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Over the past ten years we’ve been blessed to know so many makers, creatives, small businesses, and American made brands. You’ve seen many in our pages and even more on our social. We want to say thank you to them and to you with our 10 Year Giveaway. What is a party without a gift?! Welp this is a big one!
THE GIVEAWAY:
In late August we are releasing our hardcover 200 page best of issue of FOLK. 72 of our favorite stories from the past ten years. A good chunk of those will be stories about our favorite makers. To enter this epic giveaway simply pre-order your copy of the issue HERE and go to the post on our IG and tag your favorite maker. If you’ve already pre-ordered you’re automatically entered. For an extra entry share the post to your IG story.
On August 1 we will announce one lucky winner. The winner will receive a $500 credit to their favorite American made small business/maker/creative. You both win + you’ll have the hard cover best of issue to enjoy!
Good Luck
I wanted to adapt our classic apple skillet pie with blueberries and peaches for the summer. I have a couple blueberry bushes in the orchard and they produced just enough berries for a pie. I brought back fresh peaches from my trip to Mississippi and they were practically begging to go into the pie. I fully believe this is the best pie recipe I’ve ever written.
BLUEBERRY PEACH CAST IRON PIE
1 cup brown sugar
1 stick of butter
2 pie crusts
1 tablespoon pumpkin pie spice
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup flour or cornstarch
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Pinch salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 peaches pealed and sliced
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Using a standard size cast iron skillet add the cup of brown sugar and stick of butter to the pan and put it into the oven. Leave until melted. Remove from oven. In a bowl mix all dry ingredients. Pour over blueberries. Gently fold in peaches, vanilla, and lemon juice. Cover skillet, butter, and sugar with a pie crust. I use store bought. Fill with berry and peach mixture. Top with remaining crust in whatever design you’d like. You can brush crust with an egg or butter wash to create a golden crust or sprinkle with sugar. Bake about 40 minutes. Serve hot or cold.
@jkwinders Instagram
Living in this sunrise world and I’m never coming back. The arches create something truly special you just have to witness for yourself.
@jeff.n.brenner Instagram
Miles and miles of serene beauty just waiting to be explored. I fall in love with every view and every detail, every time.
@mjhotzfield Instagram
I love when nature can surprise you and simply take your breath away. Glacier is and will always be one of those places.
@zachary.salter Instagram
In an awe-filled wonderland. Giant, dramatic surroundings you can escape to for a little while.
@coastalkells Instagram
Right now I’m just wishing myself to this sunset and to be in this moment for a bit. If this isn’t a dream view then what is?
@nathanleeallen Instagram
The kind of beauty you want to capture and hold on to. So much to explore here and you’ll never want to leave.
We are only offering TEN boxes for April. This box is a $180 value for $98.00.
As I’ve said over and over I’m from a small town. We have a tiny shop here at the farmhouse that we stock full of locally made goods and American handmade goods. I’ve added a lot of those items here but I wanted to create a subscription box that each month will feature 8-10 of my favorite items from the shop. Each month we will mail it the first week of the month. The photos are the APRIL box. Your box may vary slightly but will include the majority of the items featured in the photos.
Each month in 2021 you’ll receive a box that will include seasonal favorites, new discoveries, and items I think you’ll love. Each month will include a book, a soap, a candle/roomspray, a vintage item, a card/print, and several foodstuffs.
The basket and linens are not included. Shipping is $6 per month. On the first day of each month you will be invoiced for that month.
My rural Kentucky community appreciates your support!
Half Baked Harvest Website
Truly a step above shortcake. How dreamy and delicious does this dish sound? Plus… Cream. Cheese. Biscuits. I don’t think its possible for me to say no to this.
Eva Kosmas Flores Website
How fresh and unique does this dessert sound? Something new to challenge your taste and elevate your menu.
King Arthur Baking Website
Bread is always a treat, okay? Just a touch of strawberry to level up the classic brioche, for those who aren’t looking for anything too sweet.
Two Cups Flour Instagram
I think I would live in spring forever if it meant a lifetime of this beauty. Two of my very favorite things coming together to create the perfect crowd-pleasing duo.
Peter Som Instagram
Cake is always a good idea. Strawberry ricotta cake is simply brilliant. And honey whipped ricotta served alongside keeps the good times rolling.
A Step Full of You Website
Not just for Sunday morning. I’ll be dreaming of these all spring through summer. Join me, won’t you?
I was born and raised in Ohio’s Amish country. I grew up in the Amish culture with my family making everything they needed and watching my community farm. As a child, I always had a desire to be creative. I remember sitting in an outhouse restroom by the one room schoolhouse I attended and creating rose flowers out of the toilet paper. I loved the reaction of my friends thinking I was talented. It inspired me to continue finding unique ways to be creative. I think it’s always possible to make something beautiful out of something ugly. It’s that way with life too.
Though I grew up in a naturally beautiful community, I always dreamed of growing up and leaving the Amish culture to live on the beach. I’m sure in retrospect that is because we love the new and mysterious, but it was always something I wanted to do. Today, I no longer live the Amish way of life, but it is the culture of my family. One of my sisters still lives in the community, and I live just next door in Millersburg, Ohio—the heart of Ohio’s Amish country.
Though I always had the desire to leave, one day I heard the saying, ‘Bloom where you are planted.’ That changed my way of thinking and my way of living. Suddenly everything changed and my creativity blossomed. I started sharing a photo-of-the-day and giving people on social media that I’d met at vintage events or fairs a glimpse of the beauty of Amish country. At the same time, I started to dream about the kind of products or business I could create that meant something to myself.
