American Made: Mark Albert Boots

Our story with Mark Albert Boots is in FOLK’s Slow Living issue.

For Mark Barbera a love of well made boots has turned from a sketch and a dream into a full fledged business that hopes to keep a decades old Pennsylvania boot factory alive.

I’m the founder of Mark Albert Boots. It all started when I was a freshman in college in 2015. My style had began to mature beyond sneakers, which led me to the Chelsea boot – a popular, versatile boot for everyday wear. The problem was that I could not afford the likes of Common Projects but did not want to skimp on $90 H&M either. Upon further research, there was really no middle ground. I was home over Thanksgiving break when I had shown my Dad some sketches of Chelseas that I designed. He told me that I should take them to the “local factory” and see if they would make them. First, I had no clue that a local boot factory existed, and second, I was sure they would want nothing to do with a 19 year old and his ideas. 

Regardless, by my father’s insistence, I visited the factory with my sketches. Long story short, I was granted the opportunity to make this design a reality but I had to meet a nearly $13,000 minimum order. At the time, I was working landscaping in the summers and had about $550 to my name so I was a bit discouraged. After some thinking, I decided to pay my friend (and still my content creator to this day) about $300 to make a Kickstarter video. Kickstarter ended up really well and we sold just over $22,000 in 30 days. This gave me what I needed to get started. 

I became obsessed with the factory, its story, and its capabilities. This factory has roots in our town since 1948, and I was fascinated by the potential. Since then, I have shown my products at the most prominent wholesale tradeshows across the globe, from NYC to Florence, Italy. Today, we are a Direct-to-Consumer brand, selling the best product we’ve ever produced at the best prices through our website.

I think that its important to support the trades that still exist today in the US. It is easy for us to shop based on the best price, given that there are so many options from foreign manufacturers on the market. However, we rarely think about the repercussions of our fast-fashion culture today. Beyond the immense environmental damage caused by the disposable nature of products today, it is also the driving force that is crushing middle class America and further separating the rich from the poor. I firmly believe in buying far less, far better things. Also worth noting, just because something is “Made in USA” absolutely does not mean it’s the best. However, due to the competition from the global economy, those brands still manufacturing in the USA have found that quality is the only thing that will keep them in business, as the prices inevitably will be higher due to higher labor costs.

Our greatest strength is our experience. We can combine over
60 years of bootmaking heritage with modern sales and marketing strategies to completely revitalize this factory, or that was the plan, and its working already in a short year since the real implementation of our direct-to-consumer model.

Our greatest struggle is workforce. Sure, we need to update machines
to modernize the process a bit, but ultimately, workforce will make or break our factory. We have employees here who have worked here for over40+ years, following their mother before them. We have some excellent younger workers as well, but it’s a systemic problem these days to findyounger workers who both value the craft and also value hard-work. Lets face it, the younger generations are entitled. Its sad that everyone thinks they must go to college to be successful. Unfortunately, that has led to a swarm of kids who really would have been better off going to trade school or apprenticing at a business (like ours), who are now stuck swimming in debt. My goal is to really show younger workers

why they should invest their careers in this factory- we are not just
an assembly line. We are a group of incredibly hands-on, skilled craftspeople and our workers should be compensated as such.

I personally love supporting American-made because I’ve found that my clothes last longer, my food quality is higher and so and so forth. It’s been a challenge in the past to find, for example, t-shirts, that are Made in USA. But now, there is no excuse given social media, the internet, and amazing venues like Shop AF who promote American-made makers across the country. Some of my favorites (mostly clothing) are: 3Sixteen, Shockoe Atelier, Bradley Mountain, Jungmaven, Witness Co, Dehen 1920, and Ball and Buck.

Oh man, there are so many about the employees, but I will leave that
to the Meet the Makers section of my website. A super amazing story to me is the way that my family personally ties into this story of Mark Albert.
As I mentioned, the factory is here in Somerset, PA where I was born and raised, and where my family has been for almost three generations. I was in the factory one day, probably 8 months or so after I started working with them, when I was approached by Bill, a partially-retired mechanic and guru of all things mechanical in our factory. He says, “Joe Barbera was a great man,” and I’m thinking “Who the hell is Joe Barbera? My uncle?” then it hits me, he is referringto my Nonno (great-grandfather).
My Nonno was an immigrant from Sicily who was a master shoemaker and cobbler here in Somerset after settling coming to the States. Bill continues to say “Joe used to come into the old factory when we were first getting started and talk shop, give advice and answer any questions about shoemaking that we had.” I was shocked because I had never even met my Nonno, he had passed before I was born, but here I was, standing in a factory where my family heritage has come full circle. It was a surreal moment.

