WillaBella Farm

Hello Parents!

We had such a fun time with your kiddos at Farm Science Camp this Summer that due to popular demand…Teaching Tuesdays will return to our Historic Farm this Fall!🌻

Back to school we go BUT the work on a Regenerative Farm continues! Come join us after school for more learning, gathering, preserving and tasting of the seasonal farm bounty Kid Style!

We are offering the following Fall Youth Camps for kids 7-11yrs old:

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🍇Camp #1 GRAPE CRUSHING (CAMP IS NOW FULL) – Sept 16th 3:30-5:30 $45 -During this camp your child will harvest the remaining historic Island Belle Grapes, learn about fermentation processes, testing brix, preservation, managing a healthy vineyard, destem, prep and crush grapes into juice!

🍎Camp#2 APPLE PRESSING (CAMP IS NOW FULL!) Sept 23rd 3:30-5:30 $45 -During this camp your child will harvest the last of the cider apple trees, taste the differences, learn about orchard integrated pest management, sugar density, and press apples into cider!

🍯Camp#3 HONEY HARVESTING (CAMP IS NOW FULL!) -Sept 30th 3:30-5:30 $45- During this camp your child will learn about winterizing honeybee colonies, observe varroa mite & pollen under the microscope, the science of honey storage, prepare frames and harvest honey!

🍐Camp#4 FRUIT DEHYDRATION -Oct 7th 3:30-5:30 $45 – During this camp your child will learn about the changing seasons in the orchard, discuss fall fruit tree care, gather remaining fruit, learn fruit pollination processes, chemistry of food denaturation & prep fruit for dehydration!

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Please register via the Venmo Link Below. Also be sure to include your child’s name, camp number and email in the comment section, so that we may email your confirmation with camp drop off logistics. Any questions please contact us at 253-355-0603 or roseorchards@comcast.net 🍁

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Hello Friends! 

Our environmental science son Will, has been learning how to grow Microgreens for the past 6 months as part of a cohort with the Make a Difference Foundation. 

The program has now come to a close, so he has decided to launch a small Ag business to help fund his final year of college. Drum roll please…Introducing Willard’s Greens! 🥁

We have been offering his nutritious Microgreens at the farm stand each week AND now our loyal customers are asking for more!

So he will begin taking orders for home delivery this month AND all winter long! 🚚 

You can chose a single 6oz tray of Nutritious Microgreens for $6 each: Radish, Sunflowers, Beets & Peas or mix and match. No minimum order required🫛 

These little morsels are delicious added to salads, pizza, sandwiches or to Jazz up your recipes! 

He will be delivering FREE of charge to the Point Fosdick, Fox Island & Uptown GH areas on Mondays & Fridays. Simply click on the Venmo link below to order 1 or more…OR try a weekly CSA and get your greens the easy way! 

Thank you in advance for supporting his efforts. Any questions please reach out to him at WillaBella@icloud.com 💚

PLEASE SPECIFY IN COMMENT SECTION:

1. Microgreen: Radish, Sunflower, Beet or Pea
2. Quantity/4oz Tray
3. Delivery Day/Time preferred
4. Delivery Address
5. Email or phone for order confirmation
6. THANK YOU!! 🌱

Thankfully the rainy days of Fall lend themselves to rest and regeneration. So here I sit compelled to write, coffee & fingertips at hand.

I turned 57 during election week. Like many older ladies my age, I have lived a full complex life with many experiences. When you reach this stage of life, most of us have held various vocations & advocations and have put up with a lot of Bullsh—💩

Experiences shape us into the multidimensional humans that we are, which impacts the way that each of us Vote. So goes my rant if you have the time…

I was raised Irish Catholic in a small Democratic mining town in southwest Montana🍀 The youngest of 8 in a single parent home, my Mom a hardworking elementary school teacher. My absentee Dad, a used car salesman. My home town is literally the birthplace of one of the first organized labor Unions founded June 1878!

After those tumultuous teenage years, I loaded my car and moved to Seattle at 19yrs old. Putting myself through College in the big city. Eating Ramen, studying science and eventually graduating with a BS from the University of Washington. For the first time, this shy rural girl found my voice. My mind blown by a big beautiful diverse world.

After college, I struggled to find work, spending more money on grad school and finally struck pay dirt. Spending the better part of sixteen years working in a mostly conservative-minded, male led global Fortune 500 medical sales environment….While also happily married 25 years to a proud Union Firefighter 🧑‍🚒 

With both of us having stressful careers and a desire to be home with my kids, I took some time off. Those were my healthiest years, both mentally and physically. Constantly immersed in nature, helping at school & learning how to care for our 100yr old farm organically. Seeing first hand the effects of a broken food system on public health, I chose to give my time over the next 8 years to support local food system projects in mostly liberal minded circles. Once again experiencing a wide range of beautifully diverse views & cultures. With kids in tow, I had found my passion. It was political and not an easy road to navigate, but I loved every minute!

Eventually forced to return to corporate sales, finding space in medical diagnostics research this time around. Working once again in a toxic stressful career. One that never loved me, but one that lucratively helped me get my worn out first responder hubby to retirement. For that I am grateful. Both of us beyond happy to have achieved that milestone earlier this year. As I reflect on my life experiences, the following is why I vote the way that I do….

1. Myself, like many others have experienced both sides of the isle over a lifetime of living. As a result, people like me have no tribe. I have always been a somewhat feisty, non conformist. Likely from fending off a gang of Type A older siblings, always telling me what to do. I have never truly felt like I fit in anywhere, not in my career, not in my volunteer work, not even in my own family. A black sheep, a perpetual outsider. A keeper of bees, I rarely follow the hive mind. Which leads me to ask…What ever happened to celebrating the free thinkers?🐝 

2. This is a challenge for people like me, because we Americans are now forced to pick the red or blue tribe period. There is no middle ground anymore. If we vote on a split ballot, we are somehow bad people, unloyal. Our family has a wide range of friends that are both Republican and Democrat. In today’s polarized climate, I only trust my closest friends with my deepest self, because they know my heart. Complete strangers do not know who we are deep down and therefore are less tolerant of our choices. Following social media is superficial and not the same as really knowing someone. As I learned in sales 101, always seek to understand. Which leads me to ask…What happened to choosing leaders based on their experience & merit, not their religion or party?☮️

3. In my late 40s, having spent time in almost every denomination in town, our family gave up organized religion altogether. Primarily because we became saddened by the ongoing political narrative infiltrating christianity over the last decade. I simply no longer felt that my children were safe there. The horrible rhetoric that my fellow Christian’s were supporting was beyond shocking. We gave our children a foundation with as many experiences as possible, so that they can choose their own path, true to their own individuality. We need no man or woman to stand between our deepest self and our spiritual beliefs. And there is absolutely no place for politics in that sacred space. Our farm is now our church. Which leads me to ask…Whatever happened to God wanting spiritual fruits, not religious nuts?🐓

4. As a high energy, deep feeling person, I tend to overreact. So I have worked hard through years of therapy to temper my emotions when making decisions. Having done my share of campaigning and embarrassing myself in front of powerful people over the years, I am deeply afraid to speak up anymore. Despite years of sales training and the gift of gab, my days of going before council and serving on community boards are over. Speaking on importance of healthy ecosystems, humane animal husbandry and the biology of soil should not be polarizing topics, but sadly everything seems to be these days. Having been screamed at, degraded and bad mouthed by all sides. I now chose to hide behind my gate and no longer put myself out there. Sharing your inner self is a dangerous game. If the self righteous happen to hear you, it could cost you in devastating ways. Which leads me to ask…What ever happened to the days of tolerating each other and celebrating diverse viewpoints? 💕

Bottom line, although we need them, I believe that most politicians, religious leaders and powerful people in our communities are full of crap and the very inspiration behind my stinky vote sign. I have gotten acquainted with several of them with my local outreach work and have learned that most (not all) are in it for themselves. So let’s stop fighting over these fools. The loss of friends and family over the last decade still haunts me.

So what does this all mean and why bother writing about it? Well after spending this election week traveling to/from Montana spending time with my elderly mother & with my bestie, both amazing educated women with opposite political viewpoints. Two female educators coming from their own set of life experiences. I finally realized that my personal views over the last few years now fall somewhere in the middle of this spectrum. Our reciprocal, female relationships run deeper than any political narrative and those are worth preserving.

I returned home to my family, reviewing candidates & initiatives one by one. Having long thoughtful discussions with our children as we filled out our ballots. My twenty something college age son making his own informed decisions, choosing to lean one direction while also voting a split ticket. An environmental science major, we love this young man for all of his inner goodness, regardless of how he marks his ballot. Resist the temptation to indoctrinate your kids to religion or politics…We desperately need the next generation to think on their own!

A Message To My Children:

Voting is your right even if the outcome is not what you had hoped for. Political figures are not who any of us should be looking up to. Especially polarizing figures who seek to divide us. You are surrounded by decent men & women who are good role models. Be they a teacher, a firefighter, a public servant, a friend..Always look for the helpers!

Learning to keep a safe distance from humans who we deem unsafe for our mental well being is a lesson best learned when young. Never develop an opinion about someone based on another persons view. Gossip is very damaging. Seek to always understand others through your own eyes.

Finding your own spiritual path that speaks to your soul is important. Never let anyone tell you how to think or feel. Diversity is beautiful in all living things, the world was never meant to look the same.

Always plant seeds for the future, be intentional, & stand up for the vulnerable. But most of all…Turn off the noise, respect thy neighbor and be true to yourself. 🇺🇸🌸🌎

#takecareteam #democracy #godblessamerica #unity #kindness #loveoneanother #peace #respectwomen #celebratediversity #separatechurchfromstate #betheexample #forourkids #forourfuture

When you live on ten acres, farmhouse set back off the road, surrounded by woods, you don’t see a lot of action. Both of us with public health careers, the gated entrance & peaceful solace is a therapeutic necessity. Never in a million years expecting this…

“Grab Kellee hurry..get her inside..hurry!” A calm but urgent tone radiating from my captain hubby’s commanding voice.

