Dollars and Sense

Silly, silly me.  How did we ever believe we could budget for the unknown?  You've heard me say before that we budgeted and allocated every available dollar and cent to make this house purchase possible, but this is not your average house move.  We've never set up a homestead before and so there have been costs for things that never even crossed our minds.  I’ll give you an example.  Paint.  Not just any paint, Ian believes in paying for the best quality to get the best value and longevity from any purchase.  This belief resulted in the purchase of ‘Shark skin’ instead of just any ‘run on the mill’ exterior paint.  As the painter, I can say that this is a great product BUT at over $200 for 5 gallons, it’s not cheap.  We’re currently on our third 5 gallon bucket.  Then you add painting supplies, etc. and the cost spirals.  Anyway, it’s all good and I’m pleased with what we've achieved but it has made me question whether we've really fully committed to our ‘make-do’ lifestyle.

To be honest with you, it hasn't really been my focus.  We've been so entrenched in the work that we haven’t really considered the cost-cutting part of this transition.  We've still been going out for dinner and I treated myself to a new pair of Hunter boots off eBay and yes, there are indulgences that we could have done without.  The consequence of this carelessness is that our hand has been forced.  Now that the weather is changing, we’re limited on what we can do outside and so comes the time to focus on finance.  Except now we have no choice but to make cuts.  Between now and December when Ian’s company pays shares and bonuses, the belt will be tightened so much we might be blue in the face.  You won’t be seeing us eating out at Milestones or shopping for fancy farm foot ware anytime soon.  So it really begins here, the life and sacrifices of a homesteader.  We knew this would be the pay-off for the lifestyle we've chosen but let see how the theory translates into practice.

That was the blog post I had drafted on Wednesday.  But then something happened.  I met a lady who unknowingly impacted on me with such force; it made me collide with a critical analysis of myself.  I haven’t sought this woman’s permission to disclose her information so for the sake of this post, we’ll call her Kate.

Kate and I met by chance and she came to the farm.  During the course of our meeting, she told me her story.  Up until a few years ago, Kate’s family were average hardworking people.  Kate had worked all her life to give the best to her own three children and two boys that she fostered.  Her story was much like any other until their life was touched by an event of immeasurable cruelty.  Kate projects resilience and strength, but her eyes tell a story of trauma.  Kate has made sacrifices to try and regain some stability for her family.  These are not the kind of sacrifices I am making.  My whining makes me ashamed in the presence of people like Kate “oh poor me, I can’t go out for dinner”, “eeewww, a snake slithered over my foot”, “I’m working so hard, my muscles ache”.  I think that’s what you call ‘a real first-world problem’; these are challenges, not sacrifices.

Kate walked around Laurica Farm in awe.  She talked about her love for the outdoors and the beauty of the farm.  She listened intently to our plans and asked questions.  Kate gave me perspective.  I will not talk about sacrifices again.  Being here is not a sacrifice, being here is a privilege.  We have to work hard, but who doesn't.  At least this is our choice.  Kate’s circumstances are out of her control. 

And so, thanks to Kate, as summer ends and fall takes hold, I am filled with a new determination.  I am determined not to be complacent, to keep perspective on the work and demands and, most importantly, to keep enjoying this challenge.

It'll be alright on the night.

I just don’t know how to tell you how fantastic I’m feeling today.  But before I go into that, my lovely husband is insisting I blog about my recent tantrum.  It’s kind of a confession.

Last week I blogged about being desensitized to all the bugs and animals that share this plot of land with us.  I really made it sound like I was doing ok.  Sadly, I was writing that post just before my hangover kicked in.  About an hour later, the nausea and headache started to mount while we were out on the farm building.  Things weren’t going well, every time I started a job something happened to stop me.  Ian tried to get me to finish painting the entrance and put me on a scaffold tower to do it.  Fear and alcohol excess reduced me to a quivering, sweating wreck clinging to the top of the scaffold as if I’d been tasked with crossing Niagara Falls on a wire.  Pathetic!  I was walking back up the drive to confess my failings to Ian when I stood on a snake.  In its bid to escape it slithered over my foot.  I had flip flops on.  We had physical, skin to skin contact.  That was it, the straw that broke the donkeys back.  I burst into tears and stormed off to the house and went to bed.  I barricaded the door to stop anyone coming in, but actually no one even noticed I was missing which made things worse.  So there I stayed for 3 hours, first sulking and then sleeping it off.  I sincerely hope this was a hangover induced episode and not the first cracks beginning to show.  Anyway, the entrance is finished now and looks pretty good.

