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Hi Everyone,

          Last week didn’t start out too smoothly. Our worker, Micah, was still sick—and Steve only works Wednesday thru Sunday. Therefore, Papa had to do all the field chores by himself. I had to set up the milking parlor, and Papa and I had to bottle the milk and wash all the milking equipment. Mama had to take Grandpa to the doctor after lunch. I wasn’t feeling 100% well myself—and after washing all the equipment I really didn’t have much energy left. We were supposed to be cleaning the house for company, but all I managed to do was to tidy up a little here and there. To our dismay, when Grandpa got back from the doctors he took a nasty fall in the bathroom and hit his rib and back. Talk about painful—he was in a lot of pain! We were devastated. We try so hard to keep him safe, and when he fell we felt like we had failed him. He already had an x-ray of the lungs planned for the next day, so it was very convenient to get an x-ray of the ribs too. The rest of the week was spent with conflicting opinions as one doctor says he still has pneumonia—and the other said he didn’t; one said the rib was broken, and the other said it wasn’t; they all did agree that he has pulmonary fibrosis—which isn’t exactly good news either. We can say that a week later his rib does not hurt as much, and he is quite jolly as he keeps his eyes on my sister Samantha and is constantly reminding her to be careful for when she went to get off the sofa earlier she fell on the floor—and Grandpa keeps teasing her about it.

               To our delight, Micah was back at work on Tuesday. This gave me the chance to focus my energy on cleaning the house—dusting. My Aunt Carol and Uncle Jerry arrived before I had finished everything, but that was okay. As they were settling in I made yogurt and then Carol and I headed to the garden to harvest for the Farm to Table Dinner for the chef was picking up the ingredients the next day. We harvested roselles, oregano, sage, ginger, and green beans. Then we had to gather the chicken, lemon juice, milk, and yogurt together.

               Thursday and Friday we were blessed to have Micah and his brother helping out on the farm. We got so much accomplished on the farm that otherwise was not getting done due to lack of help and time. They were so quick that it didn’t take long for them to finish each assignment before they were back asking for the next one.

               A lot of time was spent preparing for the Farm to Table Dinner—but Friday afternoon we did take some time to go play in our 30 foot sink hole on our property down the road.

               Usually you read all about life here on the farm from my point of view—but this week my Aunt Carol asked if she could be a guest writer. So here is a glimpse of our week from her point of view:

“My husband and I recently had the privilege of spending our second week at the farm with the Street family. Jerry is Tarri’s only brother and I’m his wife, Carol. Our first week we visited the farm together was when we delivered Tarri and Jerry’s dad into the Street family’s loving arms. This second week marks our 30 day return to check on everyone and visit with them again. I suggested to the family that a guest author providing a different perspective of life on the farm might be fun; I hope you think so.

Tom, Tarri, and Tiare are interesting and interested; they are grateful and gracious, and they are capable and humble. Each of our two trips has been a delight of easy camaraderie and appreciation for our new-found relationships. Tarri asked me one night, “Would you like us as much if we lived closer?”  As they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, but there is something natural that has happened as brother and sister along with extended family members reunite, with their Dad at the center. 

My husband and I both work hard back home in Illinois, but it’s not always “farm work hard“. At least mine’s not; I’m a healthcare executive and Brock (as I call him) is a lifelong contractor who builds beautiful and unique homes, including ours. Brock has built things during our two trips, repaired other things, and he and Tarri have collectively dreamed about even more. They are a little bit like two peas in a pod from different genders.  

We tried hard to keep up this week with the chores and the family but two mornings we overslept, mostly due to alarm goofs, but also because we are rookies and deconditioned. I’d like to think we were of some help to everyone while we were here, but there were times that I probably caused more work than needed because I didn’t know or follow protocol. When I tell you that everything on the farm has a purpose, process and a reason, I mean it. There is a time and place for every farm chore, and everyone plays their part—which is why guests, even family like us, can be a blessing or a challenge. There are three delicious meals made from scratch.  Every. Single. Day.  Meals are clean eating at its best. Each day is like a beautiful dance whose conductor changes based on the verse and the need and the time of day. Tom makes breakfast, Tarri produces lunch, and Tiare creates and serves dinner; rinse and repeat that for seven days in a row, 365 days year round.  Work and motion rarely stop until evening comes, and time can be spent together in reflection, in piano and song, or in conversation.  

All of the work is easily surpassed by the love and care and intention that is as natural and organic as their products. 

The animals are a wonder, fascinating, and mostly entertaining. The milk cows all have names, they know their names, and they usually follow morning milking protocol. When they don’t, it can be hilarity or frustration, and sometimes both. Dozens and dozens of chickens produce an egg a day and they can easily collect about a few thousand in a week. In the last chore of the day, after dark, Tom returns to the chicken coops to put away the chickens for the evening to ensure they live to lay another day. And the two girl dogs stay up all night and awake to keep everything and everyone safe. That is their job on the farm.  The meat chickens and the new duck family are mostly self-maintained and also unbothered—until “chicken day”, which I have yet to experience, and will continue to avoid if possible. However, from another perspective, the chicken meals we ate throughout the week were absolutely divine. 

That leads me to this past week’s farm-to-table event, which was fun to help prepare for and even more fun to enjoy. Even better we were joined during the week with the Street’s middle daughter, Samantha, and on the farm event evening, our middle son drove up from Tampa (photo courtesy of Brady). A hayrack ride around the farm with tour guides Tom and Tiare kicked things off. Upon the group’s return, we were met by two lovely servers with Beef Crostini as we climbed down the ladder. Most of the dinner items and ingredients came from the farm, including green beans, lettuce, onions, mustard greens, Seminole pumpkins, sweet potatoes, and the beef appetizer as well as the main chicken dish. When you are outside breathing in fresh air, sitting at picnic tables with family and friends, watching the fog drop in as the sun drops out, and taking in life‘s plentiful bounty, it is a great reset. It is a reminder that life‘s simplest pleasures are the best ones.

The Street family cares, and deeply. We all do I suppose, especially when it comes to who and what is important to each of us.  But they care in a way that is special; above and beyond, and it is strengthened with their actions.  They care about their product, your milk, eggs, yogurt, etc. They care about you and your family, and they go to extraordinary lengths to provide the highest quality cleanest foods possible. We were privileged to enjoy their company and food all week long. We will return to see Grandpa Bob “Daddy”, and to be with our family. When we brought Bob here a month ago no one knew what to expect, whether he would adjust, or how it all might go. Brock “Jerry” was feeling grateful Saturday night as we all finally sat down after the event ended, and he thanked Tom, Tarri, and Tiare for their incredible care of our shared loved one. Bob is treated with dignity and respect, always a loving tone and words, and fed like a king. He is engaged and conversant, and loved beyond words. He is in great hands. May we all experience incredible final chapters of our lives—eating well and being loved even more. My wish for you is to find and experience the Shepherd’s Hill Farm if you haven’t already, and meet some incredible shepherds in their own right.”—Carol Brockmiller

I hope you have a great week.

Serving you with Gladness,

Tiare Street