The business has come so far since the beginning. I was honestly just
a nuisance to the factory when I started, sort of that young kid who gets in the way. Now, after taking Mark Albert Direct-to-Consumer, we have seen 246% growth in one year. Our line is exciting, we are growing a strong social media following, and we are building profitable boots

for the absolute best value that the consumer can find out there. The best part is that its been authentic from the beginning, no smoke and mirrors, just following a passion and working with the fine folks who have given me the opportunity since the day I first walked in the door.

I am planning on acquiring the factory this year. Its been a two year process, but it seems like we are finally approaching an agreement.
It has been incredibly tolling, but I am so excited to carry on the torch and hopefully evolve this business in ways we have not yet imagined. We have so many opportunities on the horizon.

In owning the factory, its no longer just about Mark Albert. We have 50 employees and we make thousands of pairs of boots a year for Mark Albert, our work boot line, Silverado, and our other brands. We hope to expand the reach of Made in USA footwear by private labeling for several large retail partners and brands. Lots of uphill climbing to do, but I am so excited to be on this journey.

Unafraid of Life: A Conversation with @ablicki

a conversation with Max Ablicki about life, photography, and lessons from the road. | This story originally ran in FOLK’s Tourists Welcome issue.

I FIRST GOT INTO PHOTOGRAPHY IN HIGH SCHOOL, JUST AS I WAS SORT OF STRETCHING MY LEGS WITH THE NEWFOUND FREEDOM OF HAVING A DRIVER’S LICENSE. I started by simply taking cell phone pictures of the places I’d drive my Jeep, and from there it sort of blossomed into this joy of exploring and sharing the experience of travel, and overall just being present in the moment.

I’m mainly self-taught; however, the first few months with my camera were certainly full of YouTube tutorials and talks with my friends who knew a bit about the craft. The good thing about a camera is that at the end of the day, it’s really just a tool. Once you understand the functions of the tool, you can use it however you need to. I think anyone can pick up a camera nowadays and take some pretty beautiful pictures with just a little playing around, but working on a style is what truly begins to set photos apart and highlight the tastes and ideas of each photographer.

I feel that my own style has been, and probably always will be a work in progress. I started in the early days by mimicking what others were doing on Instagram, but it doesn’t take long to realize that’s not a fulfilling or enjoyable way to practice an art. So over time I began to simply take photos of things that I’m passionate about, and played around with different editing styles and shooting styles before ultimately settling on my current approach, which is to shoot as close to the finished product as possible, and then lightly edit. I like to balance my color images with the occasional black and white, since each one has its own benefits and drawbacks and I don’t want to limit myself to one domain in that area. My current images are intended to show the things that inspire me in an almost photojournalistic kind of way—at the end of the day, it’s an account of me and the things I enjoy, presented in a way that I hope is enjoyable for many.

The themes I explore in my work started out pretty basic, just showing my physical travels in my old car. But as we all know, the more you travel the more you realize travel is a lot bigger than where you physically are. It changes who you are as a person. So now the themes that I try to cultivate and share with my audience are to be unafraid of life, and to be open to inspiration from anything and everything, whatever that may mean to any person who sees my content. I’ve been called a renaissance man for my diverse array of random passions and skills, and I want people to feel similarly encouraged and charged up to be unafraid to try new skills and chase all of their different passions, instead of living with blinders on, chasing one dream and ignoring everything else that’s beautiful around them.

Finding my subjects and locations is almost completely random. Some locations, I hear about through word of mouth and recommendations from friends (though it’s pretty rare you’ll catch me at the known “Instagram banger” spots anymore!); others I find on my own just by perusing maps and/or simply coming across amazing spots on the side of the road. I’m guided by my passions and interests, so at the end of the day whether I’m shooting on a mountain summit, in a canoe, in a restaurant, a luxury home or an off-the-grid cabin, it’s because I am really, really excited and grateful to be there. The people I photograph are typically friends who accompany me on my adventures or share my passions. Again, having an openness to experience and to living opens up the opportunity for you to stop on the side of the road to take a great photo or to talk to an interesting stranger who might show or teach you something incredible.

The way in which I compose a shot depends on the scenario. If I’m shooting a professional project, I often have an idea of what a client expects, and an understanding of the situation I’m dealing with, and therefore might have a few shots in mind or a loose outline of what I’d like to capture. If I’m just out on the road freestyling, pretty much anything goes.

