The Rora Valley Farm sits on a few acres in east Alabama, where the hills and meadows blend and stretch forever, and the mornings are chilly but soon give way to a warmer day. The sun rises slowly over the farm, tearing through the darkness, waking up the animals, and bathing the vegetable garden in the homemade greenhouses in nourishing light. The breeze is light and airy, reminding you of what the land owns, from the tall fragrant trees to the tiny wildflowers to the bees and insects, the four-legged creatures, to nature as it should be, to life in its most root form, fundamental, quintessential.
Rising along with the sun, the Sanders family’s two oldest boys, Enoch, 10, and Patrick, 9, take on their first chore of the day: feeding the calves while their father Noah milks the cow. Then they must feed the freely running chickens. The day continues when they return to their modest home to study and do homework. Noah and Dorothy homeschool their six children in addition to tending the farm.
Life is beyond satisfying for Noah and Dorothy, who both grew up on a family farm.
“When I was growing up on my family farm, we did a lot of things together. My parents homeschooled us, and I wanted to offer my kids the same. We love working together on the farm. We might not make as much as other people, but you know what?” Noah said with gleaming eyes, “We live the way we would if we had all the money in the world.”
To reflect on that last line is astounding. How many people live as if they have all the money in the world?
At Rora Valley Farms, Noah delivers fruit, vegetables, meat, and baked goods to families in nearby Birmingham. His happy customers have been with him for years and depend on his goodies. It’s a relationship he cherishes, and it’s more than farming and providing food: “I feel that we love people by serving them with food.”
Noah and Dorothy sit on their comfy couch in their living room full of toys and books and the beautiful mess that makes a family home. They gaze at their children playing outside while a known comfort hovers between them. Sage. Unspoken.
Dorothy confirmed Noah’s statement. “I absolutely love how we live. We spend so much time together, and I feel that I can raise my kids in a way that works for us. My world is so connected to Noah’s world.”
Living on the farm does have its challenges for both Noah and Dorothy, along with their children. Dorothy winks at Noah by her side: “It’s a lifestyle commitment; Noah and I are on the same team. We’ve been married for 11 years and we might differ in opinion sometimes, but we work it out.”
Noah loves working with his hands. He has built greenhouses so he could provide vegetables year-round. He also added to their home and constructed chicken coops and other structures on the farm. Most of what he appreciates about this lifestyle is a bit philosophical.
“When you live in the city, you go out of your way to exercise, to work, to have relationships, to connect with nature. But on the farm, homesteading becomes the natural rhythm of life, all of those things are part of your life already,” Noah said.
Dorothy added, “This lifestyle Noah speaks of has been a true joy. It’s a lot of hard work but a wonderful way to live and raise our kids. I like that they are learning how to do real things. I love the way we work together. I love cooking and growing food and taking care of our home. When I cook for my family, I teach the kids and they love it,” she chuckled. “Well, most of the time, they love it.”
In addition to raising their kids and working on the farm, Noah and Dorothy work on their relationship. They do “Home-dates” on occasion after the kids are asleep, where they watch a movie and devote uninterrupted time to each other.
“Our lifestyle is finding out your passions and your calling, then getting behind it,” Dorothy said. “I love it when my kids find delight and joy in life, when they learn how to work together. I definitely see ourselves growing old this way. We equip our children for the future, and we are fine with them living like this or becoming anything they want to be.”
At this point, one of the tiny identical twins, Booker or Craver, climbed onto Dorothy’s lap and began to play. Noah grabbed him and tossed him into the air while the young one screamed with joy. Noah then handed him to Dorothy and leaned forward, saying in a serious tone, “I do have advice for anyone trying to live this way: It’s not all romantic and perfect. You’re dealing with natural systems, and on occasion an animal dies or something goes wrong. One year, I had a beautiful vegetable garden and a hail storm destroyed it. You just have to keep going.”
After nuzzling into the boy’s neck and making him laugh and scream, Dorothy agreed: “I have shed tears before. One time the kids saw me cry. It’s real. It’s life. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” Dorothy then squeezed the twin, adding, “How can you not love it when you’re surrounded by all of this cuteness?”
Noah reached out and touched his son’s hair, ruffling it gently. Outside and amid the sounds of the children playing, the sun began to disappear slowly behind the gently rolling hills and meadows, ushering in the end of another day, and another evening full of monsters under the bed, night-time prayers, and a love, fervent, rooted.
