Nothing Last Forever • Not Even Your Troubles

"If I ever had to live off of the farm, I'd die," Ben Byler said with a wide smile.  "It's the only life for me."  I admired his strength of heart and dedication, but as I stood in the dusty driveway sweating after only 5-minutes without air conditioning, I realized I couldn't relate in the slightest.  Something tells me he knew it, too.

It was my week to pick up milk for our co-op.  I wake up early on those Saturdays, excited to pack my car full of willing friends who share my enthusiasm for trips to Amish country.  I'm sure the Byler family is every bit as interested in us as we are in them when we arrive.  Even the horses give us a good once-over as we meander down the driveway to the milking barn.

Ben's family moved to Cadiz, Kentucky from Maryland 18 months ago.  The farm that they purchased has nutrient depleted soil from generations of commercial farming and run-down out buildings that have all required repairs in order to function properly.  In six short months, Ben and his countless children (I literally cannot count them all) raised three new barns and began organically infusing the soil with necessary nutrients.  Their outlook is as positive as west-bound pioneers; their faces gleaming with accomplishment that only comes from working the land.

With the recent wave of green living and responsible agriculture, the Byler family seems very trendy; hipsters of the Amish community, if you will.  Ben explained how their free-range chickens not only aerate the soil, but also fertilize it with their perfectly designed feet and the delicate (yet refreshingly simple) balance of the farm's ecological system.  "The animals do the work for you if you know when to move them in the pastures and you pay attention to the seasons.  It takes about five years to replenish the land when it's been over-worked like this."  Ben's wife Lydia nodded in agreement, completely accepting of their reality.

As we were talking, a horse drawn flat-bed wagon passed through the field, obedient children (again, countless) on their way to late-morning chores waved at us.

I think about the time-tested farming practices that the Amish have mastered (sans technology and search engines) and realize why they're successful stewards of the land:  Patience.  Honesty.  Fairness.  Ben doesn't call his style of farming "organic farming;" he just calls it farming.  Ben farms primarily for the benefit of his family; he's not greedy with what he takes from the land (they also eat venison exclusively from their property) and he doesn't rush the process.  

My TV Network Executive friend Tammi usually joins me on the 2 hour drive to Amish country.  After her third trip with me, Ben asked, "Do you drink the milk, too?"  Tammi explained that she travels too much for work to commit to a gallon of milk every week. Ben replied matter-of-fact, "So you need a different job then."

Everything should be as simple as that.  For now I'll glean what knowledge I can from the Byler's simple, rewarding life of patience, honesty and fairness.

love y'all!

bunny

Dog Park: The Story of Corbin & Claire

The Dog Park: a seemingly uncivilized place where, if it weren't for four-legged (though I have seen three-legged), barking, slobbery, unconditional love-filled creatures, most humans wouldn't set foot. Some are purebred, some mutts, others have an uncanny resemblance to their owners. I spend hours at the dog park every week with my Corbin Dallas (a gorgeous Australian Shepherd/Border Collie). The people are friendly and everyone expects to get jumped on, peed on (it happens - last week, actually) and occasionally caught in the cross-fire of a stampede (oftentimes fueled by Corbin's herding instinct - low to the ground, intense border collie "eye," thrilled with himself for getting 15 dogs to run for their lives...).

Corbin is picky with his playmates - if ever a dog had an opinion, it is him. There have been times when we leave the park because he deems no one a worthy playmate - he gets in play stance (bowing down, butt in the air) and begins barking profusely at me, telling me it's time to leave. And so we do.


It was last fall when we were about to leave the dog park (at Corbin's request) that we met Claire, a pretty Border Collie/Black Lab with a pleasant temperament and fast enough to keep Corbin interested in the chase. It was love at first flight. Claire took off running and Corbin gave chase. The pair would return to me and Lauren (Claire's mom) time and time again and Corbin would parade for Claire, rolling in the dirt, barking and whining for her to run again. She'd pounce on him with licks and take off like a bullet. I've really never seen anything like it.


Since then, Claire is the first thing Corbin looks for when we get to the dog park (sometimes he spots Lauren first and wiggles his whole body knowing that Claire isn't far away). Once they find each other, an immediate game of chase ensues - dust and polo sized grass clods flying everywhere.