I have learned from living with this man for 22 years, never to second guess his sense of urgency. Not a sound I hear very often coming from my very reserved first responder. One to never overreact OR react in general. I turn on my heels, grabbing my elderly yellow laborador by the collar, rushing her inside the enclosed farm house porch.

Closing the door behind me, I return to the scene to see a very stout brown animal scurry past the people standing outside. The animal pushes through the door of our smaller guest house. A former wood shop transformed into a family gathering place on our historic farm.

Screams radiating from inside. I rush inside to confront what appears to be a very large Bull Mastiff. Having never seen this animal in our neighborhood before, I gently reach my hand out to him. My elderly in-laws huddled behind the couch. Our young daughter standing on top clutching a pillow, overcome in fear. I call to the dog, “Here Boy, Good Boy…Come..Come!”

A self proclaimed dog whisperer, I am surprised at this animals lack of response. Emptiness fills it’s eyes. A predatory dog on a mission. Shivers run down my spine. No connection to the humans surrounding him whatsoever.

“Show no fear”, I calmly say to the terror filled human eyes surrounding me, while my own body trembles. Having had dogs my entire life, I have never seen a canine look quite like that.

While my hubby & I work together to try to coherce the beefy animal back outside. My sister-in-law scurries along the driveway to rush her toddler grandson to her truck, parked a few feet away. They were visiting the farm, so little Wyatt could play with our 2 young goats. Oh no the goats!

I had them out of their pen for a short time with the toddler. The dog pushes his way past my hubby, knocking into my legs and exits the building, while I quickly rush out behind him to gather the goats.

One of the young wethers, Nubs, aptly named for his uneven horns from botched disbudding. My daughters first goat, rescued from a overcrowded hobby farm. He looks at the dog and turns to bolt, as any prey animal would. The raging wolf-like canine quickly takes chase, it’s not long before he has little Nubsie in his grasp, chomping down on his skinny neck. The sweet innocent goat screeching in pain, paralyzed in fear.

In seconds, but what feels like ages playing out in slow motion, I am on top of the dog, desperately punching the animal in the head. Grasping the upper jaw, a proven technique, working to get the animal to release my daughter’s beloved goat. Screams, both animal and human, radiate from everywhere. I have never felt such a powerful animal under my grasp. None of my efforts work, but I will not let this goat die in front of my daughter today.

My elderly father-in-law, yelling from the guest house begging me to get out of there. From the corner of my eye, I see my young son exiting the doorway. Concerned that he’s coming to my aid, he takes off running in the opposite direction. My kindergartner still screeching from inside. I thrust everything I have into my attempt to tackle this powerful animal, jaws literally locked shut. He does not budge. I repeatedly punch him in the head over and over again. Goat hollering a gut wrenching, ear piercing, bleating scream.

My hubby, fearful of dogs, having been brutally attacked by a pack of dogs as a child, runs to get his gun. My brother-in-law grabbing a tire iron from the back of his truck. Launching numerous blows to the dogs back. Miraculously, and after what felt like an eternity, the unwelcome monster let’s go of the goat.

The animal teeth bared in rage, turns and runs straight at my husband. Still grappling with the bullet box, spilling them all over the garage floor. We all scream. One shot echoes out, as the dog staggers around the corner, dropping dead instantly in our grape orchard. The whole scene happened so fast. We all stand in shock.

Still holding on tightly to Nubs, feeling his trembling body, blood literally spouting straight out of his neck, screaming in pain. With all my might, I heft this 80 pound animal into the canopy of my Toyota farm truck, before the stunned men can even blink an eye. Speeding in desperation out of the driveway, fully expecting my daughter’s sweet goat to perish a painful death in the bed of a dusty old truck. Overwhelmed in panic, I rush off to my large animal vet, dialing the clinic as I exit our gate.

In the clinic atbay, the veterinarians work to stabilize Nubs with an IV, while plugging the gaping holes in his neck. I watch his trembling little limp body in shock, his sweet slanted eyes pleading to me. Goats are literally the kindest farm animals that ever lived. I am overcome with sadness for the little guy. The vet says his jugular vein has been punctured, but thankfully all neck bones appear intact. He has lost alot of blood and may not make it. How will my daughter ever recover from losing her first ever baby goat? They treat him with heavy antibiotics for his wounds. He will need to stay the night at the hospital for monitoring, as infection is likely to follow.

Meanwhile at the farm, some neighbors heard all the screaming and called 911. Officers arrive, along with animal control quickly behind. Apparently, this is the second bull mastiff on a killing spree this day. One had been killing chickens at a farm down the road and was also shot by the farm owner. The officer working to find out if there is a connection between this dog and the other, as she takes the body away in her van.

Leaving Nubsie in good care, I return back to the farm. As I pull in, I see the animal control van driving away down our road. Grateful not to be home to witness all of that, this was someone’s dog. An extreme animal lover, my heart can not bear to think about that right now.

We gather together with grandparents in the guest house, hugging and recapping what in the hell just happened. Our little one wrapped around my legs, traumatized & shaken. Reassuring her that little Nubsy will be okay and we can go visit him in the hospital tomorrow. My hubby stands broken, feeling terrible about having taken down the animal in defense. The other men reassuring him that it was a dangerous animal and could have seriously injured or killed any one of us. Thank goodness it didn’t grab a child or the little visiting toddler cousin. My gut aches reflecting on what could have happened if a child had started running, triggering a chase. Nubs literally was the sacrificial goat. We are all immensely grateful.

My sweet strong husband explains how he saw the animal coming. Watching him crawl under the fence, entering our field. He grew concerned when the animal blew past the chickens, heading straight for the house. It was a beautiful sunny spring day, family gathered outside with the kids playing in the sunshine with our animals. He didn’t want to disrupt the moment, but his instincts were spot on. It was as if this animal was on a mission, seeking out something specific. “That’s when I yelled for you to grab our dog”. As we recap the experience, everyone’s nerves begin to calm. Tears and shock remain in my young daughters eyes.

“Where is Will?” My mother-in-law interrupts. A true grandmas boy, she notices that he is missing before his own mother does. I’ll never deserve an award for the most endearing mother, that is for sure. That title belongs to Grandma Rose.

I rush out of the guest house and around the building, to find my brave 4th grader still huttled in the underground, cement room of the guest house. I take him by the hand and lead him back inside. We all chuckle..Thats our brave boy, making sure to save himself first!

A little guy of few words..he wraps his arms around his Amma expressing his relief with those big brown eyes. My little introvert, always deep in thought, asking if there will be cake & returning to his video game. This kid always associating cake during any family event.

Night falls. Everything seems to return to normal. Kids tucked away to bed. The singular goat, Wilson crying out in the distance for his friend. If you’ve ever had goats, then you know that a lone goat is a very noisy goat. The vet calls with an update on Nubs. Still sedated, radiography shows nothing broken, tough little dude hanging strong. She will know more in the morning.

I head outside to lock up the chickens and comfort Wilson. I hear a man’s voice in the distance calling for his dog. I rush inside asking my husband to join me outside, wondering if there is a connection. A gut wrenching sound in the darkness, I have been there before. We decide to leave a message for the animal control officer, asking that she contact us in the morning.

Sunrise on the farm, roosters crowing, scrambling to get kids fed and off to school. We hear a car pulling up the driveway. The animal control officer has returned with some bad news. Turns out there is no connection to the other Bull Mastiff that she took in. The one that attacked us actually belonged to our neighbor, just two doors down. My heart sinks. I don’t know the man well, but I do recall him as one of our kind neighbors that helped look for our lost dog. (See https://willabellafarm.com/2020/08/24/kellee-dogs-story/).

Feeling physically ill, and thankful for a recent promotion to Corporate accounts, affords me the ability to cancel all conference calls and take the day off to begin to process the magnitude of this random event.

The kind officer gently explains that the neighbor was out of town, leaving the dog in his estranged wife’s care. She apparently neglected the dog and hence he broke out of his enclosure. There is always more than meets the eye in the unique behavior of animals, especially dogs. The officer further tells us that the animal had been required to be contained, because it had attacked a jogger with a small dog a few months ago. I felt sad for my neighbor, but realized that a dog that size with an aggressive history could have killed someone. We had to give away a herding dog many years ago, due to some aggressive behavior toward humans, so I get it.

Days passed, I felt a lump in my throat knowing that we would eventually need to contact the dog owner. Not to mention the $3k in emergency vet bills I needed to discuss with him.

That evening, I peer out the window to see the dog owner standing in our driveway. My hubby emerging from the guest house to confront him. I quickly stop doing dishes and rush outside. My hubby taking a strong stance, thankfully the dog owner appears humble. Softening his posture, my hubs explains that he had no choice, but to protect his family. Sadness fills the neighbors eyes. He seems like a good guy. We exchange information and he leaves the driveway.

A few days later he appears again. Quietly approaching me out working in the front field. He reaches out to hand me $200 cash. I thank him. Pointing to the injured goat in the barn, on my way to give him his daily subcutaneous antibiotic injection and clean his wounds. I ask if he’d like to meet the goat, looking timid, he declines. We discuss the cost of his care and he asks that I leave the invoice in his mailbox. I explain that we are willing to split the bill to make amends for his perished pet.

He talks about getting another dog, as he has just gone through a painful divorce, divulging his personal challenges with me. I empathize for a bit, but honestly the mental wounds are still raw, as I help my kids recover from the trauma & the daily care and expense of an injured goat. As he departs, I jokingly holler “If you get another Bull anything I will kick your arse!”

He laughs and all is well among neighbors.

Fast forward many months, we never see any more money from the neighbor. But we are much more grateful for the opportunity to live in peace with him. Years pass quickly, kids grow like weeds. No longer letting goats out of the pasture to forage anymore. The entire front of the property surrounded by predator proof fencing now. Nubs, along with his brother Wilson, eventually move onto our Nanny’s farm, during what became a very crazy busy time in our lives. Working corporate accounts, traveling all the time, kids busy with school & endless activities, the little critters just weren’t getting the attention they deserved.

