We left at about 3:30 AM and arrived at our property by mid-afternoon. The 1920’s farmhouse looked the same. Quaint–but badly in need of repairs.
Tom unpacked permanently. I loaded a few days worth of clothing in the mahogany dresser that used to belong to his mom.
Our boat sold in February. Our house sold after only one week on the market.
Gulp. Swallow.
We’re committed.
So, we’re renting the farmhouse from Tom’s sister until we move into our modular home. Now that we’ve decided on a house, it’s time to get down to the business of farming.
Our house budget cut into some of the start-up farm money, so we have to choose wisely.
We need a few more implements, irrigation, a hoop house, fencing, and of course, seeds and plants. Tom plans to spread a cover crop on all the fields and perhaps dump fertilizer on our primary field.
Our simple plan is to avoid starvation for the first year, and if we live, make a small profit the following year. We’ll try ½-1 acre with a variety of plants and seeds. Hopefully, something will grow, and perhaps one or two crops will flourish like the bread and fish Jesus served to the 5000.
Green can’t begin to describe our knowledge. Unfortunately, green doesn’t describe our growing capabilities.
But the thought of fruit and vegetables and flowers popping out of the ground makes us giddy with delight.
Rookies.
On my last night before returning to Florida, we piled wood from our property into a newly purchased fire pit. I collected sticks and wiped off the end. Next, we stuck marshmallows and roasted them over the open fire.
We lounged in plastic Adirondack chairs and stared up at the sky as stars peeked out one by one. We talked and planned and then we fell silent. We prayed, I cried, and then we packed up.
I’m back in Florida and already miss my new home.
Trouble is, I’m gonna miss my old home, too. Not the building. The people. Saying goodbye is never easy.
But we’re cultivating a dream.
And it’s coming true.
A question; if you were in our shoes, what would you do first?