As a plus-sized woman, I have always been frustrated by the reality that there aren’t m any companies that make ‘cute’ clothes for me that look good and fit well. Suddenly, I found myself wanting those bohemian clothes that had become popular but there wasn’t a company making them for me. I decided that if I set my mind to it, I could be that company, and I could make a garment that was just as beautiful and well-built for a size 28 as it was for a size 5.
I had the vision, but as a kid I didn’t really learn to sew. I’d always dreamed about moving out of the Amish country, so any lesson my mom would try to give me went in one ear and out the other. Luckily I inherited the Amish work ethic and resourcefulness. Gathering inexpensive thrift store curtains and fabrics, and enlisting the help of my local Amish community of seamstresses, I slowly taught myself to sew enough to start making frocks. Speaking the Dutch language of these talented women, I was able to build a community with them helping me achieve my dream.
I have been in business as Farmhouse Frocks for going on three years now. It has become a business that feels not only creatively rewarding, but also fulfilling in my ability to create beautiful pieces for other women and bring happiness to them. My garments are an extension of my goal to empower women of all shapes and sizes. I am also lucky to be able to work with both of my daughters. Sydney, my younger daughter, acts as my personal assistant and aids with my online presence and styling, while my older daughter, Felicia, is my lead salesperson.
Six months into our business, we outgrew the basement of my home where we were producing all of our goods. We were utterly out of excess space to work and create, and people were starting to ask us about opening a small space for retail, so I began to look in our historic downtown for a usable location. Eventually, we found our space, with its industrial roots, high ceilings, and ceilings decorated with tin roofing, and using 28 gallons of white paint we painted all of the walls white and found a new home for Farmhouse Frocks.
We have grown rapidly, but I feel blessed. My biggest passion has been empowering women from maker to consumer, and I vow every day to make my decisions out of Faith, not Fear. It’s too difficult to make clear decisions that are hard if you’re fearful. That is why I always try to operate with faith. We even started and use the hashtag, #MoreFaithThanFear.
Today, I am happy to say that I employ 40 people, and I love that I can involve my Amish community in my business. We now have a great leverage to create jobs in the community for Amish mothers that aren’t able to work outside of the home. Last year the local chamber gave us the reward for Small Business of the Year because of the impact we have had on our community. Now that I have a team that can now help me with all the day-to-day needs, I have more time to travel and feed my soul with inspiration. When I’m not drawing inspiration on the road, I love to browse Pinterest and podcasts.
I love to think of ways to better my business/events. How can I make it more creative? Sometimes that becomes building new fixtures, or figuring out creative solutions. Generally, I love my work and never feel too overworked. As I’ve always heard, ‘Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.’ Always make sure to figure out a way to make money while doing what you love. Sure, sometimes working at fairs or events can be stressful, but my workspace makes me smile and I think that’s important.
Boston General Store Instagram
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I suppose a proper introduction is where I should start things off. My name is Joshua Winders, but most people call me J.K. I am an artist of many trades, full-time explorer, and red head with a soul. I’ve been a collector of different hobbies and interests for quite some time now, and I’ve always sought ways to combine then in unique and special ways. For well over a decade, photography has been my primary outlet and where I invest most of my creativity. However, after graduating high school and being freed from the confines of English and Creative Writing prompts and assignments, I began writing about things I actually enjoyed writing about and subsequently develop a deeper admiration for the written word.
My latest book, Off The Beaten Path, regales some of my most treasured adventures across the dusty recesses of the high deserts, through the lush forests of the Pacific Northwest, and among the wondrous Canadian Rockies. The book also delves into the ideas of what it means to explore and discover the enlightening parts of the world and in turn within oneself. While I am very proud of all of the experiences documented in this book, I’m extremely excited to share with you a little bit from my own favorite chapter that recounts some of my first experiences among thew Grand Tetons in Western Wyoming.
THIS ARTICLE ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN FOLK’S FALL ISSUE | ORDER HERE
THERE ARE SOME PLACES THAT ARE ALMOST TOO MAGNIFICENT, TOO BEAUTIFUL, AND TOO WONDROUS TO EXIST IN THE REAL WORLD. They are places where earth ceases to exist and heaven shines through the natural veil. These places drill into the deepest reserves of awe and wonder stored up in your soul, and creates a path for unadulterated joy and splendor to burst forth from. They are places that make you feel that just by being present, existing, and resting in their goodness makes you feel a part of the symbiotic flow of their grand scheme. The Grand Teton mountains nestled between the valley of Jackson Hole and the western border of Wyoming is one of these places.
When I was growing up, my parents had one of the walls decorated with black and white photo prints of the American west by Ansel Adams. One such photograph featured a shimmering river winding through a great open valley and a domineering, craggy, snow-capped mountain range in the distance with foreboding clouds overhead. It was a scene that, at times, made me feel uneasy because of its gargantuan and intimidating ambiance. Of course, this was at an age before I discovered how wonderful it was to feel minuscule and manhandled by the forces of nature. For a long time, I thought that this photograph was actually a painting. There was no way that this place could actually exist. It was too majestic, too striking, too grand. But it did exist, and one day I would come to call this one of my favorite places on earth.
