Farmstay U.S. Blog

Created for and by travelers and the farmers, these posts will cover a variety of topics related to farm stays in the U.S.

Archive for tag: farm stay story

Farm Stay Story - Windysage Farmstay B&B

This Farm Stay Story was sent to us by 12 year old Kelly Kirk, who recently vacationed at Windysage Farmstay B&B in Mackay, Idaho with her family. Take it away, Kelly!

Windysage2Hi, I’m Kelly. I live in Texas with my mom, dad, and older sister. This summer I had the most wonderful vacation ever and I want you to have fun also. So, if you’re looking for a place out in the country to relax, enjoy the scenery, have fun with your family, play outdoors, and be with animals: well I think I know just the place for you. There’s this new organization called Farm Stay U.S. that has bed and breakfasts which are on the land of a farm, ranch, or vineyard.

My family and I traveled to a goat farm in Mackay, Idaho. There, we played with the chickens, ducks, cats, bunnies, turkey and goats. The turkey made the most beautiful cooing sound. I learned how to milk a goat and filter the milk afterwards. Miss Karen and Mr. Adam, the owners of the farm stay, made extra sure to make us feel right at home. They gave us fresh eggs from their chickens and fresh milk from their goats. We also received homemade bread and sausage. At dark we sat around the campfire and ate the ice cream from the goats’ milk Mr. Adam made for everyone, and enjoyed the moonlit mountains.

Windysage3When it was time to go to bed I slept on the pullout couch in the living room of the little cabin we stayed in. My parents slept in the bedroom and my sister slept across the lawn on a bed in a small building fashioned to look like a covered wagon. When I woke up in the morning I didn’t hear the rumble of cars or the neighbor's lawnmower. There was no sound. Everything was calm and peaceful. When I went outside I felt a slight breeze and the warm sun on my face. The chickens were moving around and occasionally the turkey would make its soft cooing sound. There were no cars on the dusty road or a neighbor to be seen. It was just my family, Miss Karen, Mr. Adam, animals and the mountains.

Time went by so quickly I didn’t even realize it was our last day in Mackay. We gathered our suitcases and put them in the car. Miss Karen and Mr. Adam were waiting for us and we hugged them goodbye. We thanked them for everything they had done for us and how they made us feel so at home. Right before we left we gathered hands and prayed. They prayed for us and our safety getting home and we thanked God for bringing them into our life. We left with tears in our eyes but in our hearts we knew we couldn’t be happier. They blessed us in so many ways and they can do the same for your family. Go stay with them on their farm, you won’t believe what you’ll find in just a little town in Idaho.

(Words and photographs copyright Kelly Kirk.)

Our third Farm Stay Story was sent to us by Alison Schwartz, who is a regular visitor to East Hill Farm in Troy, New Hampshire.

East Hill Farm goat kids

My family goes to East Hill Farm every year for a weekend in the summer, and for a week right after Christmas. Even though I am 22 years old now, the chickens, goats, and sheep have not lost their appeal. I look forward to feeding them and petting them. In the summer, I spend hours outside with the animals. In the winter, I bundle up in my winter coat and feed the animals a couple of times every day.

One of our favorite things to do at East Hill Farm is see Jason Purdy perform his magic show. I have seen Jason every year for as long as I can remember. My mom runs a summer camp, and she hires him to perform at the camp every year. Last summer, she told me a funny story about two of my campers, Alana and Darren. Their parents took them to East Hill Farm for the first time, and when they saw Jason's show, they didn't raise their hands when he asked who was seeing the Magic of Jason Purdy for the first time. Their parents told them to raise their hands, and they explained that they weren't seeing Jason for the first time; they knew him from camp. So I wasn't surprised when I went into the dining hall last December and saw their family there!

What makes winter at the farm special is hanging out with old friends in the living room, in front of the fireplace, knitting and crocheting. I invited Alana to hang out with us, too. She is an avid knitter, and I was proud to show her my knitting. I was working on a blanket and a hat. I asked Alana to teach me how to make a pom-pom for the hat, and she got a fork from the dining room and showed me how to make a pom-pom using a fork!