It’s Monday morning as I write this post and Saturday was the big Housewarming party.  Ian took the week off work to finish jobs and prepare for the party.  But this is Ian so nothing is ever simple.  As well as finishing jobs, he decided to knock down the old but perfectly sufficient extension on the barn…on Thursday!!!  I nearly lost my mind and had to engage in some high drama protests of “don’t you know there are 100 people coming here in 2 days”, complete with over exaggerated hand gestures, foot stomping, eye rolling and hands on hips stance.  But amazingly he not only knocked it down but rebuilt another one.  I’m used to his skills as a carpenter and his ability to work at lightning speed, but even I was impressed with what he achieved.  Obviously not so impressed that I’m motivated to apologise for my eye rolling and other condescending behaviours.

Friday came and we shopped and worked until late, finally falling asleep about midnight.  I dreamt that someone had cancelled the party while we were sleeping and at 4am sat up in bed and shouted “Ian, get the band to come back”.  That was enough to wake us up completely and so we set to work again.  Good job we did because we only just got things ready on time.  Needless to say, things go wrong when you’re under pressure, not least the compost heap spontaneously combusting about an hour before the party.  I can now add ‘firefighting skills’ to my résumé.

Guests started to arrive at 4pm.  I was so happy with how the place looked; the hard work had really paid off.  Not only that, but the food looked awesome.  My friends Jenessa and Kirstin had supported me by bringing platters, salads and homemade marshmallows and our neighbours, Glorious Organics, had provided a wonderful salad with edible flowers.  Ian had doubled the size of our Texas BBQ which created quite the impression.  But most the most exciting thing was the live band setting up in the barn!

Glorious Organics Celebration Salad

The atmosphere was that of an English village fete.  The band was amazing.  They are local guys called The NewAtlas.  I’d left the set list up to them and they managed to please everyone here.  Check them out if you get the chance.  They are playing the local circuit and have a gig coming up in Vancouver soon as well as an album in the works.

The New Atlas

Later on as night approached we lit the place up.  We’d put fairy lights up and made lanterns from Mason jars.  My friend Monique had supplied tea lights from Party Lite and so to add to the effect, we had wonderful scents coming from the candles.  It truly felt magical.  And of course people naturally gravitated towards the Tiki hut and sat around the fire pit.  The Tiki hut was an absolute hit and worked superbly.  The smoke went out through the octagonal chimney that Ian built and the warmth of the fire was kept in.  Just take a moment to imagine it….it’s dark, we’re sitting around a fire, there’s candles twinkling in the trees and white fairy lights overhead and creamy marshmallows being passed around.  The music was playing, the drink was flowing and ‘Sweet Caroline’ was being massacred thanks to an impromptu sing along.  Neil Diamond may have been mortified if he’d been there, but I was as happy as I’ve ever been.

Plans are in progress for a music festival next summer!

Cast aside all your preconceptions of homesteaders and farming ye who enter here.  This is what country living is about.

BBQ made from 2 oil drums - total cost $80

Desserts...mmmmmmm

Setting up

Last minute barn extension 

Hell yeah!

Some revelers enjoying the band

Lining up at the BBQ

Inside the Tiki bar!

The (current) plan

Tiki happiness

Goodness, I’m tired.  And I’ve managed to aggravate a shoulder injury.  But don’t turn away now; this is not a whiny ‘I’m working so hard’ post because I FEEL GOOD.  Something has happened for all of us this week to dispel fears and enthuse us.  I’ll try and encapsulate some of those things but for those of you expecting a high-integrity, agriculture related write-up, call back in a couple of weeks…maybe.

