What's in a name?

When it's a homestead name there's

romance, idealism, whimsy and more....
Mustang Creek Beverly Sandlin Rollingstone, Minnesota
I bought our 10 acres nine years ago when the children were only
two and three years old. For a while we just called it "The
Land," but once we were settled it seemed appropriate to name our
small, valley homestead. Trying to find a name that seemed appropriate
and descriptive, and one we could all agree on, was no small task.

A small brook meanders through our four-acre meadow beside the

bluff which is shaded by great maple, oak and elm trees. Wild mulberry,
plum and crabapple trees spot the creek bank. Wildlife is abundant. The
bluebirds, cardinals and finches provide song and beauty during the day.
The drum of ruffed grouse permeates the quiet during spring and fall.
Owls and coyotes are year-around companions to the night. Crickets and
frogs serenade us during the warm months. Fireflies carry the stars to
Earth on summer evenings. It is peaceful.

On one such evening the children and I were sitting outside when I
broached the subject of a name with them. Their immediate reply, almost
in unison, was, I thought, "Crooked Creek." It made sense,
even though it lacked the romance and beauty that was so evident.

The next day I carefully lettered the words on an old barn board
and hung it at the entrance to the pasture. We had officially, to us,

become "Crooked Creek."

A few years passed and the children went to school and learned to
read. One day, as we were walking up to the barn past the pasture gate,
my daughter Montana stopped and stared intently at our now-weathered
sign.

"You spelled it wrong," she stated flatly.

What!" I said, rather incredulous.

"You spelled it wrong," she repeated. "It's

supposed to be C-R-I-C-K-E-T."

Cricket Creek? All those years I thought they had been saying
Crooked Creek, and they thought I had been saying Cricket Creek!

Times had changed since we first moved onto the land. And although
the crickets' song still spilled its peace on warm Minnesota
nights, our focus had sharpened.

Wild horses, from the BLM Adopt-A-Horse program, now grazed

peacefully on our meadow. Their romance, freedom and history had
developed its own beauty and strength on our little homestead.

Our wild horses are safe, free, and useful. They contribute to our
homestead by pulling logs which become our winter warmth, they carry us

into the bluff country on quiet rides that renew our spirit of wonder
for God's world, pull the old Democrat wagon at local celebrations
that bring community to the land, and build the fertility of our meadow.
To be safe, to be free, to be useful to man, to beast, to God: these are
what we were looking for when we came to this valley. By the side of
this sparkling brook, in the shadow of a wooded bluff that speaks to us
of its timeless serenity, we have chosen to live simply, in harmony and
quiet.

We had become known for our work with and for the mustangs. It
seemed only appropriate to include them fully not only into our hearts,
but our name.

And so by unanimous consent we renamed our homestead Mustang Creek.

Hide Away Farm Mrs. Dorothy Loesche Harrogate, Tennessee

Our house is in a "holler," on 21 acres. Everyone wanted
to know what we wanted that much land for. I told them I came from the
city (Brooklyn, N. Y.) and was tired of looking at houses. When I look
out a window I want to see trees. We do have a neighbor up the road and
one at the top of the driveway behind a row of pines, but you can't
see them from the house. The only traffic is people who live on this
road, the mailman and paper delivery, an occasional UPS truck and the
school bus. Five or six cars in a day is considered heavy traffic.

So--we named our place Hide Away Farm.

Ever More Kay Aronson Cumming, Georgia

As a child I was blessed to have grandparents and parents in tune

with nature. I gathered eggs, milked cows, and assisted in syrup-making
under the watchful and, I'm sure, apprehensive eyes of my
grandparents. My parents were both teachers and kept the family
tradition through gardening (as opposed to Grandpa's farming). As a
family we grew most of the fruits and vegetables we ate.

I didn't realize how blessed I was until I moved to Atlanta and bought my first tomato and squash
from a supermarket. What a shock!
As a young woman I grew my first squash under the dining room window.
Many ladies in the subdivision wanted to know what those lovely plants
were! At that point I should have realized that I was a fish out of
water, living in the city.
Through life's turns I have moved many times but continued to
have my token tomato and squash plants. Thirty years later I continue to
be blessed, this time in acquiring 10 acres with streams, a pond, and a
cleared space for a small orchard and garden. My heart overflows as my
eyes fill with the beauty of God's world. I am Ever More thankful
for the opportunity to be closer to God through nature. The family
tradition of appreciation of life through plants and animals will
continue Ever More. And yes, there will be work to be done Ever More.