The Red Shed Barn transformed as housing hogs for our family freezer (see https://willabellafarm.com/2021/03/14/here-piggy-piggy/). My farming experiments expand exponentially as I learn to raise my own pastured pork, butcher chickens, grow better fruit, raise bees etc. I begin to spend countless volunteer hours immersed in food system outreach, pining to offer something more meaningful to society than simply earning myself a living.

Retired from corporate life now as a result of the Pandemic, my codependent brain still always in overdrive. Shifting gears toward teaching youth about healthy ecosystems. I leverage my daughters magic with her father to adopt Nigerian dwarf goats & Julianna pigs as pets to help teach farm camp kiddos about regenerative food production.

My sales pitch includes detailed scientific justification. Preaching that livestock serve multiple purposes to rehabilitate our fallow fields, provide compost for the orchards, helping educate community kids, while earning extra money to offset my expensive farm addiction. He begrudgingly relents…Happy happy farmy fetish day!

New pet farm animals installed, my daughter in love with her fur babies, I begin to dream of breeding my own animal one day. Learning to milk along with my kids. Maybe even making our own cheese & goat milk soap. Every step in this small farming journey carefully calculated around my tired first responder hubby’s mood.

Leaving my sales career, during a never ending global pandemic to focus on keeping our family mentally & physically healthy, I challenge myself to learn something new each farming year. I begin to make a few secret calls to some farmy goat pals, while always including my daughter in on my plans. Covert girl stuff, no time for boring boy nonsense.

Fall arrives, our now middle schooler showing some strange physical symptoms, I take her to my Naturopath and we learn that she is allergic to literally everything farmy, including the dreaded dairy & eggs….NOW there is no question that goat milk is a necessity on our small farm! Supporting my argument even further with the skeptical hubs.

Welcome the arrival of a registered Nigerian Dwarf buck to romance my daughter’s 4H diary goat. She & Cookie girl never making it to the fair for “quaranteen” reasons already explained. Sir Hope Hollow Cocoa The Buck joins our herd, with the excitement of bouncing kids by June!

He is a smelly, raunchy dude ready to party. Upon delivery by my very knowledgeable livestock friend Sherie, of whose farm our Cookie girl and her brother Dusty Bun were bottle raised. The buck enters the first pasture and immediately gets to work separating the wethers from our single doe. Squeeling in delight, foaming from the mouth and flemming like crazy.

Cookie begins to flirt with the little buck pretending to play hard to get. Weeks follow, observing the bizarre goat mating rituals, including the not so rare Bucky behavior of peeing on his own beard. Apparently an attractive cologne for the ladies.

Always pushing myself to take on more than one farmer can handle, I convince the hubs to let me adopt a Great Pyranees puppy to protect our livestock. Experiencing an increase in wildlife predators this past year as well. Having lost our young cat Maple, many many chickens and my beloved mamma Muskovie duck taken in broad daylight, right before my eyes. The coyotes and raccoons literally taking over our farm. Our sweet Kellee girl passing away from old age last spring, leaving our chocolate lab Roxie to manage things on her own.

I am “Groot” joins our farm family. A giant puppy towering over our five year old lab will take at least a year to train properly. This breed is prone to roam, having protected large flocks of sheep covering expansive lands for thousands of years. More hog panels, with T-post welded wire fencing, will be in order to avoid another lost dog adventure. Draining our savings once again. Every action typically has a more expensive reaction in small sustainable farming.

Wired like no other, and in complete contrast to a Labrador Retriever. Those lovable Labs, with tail up, head down, eager to chase a ball or capture small rodents for you. Labs are often tricked by sly coyotes, which I have observed first hand myself. One predator distracts the dog away, while another slips in from the side to steal your sweet momma Muskovie Duck. Running too fast to catch up to, sneaking away under the blackberry bushes, never to be seen again.

It wasn’t the beheaded chickens or even the lost cat. This was the defining moment for me right there, scratched and bloody, standing helpless in the middle of the thick brambles. It is time to take on the challenge of training a Livestock Guardian Dog.

Great Pyranees, equally loving if socialized properly, with head up, tail down, keenly aware of their surroundings, are never to be tricked. These dogs will literally tear a coyote to bits to protect whoever he deems is his flock. Our hope is this majestic guy, wired with GPS, will not break out of fencing, like many other independent thinkers. He will be a working LGD with many important jobs to do, including protecting our farm, Momma Cookie and her babies. While also teaching me some important lessons on slowing down and being more patient…AND so continues the beautiful struggle of small farm animal life.

Thank you for following along on the next phase of our farming journey..We hope to share good news of goat kids coming this June and sharing our experience with our Farm Camp Kiddos! 🌱

*Please visit our social media pages RoseOrchards-WillaBellaFarm on Facebook, @willabellafarm on Instagram, and our blog at http://www.WillaBellaFarm.com for 2022 Farm Science Camp registration to be announced in April.

Thank you Rylea Foehl photography & Pierce County Fresh for choosing us to help tell our farming story & support our regenerative outreach mission!…More of Rylea’s photos at https://ryleafoehl.com/🌻

Hello Friends, I am Kathleen, welcome to my small farming journey! This is not my life story, but rather a brief glimpse of my 50 something years on the planet and how I transformed from a corporate sales executive into a sustainable farmer & fresh food advocate. This blog was created to hopefully help inspire, bring awareness and paint a bigger picture view of why myself (and others) continue to chose this small regenerative farming labor of love. Along with growing nutrient dense organic food, I also enjoy writing fun, farmy true stories as my own personal therapy. I have embedded some for your viewing pleasure below. If you’d prefer to just learn about our offerings & outreach mission, feel free to scroll to the bottom of this blog..Enjoy AND Thank You for following along! ☮️

CHILDHOOD MATTERS: If you truly want to get to know someone, always ask about their upbringing. This is where hope, dreams, & experiences shape our view of the universe.

I grew up the youngest of 8 kids to a single Mom in a rural Montana mining town. After a series of bad choices, my Dad walked out on us. I was just 7 years old. Children that age remember the traumas, not so much the good stuff. I recall my elementary years as a very stressful tumultuous time. My mother got busy putting herself through college, earning her masters degree and worked as a full time kindergarten teacher to support our family. She would come home after a long day of teaching little kids to feed & care for eight mouths of her own on a teachers salary. There was no support, financial or otherwise…none. Thankfully my Mom’s parents lived next door, albeit strict they provided the emotional support we all needed. Despite the stress of living lean in a chaotic household with seven older siblings, I had a beautiful freeing upbringing, mostly alone roaming the open landscape. While also a very lonely childhood, BUT that’s a story for another day…

When I turned eighteen, after some brutal teenage experiences, eager to forge my own way in the world, I hopped in my 72 silver Honda Civic. Giant teddy bear strapped in back seat and headed 800 miles to the big city. My little car, the only possession I owned paid for with part time job at the local Paul Bunyan sandwich shop. I was still a baby, young and fearless. Seattle was culture shock to say the least. Working multiple jobs to put myself through college. Cleaning windows in downtown skyscrapers, emptying garbages at spooky golf courses in the middle of the night, working the front desk at medical clinics, even shoveling poop at local shelters. Despite demanding school hours and multiple jobs, I seemed to always find time to venture off to play in the beautiful Pacific Northwest woods, fishing pole in hand like a well bred outdoor ‘Tana girl. Immersed in nature, something I still love to do with my kids to this day.

PERSEVERANCE: Bad choices and lack of supervision left me with a low highschool grade point. If memory serves, I barely graduated with a 1.7 GPA. Yep that’s true. I was not stupid, just a fatherless party girl looking for fun in all the wrong places. Arriving in the big city, I signed up for community college first, with some credits I had earned at a local Montana college earlier that summer. That was 1985, back in the day when struggling rural colleges still had to take you!

I worked hard to cover up my past failures and earned my AA, eventually getting accepted into the University of Washington under the direct transfer arrangement. Working a full time job in a physiotherapy clinic & 4 tough years later, I graduated from UW with a Bachelor of Science & started grad school. Finding work for a meager salary at a medical insurance company. With mounting student loans and tired of eating ramen, I bailed on grad school after just two semesters. Accepting a medical sales associate position for the global medical company ThermoFisher Scientific, working for their clinical diagnostics division. Basically hired as a “rep in training” to support the professional sales reps, selling laboratory testing to acute care hospitals. The only problem, I had earned a BS degree in Speech & Hearing Science NOT Clinical Laboratory Science. I didn’t even know what a graduated beaker was, let alone a complex automated chemistry assay!

Lucky for me, I landed an amazing supportive regional manager named Jim, who took a chance on me changing the trajectory of my life. Just one week into training, he offered me an open sales territory of my very own. He always said that he could tell a “born consultative sales person.” My absentee father was a car salesman, perhaps it was in my genes. Jim became my mentor, my biggest cheerleader and started the process of helping me polish my craft. Providing caution that when I became successful to never have an ego, treat support staff like gold, and always remember where you came from. We remain good friends to this day and I will forever be grateful to him for giving me the direction and support I so desperately craved.

I worked for Thermo for 8 years, studying the complex world of microbiology, immunochemistry and infectious disease. Along with some of the best sales training in the industry, I became a top sales account manager. Earning presidents club every year. In my fifth year awarded one of the largest sales bonuses in the country. Promotion to corporate accounts followed, because they could no longer afford me maximizing the pay plan. This is by no means meant as a bragging rap sheet, but rather to provide a glimpse into how driven I have always been, channeling my work survivor ethic from my dear sweet, hard ass mother. I believe that self confidence is channeled from others. When a human is given love & support, you can literally accomplish anything!

Through much therapy later in life, I also learned that over achiever mentality often ties back to lack of parental love. It has its benefits in corporate America no doubt, but can be all consuming and very hard on ones psyche and relationships. More on that later..