Firstly, let’s talk about aesthetics of the farm.  Remember the adult swing set I talked about that we’ve poured blood, sweat and tears into?  Well, that is almost finished and it’s evolved. Not only does it look amazing but it’s a real triumph to our recycle, reduce, reuse lifestyle.  It can no longer be referred to as an adult swing set though.  When Ian made the benches that were intended to swing, he made them so sturdy that they were too heavy to swing from the frame.  His solution….to roof the frame.  But then another issue;  the benches would hang over behind the frame if they were swinging and Ian’s OCD senses started tingling.  The benches will now be fixed to sit flush with the frame.  We had prepared 6 benches for the octagonal frame leaving 2 sides to hang hammock chairs from, but with the roof the whole thing started to look more like a Tiki hut, and so it obviously needs a bar.  That very week, the fridge at Ian’s office died a death.  Ian reclaimed it of course.  It’s currently lying on its back, raised off the floor being clad in wood.  We will fill it with ice and people can put their drinks inside.

Some of you might have an idea of a Homesteader in your mind and think that a Tiki bar is not an essential part of the lifestyle.  So let me explain why I am pleased with it.  I am happy because it’s a nod towards our intention to enjoy this land.  If you’re working hard then there has to be some rewards.  This Tiki hut is an enabler for relaxation, reward and social gatherings.  I feel it’s an achievement because it looks awesome.  When you drive along the road, it’s the Tiki hut that grabs your attention.  But it’s not intrusive, we chose to paint it and kind of bark colour as it sits next to the trees and the roof is clad in cedar coloured shingles.  It complements the landscape.  But here’s the real homesteading achievement.  The structure is approx. 18ft wide and 15ft tall.  I estimate the total cost of building it to be around $400.  Not bad for something that size!  Had we purchased new materials we think it would have cost around $5000.  Not only that but we have had the experience of bartering and utilizing volunteers.  I will post some photos next week when it’s completely finished.

The next thing that has made me feel good is a conversation with my friend Kirstin.  She asked me how I was dealing with the bugs and animals as I talked about snakes, spiders, frogs, coyotes and alike.  How have I come to terms with these things?  Well, it’s been like an extreme desensitization program.  What can you do when you’ve invested everything into a home?  I can’t walk away and move in to a condo downtown because there’s too much wildlife.  I still let out an involuntary squeal when I see a snake but you just have to plough on (no pun intended).  It’s become more of an annoyance than a fear and that happened real quickly because it had to.

The final thing on my quest for happiness this week came courtesy of the tractor.  Up until now I have found it difficult to tell people "I’m a farmer".  I feel like such a fraud and opt for less intimidating alternatives, like “oh, I’m just a Homemaker”.  This week I completed an unquestionably farm related activity.  I tilled the back field for the fruit bushes and created a huge compost heap.  Even as I was doing it I felt embarrassed every time our neighbours (real bona fide farmers) were in the field.  I imagined them sitting around laughing about us as they wondered what the heck we were doing.  Anyway, we tilled the patch of land once, and then I moved the entire top layer of grass and soil to a neat compost heap that will eventually go back on the same patch of land.  Then I tilled 3 more times, and you know what, it looks great.  I’d even go as far as to say it looks professional!  And so now I’m over it.  I have something to show that I can farm.  I have a patch of tilled land and some chickens, in a coop.  We also have plans now for the veggies, the orchard,  the poly tunnels and the duck pond. Not much, but a start.  I even have a Tiki bar to show that I can enjoy farming too.  Bet our farming neighbours don’t have a Tiki bar.

So to conclude this post, confidence is growing, friendships with new neighbours are developing, epic social gatherings are taking place, volunteers have been fed, food has been preserved, we're having fun, and non-invasive, environmentally sensitive, organic architecture is happening.  Sounds to me like we are rocking this gig.

Me and Mr. Kutcher

I’ve been thinking about Ashton Kutcher in shower.  Don’t worry, this is not turning into some weird confessions post (although he is rather aesthetically pleasing), but I do want to talk about Mr. Kutcher.  First a bit of a farm update.