Everything around me inspires my work! I love taking photos, and if I can photograph the things and the people that I love, then I will. I love to cook, I love to get outside and explore, I love to surf, I love hole-in-the wall coffee shops and autumn leaves, and everything from a perfectly manicured fine dining experience right down to a bowl of mac and cheese. I want people to simply be inspired by life and unafraid to reach for the experience they think is out of reach. In the words of the late Anthony Bourdain, who is one of my big inspirations, I want to inspire people to “eat the damn fish.”

My suggestion to newcomers in the field (no matter how cheesy this may sound) is to have fun with it! Seriously, don’t worry about trying to monetize it or make it sustainable. Don’t even worry about trying to be good! Just treat it like play - and have fun shooting for you first, taking pictures of what you enjoy. Keep going in that direction and the rest will come with time! That said, photography is s a tough field to be immensely profitable in. Photography is still essentially my side gig; I work in landscaping full time. Really though, what is money? We’re all just trading around red and green numbers at the end of the day. If photography is your passion, chase it, and don’t make money the priority. With good practice and a true dedication to the craft, money will come.

As for high points in my career, my first few real photo gigs in which a client sought me out (as opposed to me putting in the legwork to find a client) were something really special, and to me just validated that my work was really becoming something to take pride in. Especially as someone who doesn’t specialize in any specific type of photography, it can be difficult to get clients when you aren’t offering something specific, so knowing that I was being sought out purely for my creative perspective was a pretty amazing feeling.

I’d say that the moment I realized that I didn’t need to define my work by any specific genre or style of photography was the defining moment in my career, so far. That understanding really opened up the creative doors for me, even if it slowed down my “photography business.” At the end of the day that’s not why I’m into photography, and instead, giving myself the room to create what I want has led to my photography career feeling much more like a professional hobby, which is fantastic.

If I could start out from scratch, I would definitely become who I am–a guy with no particular specializations in photography–a lot earlier than I did the first time around. In the early days I was so focused on trying to be one “type” of photographer, whether that was taking pictures of cabins or landscapes or cars or whatever.  Looking back now, those are all just callings to different areas of interest for me, and for a long time I was really limiting myself to try to just pick one and stick with it. It took me pretty long to realize that I don’t need to abide by a specific specialization in photography. So, if I had another go at it, I’d definitely want to attain that realization much earlier.

The importance of individuality is the biggest lesson I’ve learned through creating my art. Copying everything everyone else does on social media will definitely get you the likes - but it costs you the soul of your work. When you can step outside of the social media framework and expectations, and not care at all if your work has 10 likes or 10,000, that’s when you get the freedom to create and share what you want.

It’s great to be in a position where you can work for yourself, even if it’s just for a few times a year like it is for me. I’ve spent my whole life working for other people.  Each way of working has its own pros and cons. Working for yourself really gives you that total control and total freedom to run things the way you’d like to, but at the same time, you bear full responsibility for everything, which can be tiring. That’s why I like being my own boss, but only part-time.

If I couldn’t be pursuing photography, I’d be cooking! I’d say I’m equally passionate about cooking as I am about photography, even sometimes more passionate about it. (That’s why my photography has evolved to show a bit of what I like to cook!). One of my favorite things is cooking on an open fire—there is something deeply intimate about it, and it’s a true craft! I’m very inspired by Francis Mallmann, and definitely recommend that anyone interested in cooking and living to the fullest should research Francis Mallmann. A lot of different aspects of life, society, culture, etc. all seem to come to head with a plate of food, and being able to cook well and appreciate food with friends and family is something really special to me.

My biggest pet peeve about the photography industry is the people who are doing it “for the gram.” There’s a lot of them out there in all sectors of social media, not just photographers. In the photography area, though, there are so many people who won’t stop to smell the flowers or appreciate a scene, because they’re too busy trying to crush out a hike to get to a popular photo spot just to snag a photo and then turn around to head to the next spot. Or they’ll ignore countless amazing people or local places like small businesses and restaurants because those things don’t fit in their aesthetic. So generally, I wish the whole scene was just more authentic and transparent. Does social media need to resemble real life? Definitely not! I like that it’s a catalog of our best moments. But do we need to manufacture our best moments or can we instead truly be present, patient, and just simply share our real best moments?

When I first started out, photography was simply the pursuit of something that was interesting to me at the time. It was something I felt drawn to when I first encountered it, and so I followed the path. Even with the ups and downs, photography has allowed me to travel to some incredible places, but also really led me down a path that’s had so many benefits in terms of being an authentic and kind human being with gratitude for everything around me, and that’s all I could ask for.

