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  • Category: Kev’s Thoughts & Stories

    • The Inspiring Doorways of Savannah

      Posted at 7:26 am by HomeDabbler, on March 26, 2019

      My wife and I took a weekend trip to Savannah, Georgia on back and I couldn’t get over the doorways.

      If you’ve been to Savannah, you know what a stunner it is. Strolling through the historic downtown, it’s as if you’re walking through a lush oil painting. You should go.

      To my wife’s dismay, I couldn’t stop taking pictures of the creative doorways. Even on otherwise bland buildings, those doors made it a showpiece.

      Your front door can become the crowning jewel of your home as well, with very little time and expense. So, here are some of my pics of Savannah’s doorways to inspire you. Enjoy!

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      Posted in Home Repair & Renovation, Kev's Thoughts & Stories | 0 Comments
    • Can a U-Pick Farm Change Your Child’s Life?

      Posted at 1:03 am by HomeDabbler, on March 25, 2019
      Picture of girl picking strawberries at u-pick strawberry farm

      In a past life, I worked at a daycare. In the summer, we were always looking for activities to keep the kids busy. One was a u-pick blueberry farm down the road.

      It was one of my favorites. Not only because I always liked gardening and growing and eating blueberries (though there was that). It was more to watch how the kids reacted.

      We would off load them from the van and then gather them in front of this little shack where the proprietor, Mr. Dauphin, would hand each child a bucket and show them the rows that had the ripest berries that day. Then we would turn them loose.

      The first time we did this, I was surprised by their reaction. Most just stood there, confused.

      We had to take them by the hand, show them the berries, and pick a few for them before they were confident enough to try on their own.

      I remember one boy in particular.

      “You mean we can just pick them off and eat them?” he asked.

      “Yup, give it a try.”

      He did. And then we couldn’t stop him. More blueberries went into his belly than in the bucket. Which was alright by us.

      I’ll never forget what he said next. With a mouth full of juicy berries, he said, “I didn’t know blueberries came from plants.”

      What a beautiful moment.

      I think too many kids don’t know where food comes from and don’t know how amazing it is fresh. U-pick farms are a great way to introduce the idea that food is precious, requires work to grow, that it is better the closer you are to its source, and that a fresh berry has more flavor than any junk food.

      U-picks mend a valuable connection between us and our food that broke a few decades ago, when we stopped needing home gardens and livestock to live. The convenience is great, but our appreciation and care for our food went with it I’m afraid.

      Take your family to a u-pick. It gets everyone outside together and busy with their hands, minds, mouths, and hearts.

      Is there anything better?

      Kevin

      little girl picks strawberries at a u pick farm

       

      Posted in Kev's Thoughts & Stories, Yard & Garden | 0 Comments
    • HomeDabbler Pro Series: It’s About Trust

      Posted at 2:29 pm by HomeDabbler, on March 17, 2019

      Want a successful home improvement business? Tuck your shirt in.

      I started my business Service Meisters in 2005, ran it profitably for 10 years, and closed it on my own terms. Over that decade, I did everything from home renovation and repair to commercial lawn and property maintenance.

      I never lacked for work and my customers were extremely loyal. I mean really loyal. Like I was never fired from a single job. People waited months for my services when I was backed up (a whole year in one case).

      After a while, I didn’t even have to advertise, the word of mouth was so strong. I had customers offer their vacation homes to me and my family. I even performed a wedding for one.

      In other words, if I had one strength in business, it was building and maintaining strong customer relationships. And it wasn’t because of the quality of my work, though that certainly mattered.

      It was trust. My customers trusted me completely. They would give me keys to their homes so I could check on things while they were out of town – that completely.

      Customers trusted me like that from the beginning, but I remember the moment when I realized why, and how powerful a motivator it was for them.

      I was painting a garage door one day when a man walking his dog called to me, “You don’t look like a painter.”

      I spun around and asked him to repeat himself.

      “You don’t look like a painter,” he said. “I mean, look at you.”

      He meant it as a compliment.

      My work uniform was a pair of Walmart jeans, a black t-shirt with my Service Meisters logo on the back (my brand colors were red, white, black), and a red hat to match my logo.

      Nothing special. However, when I asked the dog walker what he meant, I realized the difference.