We have made some encouraging discoveries.  I mentioned in an earlier post that we needed to do some soil testing to help us make a plan for the land and get the best possible growing outcomes.  We purchased a soil testing kit and it’s been on top of the fridge unopened for two weeks.  I don’t know why we’ve put this simple task off, maybe out of concern for what we will find.  You see, the area we live in is zoned as agriculture land.  Great!  This protects us from townhouse complexes springing up around us but the irony is that the soil is not great for growing anything other than grapes.  It is very sandy and stony across the entire area.  However, it was me with my astute agricultural prowess (???!!!) who observed that the soil appeared very different at the back of our lot to the front.  Anyway, we tilled the land at the back this week ready for some fruit bushes.  As expected, sand and stones greeted us.  But that’s ok; we will plant a ground cover crop, such as buckwheat, over the winter and then cut it, cover it and effectively compost it back into the ground.  This will replenish the nutrients in the soil ready for growing.  We think this will provide us with an excellent base for fruit growing.

The next discovery came when Ian was looking for the septic tank and found it at the front of the house, just outside the front door.  I know, it seems a strange location. In digging down to find the tank we found a lovely rich loamy soil.  Perfect for growing veg in the front paddock.  And so, that has settled the debate about what to plant where.  And what do you know….us inexperienced farmers have made these discoveries by instinct and not with plastic test kits!

Back to Ashton.  Some of you may have seen Ashton Kutcher’s acceptance speech at the Teen Choice Awards.  He gave a talk about opportunity looking a lot like hard work.  Good for Ashton, someone of influence needs to tell our youth that success rarely just lands in your lap.  But Ashton Kutcher, really?  Is he a true ambassador for hard work?  Because I thought about it a lot in the shower when I was using a nail brush to scrub paint off my bare skin and knocking scabs off as I went.  I wondered as I plucked another set of splinters out of my fingers while my newly calloused hands burned in the hot water, if Aston with his perfect hair and his manicure should really be waxing lyrical about hard work?  What does hard work look like to Ashton Kutcher?  I know he regaled tales of having to work in a deli or something before he was an actor or whatever he is, but does this really quantify hard work?  Are the kids getting the sincerity of the message from polished Ashton and his clichés?  I would like to invite Mr. Kutcher here to my own personal Farmagddon.  I would love him to show today’s youth what hard work really looks like.  I want him to tell them about waking up at night every time he turns over in bed because his shoulder muscles are so tight and painful.  I believe he needs to talk about feeling like he won’t ever be able to stand up straight again after bending over painting fence posts all day under the scorching sun.  He really should share tales of lifting impossibly heavy timber beams at 10pm to get a chicken coop finished.  Seriously, if you’re going to champion hard work, it should be well researched, right?

Ok, I’m going to leave Ashton alone now.  I’ve started to sound more Kathy Bates in Misery than Cathy Finley of Laurica Farm.  But I will give him this, opportunity IS hard work.  And in the same way hard works looks different to different people, so does opportunity.  I’m sure beautiful Ashton has had many opportunities in his career to become a celebrity, that kind of opportunity sounds like hell to me.  Working here with my knotted muscles and my calloused hands is my opportunity.  It’s my opportunity to give my family something Ashton will probably never experience.  Ashton can keep the bright lights, fancy hair and manicure; I’m all good with my Farmagddon opportunities.

I could sure use a manicure though!

Confessions of a Homesteader

This week has seen a real start of working the land and preparing for what is to come.  Grass has been cut, fences have been moved, things have been planted, trees have been felled, and I’ve been doing what every homesteader does this time of year…preserving food.  Obviously we haven’t had much of our own produce to preserve this year apart from an abundance of blackberries but I did strike deals with local farmers and received a mountain of green beans and mini cucumbers.  I jammed the blackberries, experimenting with Chia seeds as a gelling agent thus avoiding artificial things like pectin, and I’ve pickled the beans and cucumbers.  We have enough pickles for eternity!  I like the occasional pickled onion – my Mum always used to lament about the time I was trying to steal one off her Ploughman’s lunch when I was about 2 years old.  I was so persistent she let me take it in the end thinking I’d spit it straight out and leave her be, but instead all she heard was “nom nom nom” as I tucked into the onion.  Anyway, I’ve never really experimented with other pickled veg until recently.  Thankfully, I really quite like it and I’m looking forward to preserving the excess of our own harvest next summer.  I’ve also been reading about the health benefits of pickling.  I didn’t know until this week that pickling is extremely beneficial to your digestive health.

