I believe in farm life. And here’s why. My dear, sweet, ever-working husband is putting the finishing touches on our 9 foot farm table. It’s been in the works since early summer and to say I’m excited to see this project coming to a close is an understatement. I’ve always dreamed of a table just
Slow down, Shaye. Just slow the heck down. Breathe, Mama, just breath. In. Out. Breeeeeeeeeeeathe. Last week, I took my own advice, and followed through with deep, satisfying breaths. I happened to be out with my animals when I began encouraging myself. It’d be a hectic morning, after a hectic trip to Montana, and we’d
So here’s my story. About the one thing I did to be happier. Last week, as he normally does, Baby Will grabbed my iPhone and brought it over to me with a concerned look in his little brown eyes. I know what it meant because, well, I’m his Mama and I know these things. It’s
I decided to crash amongst the chaos, submit to the never ending piles of boxes and trash, and reminisce. I need time to take a deep breath, to really see my surroundings, to really interact with all that encompasses this farm. Because we’ve only got a week left. And then it’s… Goodbye Farm. Sunnier Days
Hello. Can you hear me? Or is my voice muffled through the foot and a half of fresh, powdery snow that is currently covering the homestead? I hope you can hear me. Because I’ve got some things to say, yo. After all – it’s almost Christmas! Time for love and mushy stuff and reflection and
Sometimes the Lord chooses to answer our desperate cries quickly! Man, oh man, did this happen fast! In the context of The Elliott Homestead, this is huge news! And great news. Ya’ll. We bought a farm. Do you like how before I drop a bomb I always say ‘y’all’? I blame it on my Southern husband.
Today is a day that I have been waiting for for a very, very long time. The day when The Elliott Homestead Family Table comes forth to you, my readers! I’ve been tucked away in my closet hiding from my children, I mean working hard, for the last year and a half to bring this cookbook
My little sister has seen me at my very worst, because, well… I tend to show up at her doorstep at my very worst. Like a few weeks ago when I showed up with disgusting children, mascara tears streaming down my face, and begged her for a wee bit of shampoo so that I could
I often receive emails from readers wondering where to begin their homesteading journey. And much to their disapproval, I’m sure, I always respond with the same, vague answer (which I’m sure offers them no help but I say it anyway): DREAM. I can’t overemphasis the importance of dreaming for the homesteader. Because, after all, who
Remember that time you were pregnant, for your fourth time, and you felt pretty tuckered? And remember when it only took 14? 15? 16? (how many weeks am I again? does anyone even count the 4th time?) to grow out of your brand new wardrobe that you finally splurged on after weaning the last baby?