Eco-Acres Magda Petr Liska Rockville, Maryland

Our place is called Eco-Acres. I looked up "ecology" in

the dictionary and it means "the interaction between living

organisms and their environment."

In 1990 we purchased 42 acres in central Virginia, 35 of which are

wooded. We plan to leave 25 in their totally natural state. The cleared
six acres contain our gardens, mini-orchard and small cabin. (We built
it ourselves from all recycled materials except the nails!) We always
leave an area in natural meadow to go to seed for wildlife food,
foraging and additional shelter. This gets cut once a year. On this land
we have put up a variety of nesting boxes and created numerous brush
piles to encourage wildlife to reside here. The land is posted, although
that doesn't seem to matter to some hunters.

We don't use any "artificial" store-bought chemicals

in our garden or home. If we must combat garden "pests" we
either pick them off or use natural organic substances such as neem, hot
pepper or garlic, which we make into sprays. When worse comes to worse
we will use pyrethrum, which we are currently growing. We use only
manure, bonemeal and compost for fertilizing.

We catch rainwater for watering plants. We clean our home with

baking soda, lemon juice, vinegar and cleaners derived from citrus
crops.

We haven't built the permanent house on our land yet, but when
we do it too will be made from recycled materials. It will use solar

power and other alternative energy sources. Under no circumstances will

we hook up to the electric power grid. We will build a series of natural
filtration systems for disposing of waste. As yet we do not live beyond
the sidewalks, but our plan is to do so within the next three years.

The name Eco-Acres is a daily reminder that if we don't

proceed with care for our beautiful planet, a "Mad Max-ian"
future could be in store for us all. We know that this 42 acres is a
drop in the global bucket, but we can only start with ourselves.
Harmony Jim Donna Treloar, Selma, Indiana
Our house is nearly a hundred years old. We were married under the
old elm tree in the back yard. One of the first things we did was fence
in our 10 acres. We stocked the pond and we tend a good-sized garden and
orchard, grow herbs and everlastings, raise and care www.copyshoppy.com for the usual
assortment of animals and fowl and just try to live compatibly with
Mother Earth. We generally find the outside world to be frantic,
frivolous, and frightening...moving too fast and caring too little...and
understanding none of the above.

So, when we can, we close and lock the gates on our little piece of
property, our haven, where things are pretty mellow, simple and
peaceful...unless it's feeding time and the donkey is braying and
the goats are bleating and the pigs are squealing and the ducks are
quacking and the dogs are barking...but it's usually all in tune to
our ears...

We named our place Harmony.

Dun Lookin Farm Bradley Rhona Barris, Strong, Maine

We've named our homestead Dun Lookin Farm because we're
done looking.

It took five years of trekking to central Maine from southern New

Hampshire every three weeks. We had a list of about 70 realtors that
were contacted routinely. At that time they did not participate in MLS,
so we had to contact individual realtors. Although we were specific in
our requirements, it seemed they didn't listen. They showed us
places with neighbors so close you could open a window and shake hands,
places on busy roads, etc.

We finally found just what we were looking for. We have a 125 acre
farm on a gravel road with 100 acres of woods and 25 acres of fields and
pasture. We have an established orchard and plenty of room for gardens.
We have about 20 chickens and this Spring we plan on getting two goats.

The best advice we can give is: Do your own legwork. Don't
take the first place you see. Don't restrict yourself to only one
area--we covered about a 125 mile radius. The more you look the more you
learn. Be patient: you'll find what you want.

South Forty Alicia Klamm Overland Park, Kansas

The name of my homestead is South Forty. Of course, it's not

really a homestead yet because it doesn't have a house on it, but

it does have a wealth of resources. It has a pond, a well, lots of
trees, and all the wild animals you can imagine. Most of all it has room
to roam and it's a place I can call my own.