FARMIN’ LOVE: Early in my sales career, I met & married my soul mate, firefighter (now Captain) Rose. We bought a tiny one room cabin on the water with our laborador Kena, living a blissful five years in our little paradise. This was the place where I grew my very first garden. Planting my first crops in makeshift raised beds by assembling old railroad ties left along the beach. Soaked in yes you got it creosote! I shudder to even think about that..Boy have I ever grown in my organic food knowledge since that time. We would return to my home in Montana to backpack every summer, until a grizzly encounter changed all that. See my first ever short story:(https://willabellafarm.com/2020/07/22/go-away-bear/)

Pregnant with our first born, we purchased our 100yr old vacant farmstead with proceeds from the cabin & down payment from a large sales bonus that I worked my butt off for that year. That decision changed our lives forever!

The historic 10 acre farm was overgrown with forty heirloom fruit trees hidden in the thicket, historic knotty grape orchard, native plants, huge trees, deep forest, & fresh water creek leading to the bay. Along with a sinking rustic 1912 craftsman farmhouse & multiple dilapidated outbuildings. It was beautiful underneath it all, but the amount of work would become overwhelming beyond belief. We would find the time in between our brutal work schedules & raising babies to harvest and keep up on all the immense maintenance that comes from owning property.

The first few summers, we were so overwhelmed with fruit, literally raining down from the huge heirloom trees. Pears, apples, figs galore! We ended up giving most away to the food bank and anyone who would take it. Until our accountant suggested that we sell at the local farmers market to help offset our high taxes for the farm. So my wonderful in-laws, with our infant son in tow, could be found week after week dolling out organic goodness to long lines of fresh fruit loving folks. We became known as “Those Fig People” drawing a hungry crowd for our Vashon Violet delicacies planted by the Hansen family 100 years ago. I loved the energy that came from sharing our bounty with the community. My adorable sweet elderly father in law always out in front interacting with our fans, while educating folks on sustainable growing practices. Born and bred a Roy farm boy, I learned so much from him. We were farmy kindred spirits.

As the years past, Every spare moment was spent watching the seasons, listening to the land, the wildlife, and slowly bringing the farm back to life. While keeping natural ecosystems intact as the Hansen family had done so many years ago (see “Mary’s Heritage Place” for the history of our farm https://willabellafarm.com/2020/12/10/marys-heritage-place/)

A GREATER VIEW: After the birth of our second child, I took a break from work and signed up with WSU Extension to become a master gardener. I desperately wanted to learn how to truly take care of this beautiful land sustainably. The experience opened doors to so much collaboration with other farmers, conservation organizations and some truly amazing smart humans..AND and I thought only laboratory scientists were this intellectually complex!

Continuing to build on this foundation, learning about regenerative ecosystems and studying constantly. Signing up for the Peninsula Fruit Club and the best $20 bucks I ever spent!

Along with various other local food based organizations. We began to build large garden plots for veggies, coverting the hillside slope for cane berries, adding chickens & livestock shelters and fencing..oh so much fencing my neck hurts just thinking about it. Every bit of labor and input ourselves. We started growing for our local Fresh Food Revolution Co-op in the summer, using the small amount of proceeds for the kids college funds and help with Tax deductions. All the while chipping away at endless building restoration projects, as bonus money and time would allow. Truly a money pit from hell, but loving every minute.

Most small farmers have a second career or a partner that works fulltime away from the farm to pay the bills. Many have college degrees and are constantly in a state of self study mode….Seems I was cut out for farming all along!

I worked very hard in the corporate sales world, loved my customers as family, and the money oh the money. But having taken on bigger roles with other diagnostic companies by now, the corporate climb became toxic & travel away from home was brutal. Something was missing deep in my soul (See my WordPress story “Not Our Chicken” https://willabellafarm.com/2020/10/04/not-our-chicken/)

FARMING IS COMMUNITY SERVICE: For every potato and egg uncovered, I found myself daydreaming about the endless farm potential and drawn to the amazing power of organically grown food. The impact it had on community health, food access, soil biology and the environment. More and more of my time was spent on the farm and less doing the job I was being paid to do. I loved growing and sharing our organically grown goodness, but my heart was pulled to provide even more…

So without hesitation and enough in savings to carry us for awhile, I quit my six figure salary and began volunteering in local food system outreach. Exponentially increasing my time spent on local farms, markets, co-ops, boards, & committees. My kids joining me on many of my adventures. Our little farm team volunteering to teach others how to propagate fruit trees, build mason bee houses and worm bins at local farmers markets.

Helping increase community awareness around the SNAP ED Program, along with my volunteer commitments to the Master Gardener plant clinics. My son hosting his own youth farm stand, learning to grow better food and the endless hours of politics…oh my word the politics! Something that would eventually become the death of my internal outreach spirit.

If your going to drop everything and give back, you must be healthy of mind & home. Raised in strict organized religious faith, I had spent the first half of my life living in fear of the unknown. Mostly spending time with people who looked and believed as I did. Food system outreach thrust me into a beautiful world of diversity. Getting acquainted with people of all walks of life, color and creed. Most of my meetings held in low income areas, aka “food deserts”. Places I would have feared going to before. As I engaged with a wide array of eclectic humans on this greater food access mission, suddenly overnight I was no longer fearful. I began building a symphony of friends and deeper understanding of this beautifully diverse plant & human world that I had seemingly been closed off from before, in my own mind.

Our farm has since become our church and that works just fine for us. Having found my own spiritual path (with man nor woman no longer in the middle) providing a much deeper, peaceful connection to God. Upon witnessing the goodness of complete strangers come together to help me find my lost dog. I felt an even stronger pull to share the blessings of this abundant farm as a means to give back to my community. (see “Kellee Dogs Story” https://willabellafarm.com/2020/08/24/kellee-dogs-story/)

It was right after that gut wrenching lost dog experience, that I reached out to the city administrator of my small town, offering to help start a farm focused/ fresh food access market. Our current local market was mostly artisan crafts with very few farmers. Having worked in public health and seen the negative effects of a broken industrialized food system, I wanted to use my not so polished sales skills for something greater. My supportive husband seeing the need to connect our community to local farms, culinary chefs and healthy farm 2 table real food!

This new true Farmers Market prospect would focus primarily on the connection between healthy food & environmental education. It would be a positive community project, I naively mused. Our family would need to give up our anonymity & put ourselves out there, but it would be okay because we were doing something good. Yeah right. Nope dead wrong. More on that adventure later. http://www.southsoundtalk.com/2015/05/13/waterfront-farmers-market-in-gig-harbor/

NAIVE FARM GIRL: After a 2 year long sabbatical, and running out of funds, I returned to sales much to my chagrin. Finances were tight as we continued to sink our savings into the farm. I had accepted a sales leadership position as a Reagent Specialist leading a team covering 4 states selling immunochemistry testing to local hospitals, for the global leader BioMerieux. Our focus on infectious disease testing & launching a new procalcitonin biomarker assay for sepsis. I was pretty much gone that entire summer on a plane to some where. Working for a highly driven sales director. This public health work was meaningful and important, but the schedule was brutal. The farm went dormant.

In my spare airplane time, I began analyzing food & health system data, preparing spreadsheets and ultimately pulling together the SEED money to make this farmers market project of passion actually happen. I figured having been very successful in sales, that my big fat mouth could help local small farmers connect to the community. A win win for the local economy and our local food system.

It was a beautifully crafted SWOT analysis with various food system experts contributing to multiple strategic planning sessions, led by yours truly. However, somewhere along the way, this assertive, but very naive farm girl allowed the city administrator to be my forward facing voice. Feeding him all of my analysis paralysis from behind the scenes. Positioning myself only as needed to move all the players in the same direction. We were like two covert operators on a secret spy mission. Little did I know at the time, that our goals were vastly misaligned. Working my sales magic to pitch the project to numerous partners in search of the perfect non profit to take it on. Most medical sales professionals are slightly vaunting by nature. It’s sort of a requirement to be successful. My perseverance appreciated in some circles, not so much in others.

In February, after finding the organization to own the project and securing all partners needed, I walked away from the security of my high paying career and never looked back. This was right where I was supposed to be. The farmers market project was underway, a brutal intensive 6 month political process. I enjoyed reaching out and supporting our local farms and small producers, while diving deeper into food access programs and honing in on environmentally safe practices.

However I was just one lone farmy soldier thrown in with some very powerful players, wrapped inside a closed political bubble. I remained an outsider with a completely different view of the defined mission, despite my efforts to bridge the gap between my food access friends and this closed system of small city dwelling do gooders. So many agendas, so little time. My internal passion was chipped away day after day like a long slow painful convicted death. Despite the endless challenges, the market launch was a huge success.

As the season progressed, the original mission got lost in all the political gossip, along with my tiny insignificant voice. Turns out I never did have a voice to begin with. Much my own fault, as driven overachiever doesn’t work so well in a non profit model. Every penny of the $12K that I was paid for the project went to our personal lawyer and paid hourly to a friend to help me on market day. With the remaining intentionally fed back into the market producers. While I remained busy juggling multiple hats, my hubby & children sent to visit every booth week after week making sure to purchase farm fresh goods. I remember buying out one small farmer’s red plums at the end of the market one day, despite having our own loaded trees at home. It was important to us that our farmers went home with empty tables. We wanted them to be successful. They were our focus, and the reason we stepped up to do this in the first place.

My hubby would get off duty without any sleep and bring the kids to set up and break down canopies, load farm trucks, shlepping supplies home week after week, all of us crashing in exhaustion. The massive groups of volunteers that I was promised and food access program support never came to fruition. My hyper work hard, sleep when you die mentality wearing thin on close friends and family who showed up to help us each week. Adding yet another brainchild to the already unmanageable workload by harvesting and hosting our own RoseOrchards booth to share our bounty. Along with a co-op booth in support of small farmers unable to get away from their farms to attend the market. All the while managing 42 producers, multiple partners & coordinating umpteen environmental education tables. Tracking all the sales data and reporting outcomes week after exhausting week. So many personalities to manage, both inside the city and out. Trying to accomplish it all in the pursuit of perfection. Stupid stupid stupid. I actually lost 20lbs during that summer. Our entire family’s health suffered greatly.