      “Your shirt is tucked in and it’s not all splattered with paint. I’ve never seen a painter so clean.”

      In my work, I got extremely dirty and messy (just ask my wife), but when my jeans would get too blotched with paint or caulk or roofing tar, I would buy a new pair. Same with my shirts, which I always tucked in, no matter the job.

      What the dog walker was telling me, and other customers would confirm, was that I did not look like the typical “handyman.” I looked more respectable and so he trusted me more. I still had to show up on time and do good work, but my clean-cut appearance set me apart and gave me an advantage.

      If I say the word “handyman” or “construction worker,” what do you think of? Do you see a shirtless guy in ripped cutoffs and a neck tattoo, putting out a cigarette on your front porch?

      Everything about my appearance was the opposite of that, and it got me work. Simple as that. 

      At the end of the day, it’s not about money. Most of my customers were elderly widows and retirees. They had the money and were going to spend it on someone. It was about who they trusted to be on their property, around their loved ones and special possessions.

      Understand and respect that, and your business will grow. Tuck your shirt in.

      That dog walker became a customer, by the way.

      Kevin

       

      Posted in Kev's Thoughts & Stories | 2 Comments
    • Why Did Miss Pitts Grow Tomatoes?

      Posted at 4:37 am by HomeDabbler, on March 17, 2019

      One of my grandmothers died young. The other wasn’t a nice lady. Miss Pitts was the closest thing I had.

      Lois Pitts was my friend’s grandmother. It was technically Mrs. Pitts but everyone called her Miss. I met her when I was 16 and I fell in love.

      She was the Southern grandmother. Soft spoken, put together, attentive, thoughtful. She always had these banana-and-peanut-butter-between-two-graham-cracker things in the freezer for us.

      Mr. Pitts had died years before I showed up. He had worked 40 years at the paper mill in Panama City and kept hogs in their yard as a side job. I had never heard of such and was fascinated. Keeping hogs in the yard. I wish I could have met him. 

      They also had a small farm on their family homestead in a nearby community called Frink, 40 acres I think. Mr. Pitts worked that as well. When anyone in the family spoke of him, they said he was a nice guy but a workaholic.

      I have many pungent memories of Miss Pitts’s place. In fact, I think I enjoyed it more than my friend, her grandson. Her house was a cottage really, built stick by stick by Mr. Pitts and Miss Pitts’s father, likely of lumber from the Sherman mill in Millville. The inside was tongue-and-groove pine paneling, honeyed through the decades.

      The house sat under colossal oak and cedar trees, and maybe 30 feet from the edge of Cook’s Bayou. Azalea mounds everywhere. Muscadine arbor out back. I remember there were the biggest fig trees I’d ever seen growing to one side of the house all the way to the salt water. Miss Pitts would make preserves of them.

      And she always grew a little patch of tomatoes and peppers just off her screened-in back porch, by the chain link fence.

      She somehow got them to grow in her beach sand soil, still not sure how. Every Spring and Summer, though, when we would eat at her house, she had a plate of sliced tomatoes and mild banana peppers to munch.

      Why did she grow those? She was past the days of needing to raise food for survival. Mr. Pitts was gone; she spent most of her time alone. It’s hot in North Florida in Summer and the sand gnats are pestilential. They sold tomatoes and peppers at the same store where she bought all her other groceries.

      Did it remind her of Mr. Pitts, their days of sowing and harvesting and raising kids together in Frink? Was it habit, part of what you did every March? Did she simply want tomatoes that tasted better than the swampy ones from Winn Dixie? Or do growers just have to grow?

      All of that, I suppose. Now that I am a gardener, I think it’s all of that.

      I remember Miss Pitts’s pot roasts and her cat head biscuits and the peanut butter things, but those tomatoes and peppers stay with me. To this day, I grow them in my garden.

      Which is the point I guess.

      Kevin

       

       

       

       

      Posted in Kev's Thoughts & Stories | 3 Comments
    • Can Chickens Help Us Sleep Better?

      Posted at 9:49 pm by HomeDabbler, on March 16, 2019

      Zzz…

      Have you noticed how many mattress brands there are now?