Every year at East Hill Farm is special in its own way. December 2012 was special because in the deepest part of winter, I saw two of my favorite kids from summer camp.

East Hill Farm Inn

(Photos courtesy East Hill Farm, words copyright Alison Schwartz)

Farm Stay Story - Spiritwind Farm

Our second Farm Stay Story was written by Andrea O'Connor, who visited Spiritwind Farm in Lebanon, Maine.

Spiritwind Farm Draft Horses

I'm so happy to have discovered Farm Stay U.S.!

I had an incredible time at Spiritwind Farm, Lebanon, Maine. A BEAUTIFULLY restored farmhouse with luxury room and private bath. They have two Shire horses Kelly and Lucy, goats Coco and Bella and babies (so cute!), chickens, pigs. I think the big pig's name is Cobble and she likes to eat giant marshmallows as the occasional treat. She's having piglets in the fall!

Kathy's goat milk soap is fabulous, the best I've ever used. She makes chèvre cheese too, which I didn't get a chance to taste as she was all sold out. Blueberry muffins, a dip in the beautiful pool after days at the nearby ocean beaches, watching the fireflies and flames in the outdoor wood fireplace!

Ahhh. So relaxing and fun.

Thank you, thank you to Farmer Kathy, farm hand Erin, and all farmers doing such importand work for us and the earth!

(Photo courtesy Spiritwind Farm, words copyright Andrea O'Connor)

Farm Stay Story - Mariposa Creamery

Sorry! Mariposa Creamery has closed their farm stay doors since we put up this post.
Our first entry in the Farm Stay Stories contest is brought to us by Helene Garcia of French Foodie Baby. This story about her family's visit to Mariposa Creamery in Altadena, California first appeared on her blog on June 19, 2013.


 

At the goat farm...

 

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The other night, at dinner time with Grandpa and Grandma, Pablo was served some pork chop with mushrooms. He happily grabbed his fork in one hand, and with the other hand, picked a mushroom from his plate. He examined it, and turned to me: “La mer?” Loosely translated as: “Does this thing I’m about to put in my mouth come from the sea?” We then had a conversation about the forest, the place where you can find bunnies, deer, trees, creeks. And mushrooms.

I felt very happy about this exchange, because I realized that Pablo is interested in where his food comes from. He knows it’s not just magically there. Not only does he know a process of shopping, and cooking went into it (which he participates in more and more), but he also knows the food grew, or lived, somewhere. And I have, without giving it much thought, just as part of our conversations at the dinner table during our family meals, pointed out to him where the things he eats do come from. Shrimp, fish, oysters from the sea. Herbs from the garden. Apricots and peaches from our market friend Sam’s trees. Cherries we picked ourselves. Eggs laid by chickens. I am very matter-of-fact about naming the meat we eat as well, whether it’s duck, chicken, lamb, etc.

Way before our children ask us where babies come from, they should ask us where their food comes from. Or at least, let’s hope they do. And let us have a good answer for them (one that does not include an unpronounceable ingredient, as Michael Pollan advises). If we want our children to eat and enjoy real, nutritious, clean foods and give them a lifelong love for them, we must 1/ have, 2/ nurture, an interest in those foods, a curiosity of the what (it is, it tastes like, smells like, feels like, looks like), the how (it was grown, made, prepared, cooked), and the where (it comes from.)

This pursuit of connection with our food, this love and interest for the sources of our food, has been so fulfilling, nourishing, as it were. And it led us a few weeks ago, to Mariposa Creamery Farm Stay, in Altadena, California.

Gloria and Steve, who both have day jobs while running this goat and farming community, welcomed us in their haven for a couple of wonderful days. By wonderful, I mean the type of vacation that makes you wonder whether that should be your full time life. Because then, every morning would be a little bit like this...


