Shoes

Living on a spot that we actually considering naming "Barefoot Farms," I find it somewhat ironic that both of my girls have shoe fetishes. Emma likes to wear them; Mary Claire likes to eat them. This creates quite the issue since Emma litters shoes every where she goes, whether it's one of her many pairs, my shoes, or even Allen's. Mary Claire spots the shoes and crawls as fast as her tubby little legs will take her, immediately popping the shoe in her mouth for a little chew-action. Not appetizing. Continuing in the way of shoe-irony, as much as Emma loves all things shoes, this is an inside hobby. As soon as her little feet hit the dirt, off come the shoes(exceptions occasionally made for "blip blops"). Whether farm work or play, no shoes is the way to go.

The business of baby animals

Emma has become quite the responsible party when it comes to the farm's animals. She considers it her duty to make sure all animals, dogs and cats included, receive food. She can often be found bending down beside the cat bowls, pointing and demanding them to "EAT!" Much to Emma's displeasure, this tends to have quite the opposite effect on the cats, as they instead choose run back outside and try their luck again later.

In the evenings, she will break from her playing and, giving Allen a no-nonsense look, inform him that it is time to feed her cows. She then runs ahead of him to the barn to watch him get the bucket of sweet feed. It is not possible for him to get the gate opened quickly enough for her as she calls for her "baby cows" to come eat. One small handful after another, she lays out the food into the trough, occasionally pushing herself halfway into it so she can give a quick pat on whichever cow's head is within her reach.

Once the bucket is empty and Emma is satisfied, her and Allen leave the cows and start back up to the house. Half way to the house, Emma decides it's time to feed her baby chickens. This involves dumping cupfuls of chicken feed as close to on the chickens heads as she can manage as they all scurry in various directions, until they realize the stuff pelting them on the heads is food. Emma watches them, reminding us a few times that these are her baby chickens, not Mary Claire's baby chickens, not Mommy's baby chickens, only Emma's baby chickens.

And in the beginning, there was Gryder

We purchased our farm from Francis Gryder in 2006, but the story begins a long time before then. In the late 1800's, a Gryder living up above Shelby, NC fell in love with a girl. Her father ran him out of town. Mr. Gryder went as far as his money would take him which just happened to be Rock Hill, SC. He began working for a local farmer who owned a large tract of land. Fast forward 10 - 15 years, Mr. Gryder purchased the land from him starting a legacy that would continue through the Gryder generations. Slowly parts of the property were sold off, until it was widdled down to a 27.75 acre tract with the house built by Roy Gryder Sr in the 1950's. The house was built from wood harvested off the farm and milled down the road, a bit of history that helped Allen fall in love with the place. Of course, the beautiful rolling land, acres upon acres of pasture, pond, and two huge oak trees in the back yard didn't hurt either.

Today a whole new family and a whole new generation are farming the Gryder land. We still have a long way to go to get the farm up and running as it once was, but we are off to a good start. Five cows graze the abundant pastures. Chickens freely roam the land keeping us constantly stocked with a supply of fresh eggs. The garden, although not much, provides well for our family. We are thankful for all the years, hard work, and love the Gryders put into this land.