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When I first started looking for property, I didn’t know where it would be, just that I wanted to be here, somewhere, not far from my cousins and the old farmhouse. I didn’t want to live down this road, I knew that. (Hunh.) I’d been down this road many times, from the time I was a little girl, and not much has changed. This two and a half mile road isn’t paved, and it’s icy and barely passable in the winter (and certainly not without a 4WD). There is no mail service. No cell phone service. No school bus. No trash pickup. And, as I have since learned, no local television satellite service. People don’t much like visiting you here, either. I wanted to live somewhere around this road, close to it, just not on it.
Then I saw a listing for a farm on this road. And I couldn’t resist trying to figure out where that piece of property was. Even the real estate agent wasn’t sure. The fact that the sign had been knocked down didn’t help. And what I discovered was that this farm was all the way down this godforsaken road, hemmed in by three creek crossings in one direction and a river ford in the other, directly across the river from my great-grandfather’s old farm, across the road from our old family cemetery, and within a mile of the house where my father grew up and the old cabin where I had spent so many of my childhood summers. Not only that, but my grandmother had lived on this farm in one of the oil company worker houses that once lined the road and she had later taught in the church that doubled as a one-room school house that had once stood on this farm. My father attended that little community church all his life and went to school there to first grade, after which a new school was built across the river.
The property had been for sale for awhile, and next thing I knew, the owners of the property were making offers to me instead of the other way around. They were eager to sell, and I was eager to reclaim the 200 years of my family’s history here. My reasons for not buying property on this road fell away. (Of course, it wasn’t snowing then.)
Stringtown was once a real town with a church, a school, a store, a post office, a hotel, and even a brothel. Few residents remain and Stringtown is no longer a postal address. It’s real boonies territory, rock/dirt roads and a few scattered farmhouses. This 40 acres includes a nice meadow bottom large enough for a pasture and a barn (in my imagination), with a creek that winds along the bottom of the hillside. Halfway up that hill, we built our new farmhouse. We have enough flat (er, sloped) land around the house for a vegetable garden, chicken house, duck pond, and a goat enclosure.

And we have spent a lot of time thinking about what to name our farm. The reporter who did the story on my blog for the Charleston Daily Mail referred to me during the interview as a modern-day back-to-the-lander. Back-to-the-land was a 70s social phenomenon of people moving from cities to rural areas seeking more self-sustainable lifestyles. (I had to look that up.) I actually think that is happening right now, that there is a new movement of back-to-the-landers, people who are ready to leave their iPhones behind and get some chickens. I know, at least, that I see the interest in it every day, in comments on my blog, in emails, and in the rise of homesteading communities on the internet. And maybe Stringtown will rise again.
And when it does, Coco will be your Mayor, your fearless leader, your girl with her finger on the nuclear button. She ran a vigorous campaign for this top spot, doling out Snausages to voters and, some claimed, accepting belly rubs from lobbyists.

Clover will be your Minister of Hospitality, doing her udder best to assist you. “As long,” she stated in one interview, “as you do not try to touch my udder.”

Dookie, long the detached observer of farm events, will be the Town Historian. He’s well-known already in literary circles for his Small Memoir of a Small Dog. “Coco got all the attention,” he wrote. “The End.”

Spartacus of course, will be your Sheriff. (Prepare to die.)