The first time I set eyes on the Grand Tetons, I was cresting over the mountain pass to the east of the valley. Looking west beyond a road that drew my gaze straight to my destination, I saw the jagged peaks framed in front of an imperious blanket of storm clouds. I had never seen something that was equally terrifying as it was beautiful. From miles away, I could feel their gaze and hear their siren call beckoning into their dominion. That feeling lingered over me until I stood in their shadows that sprawled across the wide-open valley floor. The eleven, twelve, and thirteen-thousand-foot summits that formed the massif of the range were unobstructed by any foothills or gradients. They were standing naked and bare before me displaying full, geological prominence. All I could do was stand in humble reverence at their undressed, flawless, irreproachable glory.
Wonders such as the Grand Tetons expressively make one so aware that God is magnificent and fully unlimited in divine, creative power. When you witness great art, you feel the heart and intention of the artist. I truly believe God wanted us to experience Heavenly sensations on earth, so He gave us mountains. He gave us these incredible, exalted, awe-inspiring mountains. Countless photographers, painters, and poets have summoned at the base of the mountains to seek out their counsel of inspiration. They have spoken many truths to innumerable individuals and have granted them the vision to carry out amazing feats, create beautiful art themselves, and seek peace in a chaotic world. They are the greatest advocates for sincerity and virtue that I have come to know in this world.
The Grand Tetons are a church, the same way an art gallery or an orchestra hall can be a church. A church is not just a set of four walls, a few rows of seats, and a man behind a standing podium telling you how to live your life. Church is a place where your soul is fed and nourished. It’s a place where the body and mind can slow down and receive the goodness and blessing of a loving father. Works of art hanging in a gallery can speak that into people, music played by an orchestral ensemble can speak that into people. I like to think that there are places on earth, natural places, that God designed and created for that purpose; To speak beauty, righteousness, and truth into people’s souls and spirits. The first time I laid eyes on the majestic peaks, I cried. Not because it made me sad or emotional, but because it was true. Truth is beautiful, and beautiful things often-times make me cry.
My mom and dad raised me with the knowledge that attending church doesn’t make you a beloved son of God. But instead knowing God and taking the time form my own, unique relationship with Him is what counts. When you know God, really know Him, you see his signature on more moments you encounter and find that He wants to meet way more often than every Sunday. Mom and dad never wanted me to limit what God could, how He could speak, and where He could be. I’ve found that the more I’m able to see God’s fingerprints on the earth, the more it helps me see the better in the entire world than the worse. It helps me see beauty when it is not obvious. It helps me know when Heaven has collided with earth.
Heaven seems to feel a little bit closer among the Grand Tetons. I know I’m not the only one to feel this way. Many paintings, photographs, poems, and songs that have been inspired by this place echo that tactile sense. Heaven is found predominately in regions of peace. I have had the joy and the pleasure of being able to experience peace in many different places. But it had never felt more tangible than it did while I was sitting on the dew-soaked ground wrapped in a warm wool blanket sipping cowboy coffee from a tin mug as the rising sun set the mountains ablaze. Time had never felt so non-existent and the rest of the world had never felt so distant. Some people may say that peace is a choice you make, but that doesn’t feel like the case in Grand Teton. Instead, it is a mandatory part of the culture that you can’t help but feel obliged to adhere.
Grand Teton is a place where harmony is found for those who yearn for it. It’s a place whose beauty rivals that of even St. Peter’s Basilica, the Notre Dame de Paris, or any of the most opulent, gilded cathedrals in the world. It is a sanctuary of serenity, of natural, divine artistry, and abundant grace. I can remember the feeling of worry and anxiety melting away from my being as I basked in the shade of these monumental peaks. It’s a place where I experience goodness and wonderment. The valley floors, tranquil meadows, alpine lakes, braided rivers, and the celestial mounts work in tandem to create deep-rooted connections with whoever cuts their path across them. Many have visited and many have left, but this place stays firmly imprinted on the heart like red on a rose. This is my church, and it’s a little wild like me.
When you stand on the edge of the mesa overlooking Snake River and the great peaks looming in the distance, an overwhelming experience is created. Some times you can go a find perfect solitude, and sometimes you can be standing shoulder to shoulder with dozens of tourists and other photographers. It’s a special view and one that many people have come to recognize. Thousands, if not millions of photographers, painters, and sketch artists have stood at this spot and captured the view before them.
Who knows whether or not he was the first to capture a photograph at that spot, but he certainly set the standard for all who would follow. I wonder what that moment was like when Ansel stood at that very spot on a chilly evening in 1942 with a Hasselblad, a Karona view, or some similar tool in his possession. There was no platform, no parking lot, no information plaque, no point of reference. Just the untamed, natural wonder set in front of him.
I wonder how long it took him to compose his shot, adjust his settings, and wait for the conditions within the frame to be just right before he clicked the shutter. I wonder if he was aware of the trail he was blazing at that moment, if he knew how many walls his iconic, monochromatic prints would hang from, or if he thought about the countless photographers that would follow in his footsteps and attempt to recreate his image.
Of course, there’s also a part of me that imagines exactly the opposite. There is a definite possibility that it was just an ordinary moment in the mountains for him. The only thing he was ever known to focus on was the visualization of the final print before an exposure was ever made. One thing is certain about Ansel Adams; he was a master of timing and discovery. I like to assume that in some way he was in tune with divine guidance. I like thinking that when God whispered a location in his ear, he was there at the perfect moment. Mr. Adams operated in an age when people created for longevity rather than a brief moment visual sensation. He captured moments so that could truly last forever.
