Who are We and What's our Story?
Hello!
So glad you stopped by for a visit! We are the Gallagher family...Andrew and Debbie with four little ones who would LOVE to live like the old-fashioned days! Although their parents are still feeling their way between how much they can tear themselves away from the conveniences of Wal-Mart and the desire to be free of that 'convenience' altogether!
Please excuse our mess here, as you can tell, we're still very much under construction! But we're very excited about all that we're discovering in the realm of this 'going green' frontier....and we're so eager to share and learn with others on this quest for more independence and freedom! So just put on the hard hat and please hang in there with us as we continue to construct what we hope to provide as lots of encouragement, ideas, and inspiration for fellow green pioneers!
and What's our Story?
We met in Dallas in 1997 while Andrew was working as a watchmaker with Rolex and Debbie was working for Smith & Hawkin having just recently returned from a few months in Australia. We were married in 1998, had twins in 1999, and moved to the suburbs of Dallas in 2000 after finding a great 1950's ranch house on a wooded lot (hard to come by in TX!) in a nice, quiet older neighborhood. Debbie had her own business with a warehouse that was just 3 blocks from the house. Andrew left Rolex to do freelance work and also started a landscaping and tree work business. In the next 4 years we added another two adorable little girls. We were a very typical, nicely settled, living comfortably, cute-suburban family.
The only hitch was that we yearned for something different. We weren't content playing the suburban game--paying the suburban bills, living the suburban life, or chasing the suburban dream. Our lives were frantically busy. We were going 10 separate directions at once. We had massive overhead and debts. And spent hours commuting all over the metroplex from Fort Worth to McKinney (not far from the OK border).
What we really yearned for so much was to have our children out in the country with animals and a garden and closer to nature with lakes, and mountains, rivers, meadows, and wildflowers. We longed for a change of seasons with beaches and blueberry picking in the summer, apple orchards in the fall, sledding and snow forts in winter, and fresh maple syrup in the spring. We greatly longed for the old-fashioned New England life we had read about in coffee-table books and Debbie had briefly tasted for only eight months when she was single in her twenties. We do believe that God places certain desires and ideas in our hearts and by laying this groundwork in our own heart a new lifestyle began to slowly emerge for our family.
I reminisce of Spring’s sweet song
And of her vibrant beauty long,
I miss the fragrance of the rose
And velvet grass between my toes.
Catherine Janssen Irwin
After some very interesting prods and nudges and cataclysmic circumstances, we sold our house in the Dallas metroplex and bought 40 acres in Maine where we’re still in the midst of building a log home. Asheley was only 4 weeks old when we flew to New England to try to find some property (we had 5 days) and the day before we were to return, all of our hopes nearly dashed, we struck gold. We put a deposit down on the land and flew back to Texas where we began showing our house in earnest, bought an old 33 foot RV, a tow dolly for our car, and a twenty foot trailer that would haul all of our earthly possessions 2300 miles across the country. The baby was two months old, Caitlyn was 2, and the twins were five when we spent our first summer in Maine living on our property in an RV for almost four months.
The adventures of those months in the RV could fill an entire book alone. They were delayed in getting electric strung so we had no electricity for almost two months. Therefore we were unable to keep the RV parked and had to keep running into town (12 miles away) to gas it up and empty the holding tanks regularly. On top of that, here I was with an infant and a two year old whom I was in the midst of potty training with hardly any hot water and no washer and dryer—just our weekly trips to the laundry mat. Our refrigerator and ice maker also quit working so we had to keep food in a cooler with ice. As most projects usually do, our log home endeavor took on a whole new life of its own growing into a much bigger project than we initially planned. Once we finally looked up to take a breath, summer was over, fall was on its way out and (panic still overtakes me when I think about it even now after two years!) we found ourselves still living in the RV with the cold north wind rapidly knocking at our door.
Although we already had started looking for a place to rent for the winter, we hadn’t realized the prospects in rural Maine were pretty much nill to none. By God’s grace, we had started visiting the only little church in the village near us and through a family there we were finally able to rent a house only a couple of miles down the road for the quickly encroaching winter. The house was not finished out on the inside. We couldn’t use the upstairs for anything but storage, the walls were still just drywall and most of the windows and doors had no framing and exposed fiberglass. There was only the plywood under-flooring which proved to be quite draughty. The two very small bedrooms that we could use had no doors on them as was also the case for all the cabinets in the kitchen. Plus, the baseboard heating had sprung a leak and needed repair. But can I tell you how much I cared? Not one bit! The house was endowed with a massive flagstone fireplace with wood in the shed out back and the price was right. Most importantly, we were out of that RV!
