Wednesday, November 7, 2018


Why I celebrate Veterans day
Jonah and His Friends
By Roy Haney
Being that it was my first church it was special. It wasn’t much as churches go, but it was in the country where I wanted to be. The church was painted white and sat under some 100-year-old oak trees.
I was not from this area, but I was ready to go guide my flock. It was in the fall.  My first Sunday actually landed on November 11, “Veterans Day”. I had contemplated about talking about Veterans, but since I wasn’t one I decided to stay safe.
The church itself was painted white and had been built by the parishioners in the 1890s. The outside walls were clapboard siding cut from poplar trees from the site. The double doors - that many churches had at that time - opened wide for the congregations.  The pews sat about 125 people if they were all filled. I don’t honestly think I had ever spoke to 125 people at one time, but I was looking forward to helping, being a service, following the Lord. I had faith, shaking knees and all. So, with the faith of the young and hope of the faithful, I was ready.
 As people filed in I couldn’t help thinking that I was in a Norman Rockwell picture. The congregation tended to be elderly, but there were babies and small children acting as God meant kids to be. I took a seat in what is called the Deacon pews as most of the people came in. I watched as different people took seats that they had occupied most of their lives. There were embroidered pillows that were not to be moved because they held a place that had been held for many, many years. I will have to say that I was disappointed when only 35 parishioners sat down. I have been warned that it would take time, but youth doesn’t always want to obey that.
 I walked up to the altar and stood.  I needed to remind myself to breathe. I sat my grandfather’s bible down and was not surprised to have it open up where I planned to preach from. What I was surprised by was that when I wrapped my fingers around the edges of the altar my fingers found well-worn groves from many people that had been where I was today. This for some reason this calmed me and as I looked down at my grandfathers Bible and started to speak when the rear door opened.  It seemed that the whole church turned at once to see a grizzled man walk in. He walked with authority and walked to a space that had been left open. There were two places there and one of them had an embroidered pillow. He sat down beside the pillow with a grizzled hand reached down and gently rubbed it.
            This man did not scare me, but it seemed that the air had completely change in the church. It was obvious that the congregation revered this man. I did not have to be introduced to him, I had been told of Mr. Branson, I had also been told that he came to church maybe three times a year, but November 11 was one of them. He did not smile, he did not talk, but he walked down the aisle turned took his seat. He then slowly turned to me with blue eyes that seem to be a roadmap to somewhere I had never been.
            I looked down at the Bible that I had brought today. This Bible was older than I was by a good margin, and in fact it had traveled more. This was my grandfather’s Bible. The pages were worn.  The cover had tears which had been carefully mended.
            My grandfather was a preacher who went to war, but didn’t come home. When I was ordained, my mother gave me her father’s Bible. I decided that to start my life as a new ordained preacher there would not be a better way to start that to preach from the Word that my grandfather had read so many times. I had to smile, how many times had the people before me came probably was as nervous as I am but still stood here with their fingers wrapped and pouring out the word from God.
Oh, I was smiling, this was my flock, and they were smiling back at me.
             I decided that I would preach about Jonah. It was easy to turn to the passage that I had decided to preach from because my grandfather’s bible automatically opened there. I preached and I gave it my all. I spoke about Jonah’s trials, I spoke about Jonah’s faith leading him on. I spoke about that whale, I spoke about the beach he was spit upon. When I was done, I realized that I had preached my first sermon to my new congregation, and I had not even got sick doing it.   I was happy; the congregation was happy. The music we added seem to make the world a little better. I was proud to walk down the aisle to the rear door to be able to shake the hands of each and every person.
Everybody got up and made their way to the back as normal except for Mr. Branson. Some of the deacons in the church stood back talking among their selves trying to decide what to do. Mr. Branson slowly got up, his age showed as he slowly walks toward me. He stopped just in front of me and did not hold his hand out, but stood there looking me in the eyes. One thing I have been taught by my father, who was taught by his father, is always look a man face-to-face, but this is one time I honestly wanted to run. He slowly held his hand out.  To my relief, I shook it without shaking too much.
 “Son, I want you to come to my house today. 3 o’clock will be fine”. Then, without saying anything more he turned and went out the door.
The deacons had been standing close by and were obviously nervous, and I honestly think they would not have been surprised if Mr. Branson had just eaten me and walked away. I looked at them, and they looked at me and said, “You should be fine.” I honestly did not feel very good with the words “should be”.
             Mr. Branson was a man that helped the community. Most never saw him and never knew what he did unless someone whispered. When a man got hurt in the factory, there would be baskets of vegetables or maybe even a chicken tied to his front porch. There was always something being done, but it was never spoken about. Most never even saw him doing what he did.
             From my conversation with the deacons, I learned that his wife had passed away 10 years before. I also learned that a long time ago Mr. Branson had been a very harsh person. He had gone to war, came home, and most figured that he would go away. But a young girl, who had known him all his life, stood by him and saved him from the darkness. For the last 10 years very, few people ever talked to him. It wasn’t that he was mad. It just seemed like he was not there. His body was, his actions were, the good that he would do in the community was very evident but the happiness that he had gained after the darkness that he had walked through was now gone.
The deacons did not know what to do, in the last 10 years he had never invited a preacher or virtually anyone else to his home. Now on my first day as a new preacher he had not invited, but commanded me to come. The deacons met and decided that it would be better if I went alone. That did not make me feel good.
Since it was my first day, I was invited to dinner by one of the deacons, but for some reason I decided that my time would be better spent on my knees listening. I have been told that my grandfather wore out the knees of his overalls without anyone ever seen him kneel. I waited until everybody had left, and I prayed. I did not know what I was praying for. This may sound odd but at times I was praying for guidance, often I was praying for understanding, and a couple of times I was praying to live throughout the day.