Months prior to meeting Claire at the dog park, Corbin's regular Doggie Daycare (Camp Bow Wow Nashville) was closed for about a month for repairs after Nashville experienced horrific flooding. Frantic for a place to send him during the days that I am busy trying to rule the world/write hit songs, I found another daycare to accommodate his super-high energy and separation anxiety.


I dreaded taking him to a new place; much like the mother of a human child taking their kid to a new school mid-year (or so I imagine). But Corbin, being the dog he is and seemingly excited about having a new place to pee and me, having no other choice, got dropped off.


At the end of the day, I went to pick him up. He ran to the gate to greet me, jumping up in the air and barking. I asked the daycare owner how he had been for them. They told me he fit right in. He even met a dog that he seemed to bond with immediately and followed around all day (I imagined this dog "introducing" him to everyone - like the cool kid on campus). They gave me a picture of Corbin and his new friend standing on top of a doggy play-set and I put it in my notebook of sheet music - then I put the notebook in my trunk and closed it.


This morning (10 months after the photo was taken), I re-discovered the notebook with the picture of Corbin and his friend from the once-visited doggy daycare inside. I did a double take when I recognized the other dog in the picture this time. It was Claire. No doubt. Pink collar, white chest, speckled feet - the look of love on both of their faces.


I guess they've always loved each other. I don't know why, but it makes me tear-up; the provision of love and friendship even in my dog's life. It makes me consider the implications of the never ending love that the Lord has for us - to send what we need, just when we need it. A friend to show you the ropes, a love to heal the brokenness - a playmate when none other are worthy.


Today I'm thankful for the little provisions and so thankful for a God that teaches me things on my level and uses my dog to show them to me. He knows I speak animal.


Love,
Bunny Butler

Crocus & Smilax

Thirty crocus, eighteen tulips and two bearded Iris (I know they should be planted in odds, but I ran out of dirt): that is what I planted in my tiny concrete garden this weekend. Only two days in and I'm already looking expectantly; hoping to catch at just the right moment, a bud bursting through the nutrient depleted soil with festive green shoots and an emergence of springtime joy. I guess I am proud. After all, I dug a hole and plopped them in.

But the Crocuses are what I am excited about the most... They are the smallest of the bulbs - not much bigger than my thumb nail; enchantingly simple and lovely. Their carefree petals and small stature is what implored me to rescue them from the bargain bin at The Home Depot. They aren't as elegant and tightly-bound as the tulips or as dramatic as the Iris'. They are very not put-together. Something I fear about myself, but admire in others.

According to legend, young Crocus was a shepherd boy with a fine and noble spirit. He fell deeply in love with the lovely nymph, Smilax. Being impressed with the depth of his devotion, the gods granted him immortality and turned him in to a flower. They also transformed Smilax into an evergreen, the yew, to ensure the two would be always together.

I love a good legend to back-up my natural inclination at anthropomorphizing (something the Greeks mastered as well). When I read this story, it all made sense. And why wouldn't it? Two lovers combined for all eternity, perfectly complimenting each others uniqueness, subtly calling me, a fellow romantic, to plant them in a garden where they can just 'be.' This must be what Edward Cullen feels like every time he saves Bella.

Apparently I'm not the only fanciful person to be captivated by the story of this simple little flower (which, thanks to my imagination, I will no longer see as a flower but instead as two lovers in an embrace - all over my garden). A poem by Frances E.W. Harper called The Crocuses poignantly captures the essence of the flower. It would be a shame not to share.

In the everlasting arms
Mid life’s dangers and alarms
Let calm trust your spirit fill;
Know He’s God, and then be still.”

Trustingly I raised my head
Hearing what the atom said;
Knowing man is greater far
Than the brightest sun or star.

They heard the South wind sighing
A murmur of the rain;
And they knew that Earth was longing
To see them all again.

While the snow-drops still were sleeping
Beneath the silent sod;
They felt their new life pulsing
Within the dark, cold clod.

Not a daffodil nor daisy
Had dared to raise its head;
Not a fairhaired dandelion
Peeped timid from its bed;

Though a tremor of the winter
Did shivering through them run;
Yet they lifted up their foreheads
To greet the vernal sun.