      There are ones made of space-age material to hug your body, ones that keep you cool at night, some that come in a box to your front door, others that look like a waffle, it’s endless.

      There is even a guy who built an empire on a pillow design.

      As a nation, it seems we’re obsessed with the accouterments of sleep, all the while getting less and less of it.

      According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, about a third of us don’t get enough sleep. The health consequences of long-term sleep deprivation are increasingly well understood (Johns Hopkins Medicine made a cool infographic summarizing some of the nastier ones).

      The causes of our sleep famine are pretty intuitive – light bulbs, screen time, social media anxiety, and working too much, among others.

      I’ve been a victim of this phenomenon as well, which is probably why I noticed something about my chickens recently that got me thinking about their sleep patterns and what they might have to teach us.

      Late to bed, early to rise?

      Chickens get up at sunrise and go to sleep at dusk. Year round. Period.

      That means in the Summer, when days are super long here in North Florida, my birds sleep between seven and eight hours per night. But in Winter, the nights are 12 to 13 hours long. And the chickens sleep that long.

      In other words, they are in perfect sync with the sun and their sleep cycles vary accordingly – less sleep in Summer, more in Winter. Dogs, cats, and most other animals are the same. Heck, bears and other hibernators just snooze through Winter altogether.

      We humans long ago left the Serengeti and started civilizations, but we used to “go to bed with the chickens,” along with the sun. When most of us were farmers, there was no point staying up late into the night, because our core tasks required daylight. Hence, we rested more in Winter and worked more in Summer.

      There was no such thing as a consistent 8-hour-a-night sleep regimen. Sometimes you slept seven hours, sometimes more than 10. In fact, there is evidence that, before the industrial revolution, we slept in two distinct shifts during the night.

      I’m not unveiling a thundering truth here, I know. But don’t you think it is worth trying, as an experiment, to give ourselves permission to go to bed with the sun sometimes, just to see how we feel the next day? How about a few more naps, during the Winter at least?

      Sleep = lazy?

      I say “permission” because, aside from our beckoning screens, I think there is another reason we force ourselves to stay awake. We don’t want to feel or be thought of as lazy, the cardinal American sin.

      Chickens don’t have that hang up, and they aren’t lazy. In fact, they almost never stop working – scratching, pecking, preening, dust bathing – but only during the daylight hours. When the sun goes down, so do they.

      We can’t completely rearrange our lives to stop nighttime activity. But maybe curtail it some and hit the hay at 7pm on a Fall evening? What’s the worst that could happen, you miss a few episodes and actually feel good in the morning. For once?

      Nighty night,

      Kevin

       

       

       

       

       

       

      HomeDabbler Chicken Raising Manual for Beginners
      Posted in Chickens, Kev's Thoughts & Stories | 1 Comment
    • What I Learned Butchering My Own Chickens

      Posted at 6:42 pm by HomeDabbler, on January 6, 2019

      It’s an intimate thing, killing.

      I admit, the first time I butchered a chicken was in a fit of rage. My daughter Annie, about four years old at the time, was in the run with me helping to feed our flock. We had a Blue Andalusian rooster then, who lurked in the corner and made threatening gestures whenever we came into his space. This is typical rooster stuff and I kept my eye on him.

      We finished filling the feeders and turned to go. That’s when he attacked. That coward jumped on my little girl’s back and tried to stab her with his 2-inch-long spurs. I knocked him off of her and told her to go in the house. Old blue boy died that day.

      Raising chickens for meat had been on my mind a while at this point, but I didn’t know if I would have the nerve. I’m not a hunter and only an occasional fisherman. I eat meat of all sorts, but had never taken the life of an animal, beside a fish, until that day.

      When the deed was done, I didn’t want to waste the bird, so I did my best to dress him. I didn’t have the proper tools or skill and made a mess of it. Nevertheless, I knew that day that I wanted to butcher chickens for my family.

      I went on to raise several flocks of Cornish roosters just for meat. I studied poultry butchering, acquired a proper scalding vessel, and got pretty efficient at the process. I also learned a lot about myself and my relationship with food that I would not have otherwise.