I left the church with a map showing how to get to Mr. Branson’s farm. I found that the map was good, but my car was not. The drive up to the house from the road was not passable…unless you had a four-wheel drive truck.
            I’m young.  I took off hiking with my grandfather’s Bible under my arm. It was a beautiful farm - if you would call it that. The trees came right to the road, at times it was like going through a tunnel. I hiked up over a small ridge setting between two large hills and stopped. They’re sitting up against the two hills was a small white farmhouse. It surprised me because the house was immaculate. I figured that Mr. Branson probably lived in a cave with a campfire and a deer carcass on a spit over it. I was surprised to see that the yard was ringed with a board fence freshly painted, flowers planted at the base and well-manicured. It did not fit the Mr. Branson I have been told about.
Mr. Branson was sitting on the porch in a rocker, at his feet was the largest, ugliest, meanest looking dog that I had ever seen. The dog never barked just raised his massive head to see if lunch was being served. I had never been this nervous. Mr. Branson just sat in his chair slowly rocking back and forth. In his lap was what looked like some type of whip that was made of knotted strings. He slowly looked up at me and said, “Son, have a seat” and then looked back at his lap and continue to rock.
“Mr. Branson, I want to thank you for having me to your home and I would like to tell you this being my first day how much it means to me”.
He only looked down at that strange whip of knots and continued to rock.
            Then with a deliberate voice he spoke. “Son I wanted to talk to you about what you preached about today”. I looked up at him perplexed, the story of Jonah and the whale was a very safe and well-known topic. As I looked at him he seemed to be looking through me at someone else and it shook me to my core.
“Son it’s time you heard the story of my friend Jonah”.
I looked at him not comprehending. “What do you mean your friend Jonah?”
He began to explain. 
When you have been swallowed by a whale everyone that has followed suit is also your friend. You have to understand that many years ago, I stood with 145 young men just like me with all the spunk, hope, fear and determination that poor boys on the farm could have. We were called to fight the Hun. All of us were ready and determined to get into the fight. We trained.  We learned about weapons we had never heard of.  We figured that the war would be over in a week after  we got there. That is when Jonah became my friend. In training we learned about explosives, that is where this first shoelace came from. 
He fingered the odd knots and continued his story.  Randy, a boy from Wisconsin who played baseball in the minor leagues, could throw a grenade the farthest. We were told to throw them high and let them come down, but he threw his hard like a pitcher straight at the old dummy tank we practiced hitting. He was accurate but he threw it so hard that when it hit the side of the tank that grenade bounced back all the way where he was. What we found of him was basically this shoelace. It had one knot tied into the end. I don’t know why but I put that bloodied and torn shoelace in my pocket. Before we were ready to ship out, I had tied four more knots into that shoelace: two were from diseases we didn’t even know the name of and two were from something they called ‘training accidents’.
By then my life had changed. I wasn’t worried about killing the Hun, I only wanted to get back home with my friends.
            We were shipped out of a port in New Jersey.  I had never been to a town that had more than 300 people. This seems like a new world, but when they told us to march into a hole on the side of the ship that looked more like a wreck.  It shook all of us to the bone. That ship had pumps pumping out water at four different places that we could see. The rust was evident everywhere, but we were told to go into the belly of that beast. I think half of us threw up before we got to what they called our bunks. The smell inside of what they call the hole, what we referred to as the prison, and what became the belly smelled worse than anything you could imagine.
            Each day that we were there got even worse from so many people throwing up. It wasn’t dark, but it was not light.   Our bunks were canvass hammocks stacked from the floor to the ceiling, so that when you were in the tallest one if you did not jump out you basically fell through three other people. When you laid in your bunk you were within 18 inches of the next person row after row. At first, we tried to have spaces where we could play cards or dice or something anything to take our mind off having been swallowed. There just wasn’t enough room for this many people. What you ended up doing is you laid in your hammock all day, and all night. We were brought up in shifts to do calisthenics and breathe air that had not been breathed 10 times before. This was how it was day after day in the belly of the beast. By the fifth day, each and every man would have swum to Europe if it meant that they would not have to return to our Hell on Earth. That is when I met your grandfather, Jonah. We were almost delirious when a slow steady voice started to read. Your grandfather chose Jonah 1-4 in that Bible that you used this morning. He read with a slow deliverance and soon people stared to settle down. Each night he read the same passages and there weren’t complaints. That Johan in the Bible seemed more of our comrade than just a figure.
  When you read of Jonah, you left out part of what he went through. You see in the days that he was there in the belly of that beast he also lived. That means what he ate was what had been provided him either good nor bad. What he drank had the stench of the beast. Each sound he heard day and night were like none he had ever heard of before. He started his journey with the knowledge and certainty of the sunlight, but during his journey there were times - I promise you - that he wondered would he ever see the light again. That was the way it was for all of us. We knew that our life was at the mercy of an old ship not being worth the torpedo from a U-boat. We knew that our life was at the mercy of old pumps pumping day and night to keep the water from claiming us.
  The sweat made with each day caused dampness to drip from the ceiling. During the crossing, I added two more knots to my string.
They chose me to be a scout, I guess that it was because I came from the woods and could get around quietly. This also meant that I had to lead, then live with any mistake I made.
            We landed on the coast of what we were told was Ireland. We had honestly thought we had died and gone to heaven. The people in the small villages where we were spit up to exercise and get our strength back welcomed us with food.  Since they had already faced bombs, sometimes it was all the food they had.  They made sure that we knew that they love us being there.
            During that time, I was promoted to squad leader.   Now if people died, it was a result of a decision I made.  We left Ireland and went across the coast and landed at Normandy. For months, we fought each day until we reached a country called Czechoslovakia. By that time, I had added four more boot laces to my collection to hold the knots.

