It's Easy Being Green

My Homestead Hottie did it: another amazing labor and delivery at  The Farm in Summertown, Tennessee. Two and a half weeks of high-anticipation ended at 2am Tuesday morning when baby Adalyn finally decided to show her face to the world! My wife once again did it with the most surreal zen-like confidence and calm.

We’re so excited but exhausted. Talina streamed the birth live over on her blog at Harvest of Daily Life and if you’re interested, you can catch a recording there too. This has been another amazing stay at The Farm, a place where we are considered part of one large but tight-knit community of like-minded people. Special thanks to our midwife Pamela Hunt for her grace and assurance as she brought our second daughter into the world.

Once things calm back down, I’m sure we’ll piece together our birth stories. Three posts back you can find a link to our birth story with Everly from two years ago. It was another amazing experience and one that will forever connect us with these1500 acres in the middle of the Blackjack Oak woods in the middle of southern Tennessee.

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We’ve only been staying in Lawrence County, Tennessee for a week but already I think word of me has spread like wildfire through the local Amish community. With each passing horse and buggy, I can just imagine the exchanges between community members.

Maybe it’s a tip of the straw hat or a certain knot used to hitch their horse to the post. It could also be the fact that I’ve now pulled into nearly a dozen Amish farms and stopped several buggy drivers asking for one apparently odd item: a Moses basket. Are you having a “huh?” moment yet? So far just about everyone I’ve met has so don’t feel bad about it.

For those of you feeling like one of my new Amish friends, this is a Moses basket.

Homestead Hottie got the idea to pick up a Moses basket for our daughter whom we’re still waiting to be born while staying here at The Farm. Our Darling Daughter has decided to sleep in the pack ‘n play instead of a “big girl bed” which means we need to find another sleeping option for her baby sister pronto. Talina got the idea to go with a Moses Basket to easily transport our new little one around the house and from house to garden and back again while chasing after our toddler daughter.

Since we are just a few minutes away from a large Amish settlement, we thought their crafting hands might have created some really amazing Moses baskets to sling a baby around in. One dusty farm stop after another, we seemed to be leaving a trail of bewildering looks in our path. After some explanation, the Amish basketmakers usually got the idea but sat in quiet pondering how to put it together.

“Like an egg basket,” one Amish woman muttered while staring holes through her feet, perched on the side doorstep of her farmhouse.

“Is an egg basket big enough for a baby?” I asked.

“Well sure,” she said hesitantly, still staring down at her dusty doorstep. “Egg baskets are big.”

Still not convinced or reassured, I pressed the issue harder. “Will it be able to support the weight of an infant baby?”

“Ya, it should,” the Amish woman said under her breath, now nervously fidgeting with the basket she was in the process of weaving when I pulled up.

“Well, I’ll keep looking but I might be back to ask you to make one,” I ended with as I slinked back through the fine farm dust to the car left idling in the barnyard.

Now repeat that same exchange about a half-dozen times and you begin to get the idea. I also found it funny that no matter how small or tight-knit their Amish community might be, most of them pretend to not know what the other is doing or making. There are no references in Amish country unless it is to someone who is “in the family”. One proud father with a long snowy white beard, perched quietly in his roadside stand, sent me around the corner to his daughter’s farm to pickup fresh peanut butter. Ask them though if there is anyone in the area who makes woven baskets and they clam up, almost as if you’re speaking a foreign language.

After my wild toad ride through the backroads of the Etheridge, Tennessee Amish country, I decided to give my wife and darling daughter a break for a couple days. Pulling out of town for a hike the other day, an Amish horse and buggy was parked at the corner gas station. Spread throughout the grass around the buggy were dozens of baskets. Seeing another opportunity I quickly whipped into the parking lot and approached the man quietly weaving away from his driver’s seat.

“A what?” he said when I asked if he happened to make Moses baskets.

“A Moses basket…something that you can carry a baby around in?” I shot back.

“Are you the one who stopped by the farms the other day?” he asked inquisitively.

I was stunned. Across pastures, barnyard fences and the distinctive cloppity clop clop and rattle of the horse drawn buggies, word of my strange request was making its way through Amish country. Surely word would get around of what I was on the hunt for and work back to me that one had been located and was ready to meet my wallet. But no, it’s just been met with more inquisitive looks and long drawn out thoughts. That’s Amish country for ya though. Unfortunately it looks like this time around, the Amish will just have to lose out to Amazon.

