Moving to the sticks is all the rage right now. At least, that’s what I gather from the number of questions I’m getting about septic systems. Or, you all are just really interested in becoming rural waste management engineers. Assuming it’s the former, let’s talk about what it’s really like to live rurally.

I’m no expert, I’ve only been here for four years, and I’ve only lived in Vermont, but I’ve devoted a lot of ink to dissecting the experience of going from ultra-urban (NYC, Washington, DC, Cambridge, MA) to ultra-rural. Since it’s a pandemic and since we’re all working from home while managing our children and learning new skills (baking sourdough) and developing fascinating hobbies (again, baking) and gaining 25 lbs a day (just me?), let’s do this as a list. You’re welcome.

So You Want To Go Rural. Here are 15 Things To Know:

1) Decide if you want Rural or Remote:

These are not synonyms, people.

Continue reading Want To Move To The Country? 15 Things To Consider at Frugalwoods.

I reached the limit of my desire to re-enact Little House On The Prairie every time our power goes out. So, we bought a generator. Today I’ll discuss why, what type of generator we got, how to assess a range of price points for the same product, and perhaps most importantly, why we waited four years to make this purchase.

The 1870’s: Not For Me

I’ve tried living a la the 1870’s and, I’ll be honest, it’s not for me. I can get behind the dresses and bonnets, not to mention the quilts, but that’s where my interest stops. Modern conveniences were invented for a reason.

The biggest issue for us–here on our rural Vermont homestead–is that when the power goes out, we have no running water. I can live without electricity for a week. Candles and flashlights are fine, we cook with gas, we heat with a wood stove, and perishable foods can go in coolers outside in snow banks.

Continue reading How We Evaluate Expensive Purchases: Why We Bought A Generator at Frugalwoods.

The air smelled like maple syrup. Every time I stepped out of the house, or got out of the car, or returned from a hike in the woods, I smelled it. It doesn’t smell like when you hover your nose over a plastic jug of grocery store syrup.

It’s not saccharine and plasticized. It doesn’t even smell like the “real Vermont maple syrup” we used to buy at farm stands while driving back home to Boston. It smells smoky, earthy, and only kind of sweet. This is what our homestead smelled like last month. It’s a smell that I can’t forget because it’s unlike anything I’ve ever smelled, but at the same time, it’s a reassuring, nostalgic smell.

Last month, we made maple syrup. Last month, we solidified a piece of our identity we didn’t even know was missing. There are few things more gratifying than making food from our land.

Continue reading Drink Whiskey, Look at Stars, Make Maple Syrup at Frugalwoods.

March 2019

The sap is flowing, the sap is flowing! Maple sap, that is. Welcome to a special maple-flavored edition of my This Month On The Homestead series. Today I’ll cover the process of tapping our maple trees, running tubes between the trees, and collecting maple sap. Since I used a lot of words to write about all that, I’ll dedicate a future post to the actual boiling of the sap to make the actual maple syrup. It’s a long process, people, and the documentation (at least when it’s written by me) is equally long.

Since we’re in the sticky thicket of sugaring season, all homestead activities this month were related to making maple syrup. Back in October I regaled you with our plans to make maple syrup and now, I’m here with part two of my maple syrup mini-series.

Sugaring (the verb of “to make maple syrup,” which I keep inadvertently terming “syruping”) was a life goal for Mr.

Continue reading This Month On The Homestead: Maple Trees, Maple Sap, Maple… at Frugalwoods.

Today we’re going to learn about making maple syrup! But first, I must regale you with a story (far be it for me to get to the point quickly… ):

One of the reasons my husband and I chose to move to a 66 acre homestead in Vermont three years ago is that we knew nothing about homesteading. Yep. We both felt conversant in city life–to the point of boredom–and wanted a new challenge. I remember when I first moved to New York City in 2007, I was overwhelmed by the subway system to the point of sweaty palms and furtive studying of the stop map posted above the train doors.

But I mastered the subway and all other artifices of urban life. So I needed a new adventure! I needed to throw myself into another lifestyle that I knew nothing about. There were quite a few other reasons for this move, but learning new things is a primary and lifelong motivator for me and my main man (ok, only man).

Continue reading How We’re Preparing To Make Maple Syrup at Frugalwoods.

“It must be so much cheaper for you to live in the country!” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard this in the year and a half since Mr. Frugalwoods, Babywoods, and I made the move from ultra-urban Cambridge, MA to ultra-rural central Vermont. The thing is, it’s not true. Or at least, it’s not entirely true and it’s not true yet.

Why Did We Move To The Woods?

We didn’t make this move in order to save money and we didn’t make this move in pursuit of a lower cost of living. We moved out here to our 66-acre homestead because we wanted to. Because we wanted a slower pace of life, a life surrounded by nature, and the time and the space to pursue our hobbies and interests.

It’s our supposition that–in the long run–living rurally will be less expensive than living smack in the middle of a city, but there’s a long, slow slog of start-up costs before any savings can be realized.

Continue reading City vs. Country: Which Is Cheaper? The Ultimate Cost Of Living Showdown at Frugalwoods.

