I don’t know if anyone really winds up where they expect, but 10 years ago, living inside the Washington DC beltway on a 1/10th acre lot, I certainly didn’t see this coming.
Things changed a little when we moved out to one of Maryland’s rural counties. I always thought of myself as independent, but shortly after moving in we found a wounded possum in the yard and instead of coming to help, animal control asked “Can’t you just take care of it”?
No, I couldn’t “take care of it”! I didn’t have the tools or skills to “take care of it”, but now I realized that some people did. Nothing changed overnight, but the question stuck with me: Should I be able to take care of stuff like this?
We only lived in the area for a couple of years, and I spent most of it on the activities we call normal life, but I did buy my first chainsaw and put some rusty sailing skills to use on a 27′ MacGregor. Owning a sailboat also taught me a little bit about scraping, sanding, painting, wiring marine electrical panels… well let’s say we didn’t bring the boat with us when we moved to San Diego.
We spent the next few years renting a house, tending a small garden and learning about gophers for the first time since Caddyshack. When we found a place, it was close to family, not so far from work, and like every good home in arid SoCal, it had beautiful new sod and an irrigation system that rivaled the Roman Aqueduct in water volume.
That’s right about the time Jeanene said “I want to get some chickens”. Now instead of sod we have a chicken yard, lasagne garden, and raised beds, and I barter eggs with coworkers for veggies, grafted fruit trees, and home roasted coffee beans.
How does all that explain why I’m standing in the forest with a chainsaw, wondering if Jeanene really wants a llama? Stick around to find out, or just get some chickens of your own and see where it takes you…