And the sunbeams gave them welcome.
As did the morning air
And scattered o’er their simple robes
Rich tints of beauty rare.

Soon a host of lovely flowers
From vales and woodland burst;
But in all that fair procession
The crocuses were first.

First to weave for Earth a chaplet
To crown her dear old head;
And to beautify the pathway
Where winter still did tread.

And their loved and white haired mother
Smiled sweetly ’neath the touch,
When she knew her faithful children
Were loving her so much.

I hope you each plant something lovely today - a flower, an idea, a ridiculous story.

Love,

Bunny

Visceral Me vs. Rudimentary Self

I love my little modern luxuries like the next girl: my Clarisonic Skin Brush (which by the way will rock your face off), the Christian Louboutin online look-book, Botox that doesn't kill you, the freedom to stalk people you don't even know on social networking sites without judgment or ever getting caught... the list could go on for days. I also love being a grown-up: going to bed after midnight on a Tuesday, short skirts, downloading songs with explicit lyrics (no permission required), having licorice for supper, etc.

So there's that side of me that's shallow and materialistic and just generally relieved to have made it to twenty-seven without incident and glad that at the end of the day I can turn on the TV and drink a glass of wine, but then there's this side (the one that's blogging ridiculous titles like "Visceral Me vs. Rudimentary Self") that feels underwhelmed and disappointed that I'm somehow surviving on the meaningless - like eating Rice Cakes. Surviving on the things that mute my heart and soul. I start to feel like they are an enemy that intentionally muffles the still, small, voice that only speaks when you're listening and asks, "Do you know yourself?"

Blink... Blink...

I know what the visceral me wants and *thinks* she's capable of, but do I know the rudimentary me anymore? Ya know, the me that used to be certain of everything and doubtful of nothing? The undiluted kid version of myself; potent, raw and full-bodied.

If I could return to 1994 with a bottle and capture one-tenth of the determination and knowing I had (time travel info) as a feisty, unusual, unstoppable ten-year old sitting in the upstairs loft of our Wyoming abode, writing in a Lisa Frank notebook (in my neatest penmanship and with absoluteness) a list of all that I would accomplish in my grand life, my inner voice could have moved on to another question by now: "What are you waiting for?"

Any time I start these self-exams, the small, still, humble voice is able to speak a little louder. I feel the ten-year-old version of myself perk up and inhaling deeply say, "She's remembering -- she's coming back! She won't let anyone sway her or swindle her or defeat her or discourage her now. Nope."

I'm not saying I had it all figured out when I was 10 (turns out not all boys are icky and eventually sweet tarts would make me gag when I ate more than five), but I was dedicated to the task at hand... I had auto-pilot dedication to my rudimentary material - the cloth I was cut out of.

One thing I've always been is laid-back; more energy than a terrier, but easygoing. I still love all of the little pacifiers I listed above, but I don't want to allow them to mute the little voice. That little Carolina accented voice has some really good things to say -- and a Lisa Frank notebook that probably has the best ideas I've ever had.

My Dog Lives Better Than I Do

He is my best friend, bed warmer, constant shadow, co-pilot, secret keeper, momma's boy, comic relief, personal trainer and the face that makes me smile even when I don't think I have one in me. He is Corbin Dallas and he lives a better life than I do. But you know... without any jealousy I can admit that he truly deserves it.

Our relationship is one that has given a 1000x return on the investment (I give him kisses, treats, snuggles and rides in the car to the dog park and PetSmart in exchange for his unconditional love and admiration). To sweeten the deal, I've never once questioned the purity of our relationship either. It's simple: I love him. He loves me. I take care of him. He takes care of me. Couldn't be easier.

Calling him a "dog" seems underhanded - so does referring to myself as his "owner" (after all, at 2 am when he's taking up more of the bed than Jim and I combined, who owns who?).

Sure, I spoil him - but he spoils me too. In fact, he's got the love thing down so effortlessly that when other relationships fall short, even just a little bit, they seem all the more intolerable.

So thanks for letting me gush a little bit about my favorite -- and brag about how lucky I am to be obsessed over by such a grand soul.