We celebrated our first full year of life on our homestead in May! We left urban Cambridge, MA to chart a wholly different life out here on 66 acres in rural Vermont and the change this represents for us is nothing short of transformational, radical, and miraculous. Neither Mr. Frugalwoods nor I grew up–or ever lived–in a rural setting before moving here and so this year was one of constant learning and exploration (not to mention mistakes), a combination that suits us perfectly.

Why We’re Out Here

Mr. FW and I both crave adventure and diversity to our days and the opportunity to explore our land and uncover all the things we don’t know about homesteading invigorates us. One of the reasons we wanted to move out here is that after living in cities for ten years–NYC, Washington, DC, and Cambridge, MA twice–we felt tapped out. We were done with city life.

Continue reading The Best And Worst Moments Of Our First Year On The Homestead at Frugalwoods.

If you’re just tuning in, this is a recurring series in which I document each month of our lives out here on our 66-acre Vermont homestead. After leaving urban Cambridge, MA in May 2016 to chart this wholly different life, we’re experiencing a constant learning curve of exploration (and plenty of stupid novice moments). Check out last month’s installment here.

April 2017

I’d forgotten what spring means. I’d forgotten how the grass greens itself and the plants reanimate from a dormancy that seemed so permanent, so fatal. I’ve forgotten the names of flowers and the way in which bulbs progress. I forgot how the buds on each individual branch of each individual tree sprout with a certainty that they’ll bloom. I’d forgotten, but fortunately they did not.

For months, all we’ve seen in every direction is white. Sedimentary layers of ice, snow, snow, and ice.

Continue reading This Month On The Homestead: Mud, Trellises, and The Land Trust at Frugalwoods.

If you’re just tuning in, this is a recurring series in which I document each month of our lives out here on our 66-acre Vermont homestead. After leaving urban Cambridge, MA in May 2016 to chart this wholly different life, we’re experiencing a constant learning curve of exploration (and plenty of stupid novice moments). Check out last month’s installment here.

March in Vermont started off with a tease of spring. From the bay window in our living room, I could just barely make out a few tall, determined blades of grass poking their brown, sword-tipped heads above the blankets of white.

And then winter–a jealous master this year–roared back, dumping foot after foot of snow, suffocating those intrepid blades, tunneling us back into the depths of cold. I’m not organized enough or scientific enough to report on just how many inches of snow we accumulated this month, but I can tell you it was a lot.

Continue reading This Month On The Homestead: Town Meeting, Apple Tree Pruning, and a Pancake Supper at Frugalwoods.

If you’re just tuning in, this is a recurring series in which I document each month of our lives out here on our 66-acre Vermont homestead. After leaving urban Cambridge, MA in May 2016 to chart this wholly different life, we’re experiencing a constant learning curve of exploration (and plenty of stupid novice moments). Check out last month’s installment here.

February shepherded our highest snowfall of the season. Snow poured down on us and stacked itself in great heaps and peaks throughout our property. Our elevation is such that, for every snowfall predicted, we err on the high side of the accumulation estimates. Mr. Frugalwoods and I both agreed that winter just might be our favorite season, which seems almost inconceivable after how glorious fall was. But the muted, still beauty of snow coated trees captivates us. And it’s so much easier to see creature tracks through fresh clouds of powder.

Continue reading This Month On The Homestead: Half Your Wood and Half Your Hay at Frugalwoods.

If you’re just tuning in, this is a recurring series in which I document each month of our lives out here on our 66-acre Vermont homestead. After leaving urban Cambridge, MA in May 2016 to chart this wholly different life, we’re experiencing a constant learning curve of exploration (and plenty of stupid novice moments). Check out last month’s installment here.

January was icy and crisp. But mostly icy. The snow no longer melts and each new snowfall gently folds itself on top of the last. There’s no ground that isn’t white. Very few plants–other than trees–poke out of their snowy cocoons. And it’s gorgeous.

I’m sitting at our dining room table as I write this, looking out our gigantic picture window onto the yard, which is an unblemished field of rolling white. Trees jut at the perimeter, offering greens and browns, and in the case of one stubborn beech tree, a few loitering autumn leaves that missed their seasonal memo.

Continue reading This Month On The Homestead: Sunrises, Community, and Ice at Frugalwoods.

If you’re just tuning in, this is a recurring series in which I document each month of our lives out here on our 66-acre Vermont homestead. After leaving urban Cambridge, MA in May 2016 to chart this wholly different life, we’re experiencing a constant learning curve of exploration (and plenty of stupid novice moments). Check out last month’s installment here.

We had a white Christmas! And a white New Year’s! And I think it’s going to be white until about May. We love winter and we love snow, which is a darn good thing because we have quite a lot of it right now.

Winter’s glory is muted. It’s an understated–but no less profound–beauty. One that you have to pause to enjoy. The overwhelming abundance of summer and the riotous colors of fall and the innocence of spring are all lacking in a wintertime landscape.

Continue reading This Month On The Homestead: Snow Removal, Snowshoeing, and… More Snow! at Frugalwoods.