So today you preached of Jonah, your Bible is stained where that verse lies. Those stains came during that time in the belly of the beast. We did not know your grandfather very well, but as things got their darkest we begin to hear your grandfather’s voice. Him opening up his Bible and reading of Jonah’s time in the beast made it possible to survive.
                        What you do not know is I have held that Bible myself.
             When I found your grandfather after the Battle of the Bulge he was holding that Bible in his hands. He had fought and died in a horrible winter battle dying in the snow alone. His last act on earth was to take that Bible and hold it to his chest.
             The only thing that I could do was to take it and wrap it in an old curtain that had been shredded by bullets and carry it until I could ship it back to your family. As you know, your grandfather was also named Jonah.   I was honored to have lived with him in the belly of the beast. You see your grandfather did not stop reading to us until God delivered us from the beast. That passage was uttered by each and every one of us as we departed the belly not knowing where we were going but knowing where we had been.  We knew that we had been delivered from that beast.
When I returned to where your grandfather died, I was promoted and given all that was left of our squad - only seven souls. We fought side-by-side to the end of the war. Some were wounded but not another died, and I carried these five bootlaces with 143 knots tied in them. The last shot I took in the war was to kill. With that shot a voice came from the German lines that the war was now over. Our captain received word that it was indeed true, I do not know if my last shot killed.  For some reason, when I glanced down I saw the brass of that last round glaring back at me. I picked it up and with my knife I worked it until I could insert the ends of the five laces into it making it a handle that I used to carry the death of my friends.

