But First Things First

See that hill behind the pole barn? That's where the underground greenhouse has to go.
Right in the side of the hill, facing south to get the sun. That is the first priority - since we'll be getting in there the first part of June, that will be too late for starts for sale. Not too late though for my tropical oranges and other plants to live in; they are in pots and should survive the trip. Also will be taking the chameleons from my current greenhouse via terrarium to see if they can survive in the underground one up there; they are the best creatures for keeping out the whiteflies and other greenhouse pests. I love my chameleons; when the males puff up their red throats, and stand there all proud of their manhoods, they are a sight to see.

I've studied up on things, and they say that rabbits in a greenhouse in the winter can produce up to 300% of the CO2 needed for plant proliferation in the wintertime. So rabbit cages on the bottom, and the shelves for plants at hip-height right above. Fertilizer and CO2 from the same animal waste. And, later, bunnies for meat and fur... Warmth held in by the soil around it, and shelves of starts. The smell may be rough but not as long as I keep the cages clean. They do it in England, after all.

The neighbors have to drive 40 miles or more for good starts in the spring, and they are just the plain-jane stuff that everyone carries. I plan on introducing all sorts of things; herbs and some of the things I grow from heirloom and other seeds that self-propagate. They say that the growing season may be shorter than I am used to; we're in a "4" after all. But short-season instead of long, and hoop houses to extend the seasons in the garden later, and I am betting I can grow almost year-round. In this cool weather, collards should do well; I may have to introduce folks to them. The garden is large enough for a half-field of mangel beets for winter feed for future cattle; but first, first, the greenhouse!!

We have a plan written out, step by step, to make this venture not just a joy but hopefully, eventually, profitable. All of the research I have been doing in so many places, and for so long, will hopefully prove itself out. And I won't have to work outside the home and yard any more; something I never liked doing to begin with, but always had to. Smaller living, smaller gains, smaller losses. Fingers crossed, and all my hopes and dreams since I was 14, all bundled together...

Pictures of the pole Barns in Snow

Yes, and some of the corral, too... the hills behind are ours as well. The sky really is that blue - not a Photoshop.

We Bought The Farm

We are going through all of the paperwork and certification right now. The Closing is May 30th.
On Friday, the mover rep will come and look at all of our stuff and give us an estimate and set a date for the packing and moving - the third weekend in May, perhaps. I am waiting for Tammy to come over and sign the lease agreement, renting this house until it sells - by December, hopefully. We have gotten together the printouts that they require, otherwise. They are ready to fax - 20 pages or so.

This is the house. Built in 1910 and used as a farmhouse and dairy, it has a large basement for the cooling of the milk. There are 60 acres attached to it; long rising and falling hills, mostly grassland, but with a large garden. Three wells and a fourth alloted to the property. Two open pole barns, and a corral, a ramshackle garage and a tack building, are the structures. The rest of the property is wild yet fully fenced; open range with many deer prints upon it.

The house itself is a treasure trove of discoveries. Wood floors covered by carpeting. Chair rails and wood trim that would make a latter-day developer cry - and take out his calculator. Real Leaded stained glass windows, in the bay window and the street-facing bedrooms upstairs. Surprising rooms and cubbies and a grand little staircase for upstairs access. Odds and ends of furniture and other things discarded through the years. A bathroom that extends almost the full length of the house. Cow and bull and deer heads thrown about. PVC and wood trim cast into buckets. An odd back porch/mud room that juts out like a growth. A small box on the outside stuffed with wood for the woodburning stove. Barbed wire and other fencing rolls scattered here and there; once-white board fencing faces the road. Trees that would make a land planner's hands itch for a backhoe. A small shallow cement pond out front, cracked and full of rocks of all sizes. Lots to do, but lots of opportunity to do it. And lots of things to do it with.

Should we tear down the garage and use it to build the chicken coop? Maybe not; it is cedar-shaked and distinctive. Strip back the shakes and put down new tar paper underneath, and we may have a treasure here. The tack room will be His workshop; the basement mine. Can we build the coop inside the garden fence, and double-fence it to make the chicken moat around it to keep away the bugs? How many Dexter cows will the land support? Last week the whole road to the town, east and west, was snowed in - and the next day it was 70 degrees. Wild and woolly, an untamed independent and shrinking town of 125. A restaurant/bar/grill, a bank, a propane gas supplier, a feed store, are about all of the businesses - unless you count the "Ford Motor Company" that hasn't seen any new Fords recently other than the owner's pickup.

What gets you is the silence. No road traffic. No trains. No neighbors jowl-to-jowl, shrieking and banging and boom-boxing their way through life. Every once in a while you'll hear a child laugh, or the kids at the area high school across the street will get out - but still no drag-racing, no
loud music, no invasion of the peace. The robin wanted to know what I was doing in his corral. He posed for several pictures, cocking his head this way and that, then followed me around the yard - quietly, observantly. No Wal Mart within 150 miles.

I'm going to love it here.