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We didn’t just fall off the turnip truck yesterday nor is this our first visit to The Farm in Summertown, Tennessee. We sure got smacked with a healthy dose of vegan elitism though and I’m still reeling from it.

When The Farm, a hippie commune developed by a caravan of bus traveling hippies was originally established in the early 1970’s, veganism ruled. The commune is no longer as active or bound by the original ideals as it once was. The commune’s population boomed to about 1600 in its heyday but the growth was unsustainable. There weren’t enough jobs in the rural Tennessee area to support the communal residents and interest waned over time. About 160 people still live at the commune today, some new and some original residents but some have chosen to stick to what they know. We’ve never been given a hard time about our meat-eating habits when we stay at the farm but the woman running The Farm Store ruined that streak yesterday.

The Farm Store is a warm, cozy general store and central meeting spot for many who live on The Farm’s 1500 acre commune. It’s a place to meet up with friends, make new acquaintances, grab a snack or find that obscure natural food item you’ve been on the hunt for. In years past, we know we’ve been able to get a fresh plate lunch whipped up at the store’s counter. That’s why when we had an appointment to meet a documentary photographer there, we thought it would be a good opportunity to grab a bite to eat.

When I walked up to the counter I immediately noticed the blackboard menu, usually artistically written in several different colors of chalk and propped on the back wall of the store, was missing. I asked the woman (not the usual storekeeper we’ve befriended over the years) if she had a menu for the day. She just looked at me bright-eyed and laughed.

“We don’t have a menu here,” she quipped. “I didn’t make soup today but there is chili in the cooler that was left over from yesterday. There are also some pre-made black bean burgers and things in there too.”

Needless to say we were confused and disappointed and this woman didn’t help the situation. There was no namaste here. I resorted to poking through the frozen foods section, looking for anything we might be interested in microwaving for our lunch. Meanwhile the woman behind the counter  continued chortling away in her own blissful bubble.

“That’s just so funny,” she said, forking her own food on a plate behind the counter. “I think you are only the second person who has ever asked me for a menu.”

Sensing the pregnancy hormone rage beginning to ooze out of Homestead Hottie’s pores, I explained that we had stopped in for a wrap or sandwich a couple times before on previous visits to the farm 2 to 3 years ago.

“No, we’ve never served food here,” she continued. “I wish!”

At this point there was no holding back the pregnant lady. “I’ve definitely had a tuna sandwich or something here before,” Talina insisted.

“No, nope, not here,” the storekeeper shot back. “We’ve never served meat or fish or sandwiches here. This is only a vegan community and we only serve vegan food. You must have been visiting someplace else.”

Well then, we had certainly been told and the shopkeeper wasn’t going to stop telling us as long as we were in The Farm Store. Her vegan elitism attitude was ruling this roost and she was going to go ahead and mock us as the outsiders we are. It’s truly uncharacteristic of anyone at The Farm. We’ve never encountered this type of attitude from the dozens and dozens of commune residents we’ve met and befriended over the years.  They’re all so accepting with the exception of this woman.

There were no usual questions about where we were from or why we were there, just snide and snippy vegan elitism. Yet, sitting in a woven basket marked clearance on one of the store tables were two bottles of pancake syrup. The main ingredients in both: high-fructose corn syrup. That made me chuckle a bit on our way out the door, in search of someone else to serve us lunch. “How’s that for irony,” I thought to myself.

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We have officially put down our temporary roots at one of our favorite places to visit: The Farm in Summertown, Tennessee. This old hippie commune is where our darling daughter Everly was born thanks to the world-renowned midwives here. Now we are awaiting the arrival of our second daughter, Adalyn who is due on the 23rd.

During Everly’s birth we stayed in a one-room cabin next door to our midwife’s house. You can read our birth story here. This time around we’re staying in a much larger, three bedroom home known as The Forest House. It’s nestled deep in the Blackjack Oak woods just outside of The Farm’s front gate and just a short golf cart ride away from our midwife.

Keep checking back here for all the updates from The Farm as we wait for Adalyn’s birth. My Homestead Hottie is also busily blogging from our hideaway in the woods so check out her blog too for different updates!

The view from our Forest House deck into the surrounding woods is very relaxing.

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