             I noticed for the first time how old this man seemed to be for the first time. I noticed that even the dog seemed to mourn. I did not know what to do, so I just sat there watching him slowly counting out the knots. When he got to a particular spot he stopped and looked at me, “This is the knot that I tied when I lost your grandfather.”

Next year when Veterans Day is here, and you speak about the belly of the beast understand that there are thousands of Jonah’s just like your grandfather and many others that were swallowed by the beast.  They did not fight the command when they were told to enter. I know that the Lord watched out after us, and I saw the people that were saved. But what I ask of you is to take this day not honor me with just a hand shake because I am living. Honor the ones that served, honor the people that walked into the belly of the beast without being swallowed as Jonah was, but walked to make this world safer.
It has been 10 years since that fateful day. The only sermon that I have ever given on Veterans Day is Jonah and the whale. Mr. Branson is no longer here, but there are kids running up and down his porch
After this first meeting I went to his house almost every week. In this time, I learned things about my grandfather I never knew. I learned that in the darkest time when he opened his Bible and read many scoffed at first, but then many gravitated to where he was especially during their time in the beast. I grew more appreciative of where his Bible would naturally turn, and it seemed odd that when I used his Bible on those special times I could see Mr. Branson’s lips uttering the verses as I read. I could also see a softening.  When he came home the first time, I learned that he was so wild everyone was afraid of him, but a young girl with a strong will calmed him down. I wish I could have met her, but when I went to his house I would see her memories in the flower garden, in the picket fence, and in the neatness of the small home.
  I brought my new wife to meet Mr. Branson and found - much to my dismay- that the old dog, Sarge, thought that my new wife was special. It could have been that in my wife’s pocket magically contained a biscuit.   As Mr. Branson would rock, I would see Sarge walk up and lay his massive head in, my wife, Mandy’s lap. That dog would bark happily when we came to visit and Mandy honestly looked forward to seeing who she described as her partner in crime.
There came the time that all of us will see.   One-night Mr. Branson slipped away. Mandy and I happened to come the next day to hear a sorrowful moan that we had never heard before. Sarge sat as if a sentinel beside Mr. Branson’s chair, Mr. Branson was asleep with that nap forevermore.

To this day the hardest thing I ever did was to say goodbye to a man that was as a father, a grandfather, and a friend to me. A man who taught me the value of what a true friend as the 143 he left were.  During the funeral, I was honored to meet three men who came home with Mr. Branson. Each filled in stories of my grandfather, my grandfather’s Bible, and Mr. Branson.  Mr. Branson left a will that gave us the little cottage, and in that will he asked that there soon be children laughing.
Sarge lasted 10 days after we said goodbye to Mr. Branson. On a dark night, Mr. Branson’s grave was - as they say - vandalized. At the foot of his grave a new grave was dug.  Sarge was allowed to lay guard forevermore.
            So, on Veterans Day I honestly do not care to shake your hand, but I am proud to shake it. As I shake your hand, I allow you to understand that if all of us are not willing to be swallowed by the beast if called upon then we will not survive. I served, but was not in harm’s way and never was swallowed by the beast. But when I’m shaking your hand, I am honoring those in service both men and women that were in harm’s way. Yes, we have a Memorial Day, and that day is to memorialize all that did not come home. Veterans Day, is the celebration of the fact that we still have both young men and woman that if called will go into the beast for you. There is no one who has served whether in peace time or war that has not sat in the darkness wondering what was going to happen next. So, you see, when I talk of Jonah, I can relate to not knowing, not understanding, but growing in faith that the Lord is going to show me the way.
This story is written for those that did and did not come home. My father was not Mr. Branson, but when he landed at Normandy he walked to Czechoslovakia on the frontline. During that war, he was separated from his outfit during the Battle of the Bulge. When he got back to his outfit after the Battle, he was promoted and put in charge of the seven that was left. He never complained, he never moaned openly. But as a veteran and as I matured, I did see the loss that he had borne. When my father, who is now gone, came home, he also brought the hundreds of men who did not come home with him. When you see a veteran today, who has been in harm’s way, shake his hand especially on Veterans Day, but understand you’re not shaking one hand you’re honoring 1000s more.
What greater message could we teach out children than to Follow the lord where ever he calls, and what better example do we have than the Veterans, Police, Firemen and First Responders that have entered the belly of the beast not knowing what will come. But going when asked.