In the end, I had given up a six figure salary to work my arse off to please everyone without one red cent or merely a whisper of a voice to show for it. The project morphed from my personal high energy weekly food access fix to the stressful tangled political mess I was now in. So many regrets. So many things I could have handled differently.

With the original farm team’s strategic mission deteriorating, physically & mentally drained, I continued to forge on longer than I should have. The false narrative about my intentions playing like a deafening chorus around me, keeping my head held high, while simply not wanting to let anyone down. My husband with a newly acquired shoulder injury from all that volunteer labor and my young kids begging to end the madness, I had no choice but to walk away. Despite my pleas to the many political powers that be, no lifelines would be coming anytime soon. A very public project for almost a year, our family quietly slipped away.

As difficult as it may be when emotions run high, I have learned that best to be silent, rather than spool up unnecessary public banter. Because as personal as it felt, it was never about us, it was about the farmers. I cried for many months afterward. I had thrown every bit of my codependent energy into this project. I had let myself down, I had let the farmers down. My internal outreach spirit had been broken.

OUTREACH INSANITY: Months passed, having learned some hard lessons from that experience. I realized that I needed to better leverage like minds and build an army of local food advocates, so I dusted off my ego and went to work again. Continuing on my mission to support small farms, help build a better local food system and educate others on the bigger global environmental & public health picture. Thankfully the market lives on without me (how is that possible grin😎) and continues to be a beautiful gathering of farmers & community still today.

I accepted a series of new projects some with positive outcomes, others not so much. Five busy years followed, yes 5 years! Trying my hand at grant writing, working with local partners to launch a buy local program, farmland preservation, supporting food co-ops, local food businesses, public speaking engagements, serving on multiple boards and committees. Deeply entrenched in endless strategy meetings with the Puyallup Watershed Initiative Ag COI in support of larger local agriculture food system impacts. Even being thrust to testify (and embarrass myself regularly) at local public hearings concerning farmland preservation and conservation easements. Who knew not all small farmers wish to place their farmland in perpetuity? This naive farmer wanna be, so so much to learn.

All the while studying & learning to produce better organically grown, nutrient dense food. Engaging local elected officials to help support the cause. It was all so invigorating, but beyond exhausting. The flurry of activity opened my eyes to just how political all the “earthy things” I cared about actually were. How deeply damaging small town gossip was, while also learning a lot about my self.

The single most important takeaway from my five years as a farmy political positioner and something I recite to my kids in regularity:

ALWAYS speak up during times of injustice. AND Never, EVER develop an opinion about someone, based on another persons view. You will most certainly miss out enriching your life with some amazing humans if you do!👩‍🌾

MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS: It took some time to realize, but I also learned that I had a condition known as “codependency” from the lack of physical & emotional love as a child. Constantly working to prove myself to others to fill that void. While expecting excellence from those around me at all times. It worked well in corporate sales, where one is idolized and placed on stage every year at a national gala for all to admire. These traits were not so valued in small nonprofit outreach. Our marriage suffered as a result of all the time given to this crazy local food effort for little to zero money. 90% of my time logged as volunteer hours. All this added stress, while trying to manage the farm and raise two kids. Married to a dedicated leader in public service, experiencing his own work related stress, lack of sleep, chronic pain AND as could have been predicted…We both crashed…The relationship was in trouble.

Luckily for us after a painful half a year break, we got some help and began the brutal work of peeling the onion. Love me some farmy metaphors! Thrusting us down yet another path of 2 years of intensive family therapy. I had to quit every commitment, every committee. The farm went dormant once again, grapes left drying on the vine that fall. Even walking away from a grant I had written, where I would actually be getting paid for my efforts leading Pierce County Fresh. Turns out life’s little derailments have shitty timing sometimes.

Did you know that some of the highest suicide rates are among Firefighters AND Farmers? As self conscious humans, we tend to focus on our physical health, but rarely our mental health. If one does not deal with childhood issues they will eventually catch up with you. I am by no means an expert on behavioral health, nor an expert on anything for that matter. Speaking from my own experiences, our personal career motivations often tie back to childhood as well. Stress compounds day after day and unless we learn to unpack it through therapy, it often leads the human psyche down a path of personal destruction. Sometimes in the form of substance abuse, or other not so obvious addictions. Being needed in food system outreach became my personal drug of choice. With my husband managing his own demons, I escaped to a place where I felt valued. Having always felt like an outsider, a non-conformist since childhood, I had finally found my tribe.

Everyone is struggling with something, so getting help is okay… it really is. The very best investment you can ever make is diving deep into your inner self! Now I work hard every single day to temper my codependent tendencies and chose peace.

GROWING ECOSYSTEMS: In a regenerative farming ecosystem, food is hidden among native plants, trees and flowers, unlike typically row cropping. The goal is to use companion planting, permaculture, fruit tree guilds, vermi-composting, integrated pest management, no till practices and other organic techniques to combat pests and disease, sequester carbon & build healthy soil ecosystems. When you visit our farm, it is not easy to see all that is happening right in front of you. For every plant (or weed) you see, there is a teeming microbial community of life thriving underneath.

With every new season brings endless farm science experiments. Still a high energy, laboratory sales guy at heart, but much more grounded and centered now. My farm has become my outdoor laboratory, constantly studying the complex network of connections within the natural world. I remain focused on community through our personal farm mission AND no longer the agendas of the powerful few. Only engaging in food system policy on my defined terms. As a regenerative farmer & food system advocate, I have never worked so hard in all my life..BUT this journey continues to enrich me beyond measure.

We will always listen to the natural ways of our land, while slowly building a regenerative farming system. Some of our major farm accomplishments have been adding more fruit tree diversity, an herb garden, massive kiwi trellis system, Mason & Honey bees, beneficial insects, flowers, berries & numerous beneficial plants. We subscribe to no till/no harm methods. Pulling noxious weeds by hand, while never using any herbicides, pesticides or weed & feeds of any kind.

Building the clay soil with organic matter over the years. With endless opportunities to engage and introduce kids to the beautiful diverse world of where human food & animal food actually comes from. Teaching youngsters about Food Soil Web ecosystems is one of my greatest joys! 🐝

In an effort to become a “real” farmer. I also tried my hand at raising my own pork and fryers, while rehabbing our 100 year old fallow field…Oh those amazing rooting capabilities and golden poo! Turning out to be more emotional stress than I had bargained for, with no amount of juicy bacon being worth it. Having since gleaned so much respect for small livestock farmers, we now intentionally purchase our meat from them, choosing livestock only as pets for our youth education program and harvesting their enriching soil contributions!

My personal struggle with raising my own meat was real. You can read about my comical experience & why small non-containment livestock farming is best for the environment here: (“Here Piggy Piggy” https://willabellafarm.com/2021/03/14/here-piggy-piggy/)

FARM THERAPY: Prior to the pandemic lockdown, I had accepted a local job in medical research sales as times were tough again financially. (The beauty of being a proven sales guy, I am blessed to be able to return as needed). Our family was under tremendous stress living with a pandemic first responder, kids zoom schooling from home and grandma moving in. Both of us much older now and starting to feel the physical effects.

With the world crashing around us, I decided to stop the madness, giving up my comfortable salary once again. Placing my sole focus on our family and our farm. We spent quality therapeutic time as a family building a June bearing strawberry Hugelkulter garden. Utilizing our fruit tree cuttings and fallen leaves. While honoring my late father in law who loved their sweet tiny juiciness. Naming the space “Papas Patch”. The entire structure was innoculated with wine cap mushrooms to help break down organic matter making nutrients available to the plants. While also intentionally moving the bee hives in to help with pollination. The 100×100 foot space planted with over 200 strawberry plants in the shape of a peace sign…Lord knows the world needs more peace right now!

We are happy to report that we harvested over 200 lbs of organically grown strawberries from this patch our first season and the mycelium are taking hold nicely. It was a joy to share this bounty with the community at our weekly youth farm stand this past summer.

LABOR OF LOVE: There is rarely a livable wage in small regenerative crop farming. Our farm is no exception. It is a money pit cost center period. To provide some perspective, we spend approx $10K per year on all the inputs to keep the farm systems operating organically. Animal Feed, fodder, seeds, compost, organic controls, fencing, project materials, educational supplies etc etc. Some nominal income comes from our farm science camps, sharing our bounty with local restaurants and the youth farm stand. Depending on the season, we bring in roughly $5K per season with a goal to break even through agritourism….Yep that is it. Far from covering our expenses, let alone a livable wage!

Our season runs June-September. With the exception of kids helping harvest larger fruit crops, I am basically a one woman farmer, hot mess freak show. Working the farm 8 hours per day, every day during this time. You do the math! Every cent earned goes back into the farm and to our kids college funds. There is no profit ever.

So you ask? Why on earth do I continue to do all this exhausting labor for no money, with a perfectly lucrative sales career waiting in the wings? Well personal passions rarely have a simple answer friends. Like many small farmers, this is our chosen lifestyle. Basically our family cares deeply about preserving and building ecosystems, because what we do upstream affects every living thing downstream. We do our small part through educating, engaging, preserving, producing, protecting, building, nurturing, harvesting, sharing and hopefully inspiring others. In short, we believe in building a bigger table, sharing our bounty, teaching the younger generation, and preserving our one and only beautiful planet.

For me personally, success is not only measured in fiscal rewards. Rather now it’s more about making meaningful connections and being part of the greater good. Experimenting with science, Growing your own food & sharing the bounty has the power to do that!

I remain passionate about local food systems, healthy communities, public health and educating our youth on non anecdotal, scientific principles. Most small farmers invest in improving their practices and supporting the bigger local food system picture. I am fortunate to be able to return to sales, not every small farmer has that option…AND that is why I continue to advocate for others doing this difficult work. Our local governments need to do better to help sustainable farmers earn a livable wage. Food Supply Chain 101: Small Farming = Food Security.

A small farmstead needs nurturing every day, much like the interconnections between natural ecosystems. When the Farmer is away from the farm, the entire system collapses. My hope is to build the agritourism/education portion of our little business to stay true to our mission, with one day becoming a sustainable small business model with paid science educators. We hope to take on some WWOOFERS https://wwoof.net/ to help do the work, while educating the next generation of food producers. If I can can learn laboratory science and complex farming systems anyone can!