Here's to my Corbin!

love,
bunny

Farm Animal Sanctuary

I've always told my husband that one day, when we have land that I haven't already filled with dogs and horses, I'd like to rescue animals from slaughterhouses (his family raised beef cattle -- who says we aren't a match made in heaven?). I pictured it as a covert operation: belaying equipment attached to my black cat suit, suspended above the slaughterhouse floor from a roof hatch that I opened with a bobby-pin, reaching stealthily for the lever that would release helpless cows from their certain death... Fast forward the fantasy sequence to cows and sheep frolicking for the first time in the beautiful, rolling hills of Tennessee - thanking me silently with their gentle eyes. Ahh. It's one of my favorite ideas. Ever.

As if I didn't need any more encouragement (other than the encouragement I receive from the hubby, of course), Farm Sanctuary has gone and inspired me with their dedication to fair treatment and respect for life. With two locations (upstate New York and California), the organization exists to not only rescue the abused, but combat the abuses of factory farming and encourage a new awareness and understanding about "farm animals." Through the years, Farm Sanctuary has rescued thousands of animals (see the piglet named "Bob Harper" above) and educated millions of people about their plight.

Along the same lines, the video below is from a documentary called "Peaceable Kingdom - The Journey Home" that explores the awakening conscience of several people who grew up in traditional farming culture and who have now come to question the basic premises of their inherited way of life. Definitely worth a watch and I'm looking forward to the release of the full-length documentary.

In other bovine news, Maybelline is great (and treated fairly). In the picture I posted last of her, you will see that she's eating a dried branch with brown leaves on it; which explains the odd after-taste in the milk we experienced for a couple of weeks. Anyway, our Amish farmer began supplementing their grass (since it's been so dry in our area) and the milk is back to it's sweet, creamy deliciousness.

Cheers to your health - and happiness!

Love, bunny

Maybelline

Friends. Allow me to introduce you to Maybelline; the producer of the most delicious milk south of the Mason-Dixon line and a poster child for Latisse eyelash enhancer.

I ventured out to Amish country again this weekend (along with my co-op partners in crime Tammi & Jodi) for milk pick-up and a corn pickin' good time. We saw a rat the size of a cat cross the highway in record time, wild turkeys, tobacco drying in authentic tobacco barns, scriptures posted on ancient oak trees, gorgeous teams of draft horses hoeing corn and some of the most beautiful countryside in Kentucky.

The Amish are inspiring with their dedicated work ethic and resourcefulness. It's actually intimidating. I never know quite what to wear (how superficial does this make me sound?) on my trips to Amish country, so a costume change was voted necessary after Tammi & Jodi deemed my top (one I wear to church...) "whorish" for the Amish.

The picture to the left is of us carrying in the large cooler into the milk barn. The cows are milked in the morning before we arrive for pick-up and the milk is immediately put in a water-cooled refrigeration system. All of the cows looked very pleased with themselves when we pulled up (especially Maybelline because she is a Supermodel). Good job, girls!

Love,
bunny

The Land of Milk and Honey

I didn't realize how much I have come to depend on the raw milk that I've been getting since May until we had a botch in our co-op's ordering process last week and I found myself raw milk-less. After buying some "regular" organic milk (I feel like such a snob saying this), it tasted void of nutritional benefits and almost chemical. A friend of mine claims pasteurized organic milk tastes like chlorine to her after converting (reluctantly at that) to the raw milk ways. I tend to agree.

Another unexpected surprise from our partnership with the Amish family that we get our milk from is the amazing sweet cream butter and pickled organic beets they sell (I buy a quart jar regularly). My new favorite snack is beets, goat cheese, honey and pine nuts tossed together in a symphony of deliciousness... complemented very nicely with a Rex Goliath Cabernet Sauvignon.

Though I've been trying to eat mostly raw (not as hard as I thought it would be), I'm actually following a half raw and half macrobiotic lifestyle (hey, you have to find what works for you!). I'm getting my whole grains through Ezekiel Bread (which my husband calls "Bible Bread") and feel great just knowing what the highly digestible, simple ingredients are: Organic Sprouted Wheat, Organic Sprouted Barley, Organic Sprouted Millet, Malted Barley, Organic Sprouted Lentils, Organic Sprouted Soybeans, Organic Spelt, Filtered Water, Fresh Yeast, Sea Salt.

