Monday, January 9, 2012


I have always dreamed of a handmade home filled of things that are filled with love and care as they were carefully handcrafted. From the blankets on our beds, to the food on our table, to the dishes in the cupboard (and the sink) and the art on the walls. Maybe even the very table and walls. I wanted to feel every day, the love and work that was poured into, pouring out of the things around me. To know that they weren't just things. They were someone's sweat, tears, and, yes, occasionally blood, poured over and into a thing until it was more than just a thing. It was a symbol of the life of a person. Their life, their work, their hands. My hands. I wanted to fill my home with tokens of work and love and frugality. Things that showed the value of taking pride in what we do; what we make, and enjoying what we have. Knowing that it's enough. Items covered in prayers and sleepless nights and creative processes. I want my family to feel that. I want my children to learn that. 

Of course I didn't alway dream of blankets and dishes and food and walls that I made myself. It started just outside the walls. And on the walls. It started, as most good love stories should. It began outside. Where I've always wanted to be. Add a camera and it wasn't long before I was dreaming of making my own photos to hang on my own walls. A home decorated with my own work. Then, as all things do, the dream grew. I wanted a garden brimming with plants to photograph. 

Then, as all things do, I grew. I got married. And I learned how to cook. A single person can subside on quesadillas, peanut butter sandwiches, and salad (and pizza and ice cream) for an impressively long time (not that I've done that), but my husband needed more to eat than I did and frankly, I needed better nutrition. I started caring about frugality and healthful eating and living. I started to make bread, and I learned that I'd been eating the most expensive poor man's bread for years because I'd never bothered make my own. It turns out that bread isn't hard to make, it's infinitely better than store bought and the ingredients that go into it make an impressively short list. And it's cheaper. Suddenly I started figuring out all kinds of financial short cuts that actually meant better living. Home canning, sewing, gardening...I cared about more than making my own decor. I cared about making my life, my livelihood. I cared about a homestead*. 

A homestead is still just a dream, but it's a doable dream. It's a comfort and a pleasure to me to see that there are so many others (thank you internet!) that want the same things. That want a simple, healthful, lifestyle and know it can be made at home. At the homestead. 

*and a darkroom. 

Also of note: Ansel Adams is attributed with having said, " You don't take a photograph, you make it". A man after my own heart.


  1. This is wonderful. I am really interested in all of these things too!

    It would be fun to start a small group of us who blog together (by linking to one anothers blogs?) or to create a homestead group, even if we don't have homesteads now. This year I set out some of my own goals, mainly to learn how to sew, eat locally, and bake. You will have to write a post on how to make bread so I can get your tips. =)

    Erica from

  2. Erica, I would love to do something cooperative! And I'll see what I can do about a bread post in the near future. I've been enjoying your blog too, by the way.