How we were lead to our farm by a time-capsule, a story and dream: Part 3.

(Denim paper in Leanne's
hat, used by permission:
copyright Hot Off The Press.)

Part 3 of 3

There was more than one dream preserved in that little box from '79. Soon, a second life-long dream would become a reality...

Something happened when I followed the inspiration that came from opening the time capsule. As I plugged away writing stories about Leanne's back-to-the-land experiences, I started wanting to be her. After all, Leanne wasn't just the main character in my story, she was based on me, my inner farm girl and my own childhood memories. Yet, the more developed Leanne became as a living character on the page, the more I felt my own inner farm girl being resurrected. I'd uncovered a part of myself I'd nearly forgotten, and now my own back-to-the-farm dream bloomed to life, bigger and brighter than ever before. I wasn't just writing Leanne's story: I was writing my own life-script.

It didn't take long before my honey caught the vision, too, and now we both wanted to make the dream a reality. Soon, we found ourselves searching for just the right property. The search took months, but in November of last year, we became the owners of a little five acre parcel next to Cottage Grove Lake. It's a peaceful retreat from our life in the city, and in many ways, it reminds me of my childhood farm.

We bought the place with grand plans to remodel and build up a farmstead for when we retire. We'd transform the house to look more like a farmhouse--add some gables here and dormers there, build a story-and-a-half family room on one end with a wrap-around porch. The house happened to be a duplex that lent itself nicely to being converted into a large single family home--one with a few more bedrooms and bathrooms than usual. Perfect for guests! We went wild with ideas of huge family reunions, writers group retreats, big country-Christmas celebrations with guests staying over, and on and on.

We started the remodel. Phase one complete--well, not quite. It's been sitting half-done since January. But it's as complete as it will be for a while. Sometimes, just as the author of a story writes in plot twists (surprising even the author at times), we can make choices in life that rewrite our script. We're going along thinking we'll do one thing, but then it's another we choose, and a new act in the play of life follows. 

The farmstead next door...

Shortly after buying our lake house and starting our remodel, we shook our neighbor's hand over the fence one day and introduced ourselves. Our neighbor's five acres spread out below us on the slope. He's got this cool old barn and a little grove of apple trees, and a ton of space begging to be planted and cultivated. George and I look directly over his place when we sit sipping coffee, gazing at the hills and lake from our front porch.  

"I'm thinking of selling," our neighbor said from his side of the fence. 

George and I exchanged a "you don't say" sort of glance. 

Funny thing. Just the day before this, my honey and I were sitting and sipping, gazing and talking, and what were we talking about? How nice our neighbor's land would look all planted up and joined with our long narrow piece of earth. How his land with ours would make our whole farm such a nice shape. How we'd plant an orchard here, put a pond there, and some grapes and berries over there. How if our neighbor ever decided to sell, we'd sure like to be in a position to buy. But that would be years in the future, if ever, right?  

We looked at each other, said "nice to meet you" to our neighbor and walked away. 

"What about the remodel?" I asked, as we walked hand-in-hand, discussing. 

"This chance will probably never come our way again," my very practical honey said. 

That was a couple months ago. Now, we own our neighbors cool barn, his apple trees, his nice shaped land that fits so good with ours, and his house, which we'll rent out. 

Funny how things work out. But not to worry, the completion of phase one will happen, just not as soon as we'd planned. Phase two and three? They'll happen, too. At least that's how we've written the script for now. I guess we'll see, as our adventure unfolds--an adventure that started with the time capsule of '79. Who could have known?

Joy--Fearless Farm Girl,

"Farm girl: it's a verb, because it's what you do."

Related posts:

How we were lead to our farm by a time-capsule: Part 1

How we were lead to our farm by a time-capsule: Part 2

The key to success for the weekend homesteader.

Weekend homesteading is not for the faint of heart... 

Independence Day, 1973, marked the beginning of the best decade of my childhood. A decade of cherry pie, homemade apple cider, hand-churned ice-cream, and home-brewed sarsaparilla. It was the decade in which I grew up a farm girl on the banks of the McKenzie River. My parents had just bought a ten acre cherry farm, and it was all about creating a self-sufficient homestead back then. Yet, like many back-to-the-landers of the day, the dream ended only ten years after it began, when the city beckoned us back.

Independence Day 1973: My family proudly

sits on Daddy's old Ferguson in 

front of our beloved cherry orchard. 

(I know this image is blurry, but it's a photo from my childhood that I wanted to share)

I've carried a dream of living on a self-reliant farmstead ever since we left. It's been rooted in my heart, like a dormant tree waiting for just the right soil conditions to make it thrive.

We finally own that soil! Recently, my husband and I were finally able to purchase a little patch of ground just right for planting our dream. But it won't happen overnight. We have a lot of work ahead of us. After all, the only food we can expect to harvest from our land this year is blackberries--scads of them growing wild at the edge of our pasture. Not much of a farmstead yet. 

We're what you call weekend homesteaders, since we live and work in the city during the week, only coming to the farm on the week-ends. It can feel overwhelming (to say the least) when we look at all there is to do. I'm sure you've heard the proverb that if you save money little by little, you make it grow. It's no different when it comes to the work of homesteading. You grow a homestead little by little. This is the key to success. 



You have to break things down. When you've got only limited chunks of time, you have to break down the work of building a farmstead into small manageable projects that fit into a single weekend. That's the key. So what will we be doing this Independence Day weekend?

I wish I could say we'll be planting cherry trees. I really wanted to plant two Bing and two Rainier trees to get us started. I wanted it to be a kind of mini declaration of Independence on Independence Day: the planting of our first fruit trees would be a statement that one day we won't be so dependent on our current industrialized food system--a system that's not sustainable. I'm a silly sentimental kinda girl. It would be super cool if the first trees we planted were cherry--in memory of my childhood cherry farm. 

But it's not the right time to plant cherry trees. Fall would be better. And we aren't ready anyway. We first have to do soil tests, then develop a site plan, install an automatic watering system, build a deer fence, and the list of weekend projects goes on and on. 

"Little by little," I keep telling myself. This weekend we'll just do what we can. The rest will get done in time.

How do you manage as a weekend homesteader? I'd love to hear your story.

Joy--Fearless Farm Girl,

"Farm girl: it's a verb, because it's what you do."