Along with our productive week, there have been a few ‘hiccups’, of course.  We decided to mow the front paddock with the tractor.  Ian started it and I took over after he’d done a few circuits.  He told me that he had seen voles scurrying around as he was mowing and joked about their funny long noses.  Off I went, looking out for these strange creatures but only saw a couple.  After I’d mowed half the field, Lauren came out to do the remainder.  I passed on the information about the resident voles and stepped back as she pulled away.  As she started the tractor, something wet hit my face.  You know that moment, when you just freeze, scared to find out what the offending material might be…yeah, you guessed it, some mangled body part of a small animal had gone through mower blades and had been ejected all over me.  I looked around to realize it was total vole and slug carnage in the paddock.  The corpses lay strewed around.  So there I was, in the midst of a Farmageddon genocide.

That wasn't the only unwanted animal encounter, this time we were the ones at risk.  We set ourselves up with a camp fire, marshmallows and sticks ready to watch the meteor shower.  All was going so well, we saw the international space center pass over and it was fantastic quality time with the family.  But before we saw a single meteor, we heard howling.  We assumed it was coyotes and didn’t panic but decided to take the dog and kids in as they were extremely close.  As I was walking towards the house with the last few items, Ian turned around and stared at something.  I didn’t need to turn around to know what he’d seen was close.  He just about had time to utter “I don’t think they’re coyotes, they’re wolves” before I started running for the safety of the house.  I know, I know, a bit of an overreaction perhaps, but still, nature can be scary sometimes.

So another roller coaster kinda week, from feeling like we were achieving a lot to feeling that we’d taken on too much, and as always, this evokes some reflection.  It wasn’t until today that I teased out the message from our recent experiences.  It was the Insurance lady who had come to finalize some details that made the metaphoric light bulb come on.  Once she had lifted her head from her clipboard and truly started to look around, she began to do what everyone does when they come here, she oooo’d and arrrr’d and wowed.  It made me think back to when I worked in Social Care.  I always believed that you could support someone in a bad situation to make positive changes as long as they had even a tiny spark of hope.  If their hope was gone, the battle was lost.  One of the things that chips away at a person’s hope is their environment.  Too often did we venture into grim, dark homes and find the person inhabiting the stale space had lost all motivation.  And it’s that belief which makes me confident that we will succeed here.  We are so lucky to have this amazing environment.  A wonderful open landscape with a natural serenity and beauty about it.  It’s the environment that makes people ooh and arrr when they come here.  It’s the environment that keeps us working late at night.  It’s the environment that makes me want to pickle and preserve its offerings.  It’s the environment that makes me want to stay home instead of going out, that makes me happy and content and makes me want to share it with my friends.  And I truly believe that, no matter how many mangled animals splat me, this environment will keep us plugging away to make it work. 

Here’s hoping I still find it inspiring in the middle of a wet, gray Vancouver winter!

Food for thought....

I’m treating you to an extra post this week because next week there will be some actual homesteading activities to report (I know you’ve been waiting with baited breath), but in the meantime I have a few things to get off my chest.  I want to talk about food and emotions – two things that often go together, and one often triggers the other.

Let’s get emotions out of the way first.  I don’t know whether the adrenaline has ceased pumping after the busy time of moving or if my current emotional state is due to going through a major life event, but I’ve felt a bit down this week at times.

As you know, I'm a Brit abroad and it is sometimes hard to live so far away from your family and friends.  Obviously, when times are hard or challenging you yearn for family, friends and familiarity but also when things are good, I miss the opportunity to share it with them.  There’s been a few moments when I’ve been going about my daily activities and I see something beautiful, or I achieved something for the first time, that I wish I could share it with my family & friends in the UK.  Now I need you to understand that I am extremely grateful for my friends here in Canada and have been astounded by the level of support we have received, this is just about being reminded of people left behind.  The desire to hand my sister Shelley a glass of cider or tell Denise about a new granola bar recipe.  To share a laugh with Katie and Julie, or to pop in to Rowena’s for a cuppa while the kids play.  I also lost my Mother 2 years ago and I know she would have loved the idea of us embarking on this venture.