I call it South Forty because it's 40 acres located 80 miles

south of where I live in the "big city." I have to admit I am
pretty much a city girl, only because I grew up in the big city where
everything is automated and done for you--where they take away a
child's imagination. Most people in the big city go to the grocery
store and expect food to be on the shelves--they don't know where
it came from or how it got there.

I am thankful my mother grew up on a farm and is able to share with

me some of her experiences of living in the country. I will always
remember her asking me, "What's so great about living in the
big city? If a natural disaster were to happen tomorrow would you be
prepared? How would you survive?" Those were eye-opening questions.

We live in a neighborhood where when you walk out the front or back
door you instantly see 50 houses--there is no privacy. I find it ironic
that we are the only ones in the neighborhood who put out a garden every
year, and when the lights go out we still have lights, heat, etc.,
because we have a kerosene heater and lamps and a generator. I think
people depend on the next person too much. Whatever happened to being
self-sufficient? I'm fortunate my parents taught me not to take

life for granted, to appreciate nature, not to expect things to be

handed to me on a silver platter, and most important, be prepared for
the future.

I can't wait to build my house and homestead and retreat to a

much simpler way of life away from the rat race, on South Forty.

Empty Pockets Farms Gil Sandy Lopez Mauriceville, Texas

I quit a reasonably good-paying job near Houston because I was
feeling the stress of trying to please everyone but myself, when all I
wanted to do was come home. (Gil still works in Humble but he comes home
weekends.)

On Empty Pockets we're brooding 125 chicks, an acre of

potatoes, corn and other vegetables, we've been improving five
acres of pasture and timber, and we're planning to raise waterfowl and turkeys within a few months.
We have a small pond full of catfish
and inherited a goose and gander from the previous owner. We also own
five acres five miles up the road, where our daughter, son-in-law and
beautiful grandson live. We'll be picking dewberries and mayhaws
soon, courtesy of Mother Earth.

Gil and I will celebrate 20 years together this year. We've

had emptier pockets, but never fuller hearts.

Vision Ranch Bob Manery Millie Troth Colorado

About seven years ago I got the urgent feeling that I should be
living the rest of my life in the mountains. Living near the mountains
in Colorado, this would have been no big surprise except that a few
years earlier my goals were much different. Events changed those goals,
but I had no idea how I was going to get out of the city.

For 4-1/2 years this ambition never left my mind. I began

meditating, which was even more of a catalyst toward transforming myself
and my lifestyle. Shortly after I started meditating I began seeing a
vision of the land I would call home. I didn't know where it was or
how long it would take me to find it or get there, but I saw in the
vision and knew in my heart I would not be living there alone.

In September, 1991, I met the man who was soon going to be my

husband--real soon--like three weeks later. During our very short
courtship I discovered he also wanted to live in the mountains. I shared
with him every detail of the vision that had become so clear for me and
he was immediately able to picture this land himself. After our
marriage, my vision became his vision too.

In the spring we traveled the state, looking for the right piece of
land with the right "feel" to it. By early fall we finally
started looking closer to home.

We described the land to a realtor. He knew of a 160-acre piece

that sounded like what we wanted but he didn't have it listed.

He'd talk to the owner and get back to us.

A week later he drove us over many dusty dirt roads. The closer we
got, the louder my gut feelings said "This is it."

And it was. Our vision had come to be. Thus the name of our home in
the country--Vision Ranch.

We're now in the process of building a totally self-sufficient

Earthship (tirehouse) to ready ourselves for the coming changes.

Garden's Keep Dale Ann Widen Saginaw, Minnesota

Garden's Keep seemed quite fitting after we put in our fifth,

but not last, garden. Gardens, gardens everywhere!

You must walk through gardens to our door, and proceed past gardens
for chores in the barn. These gardens provide a wide variety of
vegetables, herbs, flowers and fruits, many times growing side-by-side,
as in the old cottage gardens.

There are plenty of herbs for cooking and medicinal use; fruits for
jams, jellies and pies; flowers to cut for a cheery refreshing display
in the house or to dry for later enjoyment during our long, cold
winters; and baskets and gunny sacks full of vegetables to be enjoyed
fresh, or later, canned, frozen or straight from the root cellar. Any

surplus is gladly received by family and friends, and I have yet to

discover one of the homestead animals who doesn't relish a side
order of fresh-picked green beans with their daily rations.