Friday, August 12, 2016

Saturday morning continuing on at the Fair

Now it is Saturday morning, last night ended about 1:30 PM. Having a daughter with a severe Nut allergy is also one of the reasons to cook over the campfire. Well the ice cream to end the night also put her in the emergency room. This all has ended with her home and all is well just a little sleep lost.

 Now for sharpening some old blades. Woodmizer is gracious to send some Blades for displaying their Machine but the wonderful stack of wood provided on the half also have some wire. So suspect logs use an old blade and is I cut wire a least I have also already sharpened them once or twice, save the new blades for safe wood.
 Boy Life will spin by if you don't watch it. 
It is now Aug 2016 and I apologize for not writing as I should. I have a lot to tell so good lord willing we will go for a ride. 
 We are on a new farm in Liberty Tn and that is wonderful for simply this is home. We have cleared 25 acres and have two of our out building built. All this will come later, what I need to know is where do you want the information to go. We are building Dry Kiln to hen houses. I have designed new style raised beds and even have vertical gardening  set up that is renewable. 
 Let me know. 
  

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Adventures at the fair with our Sawmill

Adventures at the fair with our Sawmill
Aug 14 2014

I thought I would chronicle the week at the fair this year.
 My wife and I decided about eighteen years ago to give back by moving the Mill to the Fair for nine days and just saw. This was started after a boy who came with his father to pick up lumber looked at his dad and stated "I thought 2X4s came from Walmart"
 We made a call and were told come on. The first years was with a non-Hydraulic LT40, Then a Super LT 40 and now a LT70 all WOODMIZER.
 The first problem we found was that since at that time I worked public work also I would leave work and go straight to the fair. We weren't flush with money "It's called raising kids" so Mom started cooking my supper right there at the fair. That grew into a full fire box and other Vendors enjoying a home cooked meal.  
 In 2002 we had established that we would be there so people that don’t live near us would bring logs to the fair so some years I did not even need to bring Logs. I started sawing on Friday at the start and noticed that the POW WOW was not a happy lot. Friends there that were wonderful artisans had not sold anything. Mom and I decided that this year we were a little better off that instead of having a little paycheck for demonstrating we would put everything back into the food and a least our friends would eat. The more I cut the more she cooked, at one evening she feed over 70 people. Oh by the way this was the year after 911 and yes people were still effected. At the end of that year we had still had and had cemented on-going friendships.
 So for a start here is what has to happen
 1 Get a fair support kit from WOODMIZER. This is a blessing because they will give you a bundle of log scales which allows you to teach people what is in a tree. I spend a lot of time just talking to people about what are their options with one to many trees on their property.
2 Understand that WOODMIZER has a program that will reward you if you talk to someone and they buy a mill. I have been talking to people in the thousands and yes they bought mills but being at the fair has never brought me a referral. I didn’t start this for that and I am OK with it.
3 One of the best things about the fair is I am there to demonstrate not run production. That is a blessing and yes I get pleasure in putting a little boy or girl on my lap and let them saw a board out. August is normally 95 degrees and when I give the child the board to go home and make a bird house for some reason the father isn’t happy hours later when the child won’t let him sit the board down and come back for it.
Moving the mill means a least six trips 38 miles to the fair. This is my give back and I am not worried about the economics of it.
a.      Move the mill out of the shed (This means that the annual of a complete clean-up will happen.
b.      Wash the mill
c.       Collect Logs
d.      Gather what you need for the mill to run for a week
e.      Gather cooking stuff (This will probably take until Sunday to get everything there)
f.        Don’t forget to bring the Mill Head yes that has happen
g.      Move your support machinery
Speaking of support machinery I have been blessed with one of the best Skid Steer operators in what started as a 10 year old daughter. She would haul the garbage out with the Bobcat. The old timers operate a circular Mill one Saturday. They would have my Daughter Wendy move logs for them. They would later have her move them back just to watch her operate the Bobcat.
Now that it is Thursday and the mill is up for Friday evening take stock and  go get what you forgot, You have to understand that the mill operation at home did not stop and customers have to be taken care of and planning for the week done.
 This year I have to add poplar in the mix for three jobs at home that did not get finished in time. That means haul poplar 38 miles to cut then haul it back home for the customer. It is just part of the experience and before you tell me that I am going to lose money no just break even and enjoy watching little one see sawdust played in.