I’ve touched on this a little bit already, but I truly hope my work inspires people to chase life to the fullest, whether they are aspiring photographers or not. Simply saying yes to new opportunities and being willing to make the moment worthwhile is the answer to life itself, never mind just photography. It started with travel for me, but it can start anywhere. I love to see people try new things and pursue their interests and passions to the fullest in the same way that I try to do - always be open to what life has to offer!

Here in Maine, nothing brings hunters and hippies together more than flannel. It is always the right move.

A New Era of Quilting: A Conversation with @farmandfolk

I adore the work of Farm & Folk. They have brought quilt making into the new century in the most beautiful and timeless ways. Familiar classic time honored designs with a fresh feel. I wanted to learn more about Sara, the owner, and her story. | This story originally ran in FOLK’s Tourist Welcome issue.

I’M SARA BUSCAGLIA OF FARM & FOLK AND ANCIENT FUTURE FARM. I’m an organic farmer and textile artist. I work with natural dyes derived from plants and minerals and apply them to organic cotton and linen fabrics, then use the fabrics to make heirloom quality hand-stitched quilts. My family grows a lot of the food that we eat and we’re always striving to be more self-sustainable in that way.

I first became a maker when my first son was born and I took time off from farming to care for him. I found myself a little lonely and needing something to do, so my friend convinced me to buy a sewing machine and a few patterns. That’s how I learned to sew and suddenly I was making my son little clothes and then making myself clothes. Sewing eventually led to knitting and when we bought our farm we got a flock of sheep, which led to me learning how to spin wool into yarn, which led to natural dyeing, and so on.  I think making is like that. Once you make something, the maker’s mindset is instilled in you. You think outside the box of buying something already made and learn how to make it yourself.

Quilt making came to me totally out of the blue about eight years ago. I had been sewing garments for my kids since they were born and had a scrap basket that was overflowing with all the remnants left over from those garments. I was going to send the scraps to the thrift store but had a sudden urge to attempt to turn them into a quilt. That first quilt was a simple patchwork-square quilt, and it came together much more easily than I expected it to. In my head, quilting was something that was very difficult, but it turned out to be a very fun and inspiring kind of challenge, and suddenly I was a quilt maker. That discovery of quilt making was so fulfilling to me because I was able to turn my passion for sewing into an art. Cutting up fabrics and creating expressive shapes that in turn became functional pieces of art felt and still feels radical.

To me, a quilt is a preservation of the maker’s love in the form of fibers and stitches. The colors and patterns that the maker chooses tell a unique and personal story. A quilt can be like an autobiography in that way. My mom has a Cathedral Window quilt that my great grandma made, and it’s a true expression of who my great grandmother was - the bright colors she used on a white background, and her perfect hand stitches. I have quite a few quilts that my grandma made which I was lucky to inherit, and they too are very much an expression of her personality. The brown and white solid and calico fabrics and the perfect tiny hand stitches tell her story and reflect who she was. My mom makes quilts that tell her story, and now I make quilts that tell mine. My choice to naturally dye fabrics, the style that I use to cut the fabrics up and sew them back together, and my imperfect hand stitches are an expression of who I am and my values.

During my journey as a quilt maker, I’ve learned so much about the history of quilts. For example, in 1856, an 18-year-old man named William Perkins was experimenting with synthesizing quinine, an anti-malarial drug. In an experiment with aniline he obtained a black precipitate, which he then extracted in alcohol to create a purple color, which he discovered was an amazing light- and wash-fast dye on silk. He patented his discovery in 1856.  This was the birth of synthetic dyes, which very quickly extinguished the natural dye industry because synthetic dyes were very cheap to produce and easy to apply. So all dyed fabrics and textiles, including quilts of course, were naturally dyed until 1856 when synthetic colors took over.

I believe that once you find your passion as a maker it’s all about commitment to your craft. It has taken me years to become confident in my work with natural dyes and the colors I create, and in my stitches and seams. Putting in the time and research and energy to improve my skill set, to dig deeper, and constantly evolve, is what keeps me going. It took me seven years to learn how to achieve a beautiful strong red on cotton fabric with madder root. These big achievements and the many, many small ones along the way are what keep me going and growing.

At this point I think my biggest success so far was in finding the confidence to launch my website. To put my work out there and begin selling it. That was such a giant leap. I wasn’t sure if anyone would be interested in my quilts, and when they began selling it was such an amazing feeling. It really helped me to have confidence in my work and to make more and to evolve and expand and improve.