For those who question the need to grow flowers on a hard-working

homestead (as my husband once did), I found the words of two older,
experienced country folk said it best: 1, "Vegetables are good for
the body, and flowers are good for the soul;" and 2, "All work
and no play makes Jack a dull boy." With these words of wisdom
planted firmly in mind, soul-enriching flowers rank equally as important
as life-sustaining vegetables.

Here, tending gardens is enjoyable and rewarding, harmonizing and

balancing all other aspects of our homestead life. As long as there are
flourishing gardens, Garden's Keep remains.

ALL Ranch, Tina, Road Forks, New Mexico

ALL is an acronym for Ankh, Lemniscate, Lotus. It is meant to

symbolize eternal life and the gaining of wisdom as represented by the
unfolding of the lotus petals.

The idea here is to work with nature--the natural cycles and

rhythms--even though they seem to be somewhat askew lately! The idea of
observing with non-interference as much as possible. This includes the
animals also--allowing them to find their own place and potential.

Idealistic? Maybe--but it appears to be working in that there is a

harmonious flow. Visitors comment on the peace and
"at-home-ness" they experience while here.

(P.S. One of the cleverest names I've seen--in Nutrioso,

Arizona--was "Oleo Acres, One of the Cheaper Spreads.")

Farm Out Janet Sample Belden, Mississippi

Our place is named Farm Out, an embellishment of "far

out" that I remember hearing in 1971, the
"back-to-the-land" era.

The photo was taken after a rare snow storm.

Muscle-in-My-Arm Farm Deborah Bury, Buladean, NorthCarolina

When our kids were little one of our favorite going-down-the-road

songs was a folk song which we called "When I First Came to This
Land." It goes like this:

When I first came to this land

I was not a wealthy man

So I bought myself a shack

And I did what I could

And I called my shack

Break-in-my-back

And the land was sweet and good

And I did what I could.

It's done as a memory song, with each verse adding another

item:

And I called my pig

Not-so-big

And I called my cow

No-milk-now

And I called my horse

Lame-of-course

And I called my wife

Run-for-your life (which we edited to Love-of-my-life)

And I called my son

My-work's done

And I called my farm

Muscle-in-my-arm

And the land was sweet and good

And I did what I could.

Then... we've done employee-side labor law for many years. In

fact, my husband was the litigation director for the North Carolina Labor Law Center while he put
me through law school: a big title for a
job that paid $16,000 a year in 1983. But the work was sweet and good,
and he did what he could.

Anyway, with that background, two daughters, and our own decidedly
feminist leanings, Rosie the Riveter is dear to our hearts.

(Deborah sent a photocopy--too dark to print, unfortunately--of the

well-known WW II poster of Rosie the Riveter flexing her muscles, with
the "We can do it!" slogan. "One day I'll get the

artwork together and make a real sign," Deborah said--of Rosie the
Riveter with the legend "Muscle-in-My-Arm.)

Pennyroyal Ridge Rose Ayers Clayton, Indiana

Pennyroyal Ridge is a strange name for a place that's flat

land, but the name has been associated with my family since 1861.

Pennyroyal is an herb that is a natural flea repellent. It is sewn

into collars for dogs and cats, but it is also used for treating
congestion and coughs, and as a digestive aid.

My family was escaping from Civil War turmoil in South Carolina and
moved to a 100-acre farm in Southern Indiana. There was a hill on the
farm that had a pleasant aroma and never seemed to have bugs. People
learned of the pennyroyal from Indian lore. The hill had beautiful beech
trees for shade, and people would come to have picnics and harvest the
herb.

Through the years the hill was plowed or grazed, and folklore was
not a topic of discussion. With the deaths of my grandparents and my
father the farm was sold. The last trip I made out the driveway, past
the hill, I stopped and dug a small amount of pennyroyal that still grew
in the fencerow and took it to my small acreage in western Indiana.

The herb grew slowly. My husband and I raised dairy goats and Irish

Setters. We registered the name "Pennyroyal" with the ADGA (American Dairy Goat Association).
Each kid leaving the property had
'Pennyroyal" incorporated into its name.