      1. There is something sacred about taking a life to feed yourself.

      Aboriginal peoples around the world understand this, of course, and sacred is the right word. Killing an animal is certainly brutal and there is gore, even when it is done quickly and painlessly (which is how it should always be done). But there is no denying the primordial, almost spiritual aspect of doing it.

      The process—killing, scalding, plucking, and butchering—was special, meaningful, which may sound strange to a contemporary ear. You might think exercising the ultimate control over another creature makes you feel superior, lord of creation. Quite the opposite, at least for me. I never felt more connected to those animals and my place in the natural rhythm, or appreciated their lives as keenly. I now understand why humans’ earliest artistic expressions were of animals and hunting.

      We modern humans have lost the special-ness of consuming animals, I’m afraid. Our loss.

      2. Butchering my chickens made me less wasteful.

      Remember the first car you bought with your own money? You were protective of it, caring, even if it was a beater. You were peeved when your friends left their Taco Bell bags on the floorboards. How dare they?

      You cared because you were invested. Earning the freedom of transportation by your own effort heightened your sense of ownership and responsibility.

      And so with food. We gardeners always think the produce of our plots looks and tastes the best. We won’t shut up about it. We take pictures of it (reference my Instagram page) and even can it to give as gifts. Is that because our veggies actually are better? Maybe, but it is more likely that our pride and tenderness grow in proportion to the work required to achieve it.

      I promise that if you butcher an animal, you will not waste a single bit. You will want to eat parts of it that you would never consider ordering at a restaurant. It will hurt your heart if someone leaves even a morsel of your precious offering on his plate. In short, you will appreciate your food more, and waste less of it, because you know what it took to put it on the plate.

      In a society where we throw away more than 30 percent of our food, I think a little more concern is in order.

      3. Butchering my chickens made me more compassionate.

      When people find out that I raise chickens, I get a few common questions. First, they ask about eggs. Do we actually go to the yard and collect them every day? Yes. Then they want to know if we hatch our own chicks. Used to, but not anymore (here’s why). Then they screw up their courage, grimace, and go for it.

      “Do you … ?” as they make a cutting motion across their neck.

      When I tell them that I have, most people seem a little disappointed in me, some are horrified.

      “Really?! Oh, I could never …”

      I ask if they’ve ever had a chicken nugget.

      “Well, yeah, I eat chicken, but that’s different.”

      I usually leave it at that, but consider the contradiction.

      Before their demise, my chickens lead an ideal existence. They eat and drink when they want, have plenty of open space to scratch all day, soft sand for dust baths, protection from predators, scraps from the kitchen, the company of others, a poultry paradise.

      Have you seen the inside of a modern commercial hen house? Honestly, which of us eats happier chickens?

      It may seem counter-intuitive, but being acquainted with your food while it is still alive, nurturing it and its environment, fosters compassion for it and other living creatures. It is intimate and personal. It’s why hunters are some of the most avid conservationists.

      Many others have written about this connection, including Michael Pollan and Anthony Bourdain.

      The cheap food paradox

      We don’t honor our food anymore, so we waste it. It’s cheap and easy to come by (a modern miracle), so we cheapen its place in our lives. We are disconnected from that which feeds us. I think we are less human for it.

      Most of you will never butcher a chicken, and that’s fine. But unless you are a committed, life-long vegan, you should one day.

      By taking a life to nourish yours, you elevate both.

      Kevin

       

       

       

      HomeDabbler Chicken Raising Manual for Beginners
      Posted in Chickens, Kev's Thoughts & Stories | 2 Comments
    • How Home Repair Skills Saved My Family

      Posted at 6:34 pm by HomeDabbler, on August 18, 2018

      Entrepreneurs aren’t great with backup plans.

      Between the ages of 25 and 38 I was a full-time business owner. I bought my first business, an after school center, from the founder/owner when she decided to retire. I had been working there through college, loved it, and had been dreaming of what I would do if it were mine. And then it was.

      I ran that wonderful place joyfully for three years. And then it happened.

      Before my fourth school year as owner, our enrollment was down 50%. I, of course, panicked. I called parents to ask if something was wrong. Nothing was. I talked to other owners, nothing there. I advertised. I did all I could to remedy this and get enrollment to where it had always been.

      It never recovered. I’m still not totally sure why, but it didn’t. We bled for two humiliating years before we had to shut down.