Our saga continued to take mind-dizzying twists and turns from a new home where we're now living as we're still trying to get the log home project completed, to a carzy 6 month hiatus in Florida, to the constant struggle to make a fresh start and a living wage at the same time! It's been the straight out vertical learning curve! But it's all been worth it! We've grown as a family, as parents, as individuals, and in our marriage--and especially in our faith and trust in God alone to meet ALL our mixed-up crazy needs in this life.
Our children are thriving and we're inch by imperceptible inch beginning to really see the fruit of our sacrifices and steps into the vast unknown taking root and shining forth from all the confusion and chaos that seemed to never ever let up. And perhaps we can now help others learn from our mistakes as well as draw from our encouragement to know that we really can extricate ourselves from the rat-race and truly live a more self-sufficient, wholesome, and vastly fulfilling lifestyle as a family and for our children--that will truly impact the next generation in so many wonderful ways!
Andrew's Story
Coming (maybe not) Soon!
Deb's Story--Chasing Dreams
The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.
—Walter Bagehot
Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.
—Goethe
Upon my college graduation where, in my mind, I had spent way too many years in the hot and humid Brazos Valley of Texas, and, possessing more ambitions than sense, I jumped into my newly acquired bright blue ‘77 Triumph Spitfire (referred to by my mom as “Deb’s roller skate”). I then journeyed to the West Coast starting in San Diego and eventually winding up in Seattle. Of course this meant driving across the Mojave Desert in a car containing a gas tank too small to make the 100 plus miles between gas stations. It just so happened that I ran out of gas next to an exit that just happened to have a rather steep slope that also just happened to have an old house nearby. I coasted into the driveway desperately hoping they might have some gas. The couple who lived there informed me that they had no gas. The man did say, though, that there was a gas station at the base of the hill. So without further adieu we pushed the car down the rest of the hill and I neatly pulled up to the gas pump. The old man just looked at me in amazement and said, “Missy, I can’t believe your luck. This is the only gas station within nearly a hundred miles!” If I’d run out any time after that exit, I would’ve really been in some trouble. Although I was aware of that fact, I just chose not to dwell on it too closely. I came by that much easier back then than I do now!
Toward the end of that summer, my job prospects were not promising so I ended up driving all the way to Denver which ultimately landed me in the Vail Valley. A girl that I worked with offered to let me rent with her what she termed as an “earth home” thirty miles out and six miles up built into the side of Belly Ache Ridge. I honestly didn’t have any idea what to expect but what met me at the end of the arduous drive to the top was a multi-million dollar southwest style home with a heated driveway, enclosed garage made of Mexican red tiles which then led down a long narrowing hallway to a thick dark-wood Spanish-style door. I opened this “front door” at the end of this hall/tunnel and walked into the entry. I followed some narrow steps upward and came out to a living room with nearly a 180 degree mountain view. It was literally like being perched on a cliff miles above the world where I felt closer to the moon than the tiny lights below. The sunsets and sunrises were incredible and ever-changing, but it was really at night when I could see the lights glowing from both Beaver Creek and Vail around the bend that was truly a sight to behold. I couldn’t believe my eyes or my fortune, for that matter!
That particular home made a lasting impression on me and I always felt that I needed big views and lots of sky to be really happy. I loved the quality of the light in New Mexico and fell in love with that whole western mountain clime and all it had to offer. A couple of years later, however, my job brought me to New England where I wound up renting a small farmhouse in Bedford, New Hampshire. As I was traveling through the Berkshire mountains I began to feel something twinge inside my heart. These mountains were not as extreme and majestic and they were far from reaching the luminous heights of the Rockies I had just left and still considered very much my home. Yet there was something about their rolling gentleness and the softer quality of color in the sky that drew me in. There was a hominess here rather than ruggedness. It was cute and quaint and inviting as opposed to austere and intimidating and awe-inspiring. My bike rides and runs led me along babbling brooks and voluminous rivers that flowed into tranquil lakes. I came along woods with stone fences and brambles, open meadows, and farm houses with tumbling flower beds. And of course it ultimately brought me to the seashore which thoroughly entranced me. Experiencing the ocean in the dead of winter was fascinating and very invigorating to me. I relished all the changes of the seasons. The aspen trees in Colorado turn a shimmering golden yellow in the fall that’s quite beautiful, but how can they compare to the huge and bright orange, red, and gold leaves of New England? In the spring, I drove up to Stowe, Vermont where some of my Cady ancestors lived before they made the long trek to Kansas back in the mid-1800’s. I drove up a mountain to a place where the dogwood trees were in full bloom and I still have that picture I took of myself propped up on a rickety fence next to the soft pink blossoms wearing my cream fisherman sweater and a French braid.. The back of my farm house had a screened porch that faced west overlooking a meadow with the hills in the distance. At dusk, against the pink and lavender sky I could see the lights from the distant farms dotting the hillside. It seemed so calm and serene to me that I thought to myself, “If I ever have a family, this would be such an ideal place to raise children.” That thought never left me.