Anyway, I have to admit that a combination of all of this provoked a bout of tears yesterday in front of Ian.  I’m not normally a cryer, thankfully because when I do cry, it’s bad.  I can limit it to a few tears if no one asks me if I’m ok.  As soon as someone wants me to talk, I lose it.  My face involuntarily contorts, turns red and then the tears explode and I lose the ability to talk, breath, gain control.  The last time I had such a crying bout was approximately 4 years ago in the middle of London; a very public display!  We had just left the Canadian Embassy after a horrid experience at the visa office and I burst into tears.  Ian, bless him, tried to console me (or hide my hideous crying face from the general public) by pulling me in for a cuddle.  Unfortunately, he had a waterproof jacket on and so my tears and snot were basically rubbed back into my face and hair.  My muffled protests were mistaken for sobs which caused Ian to hold me tighter and not release me from drowning in my own bodily fluid.   This memory is a brilliant motivator to keep it together now when those moments of sadness pass over me.

Moving on to food.  I was telling a random stranger about our lifestyle transition and the motivations when the lady asked me what I meant by ‘food security’.  I started spouting some generic dribble but was struck about the lack of personal honesty of the words coming from my mouth. 

I read something in The Backyard Homestead Guide to RaisingFarm Animals recently that talked about the issue of food security.  It says:

“The term means different things to different people.  One definition involves having a reliable source of basic foods and not having to worry about going hungry.  Another requires the food to be sufficient quantity and quality to meet your dietary needs and satisfy your food preferences.  Still other definitions specify that the food be nutritious, safe, and healthful.  And some definitions incorporate the concepts of local self-sufficiency and environmental sustainability”.

The woman who questioned made me reflect on what it means to me personally.  All of the above definitions resonate with me but what does it mean on a practical level of running a homestead and providing food security to my family?  So I set about putting together some rules for a homestead that would enable my own personal definition of food security.

1. Animals raised for food production or meat will be allowed to roam free, and live in conditions as close to their natural environment as possible, whilst protecting them from the natural predators in the area.
   
2. The animals will get the best available diet, free of animal by-products.  Think grass-fed cows and flax added to the chicken’s diets, which will in turn enhance our diets.
3. Wherever possible, the animals will be slaughtered on site (not be me you understand, I’d like to think I could do it, but I can’t).  This reduces stress to the animal and reduces mercury released into the meat.
4. No unnatural fertilizers will be used for growing veg.  Last year we used mushroom compost which was very successful.  I do not want to put chemicals on the soil that grows our food, nor do I want these chemicals filtering down into the ground water…we live on a well and have to drink that water.  No matter how effective the natural filtration system, this is a something I want to avoid. 
5. We are not going to get our farm registered organic, because the buyer ends up paying, right?  However, we will set out a list of ethical growing practices, such as using natural predators and pollinators instead of insecticides, etc.
6. We will only use the water for food and animals, not for lawns.
7.  Our homestead will aim to produce minimal food waste.
8.  Finally, and most importantly to my personal values…I will never, no matter how hard things get, resort to making fruit wine, EVER!
   

Bigger, better and far more fun.

This is week has been incredibly busy but very rewarding.  Firstly, Chickingham Palace is finished and looking very retro.  After we got the structure and chicken run up and painted we had to go begging for some cladding for their double insulated house.  I sent my friend Kirstin, whose husband Bruce works for a roofing company, a begging text.  Now this is the one thing I find difficult, making ‘the ask’.  Asking people for anything makes me squirm, and so after typing the specifics of what we needed in the text, I ended it with “SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL FARMER”.  It worked!  We have corrugated cladding on our chicken coop at no cost.  This will now be my default line whenever I need anything.  Surely this technique of playing on people’s emotions is classed as psychological warfare?

The next big project is well underway.  Obviously we have prioritized, sort of.  There are many things we need to do.  We need to build an animal shelter, the barn needs remedial work, there are shelves to be built and land to be tilled.  However, all these tasks have come second to Ian building what is essentially a grown-up swing set.  I showed Ian this picture from the Internet:

Now we have one, almost.  But this is Ian Finley; ours has to be bigger and better.  Ours is hexagonal and will have hammocks as well as swinging benches.  The fire pit will not be a commercial, purchased one but rather hand made from reclaimed rock.  It is filled with reclaimed gravel, built with reclaimed timbers and crafted with love and alcohol.  We will have more seating than friends.