      At this point I was 30 years old, had a mortgage and a fabulous family – my wife and two daughters. I was no longer the gunslinging youngster who could live on beans while I pursued my next big idea. I was a business man who had failed and a family man in crisis.

      Get a job, right?

      Remember my backup plan comment? I didn’t have one. Frankly, it never occurred to 25-year old Kevin that he would need one (common among entrepreneurial types). My plan was to dominate the after-school world, not be crushed by it.

      And you know how your parents tell you to “have a degree in your back pocket,” to fall back on? Well I had a degree. In Theology (long story). An interesting topic for sure but not, I repeat, not marketable unless you want to be a minister, and I didn’t.

      We can dissect and judge my career and education choices (trust me, I have), but that is not the point of this post.

      I’m trying to paint a picture of where I was in life when my skills in home repair saved us.

      In my years at the after school center, I learned to fix stuff. Had to. Couldn’t afford to hire out. When I was an employee and something would break, the owner and I would do the repair and then she would always say to me, “Now you have another skill. You never know when you’ll use that.” Brother, was she right.

      Before our youngest daughter was born, my wife worked at Sears unloading trucks. A perk of that job was that she saw all the tools that would be on sale before they hit the sales floor. She’d tuck back tools I wanted so I could buy them before they sold out.

      So, at the lowest point of my professional life, devastated and ashamed, I had just two assets to immediately offer the world – my tools and a little know how.

      And, as a caveat, our parents. They jumped in and generously got us through the first year, covering the mortgage and other necessities until we got on our feet. Forever grateful.

      Before that year was out, we were shaky but stable. I had started Service Meisters, the home repair and property maintenance business that we would build for the next nine years, each year more profitable than the last.

      It was exhausting and scary as hell, as all start-up business ventures are. And I didn’t know it all when I started, by a long shot (thank goodness for the internet), but we beat the odds. I never made a million bucks, but I’m proud that I fed my family and paid my bills quite literally through the work of my two hands.

      I’m passionate about teaching people home and garden skills, for many reasons. But most of all, I know how truly life-changing they can be.

      If all else fails, you have some tools and a little know-how.

      Kevin

      Posted in Kev's Thoughts & Stories | 2 Comments
    • The Day I Decided to Learn Home Repair

      Posted at 8:39 pm by HomeDabbler, on July 8, 2018

      I was 26 years old. My wife Kathy and I had bought our home a year or so earlier and the water heater was the first thing to break.

      At this point in life I had no significant home repair skills; I was certainly not up to plumbing the source of our precious hot showers. So I bought a water heater and called a guy.

      Guy came, cut the copper tubing connected to the old heater, dragged the offending appliance out of the house, and came back in with a small propane torch and a few fittings. What happened next changed my life.

      Guy lit the torch, soldered six fittings (I’ll never forget, just six) connecting the new water heater to the house plumbing, and turned the water back on. In roughly 20 minutes, he was done.

      Well, not quite. He handed me a bill for $250.

      I happily paid it and Guy was gone. But over the next couple days a frustration built in me. Not that Guy charged me $250. He was the bringer of hot water; I would have paid him twice that. No, my frustration was with me.

      I couldn’t escape the feeling that with a few tools and some basic skill, I could have done that repair myself.

      To protect my ego, I then thought, “Well maybe soldering is harder than it looks. Guy was a master plumber. Perhaps I can’t do it after all.” So, I popped down to a friend of mine who grew up on a farm and can do anything with his hands. I asked him if he would show me how to solder copper pipe. He walked into his barn, brought out a torch, some copper pipe and fittings (just like Guy), and in 20 minutes I had soldered my first weld.

      It was as easy as Guy made it look, once I knew what I was doing. It was true – with the right tools and someone to teach me some basic skills, I was capable of doing it myself. That was a breakthrough for me and changed the way I saw my relationship to my home and, in fact, my life.

      Home repair is expensive and, between the baby boomers retiring and the growing American skills gap, you can expect those costs to rise dramatically.

      According to HGTV, Nerd Wallet, and The Balance, among others, you should set aside 1-2% of your home’s value every year, just for repairs.

      $250,000 home=$2,500/year=$208/month. That’s 1 percent. Two percent is $417/month. Do you have that kind of scratch?

