Stateside, I’m convinced the New Years’ holiday is nothing more than a ploy by champagne companies to put themselves back in the black. It is truly one of the only times people buy champagne in any noticeable amount. Aside from that, folks just seem to be looking for the next opportunity to get smashed and an excuse to “start over for the next year”.

I’ve never been a fan of the holiday, except that year in high school my parents let me hit a few swigs off the bottle of Moet Chandon White Star that my dad picked up. It led to us carousing in the street with some roudy neighbors and an eventual flyby of the ghetto bird (a.k.a. the local police helicopter). The crew even spotlighted us, searching for the local ruffians setting off the illegal fireworks another street over but I digress.

That lack of enthusiasm for New Year’s has led me to blow over the holiday and and instead spend some time reflecting on what I would like to accomplish in the coming year. That’s why, based on the timing, I’ll celebrate with the Tibetans this year. Happy Losar!

I certainly have goals for 2012 but definitely not resolutions. I don’t resolve myself to anything. Instead I create goals and work toward them. It doesn’t set you up to fail quite like resolutions do.

My goals for 2012 are pretty simplistic:

- Learn to make kombucha

- Preserve more food for winter months

- Increase garden harvest for seasonal eating

- Ace growing and harvesting squash

- Read at least one book per month (mainly talking about novels here)

- Build 2 pieces of furniture and a toy for each girl

- Buy a fuel efficient hybrid or electric vehicle

- Brew more beer or try to make a wine or mead

- Take a REAL family vacation, even if for only a weekend getaway

- Get those six pack abs and bulk up my arms and chest

Okay, so the last goal is a bit narcissistic and different from the rest but its something I’ve wanted to do for myself for a long time. I’ve let the business of work and kids be my lame ass excuse on that one but now that has to go by the wayside. We’ll see how many goals I can achieve over the next 11 months, or shall I say 12, since I’m now going to run on the Tibetan calendar. Here’s to wishing you and yours a very Happy Losar!

How about you? Did you formulate some goals for 2012? What do you hope to accomplish to better your life, your impact on the environment or live more sustainably? Share by posting a comment below.

Proof positive that raised bed gardening has its perks: I unearthed these gems this cold late December afternoon out in the garden here at the Half-Acre Homestead. These were planted in late spring and there are many more in line to mature behind them. For anybody who doubts you can grow your own food in the winter this should tell you otherwise!

This Christmas we thought what better of a way to reinforce good behaviors then to join the Elf on a Shelf craze. We’ve heard good reports from hundreds of other parents who swear by this little elf’s ability to keep everyone good little girls and boys during the month of December. We balked at the $29 price tag of that little creepy looking elf and instead opted to go with the cheaper, cuter and oh yeah “original”, Christopher Popinkins. Darling Daughter Everly has gotten into the daily search for our friendly elf and boy, that gets to be a challenge to find a new place to pose the little snooper.

Imagine my surprise when I found out Jill over at baby rabies is putting on an Inappropriate Elf Contest. The idea: pose your elf in an inappropriate way yet keep it PG-13. So many ideas immediately went out the window with that rule but one still remained. There must be at least one elf that gets a little too merry some night, right? If you think the picture below is bad, you should see what Talina caught him doing before he finally passed out. After all, there’s a lot of pressure for one little elf to handle this time of year!

Despite feeling extremely sick to her stomach for reasons we'd later understand, my Homestead Hottie climbed right in to apple picking.

Looking for a break from the daily routine with our toddler and newborn, Homestead Hottie and I decided we wanted to get out and enjoy one of the fall activities we’ve come to really enjoy: picking apples. The first year we moved here we went to a u-pick apple orchard located in the middle of town. It was the staple of many family traditions in the area. We pulled up into the dusty parking pad to find three children and a horse hanging out in a small plywood shelter. After paying our money we were handed our two picking bags and off we went.

At some point during this excursion, walking up and down row upon row of this apple orchard, we came to the conclusion Homestead Hottie was pregnant with our first Darling Daughter. She looked greener and greener around the gills with each passing moment and at one point thought she was going to pass out. Needless to say, this apple picking excursion was the beginning of our realization we were headed down the path to parenthood. Memories were made and so was a lot of applesauce.

Instead of climbing, I took aim at the tops of the apple trees with one very handing wooden stick and would catch my results as they fell.

Fast forward three years and we’ve been super stoked to see our friend Joe Engelbrecht working on getting his fourth generation orchard up and running. While we couldn’t u-pick at his orchard last year, we bought plenty and plenty of apples from his farm store and turned them into preserved apple slices and several canning jars full of apple butter. In my opinion, they are some quintessential treats of fall.

This year, Joe’s u-pick orchard is up and running and we didn’t hesitate to jump in the first weekend we could. We know the longer you wait in the season to pick, the harder it is to find some good quality fruit so we didn’t want to drag our feet. After purchasing our picking bags at Joe’s store (he was charging $1 per pound and you got to decide between 5 or 10 pound bags), we were given directions on how to access the gravel trail meandering through adjacent corn fields and to the orchard laid out nicely on the slope above the store.

Pulling up to the rustic red barn marking the entrance to the orchard, you could begin reading the signs marking each row of apple trees. Much to Homestead Hottie’s excitement were a row or two of Jonagold apples. These are her favorite “everyday” eating apples and a variety our family chiropractor turned us onto when he discovered Talina didn’t like the texture or taste of most apples.

The orchard was overloaded with apples when we paid a visit with plenty still in our Darling Daughter's reach.

We quickly filled up a 5-pound bag of Jonagold apples after walking just one or two trees deep down the row. I wanted to get a mixed bag of a few of the other varieties Joe has to offer including Red Delicious, Golden Delicious and Braeburn. These three varieties aren’t quite at their peak of ripeness yet but I’m sure several days on the counter will help them get there.

Everly had a blast sprinting from tree to tree and gazing at the trees, overloaded with one of her favorite fruits to snack on. She even had a few apples that were within her short reach that she was able to pick and this made her quite proud. In fact, one of those apples didn’t even make it into the bag but instead landed firmly in her mouth. It was her picking fuel and the ultimate test of the quality of Joe’s apple crop. Everly definitely approved because aside from a shared bite or two, she downed that thing. Baby Adalyn slept the entire time we off-roaded her stroller up and down the orchard rows so she must have been enjoying herself too.

If you’re looking for a fun family activity to do one of these fall weekends, I would definitely recommend heading to Joe Engelbrecth’s Fourth Generation Orchard to pick some fresh apples. Not only are you supporting a local farmer by doing so, you’re supporting a unique local business. Joe and his wife are carving a very unique niche for themselves in the Evansville area and hopefully will find further prosperity here in the future. Happy picking!

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.

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.

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.