People have asked me regarding some of my most prized photographs, “Did you know how special this moment was?” And the answer is almost always, “No, not really.” It was just a moment where I was creating and having fun. If it was special, it was so only in an ordinary sense. It’s important to embrace the fact that behind every photograph is just a moment that is yours. Experience it, enjoy it, own it, let it be just a moment.
I thought I knew what mountains were. I thought I had seen some of the most prominent pinnacles that arose from the earth. The Grand Tetons are more than just mountains. They are methodically and wonderfully crafted effigies of the consummate partnership between nature and the divine. There was nothing that could’ve prepared for what they would be like in person; no photograph, no description, nothing that could have provided any shred of justice to their grandeur. There are some places where it is abundantly evident that God was having a good day when He crafted them into existence. The Grand Tetons are one of such places. It’s a place where every refined earthly goodness of the Heavenly Father has been poured out and displayed in a glorious exhibition.
The first time I saw the jagged peaks of the Grand Teton mountain range, they terrified me. They were so prominent, so titanic in their dominance and stature over me standing defenseless in the valley below. Wonder can be terrifying. Feeling overpowered in any way can be terrifying. But it still elevates you past your understanding and perception to a place where you can soar. Even before setting my gaze upon them, I was still terrified of them. I’ve always maintained a little bit of fear of land that I haven’t navigated. It’s mostly just the fear of the unknown and of what might exist or occur. I had built up an idea of what those incredible mountains would be like in person. They were images of incomprehensible, ominous, austere, powerful giants branded on my mind. Those images were terrifying themselves, but I was also afraid of the reality that framed those mentally fabricated pictures. I understand how irrational that may sound. But every new road is explored with a small twinge of fear.
People are most fearful from afar. They are afraid of the foreign lands that they’ve never been to but have heard of being full of dangerous environments and evil people. They’re afraid of the treacherous mountain pass that may or may not exist between where they are and where they’re going. They’re afraid of the possibility of getting hurt more so than the pain that comes from it. Not being able to see or fully understand something is what adds layers of dread and worry. We fear God because He’s bigger than us, bigger than our capacity of understanding. We fear the wilderness because we don’t know how far it stretches beyond the horizon before yielding.
The first edition of Off The Beaten Path is currently available on Amazon, with the second edition Hardcover coming November of this year. For more visit jkwinders.com and @jkwinders.
Enjoy the journey!
From FOLK’s Slow Living 2020 Issue
Rural Ohio resident Jessi Green (@small.town.junk) has established herself as a curator of storied antiques and vintage pieces. She works with clients and customers to create homes that have a story to tell.
THE LOVE FOR OLD GOODS RUNS DEEP IN ME. As far back as I can remember, I found the beauty in antiques: I would buy trinkets and vintage beaded purses as a little girl. I practically grew up at the flea market, as my parents sold new and antique military goods, and I was rolling around rummage sales in the stroller.
At Small Town Junk my husband, Brad, and I are purveyors of antiques, avid collectors of bits and pieces of history that make homes warm and give individuals an ideal sanctuary they can retreat to.
Brad and I started our business seven years ago after visiting a local antique shop and discovering our addiction to hunting for old goods. I previously worked as a florist and my husband worked in landscaping, so we’ve always had an eye for design, and we jumped into the antique world headfirst. Our company means so much to my husband and me. It’s a dream come true to say I love my work.
We like to think of ourselves as personal assistants in finding gorgeous pieces to fill your home with life and stories. “Putting History Back Into Homes” is our motto. Everyone’s looking for statement pieces, but most don’t think to turn to antiques. Yet the quality and craftsmanship of old-fashioned goods is unparalleled.
Being around vintage goods has made me aware of the beauty in old things, the way wear shows up almost like artwork. A farmer’s shovel has an imprint of his hardworking hands. These little details intrigue me. They are bits and pieces of our history, our story, and our legacy.
New things can be beautiful, but the story that comes with an antique has an immeasurable value. Knowing that someone used this, worked with it, or kept it because it had sentimental value brings joy. Everything had a purpose back then: They didn’t keep old blue mason jars just for decoration, but to use them! The beauty shows up in the details, with a rich history you just can’t find in brand-new products. I like to say that antique buying is not a fad but a lifestyle.
That’s certainly been true for us: Not only do we scout vintage treasures for our customers, but we fill our own home with our finds. I love knowing that our home is over eighty percent antique and vintage. I prefer not to stick to one specific style or era of antiques, but instead buy what speaks to my soul. All the “chaos” blends into a well-curated and storied home.
Our home brimming with vintage gems fits in perfectly in our hometown of Hillsboro, Ohio, a simple town of small businesses, farmers, and historic charm. Our farm is around one hundred years old and is a work in progress we enjoy building together. Right now we’re working on a storefront venue and workspace for our business, a project we hope to finish within the year. We’re carving out the space in a barn on our property. We love the quiet life on our little piece of land and watching it flourish into our sanctuary.
Our passion for antiques is a proud part of our family culture. Brad and I have five children and our family is everything to us. We love raising our children to appreciate the beauty in antiques, and value history, style, and authentic goods.
Antiques are so much more than just sturdy, well-made products. To own vintage goods just for their value is to underestimate them, when so much of what makes them wonderful is the story behind them. That’s why I’m passionate about antiques: I feel as if I’m restoring and showcasing our nation’s history in my living room or bedroom—giving them life and passing them on to my children as family heirlooms.
