I’m sentimental about weird things, maybe not weird to everyone but I assume being broken hearted over a diseased apple tree uprooting just because, for me, it’s always been here. These apple trees seemed to have been planted in the 80’s. Not the oldest apple trees by any means but they’re as old as me. Maybe I sympathize with its cracking branches and weakening roots. Its shaggy bark and drop in production. Maybe I’m just gonna miss the crisp red apples that fell from its few producing limbs. Apples I’ve never eaten anywhere else.

I grabbed the snips and took as many water shoots and “healthy looking” limbs as I could find. This is the tree I’ve been trying to graft for a couple years. Last year one graft grew a leaf. Maybe I’m getting better at grafting? Maybe I just got lucky. That even seems weird to type.

I’m sure lots of people have been dealing with PTSD after the heavy downfall of rain we’ve had. Flood warnings make us all nervous now. So many lives were lost in 2022 in our community and just last year Appalachia had to deal with flooding from Hurricane Helene.

Floods were a problem on the creek where I grew up. I was always told it was because of ponds in the mountain above our creek. Now, as an adult, I know those ponds were there because of the strip mines. They remove trees and take off the top of the mountain down to the coal, instead of making deep mines. This creates run off

problems and deep pits that become ponds. Those ponds overflow with heavy rains. With no trees to slow it down or to hold the ground from sliding, the ponds spill over, taking mud with them to the creeks and hollers below.

These floods left my childhood full of fear. Our house was high on the side of the mountain, but all my family lived next to the creek bank. The only way in and out of our holler was a bridge across that creek that would become a raging river with these floods. The funerals for families, kids the same age as me, my sister and cousins, left nightmares that would plague me until just a couple years ago.

Kitchen House update

The plans for the electric in the Kitchen House are underway. Once we get all the supplies together, we start work with a good friend who happens to do electric. We’re happy to get to be hands on with this part. Lisa and I both love building, learning and being as involved as possible.

More exciting news for our small business. We got our food manufacturing permit! For now, we’ll be using the local commercial kitchen for baking, but we’re on our way to be able to cater big events, sell in local shops and maybe ship a few things. Our first big catering job is coming up at our favorite conference. The Eastern Kentucky Farmers Conference. We go every year and were excited when they asked us to get involved.

The inspector for the food manufacturing permit made a trip out to our little Kitchen House recently. He gave us our first construction inspection and told us all the things we were doing right and all the things we had to make sure to include. The Kitchen House will be a commercial kitchen like we’ve both always dreamed.

First Event of the year

Our Sweetheart Sip and Shop event was a success again this year. Lisa made empanadas with rice and corn salsa. She had too many baked goods to list, and we got to see so many customers we’ve missed over the winter.

We were happy to welcome Emily, Appalachian Spirit, with the first Appalachian-themed card deck for healing and self-discovery. She’s famous in these parts and we value her talent and friendship.

Emily took our gnocchi class at Dumplins and Dancing in November and we were over the top proud and honored when she asked to add our recipe to the guidebook. We’re not fangirling or anything…

With spring just around the corner we’re planning the garden, preparing for kidding season and trying to get organized. I wonder how we’ll handle all the things this year. But I wonder that every year and every year we just handle it. Thats the thing about farming. It’ll work or it won’t.

Hopeless people do not farm. And if a hopeless person takes up farming, they become hopeful. You can't farm without dreams or aspirations. If you don’t believe this, try planting something from seed.

I believe my family survived because they grew a garden, raised chickens and hogs. Not just because of the food it provided but the hope it gave them. I wasn’t taught to dream. I wasn’t taught I couldn’t do something, either. I was just taught to do it.

Oh yeah, and evidence of the sun is still visible when I get off work now. It’s still dark when I get home but there’s hope!