Of course, along with successes come failures, but I don’t let the failures get me down. Most disappointing to me was perhaps the experience of failing at making a strong red dye for seven years. Projects that don’t work out after spending hours and hours of working on them can be very frustrating, but failures are so necessary! If I fail at something I get kind of obsessed with figuring out how to succeed. Failure is probably my biggest driving force.

To me, “slow living” means intentional living. You plant the seeds and take care of the plants, weed the garden. You are committed to that work. Harvest is the long-anticipated reward. It’s the polar opposite of buying something on the internet and having it arrive on your doorstep two days later. It’s building a fire on the hearth in winter from the wood you chopped on a hot summer day. It’s canning peaches from the peach tree you planted 15 years ago. It’s the selfless act of planting trees and caring for them and watching them grow slowly with the understanding that those trees will benefit generations of stewards that will come after you.

The biggest part of my way of slow living is planting my garden of food and dye plants. I also plant trees – they are the epitome of slow living! I raise chicks every spring and witness ducklings hatch. I bring in the harvest and fill the larder every fall with the food we grew in the summer. I tend the fire all winter and sew quilts made from fabrics I dyed with plants, and I hand stitch them. And then I do it all again when spring comes back around.

There’s a huge disconnect in modern society. Most people have never thought about where certain things come from. Folks go to the mall and buy a bunch of clothes but don’t really think about what they’re even buying or who made it or how it got to the store. Once I began making things it helped me to connect a lot of those dots. I began thinking about the work that goes into making a dress, for example, and where the fabric came from and how it was dyed and what kind of pollution those processes may have caused, and the people who worked in the factories and what they were exposed to. I don’t necessarily try to inspire people to think about these specific types of concepts but I think that when people see me making a quilt from scratch for instance, and they see all the work and love that goes into creating the colors, it really helps to encourage them to think about ways of slow living. I think when people see other people living slow lifestyles it helps to connect the dots of, for example, where food comes from and all the work and love and commitment it takes to produce it. It’s really easy to be unaware of these things because of all the distractions out there. Ads telling us to buy this and that. It’s not like you hear anything about food production on the nightly news or see garment factories and all the egregiously bad conditions that commercial agriculture workers and textile producers face. There’s plenty of information out there about it but you have to actually look for it, which is difficult when there are so many things distracting us.

I love the saying “do what you can with what you have.” I think that’s a great piece of life advice. Also, knowing that it’s the little things that can collectively turn into really big things. I think the most difficult part in life is making a decision about what you want to do. Once you make the decision, you find a way to make your plan happen and you get there one small step at a time.

I never really thought “I want to be a farmer,” it just happened, and I have never regretted it. I quit college two years in because it was time to choose my major. My advisor kept handing me this printed-out list of majors and told me it was time to pick one, and that I could always change my mind if it didn’t work out. There was nothing on that list that felt right for me and I felt like it would be a big waste of time and money to blindly choose a career. I quit school with the intention of taking a year off to figure out what I wanted to do. I met my husband a few weeks later and we eventually planted a garden which kept expanding and turned into a small farm. We got a booth at the farmers market and that’s how I found my career. It felt right so I kept at it. I figured it out by process of elimination and some good luck, hard work and dedication. I hope to never lose my inspiration because that’s my driving force. To make mistakes and learn from them as a person, as a farmer and as a business. To constantly evolve in all aspects.

Farming has taught me everything. It has been my biggest influence. When I’m out in the field pulling weeds or hoeing and I hear the birds above me, the insects buzzing, I think about the worlds of microbes and mycelial networks at my feet. It’s a serious vibe. It’s a connection to nature and to the food I grow that I cannot describe in words. It’s something you have to experience to understand. I can pause to watch an ant colony in action and gain a better understanding of the world through the ants. When I see the generations of crops sprouting every spring and returning to the earth every fall it reminds me that I am only here for a short time, that I too am part of that infinite life and death earth cycle.

Autumn is the smells of coffee, green chile, and hashbrowns in the morning kitchen. The golden light and crisp air. We harvest our potato crop in October and that always feels like a holiday. We have potato soup for dinner every potato harvest day. We harvest the pumpkins and dry beans and dry corn and store it away in the cellar. We light the fire again and give thanks for this good life.

10 Years of FOLK: The Best of Issue

This issue was supposed to come out in December 2021, but the tornado that hit the farm delayed its release. It is now printed and ready! We hope you will order your copy today.