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We wake up early and step outside within a few minutes of waking. We hear the birds, and the goats in the distance. Haphazardly dressed, Pablo refuses to put shoes on and wants to go explore the vegetable garden. It exudes free growth. It’s not a perfectly trimmed garden with ranks and beds. It’s a freestyle vegetable jungle. Pablo explores, passed the tall fennel, chards, amaranth, squash flowers, around the artichokes and the shiso.


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I try to follow but his small size gives him the advantage, to explore and find treasures. And a treasure he does find. “Tomate”. There, hidden in the depths of this jungle he’s so simply made his own, hangs a small, perfectly vermilion tomato. He extends his little hand and gently picks it. We both take a bite.

Oh, that bite.

He continues on, feeling the earth on his feet. Steve greets us as he picks some chards for our breakfast. The goats bleat over there, on the other side of the big house where many people of all trades seem to evolve productively.  We walk over there. Pablo stops by the berry bush to pick a blackberry, and we meet the carpenter, whose shop is next to the creamery. He shows us how he spreads the seeds of the wild flowers around every so often. So they keep growing wild throughout the property, and they do. Bright orange and yellow blotches everywhere, which a certain goat might be allowed to exit the enclosure to enjoy, every once in a while...


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We wonder into the chicken enclosure, and find Gloria grabbing some fresh eggs for breakfast. Pablo is eager to hold one. Pablo is eager to hold two. One gets broken, so he holds on to the other one carefully. Lesson learned.

Now for another lesson, a goat milking lesson. The suggestion that I may milk the goat straight into my coffee enchants me. I follow suit.

Pablo is familiar with the milking movement, as it is also the sign for milk in sign language, which we used when he was an infant. This was always his favorite sign ;-) But he is a little intimidated by Brin, the goat we are getting our milking lesson with.


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He decides it is wiser to feed her treats while we learn. He watches baby goat Spike get some milk from Brin.

The fresh milk tastes exactly that. Fresh. It is not gamy as I expected, though I like gamy. It tastes very mild and delicious. Oh the wonderful things that can be made with that milk. And Gloria and Steve do make so many of those wonderful things here. They teach a cheese making course I am hoping to take some day. And yogurt.

We hang with the goats for a while, the 5 months old one are just about Pablo’s height. They are terribly photogenic. Dare I say hams even?

Petting, nudging, observing, climbing, jumping ensues. Kids.

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We get this sense of family. The goats, Biscuit, Apple, Ice Cream, Rhubarb among others, are raised with love and warmth. It radiates.


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It’s breakfast time. What a feast Gloria has made for us. One of our most memorable breakfasts ever. Fresh squeezed orange juice from that tree, right behind us. Homemade bread, with fresh chèvre. Homemade jam, homemade ketchup. Roasted potatoes, fresh herbs. Artisan sausage from a friend of theirs. Pablo discovers a love for sausage. And eggs of course. Sauteed chards with homemade goat feta. Goat milk yogurt. Brand new apricots deposited by a neighbor in the mailbox last night, packed in an egg crate. Juicy as can be.


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This is how people lived hundreds of years ago. This is how some people live today, right here in a suburb ofLos Angeles. And how wonderful, brave and beautiful.

After breakfast, Pablo wanders on the path in the back of the house, among the wild poppies, fruit trees and artichoke plants, holding a piece of cheese in his hand, mumbling to himself “squeeze, squeeze”, the goat milk the cheese came from.

I love that he can experience this freedom here. This rich environment.

Certainly our morning is a very romanticized version of farm life, which is tremendous hard work and commitment. But what a worthwhile venture.


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It sometimes feels like the kind of life that I want, for myself, for Pablo. At the same time, I have no idea how we could get there, or how it would fit with the other stuff our life is currently made of. Sometimes we must make choices. As long as we don’t live by default. Food for thought, for now.


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Words and photographs copyright Helene Garcia / French Foodie Baby 2013.