As far as the CSA (Consumer Supported Agriculture) program is going, I get so excited to pick-up my 1/2 bushel of locally grown, organic veggies each Wednesday. The investment has certainly not disappointed and the weekly yield is mainly comprised of squash, zucchini, corn, tomato, cucumbers, eggplant (multiple varieties), bell pepper, sugar baby watermelon, cantaloupe and okra (my favorite!). Delvin Farms is already planning their fall crops and in addition to a break in the 100+ degree heat index we've been having, I'm so looking forward to the potatoes, acorn, butternut and spaghetti squash coming in... Mmmm.

Speaking of the heat, my favorite drink to combat dehydration (preferably while poolside) is chilled Coconut Water. With health benefits like more electrolytes than the leading sports drink (i.e.: Gatorade) and more potassium than 2 bananas, coconut water is harvested from green coconuts (before the inside turns to "meat" and the water turns to fatty "milk") and contains high levels of lauric acid, what the body uses to make monolaurin, a disease-fighting fatty acid derivative (with anti-fungal, anti-bacterial and anti-viral properties that protect the body against various infections and boost the immune system).

I will say that I noticed how much earlier the sun is setting... and how school is about to begin again, so I'm trying to savor the last days of summer!

Love,
bunny

Going Local

After a lot of talking about it, I finally did it - I am supporting a local farm, eating organically with the seasons and participating in a raw milk co-op (shout out to our cow "Maybelline" for her hard work and fine tasting milk).

In our first box from Delvin Farms (above), we received new potatoes, spring onions, kale, green leaf lettuce, arugula and strawberries. Today there's talk of swiss chard, lettuce, red Russian kale, bok choy and more delicious strawberries in our 1/2 bushel share.

Last Saturday I picked up two gallons of raw, whole milk. At first I was concerned with the fat content since the milk isn't skimmed, but learned that the nutritional value in the cream makes the raw milk worth all of those delicious, creamy calories.

To the farmer, the cream is the best part of the milk. Sadly, some raw milk farmers will skim the cream off of the milk and then sell what's left over, called "Blue John," to unsuspecting raw milk buyers. The milk then tastes watery and dull and, like the name implies, has a slight blue tint to it. RAW MILK FAQ online says that, "By removing important fats and fat-soluble vitamins in the skimming process, this once excellent food actually becomes a burden on the body, causing the liver to give up stored nutrients in its digestion. The loss of CLA (conjugated linoleic acid), pathogen-busting medium-chain triglycerides and vitamin A alone constitutes an unforgivable crime against nature's perfect food."

To hit the point home, our raw milk farmer and Maybelline's caretaker give their skimmed milk, or "Blue John" to the pigs once the cream has been taken off of the top to make butter or other cream related products.

On June 5th, it will be my turn to drive to the farm to pick-up the milk for the co-op group. I'm very excited to tour the farm and get that "hands on" feeling from directly participating with the source of my food.

More adventures coming soon!

Love,
bunny

While Visions of Vegetables Danced In Her Head

Three weeks from today, I will pick-up my first bounty of fresh picked, organic vegetables from a local family-run farm that practices sustainable agriculture. This makes me (almost) a farmer. I have prepaid for a weekly 1/2 bushel (See? I even know the lingo...) during the 23 week growing season and expect an abundance of tomatoes, okra, kale, cabbage, peppers, potatoes, carrots, corn, onions, garlic, tender, baby lettuces and an assortment of berries from sun-kissed May to chill-infused October. I can taste them now.

I'm imagining my drive to the pick-up location: Putamayo's "Music From The Wine Lands" playing while the sunroof sucks my hair out the top of the car; I get out, French straw market basket in-hand (see above), wearing a lovely botanical print dress (see right), smiling ear to ear (while remaining completely calm and cool) and skipping to the produce tent (or truck... or whatever they transport my delicious renderings from God's miracle concoction of seeds, water and sunshine in).