Eleven years ago we started the FOLK journey. Okay. umm, typing that feels insane. I don’t think I’m fully grasping what I am typing. Taylor Swift plays in the background. The farmhouse is filled with art, American made goods, and miscellany, the garden is growing, life is slow as the cicadas sing along to the speakers and I sit here at my dining table with my laptop and a glass of ice tea and write this again…eleven years ago we started the FOLK journey. Wow. It has been a journey. The highest of highs and lowest of lows of my life and I wouldn’t trade a single triumph, success, failure, or lesson for anything. I thank each of you for joining us on this journey, for allowing us to grow, to fail, to learn, to make mistakes, to explore, to wander, to ramble, and to journey together. 

This coming 2023 we will explore those first ten years on social and on the blog, but in print we will launch what I feel is the best product we’ve ever created…our ten year best of issue. It is our new standard softbound book format and is the very best of the best of our stories from the first ten years. If you’ve never ordered anything from FOLK, this is the thing we ask you to grab. It will NOW. The pre-order on it is really important as we have no idea how many to print. The issues is currently printing so it will mail the first week of January.

The issue takes us from issue one up to the current issues. We do a heavy focus on our favorite essays, American made profiles, and recipes. This is one of those books you’ll want on the shelf for many years to come. 

We designed it for those that have joined us for this journey…a journey that started as a college summer project and has grown into a global community of those seeing to live authentic. 

FOLK: BEST OF

The First Ten Years

Full Color

Stories from all ten years of FOLK. Over 20 stories, essays, and conversations + recipes

If you would like to order click here | If you would like to carry it in your shop email wholesale.folk@gmail.com

Homestead: Christmas with @underatinroof

Under a Tin Roof (@underatinroof) shares Christmas memories and traditions from the Iowa farm she and her family call home.

GROWING UP, CHRISTMAS WAS A MAGICAL EXPERIENCE MADE UP BY ALL OF ITS SHINY BAUBLES AND ORNAMENTS, the glitter and the flashy wrapping papers. I spent most of my Christmas holidays walking down Michigan Avenue in Chicago and staring with wonder at the decorated windows of Marshall Fields. It was mesmerizing and beautiful to me as a child, and for that, I will always be grateful. Now that I am an adult, I’ve turned to a more simplistic way of living. Christmas is not as shiny and high-strung as before; rather, it feels as if we’ve stepped back in time.

When we bought our Iowa farm several years ago, never having farmed or homesteaded before, we made the decision as a family to live a more sustainable and wholesome lifestyle by cutting out the unnecessary. We loved the idea of an old-fashioned Christmas. You’ll find our packages wrapped in brown paper we’ve saved all year long, our wreaths and garlands are fresh from local farms and our own yard, and we decorate with natural materials that we’ve foraged like pinecones and bittersweet.

We make time for family activities rather than spending all of our time hunting for the perfect gift. While we will still always spend a day or two holiday shopping for the thrill of the season, my hope as a parent is to spend our wintry days baking cookies and sweet breads, decorating the tree, and snuggled up with a warm cup of homemade chocolate listening to a favorite Christmas record. To us, family is everything, and we hope to pass that down to our children as well, when they move on to their own homes and families.

On the homestead, the winter months bring a period of rest. It is about keeping warm. We pile the bedding high in the chicken coop and hang a wreath of evergreens on the door for a touch of fun. The field is tucked in under a blanket of snow and compost to prepare the beds for the spring season. We spend our days by the fire inside, working with our hands yet again on projects we cannot seem to get to when the weather is warm: knitting hats and gloves, decorating our home, and sewing up clothing and quilts. The larder, where we keep the delicious food we grew and preserved over the summer, is slowly but surely emptied ready to be restocked in early summer. Our Christmas supper table is graced by the animals we raised and butchered in the fall, and we say many thanks over what was sacrificed and harvested. Gifts are made with our hands, tied in twine and scrap pieces of fabric. We make new traditions to pass down to our children from the old ones of generations past.

I am not sure that we will ever leave our home here on the farm. Because we live in the beautiful, hilly countryside of southeastern Iowa, we are graced each winter with the gorgeous cover of snow on the rolling fields. We are lucky to live in a place that honors the traditions of older generations, where food is still canned and preserved and cooked upon the stove at home. Christmas makes the place we live even more special, as we gather with friends and neighbors to celebrate the season and say a blessing for the year ahead. I do not know of anything more wondrous and magnificent!

10 Years of FOLK: The $500 Giveaway

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

This Land

Story & Photography by Melissa McArdle | FOLK: Best Of

This story originally appeared in the Winter 2012 issue of FOLK

This is a story, a true story about our land, our hills, our rivers, our America.  It seems in today’s world, we do not connect enough with the glorious land that our country is so blessed to call home.  Often times, we all just need a little reminder to kick-start the deep love that sits nestled within our hearts for this bountiful land beneath our feet, providing food for our tables, and resources for our survival: this land we proudly salute as the United States of America.  