 Now this is Thursday morning before the opening and this is what is on the agenda today. The mill got there last night last (Don’t feel bed for us that means Mom and I had Mex at one of the best Mexican restaurants around that just happens to be a mile from the fair. Today go reinstall a track on a skid steer that has pick yesterday to come off loading for the fair. Move the W4 loader, roller racks saw horses and logs to the fair. 

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

You Don't have to always get Mad

Needs on the Farm


In this troubled time it is so easy to get mad or scared.
 Yesterday I met with one of my neighbors and during the 10 minutes of interaction he was rude condescending just basically obnoxious. I was with my grandson and had many choices. One of them would have been to basically tell him where to go and how to get there fast.
 I wasn't prepared for the meeting but I did have an agenda. We are moving and I needed his tractor and bush hog for about two hours. I offered not to borrow (That was the norm with his father who I respect and adore (He has passed away)) but offer fence post from my sawmill. He decided that he did not need post but some Poplar lumber for the barn would be good.
 He was totally obnoxious even as I delivered him to his own vehicle. I did agree and this morning I will do some bush hogging.
 The point of this article is that it isn't what you have but how you deal with what you have when it is in your lap. This man has his own problems and does not need me to add to them. By not acerbating the situation if he is in a place where he can modify his life maybe he will use a little calmness I gave him and build on the homestead. Now before your nominate me for sainthood understand that I am one of those who will spit in your eye and dare you to jump when I am ready to rumble. (That is not good on my part).
 Now that I have built a watch I can tell you the time. You have many tools on your homestead and in this time it is needed to have them ready useful and to know where they are. Your neighbors could be the most important tool in your box. You are going to have to decide. With this person I honestly feel that this will be the last interaction and will close a book that is twenty years old. If it does close I know for myself that for all the bad choices I have made I gave him a chance to change the interaction. I am not a punching bag but also I am trying not to be a sponge. I urge you to do the same.
 On your farm you have one thing that unless you are a superhero you kick yourself daily. That is not knowing where that something that you need is. I am that way and after the years I consider it Christmas when I find a long lost now duplicate of something. What I want you to think about that in this time what are you needing but not missing.
 I know that is a different way of thinking but there are a lot of little things I do not have because I haven’t needed them yet so why have them. In many cases with shelf life’s and all I agree, but in the case of the basics that is another case in all.

 What you basics are, are simply up to you and no one else. For some it may be extra sparkplugs for equipment. For others it may be nuts bolts and drills for mending. For you it may be sewing thread. What I am getting at, is in the confrontation that I had it also would have been very easy for obnoxious neighbor to fly off the handle and escalate me into telling him where to travel fast. Whether he liked it or not he did have a need that did mollify his own lack of servility and both of us can prosper.  