The technical definition of antique means a collectible object, such as a piece of furniture or work of art, that has high value because of its considerable age. But I would say an antique can be anything aged that you find valuable in your soul. My great-grandmother’s handwritten recipes are framed and are prized antiques to me.
I’ve learned to find value even in the rustiest, dirtiest little objects. It’s a revelation to see how beautiful they look when they’re cleaned up, and transformed as if by magic into stunning home decor or art. One classic example is old bee skeps: We love turning them into floating shelves and risers. They have so much character and look amazing hanging on the wall.
My years in this business have taught me that even as trends fade, some hold on strong. For instance, ironstone collections have been around for years and will never be out of style. I’m always on the hunt for small antiquities that ignite curiosity. I love searching for ironstone pieces and Shakespeare leather-bound books to add to my collections, as well as woven rugs to use in my home and antique frames to hold our family’s photos. For Small Town Junk I search for unique books, vases and mirrors. My customers always appreciate architectural salvage and pieces that they can use in their own homes.
People told me growing up that I was an old soul, but I never understood them until now. My love for old things runs deep in my family; my mom, dad and grandmother taught me how to find the beauty in antiques. Their houses were full of vintage gems and I admired the history of each piece and all my family heirlooms. We’re a family of collectors, from hunting books to hand-stitched quilts, so I grew up learning the ins and outs of antiques.
I love turning my passion into my livelihood, sharing something I enjoy so much with my husband and children, and helping my customers fill their homes with beauty, history, and deep meaning.
FAVORITE PLACES TO SHOP
My ultimate Favorite place to shop is The Springfield Extravaganza Spring and Fall, I can find a wide range of smalls and good antique furniture. I love shopping the Country Living Fair and City Farmhouse Popup, I always find those unique smalls and one of a kind gems there. Summer Market, Over The Moon Vintage Show, and Charm at the Farm are just a couple others we love to shop. Brad and I also love going to auctions and shopping locally.
FAVORITES TO FOLLOW
@86andeverettedesignco, @objekts1, @thetatteredmagnolia, @themaplehouseco, @arstidenbasta, @roseandgracemarket
Growing up in Indiana influenced my cooking and how I grew up eating. I was surrounded by agriculture, farms, and of course cornfields, which is what people joke that Indiana is known for!
Read MoreUnder a Tin Roof (@underatinroof) has created a quintessential farmstand and country store along the endless farmland of Iowa.
For our business in particular, when you shop for local flowers, you’re supporting a movement away from synthetic pesticides, carbon emissions, and poor labor conditions. We think that local flowers are beautiful and unique; small farms often have better access to diverse varieties that you would not normally see in the grocery store. I think that this can be said, perhaps in different ways but within the same context, for other small, local shops.
Read MoreMatthew Walton has set out to document the rural landscapes of the midsouth with @theruralrecord. His images tell timely stories of the past and future of America’s heartland.
I GREW UP IN POCAHONTAS, ARKANSAS, a town of about 7,000. It sits on the Black River in the Northeast region of the state. It’s an interesting location, as it shows an immediate transition from flat, farm land to the birth of the Ozark foothills. Twelve years ago, I moved to Jonesboro, AR, the most populated town in the region (just under 70,000), and work with an advertising production company. Many of the communities that surround both of these places have populations around a few hundred, if that. Needless to say, I’ve lived my life in a rural environment.
The Rural Record project started by accident, organically, or whatever you want to call it. I’ve worked with many agricultural companies throughout the years and, through that experience, I’ve visited many farms that dot the rural landscape throughout the state, especially in the delta. Early in 2019,
I started to go through hard drives of personal images and began to see a pattern. Because of the experiences I’ve had, I was naturally drawn to the personality of these smaller towns. Looking to focus my personal photography a bit more, I decided to start being more purposeful in documenting these rural communities that surround me, sharing a realistic, yet maybe romanticized, view of these places.
There are certain traits to every town that are unique, and some that share the same fabric of life. Some buildings I photograph are landmarks while others are overlooked structures that blend into the everyday lives of the people who live and work around them. All of these have a story, whether apparent or even imagined. I’m drawn to the structures and scenes that seem to sit, stuck between eras. Many of them have had their heyday, but now stand empty or with their last inhabitants. Even so, they are still part of the local landscape and deserve to be recorded in this state of existence. And that’s the essence of The Rural Record and rural life in general. 50 years ago, almost half of the population was involved in agriculture in some form or fashion. Today only 2% of the population works in this field. That is evident in these small towns.
Towns that used to be epicenters of life in the otherwise middle of nowhere are now almost empty and being overtaken by the elements that surround them. It’s a life that is quickly being forgotten, but still hanging on. It’s a generational thing. Family farms that have a rich history are still functioning, using the latest technology while still residing in towns (and places between towns) that are barely inhabited. That’s one of the special attributes of the rural landscape. You can be somewhere and nowhere at the same time. Wide, open landscapes roll out in front of you with no one in sight for miles.
The Rural Way of Life—though what we see out our back doors is different, I would assume people in rural and urban environments share much in common. We have our shared technology, educational resources, and individual goals that we’re trying to obtain. In this age, we’re connected like no other time in history. That being said, the environment does play a large part in differentiating our lives.