So imagine this, a cabin built by the hands of two settlers in the late 1930’s.  A place which never found a marker upon a map, no address, no utilities, just a place to call home a few weeks out of the year, a place far from society, and any modern conveniences that were or ever would be available.    Located in Northern California near the border of Oregon, this log cabin has been passed down from one generation to the next.  A hobby of fishing turned into a legacy of preserving and remaining one with nature.  

This story came about because a friend procured the help of another friend in restoring a deck.  What seemed a simple request turned into a list of must-do’s before actually arriving at the cabin.  By foot, one must walk 6.5 miles over mountain passes and streams in order to reach the desired destination.  Horses or mules are used to carry up to 150 pounds of food and supplies.  Once there, one arrives at what some might consider nirvana: a place of solitude surrounded by pristine nature.  A land mostly untouched still offering its magnificent gifts of sustainability in the purest form.  

The milling of a 150-year-old Douglas Fir (which had fallen in a 2008 fire) into new deck planks is how the restoration began.  Two days of laborious work rebuilding a deck which overlooks crystal clear water filled with an abundance of fish.  Water so pure, one can fill their cup and drink right there on the spot.  Imagine the stars which blanket the sky from one horizon to the next, no artificial lights to outshine the magic of the night.  Sleeping bags offer the best night’s sleep on the newly restored deck with an extended roof-line to shield from the occasional downpour that passes through from time to time.  Sounds of tree frogs, a swooshing river below, and the freshest air offered only by a remote wilderness are the elements gathered to lull one into a deep slumber. 

It is places like this that need to be cherished and remain untouched.  In a time when many do not even know where their food or materials come from, it is reassuring to connect with stories, places and people who offer the link to what America used to be: a land that was cared for, nourished and maintained in every aspect, for there was a bond between man and land, a bond of respect for the resources provided and used. Nothing was wasted and every use was carefully planned and considered in regards to the end-result.  A cause and effect for past, present and future inhabitants is a thought process which should still be upheld by one and all.  

America is full of bountiful secrets, mountains, rivers, forests and valleys that are brimming with inspiration. These gems of nature are this country’s pride and joy, and as with any precious gift, it must be handled with the utmost respect and care.  Let’s follow the lead of past generations, and learn to live as one with the land, for the roots of America is a true story worth fighting for.  

CHURCH IN THE WILD: JK Winders

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.  

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!

A STORIED HOME: Small Town Junk

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

RURAL RECORD: Matthew Walton

RURAL RECORD

from FOLK Slow Living 2020

Matthew 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.

GONE COUNTRY: Urban Exodus

GONE COUNTRY

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!

WELL ROOTED: Wyse Guide

WELL ROOTED: Wyse Guide

SLOW LIVING THROUGH FOUR  GENERATIONS OF FARMING

from FOLK Autumn 2020

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 HOMESTEAD: Windy Peak Vintage

A HOMESTEAD

A Conversation with Windy Peak Vintage

from FOLK Slow Living 2020

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.

Well Rooted {an Autumn Issue Preview}

WELL ROOTED

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.

FULL STORY IN THE AUTUMN ISSUE

Slow Living Issue Preview: Under a Tin Roof

The following is a preview from our story with Under a Tin Roof in FOLK’s Slow Living issue. To order the issue CLICK HERE

Under a Tin Roof (@underatinroof) has created a quintessential  farmstand and country store along the endless farmland of Iowa.

IT WAS ALWAYS OUR DREAM TO HAVE A BRICK AND MORTAR SHOP TO SELL OUR GOODS. When we moved onto the farm, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to convert the old garage into our store so that our farm work and little shop could go hand-in-hand. At first, we thought our store would be the home for selling our excess vegetables and be a place for other small farms to sell their produce. While this was a fun dream, we decided to change directions and primarily sell flowers. Now we are an “Occasional Shop” where you can stop by on specific dates to purchase our fresh cut flowers or request an appointment! 

What advice would you give to people wanting to shop from roadside market? Always be sure to check our social media channels or website for our next open dates! Since we are not open throughout the week, the best way to know what is available is by seeing what we have shared online. For the freshest flowers, it’s always best to stop by in the morning when we’ve just cut them. 

What is your most popular item? We tend to sell lots of our little Mason jar floral arrangements! They’re the perfect vessel for our customers to bring fresh flowers home without fearing that they’ll wilt before they get home. 

