alaska – Eden's Edge

(I forgot to post this last week.)

Yesterday morning, while making the usual rounds at feeding time, I heard something unexpected: extra cheeping near the Muscovy brooder.

Now, I’ve known for a while that one of the hens had been sneaking off to lay somewhere in that area. I just could never seem to find the nest, and it had been quietly driving me nuts for weeks.

But the cheeping was getting louder… and more desperate.

I followed the sound until I finally found it—a single, determined little peeper nestled among a clutch of eggs. Not far from that? A second, cold nest. My heart sank for a second, but I scooped up the warm chick without hesitation.

Momma hen was nowhere to be found, and while I know she’ll likely return soon, there’s a wildcard in the yard, my daughter’s Malamute. And let me tell you, I trust that dog about as much as I trust a great white shark not to bite.

This little one is special. Really special.

The mother? One of my original Cornish hens.
The father? Could be the White Leghorn rooster… or the Alaska Ninja Roo. Either way, this chick is a mix I hadn’t planned on until next year at the earliest, but nature clearly had other plans.

So today, Momma Hen’s getting a private suite, and any new hatchlings that follow will join her there safely. For now, the lone chick is in with this year’s freshly arrived original Cornish batch, warm and content.

And yes—I’m definitely marking today on the calendar. I’ll be watching this one and its future siblings closely. Who knows what kind of traits and temperament they’ll carry?

And the best part?

I’ve got a broody Cornish hen.

Can we say AWESOME?

I live on the edge of the world — in rural Alaska — and I farm with a body that many doctors gave up on long ago. I’ve been told to stay down, stay still, and stay quiet.

I’ve never been good at doing what I’m told. Ever

🩺 What I Live With

I have Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis (PPMS), a form that I can’t treat conventionally due to severe allergic reactions. I also live with:

An unknown form of Dysautonomia (undiagnosed because insurance won’t cover the specialists)
Hemiplegic Migraines that mimic strokes
Myoclonic Seizures and a handful of neurological conditions that tag along like bad company
No sensation in my legs, arms, shoulders, or upper back — not numb, but gone

Once, a rancher accidentally parked a skid steer on my foot. I laughed when I told him. I couldn’t feel it. He panicked. I didn’t. I walked away with a bruise and a story.

🛠️ How I Survive

I’ve had 21 surgeries and major procedures, many performed without numbing due to emergency situations and allergic reactions.

I walk with forearm crutches, AFO braces, and arm supports — when I have to. Due to fall risk. I fight this and try not to use them.

I can’t feel most of my body. But I can feel the pull of purpose.

And so I farm.

I treat myself holistically — with herbal remedies I make, by eating only farm-raised food, and by refusing to give up.

🐾 Who I Am

I’m stubborn. Willful. Fierce. Independent.
I was that way as a kid, and I’ve only doubled down.

I’m a problem-solver, a creative thinker, and a deeply loyal soul.
I love helping people — especially those who are dismissed, overlooked, or shoved aside by the systems that should care for them.

My animals are my world.
They make me think, laugh, and get out of bed when the pain says otherwise.

I love:

Making cheese
Skinning and tanning hides the old-fashioned way
Growing, harvesting, and learning from the land
And this winter, I plan to teach myself leatherworking using my rabbit hides — so I can donate warm gloves and gear to the same people I feed
Spinning wool I sheer from my sheep

🥛 My Next Goal: The $1 Milk Share

One of the things I hear most from the families I help is this:

“Do you have any fresh milk?”

And it breaks my heart to say no, because I know how powerful fresh, whole milk can be, especially for seniors, kids, and those with health struggles. So here’s my next dream:

🧡 A $1 per month milk share program, for low-income families, veterans, and elders across the Kenai Peninsula.

The idea is simple:
Once I have enough dairy goats in milk, I’ll meet state guidelines and offer gallons of healthy, raw goat milk for just $1/month to those in need.
No markups. No gimmicks. Just clean, fresh milk, hand-milked and delivered with care.

🌾 Why I Share This

Because people assume too much about disability. About farming. About strength.

I don’t farm in spite of my conditions. I farm because of them.

This life — hard, bloody, cold, and beautiful, is the only one that ever made me feel truly alive.

If you’re new here: welcome.
If you’ve been knocked down: I see you.
And if you ever need to be reminded that broken bodies can still build beautiful things — come visit Eden’s Edge. In all its mess. One day it will be an Eden. My Eden.

We’re still standing.

Even on the edge.

Tag: alaska

A Cheep Surprise by the Muscovy Brooder

🌿 About Me: Farming From the Edge of Everything