Eight years ago I again had to dig up a small patch and move it to
a new home. I planted it in an herb garden with other herbs, hidden from
view of the house behind a grove of trees. In the center of the garden
is a birdhouse that is a replica of a farm house, mounted on a porch
post from the original farm.

With a bench in place at the edge of the grove of trees, I sit and
watch the world go by and look upon the patch of pennyroyal that has
been a part of my family's story for so long.

Wagon Wheel George F. Danca Ocqueoc, Michigan

I've always like wheels, lots of wheel, big, small, all kinds
of wheels. They have so many different uses. Here is one of my
creations.

Cameo Lil Brush Gardens B. Curt Baldwin Portland, Oregon

I found my 20 acres while roaming around in my camper on my

vacation. I walked all over the area and was resting on top of my
camper, watching small blotches of clouds roll by--Pinto and Appaloosa
skies.

Then, one cloud looked like a perfect--and I mean perfect--picture

of my mother's face. She graduated from this life about five years
ago. She had been an actress in Shakespearean plays, and this cloud was
a perfect cameo of her in one of her high-collared dresses. It was a
semi-profile, and she was looking down at the land!

I took that for a sign and made my offer that day.

The property has lots of Oregon grape and brush, so I tell people I
have a garden that is totally organic. I never have to weed, water or
fertilize it.

I will have the land paid off in 12 months, and I know my mother,
Lillian, will be pleased. I call it the Cameo Lil Brush Gardens.

Timshel J. Todd Meserow Prairie du Sac, Wisconsin

We bought our 10-acre piece of the country in Sauk County,
Wisconsin, 23 years ago. It was mostly hillside but with enough flat
space for an extended garden, rabbit sheds, chicken coops, goose house
and pigeon lofts.

We got the name "Timshel" from John Steinbeck's

novel, East of Eden. It's basically a story about moral and ethical
values with twin brothers representing the old Cain and Abel legend. On
his deathbed their father left them with a final directive, just one
word: "Timshel." This, it is written, is a Hebrew word meaning

"The choice."

The connotation is that one chooses between good and evil, between
solid integrity or shallow artificiality.

As we look out from our hill at the old Wisconsin River Valley and
the Baraboo Hills to our north we congratulate ourselves on our choice
to live in a rural setting, surrounded by our farmer neighbors,
constantly amused by the antics of our animals, and the renewal of the
spirit which each spring brings to our flourishing garden beds, the
budding trees, the buzzing bees and our enduring love of the land.

We named our place Timshel because it was, and is, a good choice.

Shanidar Paul Taylor Colinton, Alberta, Canada

When people hear our farm name, a question generally follows right
behind: "Where did that come from?"

In the early 1960s an archeologist by the name of Ralph Soleki was

excavating a cave in Iraq, near a village called Shanidar. In the cave
were a number of Neanderthal burials from 60,000 years ago. As a matter
of archeological routine, soil samples were taken for pollen analysis.
By analyzing the pollen it would be possible to tell what time of year
the burials took place merely by identifying the blooming times of the
various flowers from which the pollen came.

When the analysis came back there was a surprise. The pollen
content of the soil was so high that the only way the scientists could
explain it was to presume that the dead had been buried with flowers.

The Neanderthals were supposedly our brutish ancestors. Apparently

they were not as brutish as first believed, but as Ralph Soleki calls
them, the first flower children. The care with which they looked after
their dead, indeed, the gentle manner in which they dealt with their
injured and elderly, touched my wife and me.

When it came time to choosing a registered farm name, we chose

Shanidar, not just for its uniqueness but for its significance.

In keeping with the unique name, we raise unique cattle--Dexters.

Since coyotes are a problem in this area, we use donkeys to keep them
away form the cattle, a system which works well for the cattle and does
not stop the coyotes from keeping the rodent population in check.

Back Acher Farm Bill Carol Craig, Elizabeth, Arkansas

We moved to our homestead from a soft job in the city. Many times I
would come in from fixing fence or cleaning the barn and tell my wife I
had a backache. One day she said, "You can call the farm whatever
you want to, but I think it's the Back Acher Farm."

