Goodbye, Hello!

We are moving!

After 15 years, we’re leaving our cosy suburban house on 0.62 acres (all in shade, screw you, deer) and headed to a little farm on the edge of town. We are actually moving into DH’s childhood home. His dad, meanwhile, has decided to hang up his hobby-farmer overalls, opting to downsize to a house in the [tiny] city nearby. We are taking over the homestead, which has been in the family for about 45 years.

You accumulate a lot of stuff in 45 years. You accumulate a lot in 15, but it increases exponentially the longer you live in a place. Maybe it’s good to move often. I’ve had to prioritize our possessions almost ruthlessly. The shedding of material stuff has been liberating, though. I feel almost physically lighter, in spite of having gained a bit of weight the last two years. It will be nice to shed that, too.

Boxes… so many boxes…

This move comes just in time, as we’re currently overrun with chickens. Last year the kids took poultry to the fair, and this year we’re doing meat birds. After a few weeks in a box in the kitchen, the broiler chicks are ready to go outside to our chicken run. Here, Mr. Pullet, the rooster, is checking them out.

Little meat chicks in the shed while Mr. Pullet inspects the new arrangement

There are another 7 birds at the farm already, and we have 14 total here with the pullets and broilers. I don’t know exactly how that happened, but I think we are going to end up with a lot of eggs in the near future.

The farm, meanwhile, is going to be a labor of love. My father-in-law has a different farm aesthetic than I do, so it will take some work to make my ideal a reality. I think it will be a fun process, though (emphasis on “process”).

Much accumulates in 45 years…

The kids are very excited, though, in spite of having a lot of extra work on our collective plates. O12 is looking forward to having a dog of her own, and S14… well, she’s obviously a farm kid through and through.

Baby chick, from one of our pullets but hatched by a duck… farm life is weird.

 

 

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