From New Hampshire I moved back to Texas thinking all along that it would just be a pit stop on my way back to Colorado. Little did I know what plans God had in mind for me. I still had not become a Christian and I was 29 years old, ready to settle down in some respects yet not really ready to grow up and let go of my wayward ways, habits, and lifestyle. And I certainly wasn’t alone in my reluctance to let go. Many of my brother’s friends who had settled in Dallas after graduating around the same time I had, were still carousing and carrying on like old college days. No one was really growing up in the true sense of the term. The next decade of my life brought on much growth and much needed humbling and tough lessons for me to learn. Those years also brought me face to face with my Lord and savior, Jesus Christ, and the unqualified fulfillment of a devoted, loving husband and four beautiful children. Thirteen years later, we left Texas for Maine and all those dormant dreams have begun to bloom forth in my life and the life of my precious family.
After moving to Maine, we took a drive up north of Desert Island on Highway one toward Machias (pronounced mu-CHI-us). Although this highway is considered the “coastal highway,” much of the truly scenic ocean views are on the smaller roads that extend out along the numerous peninsulas for which Maine is famous. As we ambled along one of those ocean roads I saw for the first time in my life these old massive multi-story barns with their fat, varying-architectural cupolas perched as a crown atop the gambrel roof. Sometimes the barn was all that remained of a once bustling farmstead; this sole remaining remnant being a stoic reminder from a by-gone day. Against the backdrop of this building, statuesque yet humble, lay open green pastures, now abandoned and rocky, sloping gently toward the cliffs plummeting to the crashing ocean below. It’s amazing to see farm and sea, lighthouse and lobster boat; to hear waves, a distant foghorn, the cow’s moo mingled with the wails of the seagulls. All these elements combined in the landscape before me is the most emotionally evocative image I have yet to encounter. And I’ve certainly encountered some breathtaking places in my life—the Apostle Rocks in Australia, the picturesque towns of Tasmania, and many a majestic sight where I lived around Vail, Colorado amidst the skiing, hiking, and biking I did essentially non-stop whenever I wasn’t working. I’ve taken in the view from the top of a 14,000 foot mountain I climbed once in Telluride—and they’ve all been spectacular views. However, none of these have arrested my imagination or captured my dreams like this scene most undoubtedly has done. The seaside farm by far is the most romantic notion I could ever hope to imagine. The thought-provoking images of my family surrounded by the salt air and woods, the lolling sounds of the seashore, and the gentle life shared with gardens, window boxes, animals large and small, and rambling farm buildings with the cheery farmhouse beckoning to all who come near just tops the proverbial cake in my mind.
So now I’ve begun photographing and “collecting” these images of the seaside farm. There’s another working, family-owned farm where they raise a breed of cow called the Belted Galloway. The place is named Aldermere Farm and is located on the point of the peninsula between Camden and Rockport. This particular type of cow, if you’ve never seen one (which we hadn’t), are all black except for a wide white stripe that circles their middle. We love visiting this farm in the spring when they open the grounds to the public and introduce all the new baby calves. Once again you can look out past the barn and the farmhouse across the green pastures to the ocean spreading in the distance behind. Some of the shops in Camden carry paintings or cards of this lovely farm and their unique cows lazily grazing against the beautiful backdrop of the sea.
These are the images and the thoughts, the ideas or desires that transform our lives. There is much to be said for being content with our present circumstances and there is much character-building that is associated with allowing ourselves to be content with where we are right now at this moment in our lives. However, as I’ve said earlier, I do believe that God does put certain dreams and desires in our hearts and it’s important to develop the discernment to know what desires are right with God and which ones may not be His ultimate best for us (despite our feelings to the contrary). I know from my own experience that it’s quite easy to become emotionally attached to certain ideals or notions and to hang tenaciously to those ideas regardless of what other factors may be entering into the equation at the time. These dreams we look to may not always transpire in the manner we hoped they would, if they even come to pass at all. There is definitely a balance to be walked and it requires our diligently keeping our eyes on God and what He may be attempting to work out for our family or working into certain areas of our lives or personalities. At the same time, however, I think many people are too willing to sacrifice a better quality of life just because of the risks involved in making a substantial change. And there are risks involved for sure. We don’t want to be rash, but we also don’t need to stay stuck or perhaps just a bit too comfortable. What are your dreams? What’s something or some place you’ve longed to think about or perhaps long to be but have buried in the recesses of your mind long ago?