Why don't I feel this euphoria when I go to the supermarket? Well, maybe because Publix doesn't allow me the opportunity to get to know the people who are growing my food - I don't get to feel personally involved with the growing process and have a "partnership" with a family that benefits greatly from my interest in knowing where my food came from, how it was grown and who grew it. Plus Publix has never invited me to a picnic with hayrides, bonfires and garden tours.

Eating "with the seasons" is something I have never really done in my adult life because of the availability and growing practices of commercial producers. I'm not opposed to having "sun-ripened" tomatoes year-round, but something feels slightly contrived about it, not to mention it's not sustainable to my local area and I don't feel a personal connection to the source of something I take such pleasure in consuming.

After watching "Food, Inc." last week on PBS (which I highly recommend everyone I know to watch), I went to www.localharvest.org/csa and printed off a list of local growers. After settling on one that I felt excited about partnering with (you buy a "share" in their growing season), I'm also considering other ways to get involved with my food source locally - a "cow-share" program for raw milk (find out about the benefits of raw milk here) is my next mission. Stayed tuned... that could be a great adventure - with a totally different soundtrack, outfit and accessories.

flatout fantastic

"Ahhhhh! The cumbersome task of sandwich making!"

No, not really. But flatout has new Foldit Flatbreads that do make sandwiching less messy and for the truly lazy or sandwiching impaired, easier (I love the instructions to "make it, then fold it").

And for those of us that love lots and lots of veggies in their sandwiches, the Foldits are particularly handy (less spillage only if you don't eat the "closed" side of the bread - duh!).

For today's creation (a beautiful avocado, compari tomato, clover sprout and cheddar sammich), I tried the 5-Grain Flax bread. At only 100 calories, 8 grams of fiber and 8 grams of whole wheat, it's guilt free deliciousness.

A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words

I heard a quote that said, "You don't take a photograph. You ask, quietly, to borrow it."

In seeing these pictures of my grandmother, Edith Matthews Sadler; my grandfather, John Sadler and my great-grandparents Sam & Edith Matthews; I feel like I've borrowed a mere second in their lives. A day that was lived long before I, and even my parents, were born. I will never know what they did that day; their conversations and anticipations or what inspired the person behind the camera to take the shot, but I love knowing that shortly before or after this picture, there was a laugh let-out, a comment made, plans carried on with.

I had the opportunity to know my paternal grandparents, John & Edith ("Edie") Sadler, very well. Their presence in my life no doubt shaped who and what I am today. But as I've grown older, I've forgotten those subtleties about them that I failed to take permanent note of when I was very young. What I do still remember is Granny's lilting, mellifluous voice ushering us to take our shoes off at the door and Pop-Pop's irrefutable presence; steady, seasoned, certain. Granny's signature Estee Lauder pink lips and life-long love of the water as a true Floridian. Pop-Pop's always present coffee mug and just right dousing of Old Spice.

My sister is the spitting image of Granny. They share the same graceful manner and assertiveness. I don't know that I have any outstanding characteristics of her, other than my love of music and the very "Edie" way of walking sideways into someone when walking and talking to them at the same time. I remember her teaching us scales on the piano with the gentle tap of her finger nails on the keys and the painting of the girl on the spiral staircase that hung above the piano.

But all of these memories were things about her from later in her life. I love that these pictures show a shadow of people that I remember well, but who I did not know when these moments were captured.

Edith Matthews Sadler - Stewart, Florida
August 14, 1947
Edith Matthews with a friend
John Sadler Little Edie Sam Matthews (with his foot on the car)
Sam Matthews

Don't count your chickens before they hatch...

I did not know I wanted chickens until I saw this. Let me introduce the Eglu Modern Chicken Coop from Omlet (ingenious name!). "It's an ideal way to keep up to 10 chickens in a town, city or on a hobby farm. It features slide out dropping trays, hose clean surfaces, twin walled insulated, no maintenance and No Foxes Allowed protection. The eglu cube makes is easy to keep a large number of hens and leaves you with more time to enjoy the pleasures of owning chickens."

And what's THIS? That's right... it's a rabbit habitat from Eglu. The company promises happier bunnies and happier humans. Sounds pretty good to me...

But, wait... it gets better. These come in 5 colors to suit every fancy. I love this little company and it's mission to help those with limited space enjoy the benefits of rural life!