I love it! I love the fire in the fireplace, bonfires, mulled cider. The wood cookstove came Friday. Winter is on its way.
It's been one year since we first looked at this place, first got stuck in the Southern Iowa mud, got blocked in by the local homecoming parade and it's 50 firetrucks and 2 floats, first gazed on the changing leaves reflected on the rippling pond water.
Back up just before that. We had our house on the market, we had agreed to not look until we sold (which we still haven't). I still looked. I stumbled upon the listing one night and emailed it to Dearest. He said, don't bother. I said, looking won't hurt. Still I trembled as I dialed and called the realtor. I have only trembled like that 3 other times in my entire life: when Dearest first kissed me, and the birth of each daughter. I knew something big was going to happen. I started packing months before and had announced to the dismay of all that we'd be on a farm by Christmas of 2008. My family doubted my sanity, yet here we are.
Then I made the phone call. I dared to dream. I drove south to a town I'd been to once when I worked for the state historic preservation office, followed GPS down a mud road, two children in tow and a block of cheddar.
Honestly, I had my doubts.
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A blog about farming, unschooling, feminism, 22q deletion syndrome, cooking real food, homesteading, permaculture, and motherhood.