Those that work in the fields or with cattle and other livestock may be a bit more in-tune with the land around them. The weather is something that makes or breaks an entire crop and potentially an entire livelihood. Faith is also a big part of life around here. When you realize you can’t control nature, but see the brilliance of the way life grows from seed to harvest and calf to maturity, you have a good sense that it’s not all up to chance.
People in these parts are often hilariously depicted as a bit slow, especially in the way they talk. And while, there are some folks who do tend to draw out their conversations,
I know many whose minds are racing a hundred miles an hour and are some of the most brilliant people I’ve ever encountered. Of course, there are also people who will spit out a conversation faster than a podcast on double speed.
So, just like everywhere else in the world, there’s a mixture of personalities and quirks that make people special. We may not have access to every form of art and entertainment, business, restaurant experience, etc., but we have our own special blend of hospitality and hard work.
The Rural Record is made for local people to see their towns and everyday life in a special light. When I post certain images, I get comments from people loving that their grandfather’s store or an old, local hangout was featured. It’s also made for people who don’t get to see this part of the world. One of the best things about online platforms like Instagram, is that it’s a global service. I can share what’s unique in my area so that others can enjoy it. It’s a dichotomy. For some, it’s a record of memories, while for others, it’s a glimpse into a different way of life.
No matter where you live, it’s important to document the world around you. That’s precisely what history is. I may not photograph everything or even every town, but what I do has a chance to live on for years to come. Several spots that I’ve shared already have either been torn down, burned, or have otherwise faded into history. But they still live through that split second my shutter moved. This is a celebration of a time-that-was and still is, beauty stuck between eras.
This is the Rural Record.
Alissa Hessler, the creator of Urban Exodus, a website featuring ex-urbanites who left the city and moved to rural areas, as well as current city dwellers who have urban farms and homesteads within cities, takes us inside her rural Camden, Maine garden.
MY HARBINGER OF SPRING IS THE BLOODY GUTS OF RHUBARB POKING THROUGH THE DIRT. Gruesome when it breaks the surface, it quickly blossoms into beautiful ruby stalks. In Maine, we have few perennials, and rhubarb is the first to make its return to the garden. I love celebrating spring with a batch
of rhubarb syrup and combining the sieved remains with some strawberries to make homemade fruit leather.
I’ve lived in a historic farmhouse in the mountains of Midcoast Maine since 2012 when I moved from Seattle with my husband (then boyfriend). Living in a rural area was familiar, but it took a few years to make the transition to the different rhythms of country life, and it took me growing my own food to awaken the cook in me.
I grew up in northern California near the redwood forests, one of five siblings, with a menagerie of misfit animals. I had a pretty idyllic childhood, and while there was tons of music in our house, there was not much good food! My mother, bless her, tried her best in the kitchen. But, she was born during ration times in England after WWII. Food was limited, and she was raised on canned food and the obscure entrails of animals cooked into pies.
Once I was old enough to safely use the stove I started to cook for my two younger sisters...just the basics. When I left home, I survived on Trader Joe’s pre-made meals and salad. I ate to survive;I took no pleasure in the process or procurement of ingredients. Looking back, I can’t believe I lived for so long without really thinking about what I was eating!
Meeting my husband and moving to Maine altered my relationship with food and cooking. My husband grew up in Maine, and his mother is an incredible cook. (I consider it a great accomplishment if she compliments one of my meals!) Her cookbook collection spans six large bookshelves; cooking is her therapy, and she’s joyful when she feeds people. My husband’s step-dad was a “Back-to-the-Lander” who moved to Maine from New Jersey in the late 60s. He keeps an enormous kitchen garden in growing season, and from this, they construct most of their meals.
When we moved to our farmhouse, there were a bunch of stone-lined garden beds, all horribly overgrown. Inspired by my in-laws, I made it my mission to grow food during my first year in Maine. It took the better part of a month to dig them out and restore the soil. I had no clue what I was doing, but I bought some seedlings, added some compost, weeded, and watered diligently.
That first year’s bounty was beyond my wildest dreams. I couldn’t let any of it go to waste—they were my babies—everything had to go to good use. I scoured the web and found recipes for making sauces and meals from scratch using fresh produce.
So at 30, I first tasted a homemade pasta sauce made entirely from things I’d grown...and I nearly fell over. It tasted like heaven. It tasted how I wanted everything to taste. Right then, my passion was born, and its been growing ever since that first delicious spoonful of sauce!
I’ve taught myself to cook. Cooking—like jazz music—requires improvisation and intuition. Baking— like classical music—requires precision and following what is written. I love that cooking rewards experimentation. I find it boring to follow recipes. I typically look at what ingredients I have available, research some recipes online, and choose a few to roughly follow along with.
Even though I discovered cooking later than some, and my cooking passion was fueled merely by necessity to use what I had grown, it’s truly become an everyday joy. I feel so lucky that I get to grow and cook food for my family. I just wish I had done this in the city where I even had a green space in my apartment complex. I just didn’t understand that growing food would be a life-changing event— how simple cooking can be—and how much cooking your own food impacts your life.
I think we are living in a time where convenience outweighs quality for many, and this isn’t good. I know that anything of quality is better, lastingand more fulfilling. And I think while we are in an uncertain time in society, it’s even more important for people to connect with their environment and learn basic self- sufficiency skills. We are just a fewgenerations removed from a time when nearly everyone played a major role in their own survival—growing their own food, sourcing their own water, making their own clothes, etc.
