Saturday, September 10, 2011

Growing Things

"My Life Sans All the Whoosh". There went that plan. Prepare for the whoosh -

When I moved out here, I wanted to do nothing more than to build a spot in the world that was mine, and cultivate the food and a few other things that I would need to live my life to the fullest. After my last job sending me to the hospital and relying on my best friend to do EVERYTHING for me (and that move! ack! Payshee!), I never ever wanted to be in that situation again.

I knew that "growing my own food" (as that was the extent of what my brain could fathom) was not going to be easy, or immediate. And also keep in mind that in the two years between declaring to myself that this North Carolina adventure was something I wanted to do and actually doing it I had become extremely impatient (a trait new to me). And I honestly thought I'd come out here, dig around in the muckety-muck, wait for my then manfriend to be able to come out here, and eventually (eventually!) have a family.

Plans, as you know, have a way of manipulating you and them and twisting your life into unexpected shapes and paths.... and my 'simple' plan was no different. I tried to resist it changing on me, but alas - I was powerless to do so. I met the Manfriend and the Spawn in my first week here, under completely strange circumstances. I like to remind him (when I'm feeling particularly like making him squirmy) that for all intents and purposes, we should NEVER have met. And that insane obstacle aside, we should NEVER have seen each other again, and we should NEVER have worked out. And we did, we did, and we are.

My garden tried to thwart me (OK, I had a hand in this as watering got a bit behind during the drought what with having to haul it and my starting work). But I haven't let it win the battle yet, and have currently launched an offensive play consisting of planting a fall garden despite the fact the the whole kit and caboodle will be moved to one of the meadows next year (or at least that's the plan).

We had planned to have chickens next year, and ended up getting 16 chicks, which have grown into 11 beautiful chickens.

I may still be buying my produce from many places - something I didn't want to be doing as much as I am by now, and the goat barn is further in the future than I would have liked - again with the plan!, but I have my family of animals and boys and couldn't be happier to have had that original plan change. I seem to be growing more than 'my own food' these days, and I couldn't be happier. I have my beloved Zora, Luke! (as his name really is - the exclamation point is always attached, either in joy or in dismay), my garden and plants (here there and everywhere!), and my beloved Beloved and his Spawn. All of which seem to be thriving despite various plans' best efforts to thwart, and which in turn nourish me to grow.

End of whoosh. For now. Until I get all whooshie again.

Luke! and the Spawn



George and Kerri said...

The spawn is wearing socks with sandals. I detect some left coast bleeding into redneck land. ;)

Anonymous said...

Wait! Redneck land?! Sweetie, you have just a little more south to go before you hit that...She's just north, in filthy southerner land. ;-)

Self-growth is always the hardest to accept is happening. Nothing is by chance, by the way.

Jennifer Fais said...

I see that Peas! also have an exclamation point.......

As a professional planner for 30 years, I, too, have finally learned that things rarely end up the way you have "planned." Thankfully, I have retired and am no longer bothered by that!

Amelia said...

As someone who can completely commiserate with the ?!?! feeling upon pausing for a second to compare what you thought would have happened over the span of one year and what actually happened, I got all teary reading this post. I admire your courage, and I am so grateful that you are so eloquently writing these things down.

In a side note, I just hosted a couchsurfer from Burlington, NC who was up volunteering for the vintage car races at Watkins Glen. Small world.........

caitlinvb said...

In the Spawn's defense, we were mucking about in the chicken coop and I tried to make him put his old shoes on, but being weedlike he had outgrew him. I made him keep his socks on with the sandals in a vain attempt to keep chicken poop from getting on his footsies. (yeah. I said footsies).

No. NOTHING happens by chance, and I sincerely believe it does all work out for the best - especially the stuff that seems to royally suck at the time. But I must just clarify one thing - I am more amazed by the veering my seemingly thought out path did, as opposed to upset by it. Its kinda crazy where life will lead you!

And every seedling gets a full blown exclamation point. It's been SO HOT and SO DRY - they have to fight tooth and nail to get up out of the soil. So I am happy and doting (although not doting enough) when they do...