Talking of friends, this week has been a time for valuing existing friends (again) and making new ones.  I went to meet the neighbours behind us.  We knew they had some sort of growing operation and spotted a sign saying that they were open to the public on Sundays, so in I went.  How absolutely wonderful their enterprise, Glorious Organics, is!  Not only was I welcomed enthusiastically by “oh, you’re the people with THE chicken coop” but I was introduced to their cooperative and given unusual fruits, veggies and flowers to sample.  I left with an Ikea bag full of organic yumminess for $20 and an inflated ego knowing that our chicken coop was a thing of legend.

This weekend was a holiday weekend and we received offers of help from our friends.  I found it amazing that people wanted to give up free time to come and help us.  On Sunday afternoon, three couples plus kids arrived at Farmagddon to paint and construct.  It felt sooooooo gooooooooooooood.  Not only was this saving us time and effort but people were willingly investing their time in this little project of ours.  My heart swelled to see our friends sweating in the hot sun and covered in paint, cuts, bruises and mosquito bites.  Thank you to Martin, Erica, Shenade, Kyle, Travis and Kyla.  In exchange for services rendered we lit Ian’s homemade Texas BBQ (an oil drum cut in half, put on a stand and filled with charcoal) and served up homemade Alpaca burgers (the Alpaca farm is just a couple of blocks away) with bread baked in the Otter Co-op and organic salad and edible flowers from the field right behind us.

I also want to talk about growing, the thing we came here to do believe it or not.  Occasionally, but not very often, I get to talk to Ian, you know, when I’m holding something he’s nailing together or we’re washing paint brushes together.  The topic of conversation recently has been what and where to grow.  We know we want an orchard at the back right section of the land.  This will be netted at the top to protect from birds and other fruit stealing critters.  The bee hives will be here too for effective pollination.  I’m going to plant wild flower seeds in the orchard to make it beautiful.  The Royal Hens, Elizabeth, Victoria, Anne, Eugene, Beatrice and Georgia, of Chickingham Palace will be able to roam in the orchard during the day to forage and provide natural fertilizers.  The location is also near to the barn which will someday double as a brew house and kitchen….think craft cider and jams.

The veggies are presenting more of a challenge to our marital harmony, where to put them and what to plant changes daily.  Our continued discussions are largely irrelevant really.  We need to do some tests on the soil here to assess for nutrients and PH levels.  As far as we know the land has never been used for growing but it is quite sandy in places and very stony everywhere.  There is also noticeable differences in the soil in various places.  We can argue about the virtues of the back left section vs. the front paddock all we like but it is these tests that will determine the outcome.  In the meantime, I’m putting a few broad beans in a pot outside the back door as a gesture towards self-sufficiency.  Maybe when we have a swing set to swing on and our creativity is warmed by a hand crafted fire pit we’ll be able to make better decisions????!!!

Epic fails, minor successes and a new mindset.

We're in!  We're exhausted, bruised, bloodied, scraped, bitten and aching, but we're in.

The move went well thanks to the help of friends.  We were well organized but lacked the sheer muscle to load the heavy stuff.  I'm afraid I let the team down here.  I'll willingly lift, stack and carry but, as Ian laments, I'm "as weak as water".  Thankfully we had some local muscle to call on.  A massive thank you to Travis, a parent from Jessica's school who amazingly booked time off work to help us.  We also took advantage of Juliet, our long suffering friend and Realtor, who had the good sense to marry a Rugby player and spawn Rugby playing offspring; thanks Lee and Liam.  No lack of strength in that household!  We're also eternally grateful to Jenessa, Kyla and Shenade for looking after our kids and feeding us.