FOR THE FULL STORY ORDER THE ISSUE BY CLICKING HERE

Slow Living Issue Preview: A Conversation with Archie Frink

The following is a preview of our story with Archie Frink from FOLK’s Slow Living issue. To order the issue CLICK HERE

With roots in Appalachia and a spirit fueled by Muir, Kerouac, and the open road Archie Frink (@archiefrink) has created a scenic and well travelled life on the road.

Why do you adventure

Out of necessity to live passionately. I have always had the adventure bug, and as I got older, consciously and subconsciously I created ways to bring adventure more closely to core. Growing up in the valleys of the Great Smoky Mountains without means to have experiences like family vacations, books from the library opened my mind to worlds imaginary and real, the adventurous spirit, empowerment to question the world and seek your own answers, and the dangers and the ecstasy of the path to the unknown.

I spent three years traveling the world in my early twenties and felt more empowered and excited for every day than ever before. When I returned to America and graduated from college, I spent four years working in offices, and I was essentially miserable. The office-in-the-city lifestyle undermined my belief in the work I was doing, even though it was impactful humanitarian aid. I was losing myself. I quit and moved my life to the Pacific Northwest to be close to family in Oregon and Montana and mesmerizing nature in all directions.

My life changed when I left office life and went fully remote with colleagues in Portland and Philadelphia, which coincided with my professional development as a visual creator. It enabled me at first to dip my toes into road life and dirt bagging throughout the Northwest and Northern Rockies, and eventually as I became more comfortable with the lifestyle, commit more fully to a handcrafted adventure lifestyle fueled by creativity. I’ve never looked back.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER THE ISSUE

Slow Living Issue Preview: The Rural Record

The following is a preview of our story with Matthew Walton of The Rural Record from FOLK’s Slow Living issue. For the full story order the issue HERE.

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.

ORDER THE ISSUE HERE

Life Begins Outside Your Comfort Zone — Mike Kelley

Below is a preview of my conversation with Boston based photographer Mike Kelley.

READ THE FULL CONVERSATION IN FOLK’S SUMMER ISSUE | ORDER HERE

Mike Kelley is a Maine native, Boston resident, and wanderlust at heart that stole our hearts with his calm landscapes, cloudy skies, and images of coastal New England culture.

Why do you explore? I explore for one simple reason, fear of missing out. There are so many places in this world, without exploring and putting myself out there I am scared that I will miss out on truly incredible experiences. 

Why take risks in life? Life begins outside your comfort zone.

 Where are you from? Manchester, Maine.

When you were growing up what or who did you want to be? Growing up...well as a kid...I wanted more than anything to be a paleontologist. I was very much obsessed with dinosaurs and fossils so it was my dream to search for them as a career. Coincidentally I also loved managing money...this is what lead me to the finance field.

Give us a story: 17,000 ft. That’s how high I was in the Bolivian Andes when I blacked out. No memory of the last 1,300 ft of hiking. If you know anything about me, I sometimes make spontaneous, questionable decisions, this was one of those…I arrived in La Paz Bolivia the night before, a city that sits at 11,000ft above sea level. Most people have a hard time breathing the first couple days in the city and many get sick from the lack of oxygen. For some reason, I was fine. I noticed some pressure in my lungs, but nothing I wasn’t already used to. I arrived to my hostel at 10pm on a Monday night, knowing full well that I had Tuesday free (I had planned to do the death road on Wednesday) I called up a local travel agency that was still open and booked a hike for the following morning. 7am I met up with my guide, Choco who didn’t speak a lick of English and we headed into the mountains. A two hour drive and we arrived at the mountain base. A hike with just over 4,000 ft of elevation gain. I can do this easy peasy I thought. We headed up. Within an hour my head ache was becoming unbearable, my vision began to blur, my stomach felt like it was being stabbed constantly by a knife. I had NEVER in my life felt so unbelievably uncomfortable. Symptoms I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. As stubborn as I was, I pushed forward, higher and higher. The symptoms got worse. Little did I know I was entering the early stages of a very serious condition, HAPE, High Altitude Pulmonary Edema. I pushed onward, until I couldn’t anymore. Choco braced me as I lay on the rocks and forced our trip back down the mountain. 17,113ft…I made it just 100 ft. from the summit he later told me in his broken English. This day changed my life, I realized the overwhelming power of nature, something I will never, ever doubt again. So let it be known, take risks in life, but make sure they are calculated or else you may never have the opportunity again.

READ THE FULL CONVERSATION IN FOLK’S SUMMER ISSUE | ORDER HERE