It had a nice ring to it. So I put a sign over the drive with nice

big letters on an old barn board: Back Acher Farm. Then I had some
business cards made, and stationary printed. I had the bank print the
name on our checks.

Then I had some tee shirts printed. And caps. I even had the farm
logo put on the face of some wrist watches, and gave them out for
Christmas.

Now people use our place as a landmark when giving directions:

"Go to the Back Acher Farm and take a left."

It has been fun and I'm glad we did it.

Crabtree Wollery Sam Michelle Heath Sons Sherman

Mills,Maine

We wanted a snappy name for our rabbit business. We have New

Zealand Whites and English Angoras, as well as Romney and Border
Leicester sheep. We also have two good-producing crabapple trees. I spin
wool as well as cotton, silk and mohair, which I swap for things we need
such as homeschooling books for our three boys.

So our name became Crabtree Wollery.

Bedlam Acres Jeannine Ricketson Saugerties, New York

I've always gotten a kick out of what some people name their

farms: Quiet Times, Merry Times, Almost Heaven, etc.

Let's get real! A little truth in advertising. Anyone who

homesteads and has livestock, especially goats, knows it's much
crazier.

Hence my farm name, Bedlam Acres.

Goatdance Liane Stevens Springwater, New York

My homestead is 3-1/2 acres on a wooded slope, but it is heaven and
deserving of a name.

I glanced out the window late one summer night just in time to see
my silver-colored Trinket dancing in the moonlight. That's how my
homestead became Goatdance.

Homeplace Jon A. Moreshead Swoope, Virginia

We live on the farm of Joel Salatin (see 78/2:35) and are trying to
adapt his method of raising chickens to raising turkeys. As part of that
we have renamed our homestead.

We wanted it to be something simple that would catch the idea of

the importance of "home" in our lives. (We have home birthed,
we home school, and we try to make our living at home.) We wanted it to
have the connotation of a quiet and peaceful place to "come home

to," that would also fit the rather rustic approach we take to
life.

After much deliberation, we came up with Homeplace. It seems to

fit, and we like it.

A logo is in the works: then will come letterheads and all the
"official" stuff that goes with it.

Clear Springs Farm Eddie Susie Yelverton Liberty,Tennessee

Clear Springs Farm reflects the feeling of our little farm. A wide,
rocky bottomed creek curves in front of the property. This creek is fed
by a spring which flows directly from a cave and another spring known as
"the blue hole." The blue hole, bubbling up from its source,
is legendary, since it's bottomless and very blue.

We are also blessed by a nice pond with another smaller branch

which runs through our place and provides livestock water. Wet weather
springs flow from the hillsides and a nice clear well serves our home.

We are indeed fortunate to have so much good, clean water.

Dream Farm, Jandolin Marks, Clarksville, Florida

This name was derived from a series of dreams about the country

drives I used to take as a child. I pointed and said "I want to

live there!" (and there, and there).

When I reached the age of 40 my dream came true, and this is my

second farmette.

The sign, which is red cedar, hangs above my gate, but always
remains portable in case my neighborhood loses its rural charm and I
need to move again!

Talavaya Acres Sheril A. Utsler Richmond, Indiana

I have always had great admiration for the resourcefulness and

fortitude of Native Americans. For the name of my homestead I chose the
Hopi word, Talavaya, which means "Go to the Great Spirit in the
morning."

Merigold Farm Paula Tom Benne Whitfield, Maine

"Merigold" isn't a misspelling of a flower: this

property was in the Merigold family from 1904 until we purchased it in
1980.

Arthur Merigold seems like the type of Yankee character we would

have enjoyed being acquainted with. He was a veteran of the
Spanish-American War and lived to the age of 103.

The loss of an arm in a sawmill accident didn't slow him down

at all. As the story goes, he shingled the back of the house himself,
and he dug a 22-ft.-deep well.

We milk Jerseys and Milking Shorthorns and make butter to sell. We

raise Holstein replacement heifers on the skim and buttermilk. If
we're not around the house, we're usually cutting wood on the
back 40 at Merigold Farm.

