and haying season is upon us all across the country. Although in different phases and seasons of it, much of it is a work of art and expertise. Most farmers would scoff at being called artists, but I would argue they are among the best of them. They work with the ultimate organic, ever changing canvas, that only years of wisdom can contend with. The only choice you get in material to work with, is that which mother nature has provided, to include the amount of rain and sunshine which are the most vital elements.
Last year was my families first year in Maine after leaving military life and it happened to be a drought year. Nothing reveals the hostility of nature quite like watching things fail to thrive and eventually die from lack of such a basic necessity. This year, we are in a drench and it seems as though the rain just won’t stop. The grass is lush and tall, but good luck harvesting it. The ponds are full, the wells are full, and the garden is happily growing. Over the terms of the last 2 summer seasons here in Maine we have seen a vast range of conditions, but one thing has stayed the same, you have to work hard to make sure the animals are fed, hay is made, veggies are grown, and you are enjoying your time here on earth in the ways that you can.
Rows of hay waiting for the baler.
Through ebbs and flows life has a way of revealing itself, if you only pay attention. Through experiences, through memories, through reading, through conversation with others, no matter what is currently on your mind the depths of wisdom break through. {This is where I give credit to God, though others may not.} In those depths for a farmer is craftsmanship developed over decades, sometimes centuries, of family pursuit of the best way to go from point a to point b in success. Whether that be in a nice dry bale of first crop hay, a perfectly fermented bale of baleage, a fat finished cow ready for the butcher, or a big but not too big meat bird, there are so many processes and factors in each endeavor that are so different yet so alike.
Year after year we take the wisdom from our experiences and we move forward with them. The best of farmers also continue educating themselves on advances in their craft, and learning from other peoples experiences, so as to maximize their productivity. There is a certain portion of this way of life that just requires a steadfastness and a willingness to just do the job the way you know how, and have faith in the process that it will turn out the way you have seen it in the past. There is a lot on YouTube these days that makes everything look so very simple but when it comes down to putting things to action, anyone who has started out in something new can tell you just the same, you just gotta do it and you’ll learn more from that than any video could teach.
Moving hay to be wrapped.
The artisanry of a farmer includes teaching, passing along the wisdom only time doing something can produce is a difficult thing, but when done intentionally it is absolutely invaluable. This concept is sometimes practiced mindlessly, generationally you just do alongside your great-grandfather, grandfather, father or great-grandmother, grandmother, or mother. You do and you listen and you watch and you observe and you realize the inheritance is a richness that money could never buy. A steadfastness in work ethic, connection to the land, rearing a brood of children, from scratch cooking, reading your Bible; beautiful salt of the earth things that are lost on society. So here we are again at, support your local farmers, or better yet become one.
Parked next to great grandpas tractor, waiting for chance to ditch his little one for a ride on the big one.
Be Blessed,
Lorin
Chickens, Chickens, Chickens
Henny Penny standing guard- and looking for treats.
Over the years the farm has seen many phases of chickens. From Grandpa David’s first business venture selling eggs as a young child, to processing them for meat as a job working for chicken Murray down the road. To Grandpa Normans little prized flock of banties that provided eggs and the occasional rooster stew. To the mean silkie rooster who lived with a brood of hens in the big barn during my childhood causing my trips from my parents house to my grandparents house across the dooryard to be a dangerous trek usually accompanied by a broom, just in case. To the chickens my mom got right before we moved back in 2021 when she started selling eggs. To our first flock as a family starting with Chicky, a banty hatched here on the farm, and some banty brothers and sisters from the store to keep him company. To 2022, the year of the meat birds! From way too early in the year to way too late in the year mom worked moving meat chicks from here to there, and finally chicken tractors from here to there. Now this has been the year of laying hens, indoor brooders, greenhouse brooders, chicken tractor hen houses, expanding, and growing, and learning.
Over the winter our small flock of chickens weren’t producing enough eggs to support eating them daily, as well as baking with them, so we mistakenly bought an organic dozen from the grocery store. My husband was shocked at the difference and bewildered at how he went his whole life eating such sub par eggs. From taste, to color, to viscosity even the store bought eggs were lacking up and down. There are plenty of blogs explaining the benefits of eating farm fresh food to include vegetables, eggs, meat, and dairy products, so I won’t belabor that point. What I will emphasize is how much it means to the families you support when you are supporting your health with the healthier choice.
