Home is my absolute favorite place to be, and when I moved home to Oregon from the Seattle area, I knew I wanted a home to put roots down deep in something — to be able to work the land even in its smallest measurement. So I found this worn-down 1910 farmhouse smack dab in the the heart of our little community hub, and knew that all my experiences from being raised on a farm in Central Point, Oregon, that I could most certainly tackle this feat and turn it into a home.
So with that vigor that’s what I’ve done. The vision for my home was very real and personal upon me entering its humble doors. The almost 20′ laurel hedges surrounding the Wheat Brothers Farms creates a true “Orchard House” persona of years gone by (Orchard house is the home in little women). I truly believed and pictured myself putting up fences, painting, and shopping for local junk most would turn a nose up to, but I knew one thing my momma said to me about small living is to go up. Small spaces and creative decorating are a bit of jack that comes along with this ‘ole gal and I quite enjoy that about myself.
So as years pressed on and the vision became much like putting on bifocals, I decided to push forth into my next journey — the farm stand. I researched my home at our local historical society and found the original home owned by the Earhart family, who were in fact related to Amelia from PA, and had moved west with the gold rush in Jacksonville, Oregon. Along with the founder of the world famous Harry and David pear orchards, they settled in and began to grow several wheat varieties. One hundred and fifty-three acres as far as the eyes could see. The friends and family of the Earharts would soon establish a siphon of water out of bear creek to irrigate their crops, an excerpt from Portland tabloids is where the originals of our name is founded.
I wanted to to give back the home I had already duplicated “bearing very evidence of thrift”, a homage of loyalty to one families’ legacy. Their daughter, June, is quite recognized for her WW1 nursing efforts and what is the now the Medford Co-Op, was June’s original home across the street from the dirt Riverside Street at the turn of the century. The Earharts sons lived and tended the home I now reside in and the 153 acres of fine wheat.
On Tuesday we opened with great anticipation of goodness and gathering. The day prior, the wind was quite fierce and unpredictable as I began to set up, but opening day it was crisp and warm as autumn days warm your cheeks and as well-wishers and kind patrons came pouring in. Day two brought a refreshing sprinkle of rain to my ‘lil farm in the city. To my delight, another women passing by, stopped, and brought her own breath of fresh air — a local women who left me feeling grateful for her kind words. As she was departing with her goods, she stopped and congratulated me and told such a kind compliment — she told me how brave and ambitious I was. I was so encouraged by her words and thoughtfulness.
My great grandmother was a dear women with a gentleness about her that I shall never forget. She always wore an apron and a sweet smile with a few little chickens at her feet. For those who have stood outside my picket fences the past few years on a daily basis and shared stories with me about their granny’s farm or their own experiences in childhood of farm life, I commit this to you and your families’ heritages. Because farm life is simple life, but such a good life.
To My Great Granny
It’s because of you and the small, little memories of being such a small girl on your farm that I wear my apron each day.
To My Momma
Whose gift of hospitality never left those out in the cold, but always had a warm supper ready to serve without judgment, followed by a yummy desert. In my lifetime I’ve had the privilege of meeting diverse folks from all walks of life due to your very obedient, God-given heart of hospitality and warmth. You’re a good women.