What is it about connecting to the animal world that causes us to feel deeper about ourselves?

The unconditional love is the biggest part, for me, along with truthfulness. A goat will never tell you, "No thanks, I'm really not hungry," if you offer her more for fear of looking 'fat'. She will also be quick to put you in your place if you overstep your boundaries.

 It doesn't matter if some days you have a pail of food scraps for your chickens and other days you don't, the chickens will still run to you every time yo approach. My dog will NEVER tell me, "I don't feel like doing that today," when you excitedly call him over to catch a mouse out of the grain bin.

And, sometimes, you just need to touch a wet, warm nose in passing. No big deal, no elaborate display, just the acknowledgement of friendship, of love.

They get it.

I wish we did.

What is it about making cheese that can get the heart pumping faster and cause even the stodgiest of mountain women clap her hands together in delight? Is it perhaps the thought that nature has been so kind as to bestow its love and healing on a mere mortal trying to share her love of wholistics with the world, or is it just exciting to see something so simply complicated as cheese actually work?

As a creator, the wilderness woman's soul soars to see that she has created something that others can not only enjoy, but allow to nourish the body and spirit. When we eat food that is not only lovingly prepared for us, but is full of life and nutrients, then we can begin to truly heal. We are able to connect to the people and animals that nurture us, and we, in turn, are sustained and able to lovingly attend to ourselves and others.

Goats are people, too!

 There is an unspoken connection between the small scale farmer and her animals, a bond that helps one to understand the other better when the heartways are opened. Communication occurs in the mind, and there is a love that supercedes all fencing and other manmade forms of control. When the farmer takes her time to lovingly visit with her animals, handmilking, searching for individual eggs, counting each chicken at sunset, petting and speaking to every animal daily, the animals are re-assured of their place in the world. In turn, they will love you unconditionally, increasing your overall bounty and farm well-being.

Reflections of the Wilderness Woman struggling to find her roots and sanity

Amidst howling winds and the rumble of tin threatening to tear from the roof, the Wilderness woman, perched on her son's single bed, warmly dressed in her granny flannel gown and woolly ski socks, types earnestly away. It has been a successful weekend, all in all; a small shed has been partially cleaned out and the heavy black milking stand installed, the two acre pasture fenced in and containing two milking goats, their  low-rolling companion herd dogs, Hector and Maximillian, a male mini-llama paid for and on the way, and a nice variety of chickens safely stashed in an old henhouse and fenced chicken lot.

Thirty-five bales of local hay delivered and stacked on the side of the run-through barn that isn't leaking, left-over Thanksgiving turkey recycled into cassarole, and the scraps added to the dogs' dishes, two-gallons of milk left to curdle into a soft, simple farm cheese for nibbling, the woodstove has been cleaned and the ash carried to the garden to be mixed in with the hay and animal compost for the spring planting. 

Now to finish up the rough draft for a spring-time grant. Ten years as a hobby farmer does not a full-time sustainable farmer make. However, The Wilderness Woman is a tough old coot, and doesn't give up that easily. Hops farming has potential in the Western North Carolina landscape, and she feels that offering a local nursery for distribution of hops rhizomes could be a good thing. Always a good listener, the sharp ears of the Wilderness Woman can discern the truth when she hears it. "You can do it, " classmates and instructors insist. "They aren't calling Asheville the 'Beer City' three years running for nothing," a micro-brewer adds.

Now, can an ole' gray-haired girl from the Piedmont get this farm up and running? Only time will tell. We hope you'll stick around to find out.