Ash Grove Organic Farm Dori Green Corning, New York

My mother's death in 1989 resulted in a small inheritance,
just about enough to make a down payment on these 20 acres at the top of
the Upper Susquehanna Watershed. We don't really have an ash grove
on the property--we keep planting ash seedlings from the SCS and the
deer keep eating them--but The Ash Grove was Mom's favorite song so
we use this name to honor her memory.

We were certified organic by the Northeast Organic Farming

Association in 1993, but paid $250 for the certification and only
grossed $800 in sales that year so we didn't renew. We will include
"organic" in our farm name until somebody with the authority
to do so tells us we can't.

The wind here at the top of the hill gets pretty wicked, so at
first we toyed with "Dragonwynde" as a name... until my
husband discovered that "wynde" was middle English for

"flatulance" and my sneaky attempt to name the place

Dragonfart Farm was kiboshed.

Love-in-the-Ruins Rev. Jeffrey Wilson Street, Maryland

My brother Eric rode with me in the old GMC pickup toward the
woodlot our father said he would give me to build a house. We passed the
run-down 19th century farmhouse where we had housed our hired men for 30
years. Since Daddy had given up farming, a tenant rented the house from
him. The barn had fallen down. Most of the outbuildings were gone. The
garage leaned. The two-story granary had hardly any siding. Even the
house looked like a candidate for a volunteer fire company practice run.

I was talking about the house I planned to build. I eased my foot

off the gas and pointed to the old place 800 feet off the road.
"But," I said, "if that guy moved out, I'd take over
the place in a minute. I even know what I would call it:
Love-in-the-Ruins."

Eric laughed. "That's the sort of thing you would name a

house," he said.

I explained that Love in the Ruins is a novel written by Walker

Percy with the sub-title, "The Adventures of a Bad Catholic at a
Time Near the End of the World." Set in the late '60s, the
scenes are all too familiar: country club housing developments and

slums; sleek, green golf courses and burned-out shopping malls. The
hero, himself slipping in and out of mental illness, weaves his way
through a collapsing civilization to an old place in need of repair--his
ruins, where he finds, makes, celebrates love.

I agreed with Percy's view of western civilization crumbling

before our very eyes, and of the righteousness of seeking love even in
the ruins.

A few weeks later at morning chore time a country gentleman stopped

at my mother's place, where I was living. "I'd like to
rent your house," he said in a broad accent.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "Someone lives

there."

"He moved out last night," he informed me. "The

key's in your mailbox." And indeed it was.

The gentleman did not get the house. On August 1, 1984, I moved in.

The place is a good bit less ruined than it was a decade ago, but
there is a lot more love. I had the granary resided. The house has been
renovated and expanded. There are gardens and an apple orchard, chickens
and bees. Best of all I have a wife and three children. Love grows in
the ruins.

What has puzzled me over the years is that 99 people out of 100
hear "Love-in-the-Ruins" negatively. When I married, many of
those 99 suggested that I change the name of our homestead. It was
marrying that made the name truer than ever, especially in light of the
novel's last paragraph.

The bad Catholic, with his Presbyterian wife in his arms,

concludes, "To bed we go for a long winter's nap, twined about
each other as the ivy twineth, not under a bush or in a car or on the
floor or any such humbug as marked the past peculiar years of
Christendom, but at home in bed where all good folk belong."

Sonrise Keith Gina Bellinger Warren Center, Pennsylvania

My brother and I called our construction company Sunrise

Construction. Steve moved to Tennessee about the time my wife read a
book, Sonrise, about an autistic child. I always dreamed of passing on
the company and our homestead to my boy, so I changed the spelling to
reflect that dream.

Dreams don't always come true. The construction business has

faded with the economy, and almost died when I broke my back in an
automobile accident. That was three years ago. With the constant
exercise involved with our chosen lifestyle, my back is now as strong as
it can be, but the economy isn't. Our son Scott is 18 now and
chores don't fit into his plans.

Maybe I'll change the name back to the original: "When

the sun rises, I go to work, when the sun goes down I take my rest. I
dig the well from which I drink, I farm the soil that yields my food. I
share creation; kings can do no more." (Ancient Chinese, 2500 BC).

That's all the room we have for homestead names this time. Our
thanks to all who participated.

Now, the interesting buildings shown on this page provide a

transition for our next section: outbuildings.