As for our family, we may not end up with a farm by the sea—no one ever really knows what the future holds. But I definitely want to incorporate more of this “farm life” aspect into our lives. From the house where we’re living now we have a lovely view of the low mountains across from us and there’s a lake close by that we can’t quite see, but can definitely see the sea planes landing or taking off. On the closest mountain directly in front of our deck is a charming farmhouse connected to its barn. This is a common type of architecture found in Maine that I’ve come to really adore—especially when it’s done well. Not only that, it was a supremely practical way of dealing with the brutally cold winters. Hanging on each side of the front door of the tall main house, and along the ell attached to the barn, and then on the barn itself are large lantern-type lights that come on at night. So now it has become something the children can conspicuously pick out in the distance and is also the first thing we see light up at dusk. The house and the barn have all been beautifully restored and we’ve ridden our bikes up to it on occasion. There’s an open field in front of it and from the house you can see out across the valley and also see the lake below. It may not be the ocean, but it is still a gorgeous view and a very lovely farm. I would be perfectly happy and content with something like that as well. It may not hold all the lures I’ve come to so love about the seashore, but I’m looking for more than just the ocean experience. If that’s all we really hearkened to then there are ways to capture those things without necessarily doing the whole farm idea. It really just comes down to what are the biggest priorities first and seeing what or how some of those pieces might be able to come together for the family.
We have forty acres now that overlook a small lake on which we’ve begun the process of building a log home. Is this going to look like the quintessential historical New England farm I’ve begun conjuring up in my mind since we’ve been in Maine? I’m not sure at this point, although most likely, it won’t be. Does that mean we can’t have a big barn at some point? Of course not. It’s just not our immediate priority right now. Actually I’ve recently discovered the lovely home of Carl Larsson in Sweden that has the most charming details on a log home. I’m leaning toward incorporating some of those Scandinavian details on our home. But that’s just it—I’m always thinking or looking. I do always try to stay open to all the creative and surprising things or opportunities God may happen to open to us. So much of what we had in mind before we ever left Texas has changed or just been put on hold. We also ended up spending six months in Florida this past year which was never something that had entered our minds or frame of thinking at the time. Life is just unpredictable. As much as we do try to make it more predictable it still has a way of throwing us many a curve ball.
Taking some risks in life or chasing a dream doesn’t only involve some sort of a permanent move, either. Living our lives more fully can encompass making any kind of decision that stretches and grows us on a personal level or as a family. More families are choosing to raise more children and have larger families despite the taboo purported by our culture that more than two children is a waste of time, money, effort and irresponsible for society. Some families or couples have chosen to adopt children from foreign countries who would otherwise languish in over-crowded orphanages. Some families become missionaries and face uncertain conditions in volatile countries or the less than modern comforts and conveniences. Some parents have taken the risks involved in starting their own businesses in an attempt to work from home and free themselves from the excessive travel and/or commutes and stresses of the corporate life.
The important thing to consider in all of this is the ability to let life be lived for your family in the fullest and most abundant ways possible given your place or family’s stage at the time. It’s important to be judicious and practical but be just as judicious in preventing all those various aspects to become in large degree a fear of the unknown. Don’t allow too much caution to overshadow a sense of adventure and excitement in your life. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing either. There are gradual or small steps that can be taken without merely leaping off the cliff or taking the full plunge. God gives us certain dreams and desires and then He begins a process of enlarging and expanding us to encompass those dreams. As we patiently yet persistently allow this process to continue we begin to see new ways our dreams and desires begin to materialize and sometimes quite unexpectedly become a reality in our lives. Our family did end up taking more of a headlong plunge when we moved from Texas to Maine although the full picture we had envisioned is quite far from complete at the present. We’re once again having to take some smaller steps in all sorts of areas of our family-life right now and it’s difficult (for me especially) to be patient. This is where I just have to remind myself almost every day “in His time and in His way.” Meanwhile, though, we’ll certainly continue to explore and invent and imagine and play and learn—and above all else continue to have the courage to take a few risks and to chase our dreams. For my part, I encourage, embolden (should I say dare?) every person, every family to do the same.
The real voyage of discovery consists not
in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.
Marcel Proust
Excerpt from The Romantic Life, The Romantic Mom by Debbie Gallagher