Compost pile scavenger hunt, fresh fruits and veggies come each week on donation along with free ranging and foraging. The fence is a predator deterrent not for keeping the chickens in.
Not only do I recommend finding a local source for your farm fresh food,but beyond that, I recommend starting your own chicken flock. It can be very simple, cost efficient, and low maintenance, with a high value reward. The eggs are a byproduct of the labor of caring for another creature who provides for you. It is a simplistic way to add to the ecosystem of folks cutting out to get back to our human roots of sustaining and providing for ourselves, with littler reliance on big box stores or commercially raised goods. While supporting your local farm is a wonderful compliment, and life choice ultimately, we rejoice at seeing people with the grit and willingness to take a step toward connecting with God’s green earth again with self-sufficiency.
Undoubtedly you will enjoy the eggs, but you will also enjoy the chickens. If you spend much time at all staring out your window at your free ranging flock, or hanging out around your coop, you will learn each chicken is a special creature and has a personality. We have the joy of having names for a lot of our girls and boys and that quite adds to the fun of it. Henny Penny pictured above will most often be seen begging on the back doorstep, or otherwise leading a charge of scavenging hens beyond the limits of our yard. Pickle is a tiny banty rooster who has legs that are far too short and it is hilarious to watch him run. You’ll learn who the bullies are, who the best layers are, who the curious ones are, and sometimes you’ll even get one who is friendly and doesn’t mind being held. Part of the passion for farming is sometimes curated through noticing such things and finding joy and solace in them; of course, that can be applied in many other ways in our lives and should ought to be done much more frequently. Thank you for reading this, come back next week for more 🙂
Be Blessed,
Lorin
White’s Farm on the Hill
Norman White chasing cows through the field with his grocery getter!
Hello all,
My name is Lorin, I am Kara’s daughter, part of the fourth generation of White’s farm on this hill raising the fifth with my husband Benton. I will be doing a weekly blog to give update and insight into what farm life is like here on this farm. There are farms all over this country doing things like this farm is doing. While I am sure there is some similarities in daily chores and motivations, each one has a unique blueprint dictated by the farmers, the land and the animals they are stewarding, and the customers they serve. So, this will be a journal of our blueprint, our motivations, and our family story.
I suppose we could start anywhere but might as well start with the start of it all. A story of Stormin’ Norman in his station wagon. Anyone who has been to the farm has probably noticed this old car tangled up in a patch of sumac nearly hidden by grass as tall as it during the summer months. It is a bucket of rust, could be hauled to the junk yard, but lives on in its old spot where nothing else much would be. It serves as a reminder, for me daily, of the old man in his old car who chased cows, hay, and was chased by a line of cars every time he left this hill on the way to Hannaford.
About the only time he was stormin’ toward the end of his time here on earth was when he was on the tail end of a cow chase. I have a lot of great memories from inside that car, driving through the hayfields on grandpa’s lap, moving calves, playing with his bag phone, watching people work from the passenger seat. The car went from what he drove to get him to the tractor to what he drove to watch the tractors work as he no longer could. It is so peculiar when someone like that leaves the world, someone who maybe unknowingly started a legacy farm, the hole they leave behind but also the wholeness left behind.
A lot of families end up all over the country with nothing truly tying them together, and while this family isn’t without that entirely, the scattered pieces do carry with them memories and character that was built on this piece of rock. Through hard work, through tough love, through relationships, through the good and the bad, growing up in a place like this makes you who you are. None of it would be possible or have come to be without the determination of one man and his loving wife and those that came after him. It’s hard to know the exact desires of Grandpa Normans heart when he chose farming above all else in this world. One thing I can say is that the journey has not been without tumultuous times for family and wealth, not without sacrifice, and not without passion and love.
As we go on in gratefulness and gratitude, we attempt to fill the shoes of those that have come before us in the ways we can with our own shoes on, and with our own heart desires. This world looks a lot different now than it did when Grandpa Norman started out here so considering that changing landscape brings on new motivations and new ways of doing things. The same passion and love exists because without it there would be no reason to go on doing this. Farmers have to be among the most passionate people on earth and I am so grateful to come from a long line of them.
Stay with me as each week I share more of the current farm through photos and broken up journaling, in between wife-ing, mothering, daughtering, grand daughtering, and caring for our small brood of animals. Thanks for reading this, and thanks for investing a piece of your lives in the support of this family farm operation working to bring you high quality, clean food for you and your animals.
Be Blessed,
Lorin
White's Farm 