And so the name of our farm is Stringtown Rising Farm. I, along with Coco, Clover, Dookie, and Spartacus, await your arrival to populate our abandoned town and give us somebody to boss around.
We’ll leave the light on for you.
You know, if the power’s not out. (That happens a lot.)
P.S. Want a job in our new Stringtown? Everything else is available! First come, first served! Pick your job!
Posted by Suzanne McMinn on July 31, 2008
"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
Make friends, ask questions, have fun!
Take Clover with you in 2010!
Pin the map!
Your recipes! (Contributed by forum members.)
I'm a paperback writer.
by pktracey on November 21, 2009
by BuckeyeGirl on November 21, 2009
by Debnfla3 on November 21, 2009
by Leahld22 on November 20, 2009
by Pete on November 20, 2009
November 2009
"First it's glowing, then it's snowing! A pause, then screaming squalls and williwaws. Bright but bitter, then a thaw. Yet again it's cold and storming: What ever happened to global warming?"
Saturday, Nov 21
Partly Cloudy
Currently: 34˚F
Feels Like: 34˚ F
Hi: 58˚, Lo: 35˚
weather feed courtesy of weather.com - thanks!
Suzanne–I’m pulling for you and will vote again from my son’s computer. I love to read but you don’t need to give... - Mary on I Want to Do Something for You
"Cookies are good." Read my barnyard stories....
Entire Contents © Copyright 2004-2009 SuzanneMcMinn.com. Text and photographs may not be published, broadcast, redistributed or aggregated without express permission. Thank you.
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My grandpa was working for the state road, and they were mowing the burms and road sides off. And this is back in the day when this was done by one guy on a tractor alone.
He’d been going strong all morning, and he thought when he got to Stringtown he’d stop and get himself something to drink.
Before he knew it, it was nearly 5pm.
He’d gone right on threw Stringtown without even realizing it!
So hopefully when it rises you know..there will be coke machines. ;-)
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Have a great day! :treehugger:
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WRITE A CHILDRENS BOOK – or some book about your family histgory – it is too wonderful not to.
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I am a first timer–blogger that is!! Had to write and say be careful of what you wish.. We own 100 acres outside an Ozark city and the move is on to pave paradise and put up a parking lot.. My husband and I have lived on this farm for years and never thought we would see urban development in the guise of industrial wasteland take over, but it’s now knocking at the door. Love reading your blog everyday and think you are having lots of fun on your farm too. :treehugger:
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How about having a Stringtown Center for the Arts?
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And who says chickens and iPhones are mutually exclusive?
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when can we all move in???
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http://www.girlfromtexas.com/images/cupcakes.jpg
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I will be the teacher. I will help the children discover their world. We will work together to learn and play and grow.
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Also, if I could convince my husaband to move AND we could figure out a way of generating income, I would be there in a snap! Really. I would much prefer to raise my kids there than in “suburbia”. Not that there are challenges anywhere, but I would bet that wearing the latest Hollister or Aeropostale shirt is not on anyone’s mind!
I actually wanted to do this “back to the land” stuff in the 70’s too……maybe I married the wrong guy for this lifestyle! :love:
~Debbie
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That Coco is so adorable! Too bad I cannot reach through the screen and hug that pup!!! :mrgreen: :mrgreen:
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MY cottage will be small and simple located near one of the creeks. I shall wander the countryside gathering ingredients for all that ails you.
I’m open for buisness!
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I don’t know how you do all that things you do. Yep…going “back to the land” is a happening up here in our rural Ohio county. That is a dream of ours, too…but FOR NOW we are in a rural little town (actually it’s so little it’s a ‘village’) and getting by w/a little kitchen garden. We are, however, right on the edge of the town limits and have one of the largest lots “in town,” so we’re happy about that.
Blessings from Ohio…
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:love:
I love the new farm name. I hope to come to your neck of the woods some day and see the beauty with my own eyes.
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The Stringtown Renaissance seems to be shaping up quite nicely. Can’t wait to meet y’all.
hugs from PA
Connie
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I wanna be the “town loafer”.
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Love your site. Came here looking for a pizza dough recipe and stayed a VERY long time… I dream daily of living on a farm – growing lots of beautiful veggies and raising super silly animals…
Must get back to the kids now.
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I will run the Creamery!!! Clover, and company, will provide the milk, and the Creamery will make it into all those delectable morsels!!!! Now I’m hungry….mozzarella, string, chevre or feta?? Start another batch of Grandmother’s Bread….the cream cheese will be ready in a few hours…. :mrgreen:
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There’s an opening for a Saloon Manager downstairs. Any takers? :rotfl:
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Love the name of your farm!
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Now I’m NEVER going to hear the end of it!!! She’ll be realtor.com as soon as she reads this. I personally do not want to pack up 2 houses, 14 horses, 14 dogs and 5 cats and move across the country.
Sigh… thanks. Thanks a lot!
(Mom if you read this – NOOOOOO!!!!)
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Blessings from Ohio…
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I would like to apply for the positon of Editor in Chief of the Stringtown Rising Farm Newspaper. xxoo
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