I’d like to become savvier with these “old-fashioned” skills because they are so useful.
I’m drawn to simple, healthy recipes that pack a flavor punch, and I love simple ingredient combinations that work perfectly...like torn, fresh basil sautéed with green beans, salt/pepper, and olive oil.
So, we embrace a slow lifestyle...we make a lot of household things, we grow our own food, we can, and store food to get us through the bleak winter months, we try to fix things before throwing them out, and—most of all—we welcome whatever the harvest brings us... . Every year some things thrive while others wither. A new pest arrives, there’s a drought or a downpour. Living slow and living close to the land...it always leaves you guessing, learning and growing.
— UrbanExodus.com
THE LITTLE THINGS:
Maine is one of just two states where the median age of the farmer is decreasing. Maine celebrates farmers and their fresh produce with many farm-to-table restaurants. I really appreciate the ingenuity of chefs like Sam Richman of “Sammy’s Deluxe” and my dear friend Annemarie Ahearn who started “Salt Water Farm Cooking School” they’re great at using local ingredients to make delicious food year-round!
SLOW LIVING THROUGH FOUR GENERATIONS OF FARMING
Kaleb Wyse hosts the lifestyle blog and YouTube channel “The Wyse Guide” about his life on Knollgate Farm, where he farms, bakes, cooks, gardens and decorates in Iowa and hopefully inspires others to do the same.
FARMING HAS BEEN A PART OF MY LIFE FROM THE VERY BEGINNING. I grew up on a working farm in southeast Iowa and was able to be outside most days. Mom always had a large vegetable garden and flower gardens and would preserve all throughout the summer. I never thought of these skills as uncommon, or realized that other kids weren’t learning how to garden and put up preserves, but I learned how to do them just by watching and helping.
For a while, I didn’t think I’d become a farmer too. When I graduated with degrees in business and accounting, however, I realized something wasn’t right. I hated sitting at a desk. That wasn’t the life I found fulfilling.
At that point I had moved into my grandparents’ farmstead, and after work, I would slowly rip out all the gardens and start them over. In the evening, I would preserve from my garden. I started doing what I inherently knew to do when you have a farmstead.
A friend and I started Wyse Guide as a way for me to help others learn what I knew from my family. Not everyone is so lucky to grow up and learn how to garden or preserve. Wyse Guide allows me to give others a chance to learn.
As uncharacteristic as it sounds, I grew up a quarter-mile from where I currently live. My years in college made me realize that I am someone who needs to feel a sense of home and deep roots, in a place with meaning. My family has been rooted on these farms for four generations and I can’t knock that feeling. Every time I travel, explore, or leave, the moment I arrive back in Iowa, I know I am home.
Of course, living here does have its setbacks. In a rural area, nothing is just a walk away. Groceries, shops, and conveniences all take a drive to reach. Rural living forces me to be content with not having everything at my fingertips. This is why gardening and preserving have become so important, and really are a way of life. During the summer months, all the vegetables I need are in my backyard. During the winter, I am able to still enjoy the garden with whatever I preserved.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about farming, it’s that Mother Nature always wins. I have a large yard and gardens full of vegetables. Whenever I think I am mastering one of them, a crop will fail, an insect will take over, or a drought will come. At first I want to get angry, but as the years go on, I realize nothing I do will win over nature. She was here first and will be here last.
Autumn, with its harvest and promise of abundance, is like no other time of year in a rural area. I love hearing the rustling of corn in the fields ready to be harvested. During the fall, the corn dries in the fields until it is time to pick. The breezes blow the leaves and create the sound of my autumn. As they are picked, I love the distinct aroma of corn. There is no way to explain it other than to experience it.
When it comes to autumn decorating, a pumpkin makes all the difference. Even one small pumpkin instantly transforms a room into a cozy autumn picture. I pile, stack, and fill every bowl with all the pumpkins and squash I can grow. There is nothing better than coming home to pumpkins placed by the doors.
I also make an effort to enjoy this time of year by planning a trip to a local orchard or visiting a pumpkin patch. Going and doing is a fulfilling way to feel autumn.
It’s funny, every year when pumpkin spice lattes become available, I always think I have to get one. I do and then I’m done. It’s ok, but I’d much rather have a good cup of coffee on my porch at home on a crisp autumn morning. I think I finally realized you cannot commercialize autumn; you need to experience it. And isn’t that exactly what makes it so great?
— wyseguide.com
— @wyseguide
A Conversation with Windy Peak Vintage
Kristi Reed of Windy Peaks Vintage (@windypeakvintage) lives in the countryside of Montana 30 miles north of Yellowstone National Park with her husband and two children where they stay busy tending to their four acres of land, 20 chickens, rabbit, dog and cat.
FOOD HAS ALWAYS BEEN A PART OF MY LIFE WHEREVER I LIVED...I was born in Southern California, but I spent the majority of my childhood in Idaho Falls, Idaho where I met my husband. After college in Portland, Oregon we traveled and eventually moved to Philadelphia. Food and exploring through cooking were a part of those journeys and places.
When we decided to move to Montana, get married and start a family, we weren’t looking to buy a home, but we stumbled upon an old farmhouse on a little bit of land—for a good price—we just couldn’t pass it up! Buying our home has changed everything about how we are able to live. Now, it’s our two children and our little homestead that fill our days...and preparing local foods and sharing our meals is an important part of that.