After 18 years on this land, we continue to share our extra bounty with our neighbors. Growing what I refer to as “A little bit of A lot of things”

Those include: Organically grown Figs, Pears, Apples, Cherries, Plums, Italian Prunes, Grapes, Kiwis, Quince, Bay, Herbs, Tomatoes, Raspberries, Strawberries, Blackberries, Blueberries, Mulberries, Numerous Root & Vegetable crops, Garlic, Flowers, Honey, Mushrooms & Fresh Eggs!

My body aches every day now, but I have so much more left to give. Yes it is work… beautiful, humbling, rewarding work and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

OUR MISSION NEXT YEAR & BEYOND🌱:

1. TEACH MORE FARM SCIENCE CAMPS for elementary aged kids, alongside our science teacher staff, June-Sept. All proceeds cover outreach farm operation costs

2. HOST SUNDAY YOUTH FARM/ART STANDS in summer months, offering fresh organically grown produce & teen nature art. All proceeds go to our teens and their friends to save for college!

3. PROVIDE AG LEARNING OPPORTUNITIES on the farm for teenage & college age WWOOFERS

4. SOURCE OUR ORGANICALLY GROWN FRUIT to more local restaurants who understand the bigger local food system picture

5. BUILD FRUIT TREE GUILDS to improve orchard health and build soils

6. PROPAGATE & PLANT MORE FLOWERS, NATIVE BERRIES & FLOWERING TREES to add bio diversity and help pollinators

7. PLANT HUGELKULTER FLOWER GARDENS to mitigate water runoff and provide higher margin specialty crop income

8. INOCULATE MORE MYCELIUM varieties among crops to help with improved nutrients, denser food and healthy ecosystems

9. PROVIDE MORE NATURE LEARNING OPPORTUNITIES for Children via local partners off the Farm. Immersion within our community, schools, farmers markets & local events that support our environmental outreach mission.

Thank you to all our partners, neighbors and friends for the support AND for following along this small regenerative farming journey🌸 If you enjoy short stories, wish to sign up your child for Science Camp OR just want to learn what produce is in season at our Farm Stand..Please visit us on Instagram or my blog at WillaBellaFarm.com. You can learn more about supporting small farms at https://eatlocalfirst.org/listing/pierce-county-fresh/

Welcome Friends! We are excited to relaunch our Summer Youth Farm Science Program for 7-12 year olds, located on our Historic Farm in Gig Harbor! See below for schedule & registration. Looking forward to immersing ourselves in nature with your kiddos! 🌱🌻🥕

OVERVIEW: Our summer schedule begins July 1st. Each camp is 2 half days in duration, hosted every Thursday & Friday from 9am-12:30pm. This is science based, environmental friendly curriculum and includes hands on farm learning. So prepare to get dirty and create some fun things from nature to bring home! All activities will be held outside on our farmstead, rain or shine. Space is limited, as we will be following current state Covid19 guidelines. So please be sure to register soon!

NOTE: Our science camps are designed for DROP OFF ONLY. If your child has special needs, requires a personal chaperone, or if you would like to schedule a parental tour of our farm, please reach out to Kathleen Rose at 253-355-0603

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SUMMER SESSIONS A:

CAMP#1A: THURS JULY 1 & FRIDAY JULY 2 9am- 12:30pm 🐝 Pollinators&Flowers/Soil Biology&Veggies/Livestock&Poultry/Propagation&Fruit – During this 2 half day camp your child will learn about native pollinators, ID flower parts, soil nutrients, microbes, plant veggies, regenerative agriculture, animal husbandry, ID fruit set, taste seasonal fruits&honey, propagate fruit trees and much more!

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CAMP#2A: THURS JULY 8 & FRIDAY JULY 9 9am-12:30pm 🐛Herbs&Natives/BeneficialBugs&Worms/Forest&FoodSoilWeb/Permaculture&Fungi -During this 2 half day camp, your child will learn about wild edibles, natural herbs, native plants, beneficial bugs, vermicomposting, forest ecosystems, dissect owl pellets, mycelium, companion planting, permaculture gardening & so much more!

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CAMP#3A: THURS JULY 15 & FRIDAY JULY 16 9am-12:30pm 🌼Seeds&Photosynthesis/Plants&Harvest/Ecosystems&Terrariums/Seasonal Nature Craft- During this 2 half day camp your child will learn seed dissection, plant biology, life cycles, plant molecules, photosynthesis, harvest organic edibles, healthy ecosystems, build terrariums, create seasonal crafts from forage and so much more!

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SUMMER SESSIONS B:

CAMP#1B: THURS JULY 22 & FRIDAY JULY 23 9am-12:30pm 🥕SoilBiology&Veggies/Pollinator&Flowers/Forest&FoodSoilWeb/Propagation&Fruit- During this 2 half day camp your child will learn about native pollinators, ID flower parts, taste seasonal honey & veggies, soil nutrients, microbes, forest ecosystems, dissect owl pellets, ID fruit set, propagate fruit trees and so much more!

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CAMP#2B: THURS JULY 29 & FRIDAY JULY 30 9am- 12:30pm 🌿 Livestock&Poultry/Plants&Harvest/Seeds&Photosynthesis/Seasonal Nature Craft- During this 2 half day camp your child will learn about regenerative agriculture, animal husbandry, create seasonal crafts from forage, plant biology, life cycles, seed dissection, plant molecules, photosynthesis, harvest organic edibles and so much more!

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CAMP#3B: THURS AUG 5 & FRIDAY AUG 6

9am-12:30pm 🍄 Ecosystems&Terrariums/Permaculture&Fungi/BeneficialBugs&Worms/Herbs&Natives- During this 2 half day camp your child will learn about healthy ecosystems, build terrariums, mycelium, companion planting, permaculture gardening, beneficial bugs, vermicomposting, wild edibles, natural herbs, native plants and so much more!

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TO REGISTER: Pre-payment is required via PayPal or Check. If paying by check please send email to roseorchards@comcast.net to request registration form. OR via PayPal at https://www.paypal.com/us/home Roseorchards@comcast.net

In paypal comment section, please include the following: CAMP SESSION NUMBER (ie #1A), CHILD’S NAME, AGE, EMAIL ADDRESS & PARENT PHONE. Parents will be sent confirmation via email with liability release form to bring to camp session. Any questions or concerns please contact us at 253-355-0603. Thank you!👩‍🌾

OUR TEACHERS:

KATHLEEN holds a Bachelor of Science degree from the University of Washington. She is retired from a 15 year career in clinical diagnostic/medical research sales, focused primarily on microbiology & immunochemistry. She is also a certified master gardener and operates her 100yr old historic, regenerative farm as a community outreach model. For the past 5 years, she has helped launch various community projects such as the waterfront farmers market, pierce county fresh & the peninsula female farmer network. Kathleen has served on multiple boards & committees supporting all things local food & healthy communities! She and her teenagers operate a weekly farm stand and teach others about regenerative agriculture. Kathleen also enjoys growing organic, nutrient dense produce, teaching youth about healthy ecosystems, writing short farm stories & spending time in nature with her family! 🌱

You can follow along at https://willabellafarm.com/ OR Facebook at RoseOrchards-WillaBella Farm & Instagram @willabellafarm AND https://eatlocalfirst.org/

DIANE holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Natural Resources Management from Cal Poly and a masters of science degree in Forest Ecology from University of Washington. Throughout her 25 year career, she has worked in various roles including with rare and endangered plants, forest land use and agriculture resource management. Most recently, with Pierce County focusing on farm land preservation. In her retirement she enjoys nature, hiking, mushroom hunting with her trained pup & spending time with her family & grandkids. Growing up she was a member of 4-H and Future Farmers of America raising sheep, goats and horses; & worked on a lemon & grapefruit farm!

JENNY holds a Bachelor of Science Degree in Horticulture and is a certified Master Gardener. She grew up on her family’s self-sustainable, 60-cow dairy farm in the Midwest. As a family of seven, they processed all their own home-raised meats and wild game, foraged for wild currants, berries, and apples, and grew a large vegetable garden, all to provide through the winter. Jenny is now a homeschool mom to three, teaches botany and entomology classes for kids, and is passionate about engaging kids in the community with the wonder of plant physiology, the importance and diversity of insect life, and excitement about growing foods.

Springtime is for rebirth. Bulbs begin to emerge, fruit buds swell, my favorite time of year. As the days grow longer, I spend more time slogging around the muddy property with my two very dirty labradors in tow. I stop to marvel at plum tree blooms starting to open, soft yellow daffodils peeking through the muck, rhubarb, hellebore, large leaf lupine, trilliums, regenerating after the long dark winter. The chickens and ducks start laying again and begin their broody ways. Hormones rage, while roosters and drakes attack everything that moves. Draco, our large Muscovie Duck showing off his lovely plumage to the wrong gal. Albuquerque the Turkey is simply not impressed.

Spring is also kidding, calving & farrowing season on small farms. Pudgy piglets, fluffy lambs, tiny goat kids, bundles of bouncing farm babes. I love visiting local farms this time of year, fascinated by the natural ways that animal motherly instincts kick in. Some day I will be brave enough to breed an animal myself and experience the full life cycle on this small sustainable farming journey.

Despite large confinement operations ruling our modern food supply, a good number of spring animals are born into small farms. Where they are loved and cared for the duration of their lives. Some live as beloved pets, others go on as producers for milk, fiber, loved by youth, auctioned through 4H…AND yes some to freezer camp to feed local families. The fact is, animals are an integral part of small farm life. Raising animals for any purpose is gut wrenching, back breaking work, not for the weak of heart. The farmers who put in the time to raise them humanely, have earned my deepest respect. Animal rights advocates, I feel you, and only hope that this story will help to open a wider lense to this complex tale between farmer & eater. Advocacy is important, but until a person has experienced raising and caring for a production animal themselves, they cannot truly have a full picture view…AND SO MY STORY BEGINS…

Years in clinical diagnostics offered me a first hand look at the negative effects of a broken industrialized food supply on public health. Taking a breather after my 2nd child, I turn my focus to plants and sign up for the master gardener program. Making valuable community connections and learning all I can from other farmers & gardeners. My passion becomes narrowed to soil biology, home orchards and food soil web ecosystems. Truly the best gift I ever gave myself. But sometimes deeper knowledge makes you see things on a level you wish you hadn’t. If only I could go back to enjoying the canopy of an old fruit tree, rather than seeing only disease, blight and pests.