      Think of it another way: How many experiences could you buy with your kids for that repair money? Or buy a car. Or any other enjoyable thing besides a plumbing leak.

      Now there are some repairs that you should almost always leave to professionals. But I’m here to tell you that most of the everyday stuff is completely doable. By you.

      I’ve never calculated how much money I’ve saved doing my own repairs over the last 15 years, but I can count on one hand the times I’ve called another Guy to the house. Three. And only for major stuff – a new A/C, a new well, and a water filtration system.

      Money aside, though, there is another reason why I’m glad I learned to fix my own stuff and why I’m passionate about teaching others.

      Competence. Few feelings match the satisfaction of knowing that when it hits the fan, I can take care of it. When something breaks, I have the wherewithal to deal. I know what I’m doing.

      Level with me – how many times these days do you feel like you know what you are doing?

      And maybe it’s because I’m listening to the Classical Music for the Soul channel on Pandora right now, but there is something downright inspiring about taking a tool in hand and literally fixing my own problems. Something a little more, I don’t know, American.

      In a country known for the rugged individual, anxiety is a scourge in America today, which leads to other public health problems like family strife, low work productivity, and depression. It saps happiness and optimism. To my mind, it is an affront to our ideals.

      The black root of anxiety is helplessness, the feeling that you lack agency and mastery in your own life. Competence is the antidote. A sense of control over your world—preparedness, skill—is invaluable and increasingly rare. And nothing is more central to our world than home.

      Do I think home repair is the end all and panacea for what ails modern society? No, but maybe it’s a start. In an age of debt and insecurity and screen living, maybe learning tangible life skills that save money and build self esteem is a good start.

      Kevin

      Posted in Kev's Thoughts & Stories | 0 Comments | Tagged diy, home improvement, home renovation, home repair
    • A Neighborhood of Trees

      Posted at 3:33 am by HomeDabbler, on May 20, 2018

      If I had a better math ego I’d probably have been a forester.

      When we moved onto our one-acre property, there was one tree in the front yard – a stately, if messy, slash pine. In the first year alone I planted over two dozen more.

      I love trees.

      It’s the scale, I think. The variety is thrilling too, but all plants have that. Trees are the only plants that are much taller than we are and can live longer. They are the only vegetables we can climb or under which we can sit and write a blog post (I’m under a post oak now). Successive generations can admire the same specimen, like an heirloom. They make one feel small in the best way.

      Trees also sustain us physically. We breathe the air they make, drink the water they help clean, eat the food and medicine they produce (heck, we burn them to cook the food), and build our homes of the lumber they die to provide.

      Humans calm down under trees. We lower our voices and throw back our heads, inhaling new oxygen. When I stand in my back yard under our colossal river birch, watching the hens bustle, I can’t help but feel that we belong around and under them. Or at least are better for their presence.

      Given the effort, then, required of these beauties to reach their peak, and the undeniable debt we owe them, it is a wonder that, when building our homes, the first thing we do is level them.

      I travel a lot for work and it’s always with a pang that I look out the airplane window at a modern suburb. They’re easy to spot, even from tens of thousands of feet. You’ll see a puffy green ribbon outlining a flat green square with something like a centipede crawling through it – a burb with a thin stand of trees between plats. They, of course, stretch for miles and signal an approaching city.

      Nothing against suburbia per se. I spent the majority of my childhood there and loved it. And I know why builders denude a property before construction. It lets them fill in low spots, grade for drainage, and move heavy equipment around easier. It is efficient, and they have a business to run.

      Wouldn’t it be neat, though, to live in a neighborhood built around and through a forest, rather than in place of it? Where the flow of homes followed the contours set by the previous residents and you didn’t have to travel to hear birdsong? Kids would at least have something to clamber up and fall out of, a valuable life lesson.

      In a country known for heralding the individual, it’s odd that we fetishize sameness and sterility in our home sites. Wouldn’t it be more American to leave as many trees up as possible in our neighborhoods, if for nothing else than as living symbols that consistent striving over time produces beauty, strength, character, and fruit?

      I’d live there.

      Kevin

      Posted in Kev's Thoughts & Stories | 1 Comment
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