Sunday, February 23, 2014

The Misuse of Wood
 At 60 years old, I consider myself in about the third grade when it comes to wood. This is funny to me because I have been sawing commercially for over 20 years and have a few million feet under my belt.
Here is a little tidbit that I am working on:
 I advise people when building barns and such to not forget the less desirable wood for interior use. Doing this can usually save the customer twenty percent on the cost. This has been received as revolutionary, and although people are doing it.  They are still skeptical.
 The woods that I am recommending range from poor-grade walnut – that is walnut not usable for fine furniture and in line with Oak in price - on the bottom run in stalls. The walnut is rot resistant and horses don’t crib. Use beech, elm, hackberry, gum and others on the inside walls. These come as the off boards and commercially they are used in the pallet industry for pennies compared with other wood.
 Now that I have shared the revolutionary information, let me share what the professor has enlightened me with.  The professor is the five structures on my new farm. They range from 150 years old to about 60 years old.
The original cabin that was built in about 1900 is a pole structure with two rooms and a porch with a side shed. The walls inside the structure are beech. Beech was and still is a less desirable wood. It appears they needed a structure to stay dry and used the cheapest wood available. It still stands testimony to a good roof.
The second cabin more elaborately built next to the old cabin has beautiful wood walls that are striking. The grain pattern is 15 years per inch. The hue reflects the sun like no wood I have ever seen. Oh, by the way it is GUM.  
Here is the lesson that I am just beginning to get through my dense scull. It is good management to use the lessor grades of wood, and this means there is a higher profit margin for your homestead.
An old timer had me cut a barn pattern years ago, and a lot of this is from that start. I pulled up to his farm and set up in the shade of some of the finest timber in the country. When I started cutting that was not what he had there for me to cut.
The following is the lumber list:
Post Oak for the sills
Red Oak for the rafters and joist
White Oak for the Banding
Hackberry for the loft
Sycamore for the pearling
Poplar for the siding


Each had a strength and a use. This is what I hope your homestead can evolve to. 

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Chapter one How to beat the system without cheating
First of all you have to understand that everyone is not your friend and does not want the best for you.
Large Oil Etc. is not an evil entity but they are out to make money and if you are not reliant on them they will do whatever they can to assure that you are. You have to understand Walmart is here to charge you the absolute MAXIMUM that they can and not have you go somewhere else. This happens to be cheaper than most places which lessons competition. This is perfectly legal and not even immoral have items below cost. This gets you in there type of store and not at the mom and pop local. When the little ones are gone the large store and equalize their stock to a more profitable margin for them. God Bless them. They make jobs for many people but that does not mean you can’t be more independent.
 The first place you have to start is to look at where you are. If you are in an apartment that does not mean that you can’t improve your life and lessen the dependents on others.
 In the following weeks I am going to put forth a homestead. If you are in an apartment your homestead will stop at the window planters until you make changes. If that is where you decide to be that is not only OK but wonderful, most people get caught in I must be here or there or I won’t be happy. Be happy for the moment where ever you are and if you want somewhere else just consider where you are and a platform for learning and all will be good.
 I suggest you eat the elephant. Now that I have totally confused you, you eat an elephant one bite at a time so here is the first bite.
Window curtains that make you happy. 
If you YouTube soda Bottle garden it will give you an idea where the start of this came from. I don’t recommend the soda bottles except as a learning process for the final one that can accept plants from all places Walmart. The bottom pot is a catch basin without drainage this allows you to water let it drain then recoup the excess and use it. This will give you and your family salads and herbs that if used fully (Everywhere you can) it will also allow you to freeze and dry herbs for the winter.

 I recommend this as a starter so you can see that even a little change can make big dividends for you.  

Thursday, February 13, 2014

This is a Rant of sorts but I need to get this out
My rant of the day.
I read about the problems of welfare, and also the stories of people abusing the poor and taking advantage of them. I see in the news about slaves held in the US as Servants with little or no pay. 
I understand the anger about people working hard and watching others on their tax dollars play. 
Here is what I don't think people get through their reasoning. They are the same. The government wants a docile people some if they bred( YES BREED Generations) of people that have their options pointed down and accept that, that is their lot in life they the government has power. 
Some people have businesses and guess what they hire you to take advantage of your work for their gain. This is the same as the government paying a section of people welfare to stay in their place and not cause problems.
I am not knocking the guy that risk his money to pay you for your service or you becoming his employee. The difference is there are two types of employees and they are the one that has a worth the the employer and employee recognizes and knows that if he does not compensate according to his worth he will leave. This is fair and good for both. The other is an employer that reduces wages and benefits until he looses key people then raises them just enough to keep his hired slaves their making sure to illustrate that you can't go or get ahead you must stay.
In each way whether you accept welfare or a job that holds your growth it is your decision. People will not change but your knowledge and self worth can change. You have to change if you want to get ahead because human nature will not.

 If you make you and your family a working GROWING unit that is adaptable and flexible to what ever comes you will exceed.