Five years volunteering in the program, endless plant clinics, & lugging around enormous plant manuals, I realize that I am not a master at anything. Rather more of a “master looker upper.” Most everything found through a simple Google search these days. My science brain migrates to reputable, non-anecdotal sources of course. Coupled with Co-dependent personality disorder from childhood, I become consumed with all things farmy. Friends stare blankly, as I ramble on about regenerative food systems at every gathering.

Preferring the company of animals more anyway, I try my hand at raising my own pastured meat birds. Little Cornish savages bred to eat until their legs buckle under their own weight. I find myself unable to emerge from the farm house without literally being chased down by 50 fat little white zombies hobbling toward me in mob fashion. Throwing feed as fast as I can to escape, truly stuff of nightmares. Butchering day could not come fast enough. Enjoying the satisfaction of serving free ranged meat to my family, while harvesting all that golden poop to build the clay garden. Always in learning mode, I chose to move on to a more natural, slower growing, less frightening heritage breed next time around.

In the spring, multiple science experiments happening on the farm all at once, propagation, permaculture, natural pest controls. I stare out at the empty front field, covered in meadow nap-weed longing to cultivate. The time had come to challenge myself to take the next step into large animal production. The purpose? To educate myself while rehabilitating our weed covered pastures & fill our family freezer with healthy proteins. The mere thought made me shiver. If I was to truly be a small farm advocate, livestock was a necessary step in being accepted among the ranks of “real” farmers. Husband on board, scared and excited, I begin the process of diving into everything Cow!

The homesteaders of our farm had cows on our fields over 80 years ago. I loved the idea of bringing back their heritage. One of my four brothers agrees to build me an animal shed in exchange for a small amount of cash & beef. Raised in Montana, former Eagle Scout and self taught Jack of all trades, Kevin could literally build anything. The 3 sided structure must be small enough for building code, durable to stand against large animals scratching their behinds & yes movable. The challenge, finding a dry location on our increasingly soggy marine climate property. He visits for a few days over the summer and construction begins. Grateful to have returned to diagnostic sales to help pay for this expensive little ditty. My only job, to deliver snacks and drinks to the building site, in between my neverending corporate conference calls. His girlfriend playing with my young daughter, stopping to let me know when he needs a refill on his beer cooler. Annoyed by the extra time other women always seem to have, I do as I am asked, keeping multiple balls in the air at all times. As if my life isn’t already insanely crazy. Yes I really do need therapy, if only I had the time.

My livestock research takes me to local area farms. Positioned as yet another Saturday fun farmy family outing. Too numerous to count, my middle schooler rolling his eyes, sitting slumped in the back seat. We arrive on a peninsula dairy farm. Pulling down the long dirt driveway, I notice overgrazed pastures, noxious tansy, endless broken fences and work, lots of work. I gaze at my hubby staring straight ahead trying to avoid eye contact with me. We enter the field to interact with some sweet calves, as the humongous momma cows close in. Curious creatures staring at eye level quietly chomping their cud. Intimidating in size alone, scaring the holy hell out of us. I stand shaking in my flip flops, while my hubby calmly reassures my kids. The gray haired female farmer emerges from her milking parlor and begins rapid firing, literally yelling, complex details of cow rearing at us. I had made an appointment in advance to come see her calves, explaining my gross inadequacy in livestock. She was clearly not interested in mentoring anyone. Realizing in that moment that I am not a farmer. I am a coward. We drive home in silence. Cross fencing ranging upward of 10K, I begin to panic…BUT I had promised my brother grass fed beef.

There is something very powerful about growing & raising your own food. Once you begin to share your bounty with others, it’s almost like a switch turns on. Neighbors and family begin to reach out requesting swiss chard, fresh eggs, figs.. oh those amazing succulent figs! Suddenly you’ve taken on a sense of duty, an obligation to your community. I spend countless hours working the farm, distracted from my “real” job, the one that actually pays the bills. Growing in my knowledge, studying local food systems, planting more gardens. I plunge deeper into the connections of every living thing within the complex ecosystem of the planet in which we live.

Fall approaches, I paint the new animal shed barn burnt red of course, because I must adhere to real farmer norms. Back in the day, farmers covered their barns with linseed oil which turned the wood red. Dark burgundy with white trim from our local hardware store will do just fine, taking care to match the color to our chicken coop. The kids help me knock it out in short order. I stand back in admiration. The front field starting to look like a real farm, not just another old craftsman house on empty sterile ground. I catch myself day dreaming, someday this hard pan clay field will produce food for the masses. Perhaps a community garden with space to teach children.

Months pass as I gaze upon my beautiful new fence less, red shed barn standing alone in an empty field. I begin to imagine what putting meat on the tables must feel like for our local small farmers. Eating meat is a personal choice for each of us. Often based in childhood, societal & cultural norms. Raised in Montana among hunters and ranchers, its just part of my DNA. For me, it is important that animals used for food be loved & treated humanely and able to live their best life outdoors in large spaces, regardless how long that should be. There is little money to be made in small regenerative farming. Small Farmers do it as a religion, a passion, a secret society that I desperately want to be a part of.

Early spring arrives, I stop by a local farm to pick up orders for our community co-op. My gruff farmer gal pal takes a few moments from her busy farm life to show my daughter her newly weaned piglets. I watch my daughter timid and scared of these sweet little pink sausage shaped creatures clambering all over her. I think to myself, Yes pork, why had I not thought of that before!

While the farmer proceeds to lecture my daughter on the principles of pig behavior, I take visual snapshots. Cheap metal step in posts, livestock panels. No fencing envy here. I wonder to myself, why do livestock farmers always seem so cranky, as I hurry home to tell my hubby about my plans to raise swine for our family freezer. Something I will certainly come to realize in short order. Farmers who raise meat sold within the food system require major regulatory hoops, USDA licensing, health department permitting, inspections etc. I have so much respect for those who tackle this enormous feat. A few hogs for our family freezer will be easy, no regulations needed. This I can do myself!

The next day I begin the arduous process of pounding in 50 step-in posts, taking multiple trips to my local feed store for twenty five, 16 foot long rigid hog panels. Working with the supply yard guys to load, carefully bowing one at a time into my small short bed truck. Back and forth, week after week, they begin to greet me by name. At one point even allowing me to drive the fork lift to assist in the loading process. Thinking back this may have actually been the exact moment my aching body started to show itself. I am determined to do every bit of this project myself in my effort to not burden my already exhausted first responder Hubby. I hear of a farmer friend in my peninsula female farmer group who is weaning GOS piglets for sale. Glauchester Old Spots are a heritage breed hog specific for meat production. Reaching upward of 600lbs full grown. Plenty of meat for my brother and our extended family. Here we go on my path to become a real farmer!

My daughter and I work together to capture the slippery, fast little weaners. Slipping and sliding, covering ourselves in stinky mud and poo. All the while the farmer attempts to hold back Wilma, a very angry, massively huge momma. A sweltering hot early summer day, deafened by piglet screams, we finally wrangle them into the back of my truck. Spraying down their hot little bodies with cold water and head on our way. We deliver two to another nearby farm, because that’s what real farmers do.

We finally get them home and comfy in their new perfectly painted, straw lined red shed barn. Pinching myself, I stand back with camera in hand. Taking in every moment of those adorable curly tails. We finally have real livestock on our farm! My daughter soothing them in her gentle animal whisper ways. Myself enjoying the moment, while secretly trembling in my flip flops about what lies ahead. We will have 6 months to prepare I tell myself. I let my kids name them despite my hesitation to do so. Hammy, Porkchop, Kevin Bacon… We settle on something a little more loving. Watching pink chubby piggies with curly tails frolic on fresh pasture is a beautiful sight.

My first week with the piggies is a comedy of errors. Smallish but mighty, they manage to destroy everything, ripping up the pasture turning it into muck and boulders. Digging up artifacts from days gone by, an old spoon, farm tools, an old padlock. With each find, I wonder about the Hansen family that worked these pastures before us. What were they doing when they dropped this? Wrangling cows, haying the fields, repairing fences? A few short days into my piggy project, the little devils manage to crush my foot. (Note to self don’t wear flip flops with livestock..EVER). Achy and bruised, ridiculed by farm girl peers, downplaying the pain, I forge ahead.

My perfectly painted red shed barn now stands covered in mud. Closer inspection reveals tunnels under the shed causing the heavy structure to tip. I spend countless hours limping around in my new $100 mucking boots, strategically bordering up the sides of the shed with scrap posts, boulders, pallets anything I can find to protect my beautiful and very expensive prize from the little rooting monsters.

As the weeks follow, I work tirelessly on building a piggy palace fortress. So incredibly reinforced now that I failed to notice that I can nolonger access the pasture with the tractor. I stand defeated, staring at my masterpiece, trying to figure out how to overcome yet another Epic fail. I have no choice now but to hand dig a wallow to help the little suckers cool off in the intense summer sun. Something the Kubota could have taken care of in a few quick swipes, becomes an all day back breaking ordeal. Turns out piggy’s are prone to sunburn, who knew? They need mud to cool them off and protect their sensitive skin. I spend many more days digging and transplanting Cedar saplings for shade. Only turning out to be a quick snack for these omnivores, completely chomped to bits that same afternoon. I slip into bed with Tylenol in hand, reflecting on the epic fails of my pig farmer existence.