Cooking was always at the center of my family’s traditions when I was growing up and it’s food that’s at
the core of my fondest childhood memories. Every Christmas we’d eat tamales to honor my grandmother’s California roots, and every summer we’d eat Dutch oven potatoes cooked over the fire at my grandparents’ cabin in Idaho. My mom had a few staple recipes she’d cook for special occasions and she taught me how to make them—they’re still my go- to’s!
Food was also as much a part of the everyday of my childhood as it was holidays and celebrations. When
I was young, my dad fell ill and my mom started working full-time while my dad stayed home with us kids. Even when he was feeling his worst, he would always have dinner on the table for us. Sitting down to a meal everyday with my family as a child really influenced how I view the importance of togetherness at mealtimes. I want to show my children that it’s time for more than just a meal...it’s time to slow down and be together.
I didn’t realize I had a passion for cooking until I started experimenting with being a vegetarian and vegan
in college. It allowed me to explore ingredients, recipes and a whole new range of flavors. I bonded with friends over cooking and eating meals together.
I truly love food and the entire culture of cooking a meal. Preparing a meal opens a window for creativity, while also forcing us to slow down at the same time. I treasure afternoons spent slowly chopping, stirring, prepping ingredients and allowing a pot to simmer. I feel strongly about the importance of resourceful and seasonal cooking and I feel that embracing this is so important and a part of who I am.
Living rural on our small homestead has forced us to expand our cooking abilities. We don’t have the great varieties of cultural foods or restaurants that you have in any city. This isn’t frustrating; instead, we see it as challenge to learn how to do things ourselves. The idea that cooking is a learning process is fulfilling. There’s always something more to learn, always something new to try.
I find inspiration for cooking from the seasons and base much of my meal preparations on what is ready
in the garden, how many eggs we’re getting from the chickens, or what was preserved for the winter.
I am drawn to the ‘slow living’ movement because I truly believe that there is more to life than working a 9–5 just to make money for retirement. There is a lot of magic in living frugally, growing your own food, hunting your own meat, getting your hands dirty. We’ve made sacrifices to be present in our children’s lives and to offer them a special connection to nature.
We have taken conscious steps to embrace slow living by moving to the country where the cost of living is cheaper. We rarely go out to eat, we make everything from scratch, we buy and sell vintage, and we get our kicks filling our wardrobe at the local quarter sale! It’s each of these small things that add up in ways that are meaningful, it’s each of these decisions and choices that allow us to live the way that we do.
There are so many things that I work to embrace everyday, things that define my outlook...hanging laundry on
the clotheslines in the summertime, fetching eggs from the nests every morning, listening to the radio in the morning while sipping coffee with my family, eating jam made with currants my toddler picked from the front yard. With much the same gratitude and pride in being resourceful, I love using what is around me to make a meal— this is one of my very favorite things!
My very favorite time of year is when the grass starts to green and there’s still snow on the mountaintops. After surviving months of harsh and freezing weather, I’m always convinced that there is no prettier place than Montana in the springtime. I look forward to planting seeds inside and watching the plants slowly grow until they are ready to be planted in the garden to flourish during our short little growing season.
I love knowing that there’s another season coming toward us, and I greet it with thoughts of produce to gather and meals to prepare and share with my family. I want us to work together for quality over quantity; I want us to embrace living slow and keep nature close.
RHUBARB SHRUB WITH OUR GARDEN GROWN RHUBARB
4 cups chopped rhubarb
2 cups sugar
2 cups apple cider vinegar
1. Toss chopped rhubarb in bowl with sugar, cover tightly with towel. Let mixture sit (covered) 2 days, stirring 1x/ day.
NOTE: After 2 days mixture should be pretty soupy.
2. Strain liquid into measuring cup, discard fruit chunks.
3. Combine strained syrup with equal amount of vinegar (less if you want
it on the sweeter, less vinegary side). Taste as you slowly add vinegar to get your desired flavor.
4. Pour the shrub in a covered container or jar; store in the fridge.
A timeless southern classic that can be as simple or as complex as you’d like. This is the basic recipe with great cinnamon and vanilla flavors but can be added to easily. The key is using a really good bread. We use sourdough!
1 loaf sourdough bread
3 tablespoons butter, melted
½ cup raisins (Optional)
3 eggs, beaten
2 cups whole milk or half and half
½ cup brown sugar
½ cup white sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon or pumpkin pie spice
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Whipped cream or caramel sauce for topping
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Cube bread into 1 inch cubes. In a large bowl mix all ingredients and whisk well. Make sure eggs are well incorporated. Add bread to mix and allow to soak up the mixture. Turn out into a well greased baking pan. This will make a shallow 13x9 or a deep smaller dish. I use an oversized pie dish. Pour any remaining liquid over the dish. I will sprinkle with additional spices for more flavor. Bake for 45 minutes or until the liquid feels firm. Do not burn. You can cover with alluminum foil if desired. Will prevent top from becoming overly dry. Once cool top with whipped cream or caramel sauce and serve cold or hot.
This recipe can easily be modified for additional flavors. Bourbon is a common addition.
I wanted to make a chocolate pie the other day…a fudgier pie than a usual custard pie. I didn’t have corn syrup and the Dollar General was out. Instead I came up with a recipe using sweetened condensed milk instead. I had low expectations, but whoa was I wrong. This pie turned out to be delicious! Much easier and faster than I expect too. It uses ingredients you probably already have in your house too. It is perfect warm or cold. I personally prefer cold.
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