Despite my rookie farmer challenges, these strange creatures are starting to grow on me. Realizing there is no way we can keep 600lb pigs as pets, I begin to have conversations with my family about butcher day. My son minimally interested, more focused on our companion pets, while my daughter especially growing in her affection for the farm animals. I pitch to my husband an idea to lesson the blow. Let’s adopt 2 Kune Kunes as pets for the kids, I beg. Deep down realizing this is likely more for my psyche than them. Supposedly smallish in relative pig size, we bring home the adorable little terrified bacon bits. Kept separate from the others, as any new addition most certainly results in biting, squealing, drawing blood and complete pig hiarchy chaos.

The cute little bundles grow fast and before our eyes weigh 100 plus pounds. Despite my continued efforts to reinforce the fortress, the little escape artist bust through the chicken yard chain link that borders the hog pasture. After a full day of trying to capture them before they end up in traffic, I vow to keep them well fed. Surely this strategy will help intercept their continued attempts at a fresh chicken dinner. Turns out pigs enjoy meat, much more than lettuce.

Forever the sales gal, always finding partners on my journey, I make arrangements with a new farm to table restaurant for biweekly produce. As our farm scraps are mere pittance for these enormous creatures. The owner and I become fast friends as we work together to source local farm fresh ingredients to his restaurant. We join forces doing public speaking on the importance of supporting small sustainable farms. Having finally found my people, I stand proud to introduce myself as a regenerative Hog Farmer. We spend the summer in a symbiotic relationship with his Chefs. The kids and I dropping off fresh picked fruit in exchange for four 30lb bins of scraps twice a week. Together my son and I toss the bins over the fence, while we watch in awe as these snorting ravenous creatures explode in size right before our very eyes. My busy captain hubby and chef extraordinaire rarely making an appearance, drops by to marvel on how he can already smell the pot roasts filling the air.

It doesn’t take long before I begin to understand the personalities of my little porky friends. Not immediately realizing that I am low man on their private herd hierarchy. As food production hogs, I chose not to spay as their time is limited on our farm. Another epic fail, I quickly begin to feel the full effects of an intact crotchety female in heat every 21 days when her needs are not met. No longer the sweet little porky baby, now a squeeling torpedo locked and ready to kill me. Nothing more frightening than a 200lb hog charging at you full speed. How on earth did I go from a corporate sales professional to a mud soaked crazy lady.

Waddles, affectionately named after the dangly appendages beneath her snout, begins pushing and shoving me in regularity, knocking me off my feet. I realize very quickly that I am no longer in charge. Under farmy friends advice, Bamboo stick in hand, a light tap on the snout. Within seconds I suddenly become leader of the pack once again. Turns out the snout is a very sensitive body part of a pig. Convincing myself that my piggies really do love me, just as long as their bellies are full. My eyes gaze over to the wallow, visualizing my mud covered limp body laying faced down in the hot sun. Grabbing my bamboo stick, I feel empowered to scratch their bellies, whispering sweet nothings to my porky pals. Please don’t kill me today.

Despite my bruises, I become attached to their quirkiness. Loving their vocal response to my hourly visits with orchard windfalls of fresh figs, apples, a rainbow array of fresh garden produce. They continue to bond to me and grow into beautiful large specimens. My little piggy friends finding more ways to dig under fences, tearing up my beautiful red shed barn. Easier to live in denial than deal with hot wiring everything. I add 2 bags of extra hog feed per week to the menu and daily soccer ball with my kids for enrichment exercise. Yes pigs enjoy a good ball game. All other animals are literally ignored as these massive hot dogs take over our lives. All consuming, I truly love these animals with my deepest self.

I find myself thinking about all things pig every hour of every day. Dragging hose in the hot sun, filling waterers multiple times per day, replenishing food, fixing damaged fencing, filling wallows, shoveling endless tootsie roll poop, refreshing straw bedding, deworming, literally a never ending flurry of pig potpourri. I shutter to think about what all of this is costing us in time & resources. Surely the most expensive pork chops in the history of small farming.

As the late Summer days grow hotter, and the lush pasture turns to hard pan clay. I realize why these animals are meant to forage among orchards and forests. Their sensitive pink skin burns easily as they roll in wet mud to stay cool. Despite acres of forest out back, I’m too exhausted to put in more fencing and start this brutal process over…AND how on earth would I ever get them moved? I spend the remaining summer days keeping them as comfortable as possible. Slathering them in sunscreen, spiking waterers with electrolytes, setting sprinklers, foraging for more food waste and digging deeper wallows. You have not lived until you experience watching pigs run through the sprinkler on a hot summer day!

As the crispness of fall fills the air and the dreaded day draws near, I start to tell myself that bacon is overrated. I know deep down that it is not possible to continue to keep up this pace while feeding over 2400lbs of swine. Nor will I be able to keep them contained, veterinary care, trimming 16 hooves and all the other tasks that go along with caring for these animals day to day. The ship has clearly sailed on spaying these beasts. Reminding myself every minute that these massive animals are bred for food production, not pets. Anyone who thinks otherwise has clearly never been through this. I must remain focused, as I begin the process of detaching myself.

I finish them on buckets of fallen apples & pears from our orchard. Feels so good to finally have a no waste farm model. Realizing that we humans may starve to death in the process, the silhouette of my dead, mud soaked body flashes in my mind once again. My porky friends come running, squealing in delight as they see me approach, gobbling up any apple maggot still left among the windfalls. Integrated pest management in the finest sense, my fellow master gardeners would be so proud.

After numerous cancellations, the mobile butcher finally arrives. I remove the hog panels to allow him to drive his truck to the red shed barn and out of sight. No one needs pesky neighbors causing a self righteous raucous. I have all I can handle right now. I hand him cash, quickly retreating to the house to blast music & bury my head. I keep my mind focused, in a few weeks after hung and quartered, we will have a full freezer of pork for the winter to feed our family.

I emerge alone from the house hours later. Kids strategically sent away with friends for the day. As I toss feed to the chickens, gazing upon the empty red shed barn, the stillness is suffocating. Pigs are highly intelligent friendly and full of personality. I feel a deep sense of remorse. I enter the pig pasture gathering waterers and gazing around for signs. Nothing left but a clean piggy bathroom. Contrary to common belief, Pigs are one of the few exceptionally clean farm animals, depositing waste in the same place, far away from their living quarters. I look out at the empty field expecting to see them come running, as I fall to the ground in tears. Quickly collecting myself before anyone sees me, I head over to check in on the Kune Kunes in their temporary housing. Despite having grown as a human in my understanding, I don’t feel like a real farmer. I feel like a failure. The never ending daily commitment for so many months, production animals become a part of your soul. I will miss my hourly visits with my muddy, squealing escape artist friends.

Half a year passes, our busy lives march on as the memories of raising the GOS hogs fades. Feeling a sense of pride as Holidays are celebrated with perfectly glazed ham & roasts from healthy pastured meat I raised all by myself. Grateful for that amazing cook who lives in our household, I suddenly feel empowered to go through it for one more season. Confident that somehow I will grow tougher. With the overwintered Kunes reaching 200 plus pounds and challenging as ever, I decide to take on two more GOS hogs with the plan to butcher all four by fall. By now I know what’s coming, as I brace myself for the inevitable.

With daily attention and management, I get smarter and stronger in my processes. The hogs become a great addition to our youth camps. A diversion for me, as I spend less & less time with them leading up to that dreaded day. Somehow referring to them as hogs now, rather than pigs helps keep my mind in perspective. I learn to cope, as I refrain from calling them by name. “Here piggy piggy” works just fine. I feel so much pride as I listen to my kids tell their peers fun pig facts, while teaching the importance of livestock on a small farm. The next generation of environmental stewards, I have achieved the most important unintended goal.

Processing day is harder this time around and doesn’t go as smoothly with the mobile fella. My hubby is asked to assist. Manly in every way, except lacking in natural hunter mentality. Traumatized by the experience, we decide from that day forward to leave the task to the experienced real farmers. We still eat meat, but now we intentionally chose to purchase from local small farms who raise their animals humanely, in contrast to large industrial confinement operations. It takes a little planning ahead and a chunk of money every spring, but I now have an intimate understanding of how my choices impact the larger sustainable picture.

Time marches on as we reflect on 18 years living on the homestead, animals and pets come and go, each one leaving a mark on our hearts. The red shed barn now housing Nigerian dwarf goats. My daughters 4H milk goat still waiting out the pandemic to hopefully one day debute at the county fair. Our pig pasture bounces back more beautiful than ever with not a trace of noxious weeds to be found. The garden soil structure begins to improve, as their composted contribution lives on. I begin to think about how to better utilize these animals for teaching youth and am led to pig rescue. With the carefully thought out decision to adopt American Minipigs bred as pets to help teach youth. A cross breed of Juliana and Potbelly from an unintended litter. Realizing that these slow growing munchkins, won’t truly ever stay mini. They will live outside among the other farm animals, rooting around as nature intended. Figburt & Manny become furry family members living out their best lives educating children about the value of precious pig poop….My brain is at rest & my soul at peace.

🐷 Did you know? There are more microbes in a tablespoon of healthy soil, than there are people on earth. Think about that for a minute. How does that happen? Livestock are necessary for healthy regenerative ecosystems, carbon sequestration, soil biology teeming with life. This delicate symbiotic relationship requires large hoofed animals, eating forage and depositing their waste on our pastures and rangelands. We are all interconnected with every living thing & in the food that we chose. Our global cultures eat animal proteins, always have and always will. No amount of animal rights advocacy to the contrary will ever change that. Respecting an individuals choice will always be our mantra, but if you do chose to eat meat, why not support small farmers who raise animals humanely?

We can all vote with our dollars by reducing the amount of meat we purchase from big industrialized supply chain systems. Support small business, build local economies and help reduce our carbon footprint by sourcing from a local small regenerative farmer near you! Thank you for following along & Happy Spring Friends! 🥬 👩‍🌾 🌸

Resources: https://eatlocalfirst.org, Righteous Porkchop: Finding a Life and Good Food Beyond Factory Farms & Defending Beef: The Case for Sustainable Meat by Nicolette Niman, Sacred Cow: The Case for (Better) Meat, by Diana Rodgers