Within a week of living on Farmageddon, my life & priorities have began to change.  I haven't worn a scrap of make-up, I've barely left the farm, Ian had to ask me politely to shave my legs yesterday and my daily hair wash habit has reduced.  At the moment all of this is due to time, we've been working all hours to get things done and it's sometimes easier to stay dirty.  I am hoping that I am not really turning into a Eco hippy recluse and that my hygiene will improve with time, but who knows?  I've been too exhausted to care about such trivial matters.  I've also been drinking cider out of an jam jar...how very hillbilly of me.  I hope this is not gateway behaviour; cider today, moonshine tomorrow.

Ian has been in his element building the chicken coop (Chickingham Palace) and setting out plans for the tree house.  His smile ratio has dramatically increased.  Ian is a Superintendent for a Construction company but a Joiner by trade.  Constructing something out of nothing is his art and it's been fascinating to observe.  The chicken coop is almost the same size as our house and will be there long after we have gone.  I have assumed the role of a kind of Magician's Assistant during this process; painting, moving, lifting, etc. and listening to everyone accredit the Magician for his awesomeness, it's ok though, I'll let him have that one. ;-)

Lauren is having more fun than she cares to admit.  What I mean by that is she doesn't really know how to enjoy it and maintain the necessary street credibility.  She has had a crash course (no pun intended) in tractor driving and is responsible for mowing, a job which she loves.  However, she still has 'city' friends and these thing don't fit with the accepted image.  I think this will change though as she becomes more comfortable with the lifestyle and when she starts school.  She'll make friends from a more rural community where tractors are the norm.  It's tough to be 13.

Jessica is.....I can't think of a word that really encapsulates her excitement and joy.  This place is a 5 year old child's dream.  The first time we were here, she behaved like a zoo animal that had just been released from captivity.  When we saw a snake next to the house, I said we had to move house immediately whilst she looked on in awe and declared her love for for this beautiful creature.  When she's not running through the long grass or chasing dragonflies, she's hanging out in the chicken coop and kissing the chicks heads.

Talking of the chickens, I'm chalking this one up as a success.  They have been here 5 days and are still alive!  I collected them, aged 8 1/2 weeks, from the hatchery last week.  They are truly lovely Caramel Queen hens.  The had a temporary home in our barn during the day and in the house at night but have officially moved into their permanent home now.  I'm really enjoying them and watching their little personalities emerge.  They've been given very regal names, Elizabeth, Victoria and Anne (the rowdy one).  Very fitting for residents of Chickingham Palace. Today I have called the hatchery to ask for three more.

 

Chickingham Palace itself is another success for our reduce, reuse, recycle ethos.  Ian purchased $16,000 worth of timber that had been sitting unused for years in a construction yard for just $500.  The doors and windows were purchased from a reclamation yard for $100. The mesh is actually a hard wearing material normally nailed down to bridges to stops you slipping, this was acquired from a construction site too.  We only used a fraction of the timber, the rest will go towards the tree house and, in time, a new house for us.

And so to our failings.  We've budgeted every dollar and cent for this move.  We really made sacrifices in the run up to the move, including a short time where we dangled  precariously off our own fiscal cliff.  We knew this would happen, there was a period of one-off payments to be made, like tractor deposits, and therefore a void between money in and money out.  Anyway, the plan was to spend no money on non-essentials for this house.  We bowled into this with our 'make-do' attitude only to fall at the first hurdle.  The metaphoric hurdle is the kitchen.  By then end of the first day I had announced my inability to cope.  I hadn't even unpacked one box and the cupboards were full.  One kitchen wall was occupied by a huge top-loading washing machine and tumble dryer.  I expected my protests to be met with cries of "suck it up",  but it seemed everyone was struggling with the teeny-weeny kitchen.  The next day Ian went and bought kitchen cupboards and relocated the washer and dryer into the back room.  The cupboards have made such a difference, but cost us $1100 (including plumbing supplies for the washing machine, etc).  We have made a cut back though as a gesture to 'making do', we didn't buy doors.  There is just the skeleton of the cupboards, but actually I like it.  I can see everything.  I don't think we're going to bother with the doors ever.

Just one more failing to mention, it took us 4 days to find this switch for this delightful light fixture:

Other than that, we're doing ok and I'm proud of us.  We're dealing with four of us sharing one tiny bathroom.  We're making do with the lack of storage space (at least for the moment when the weather is dry and boxes can sit outside).  We're excelling at tractor driving and chicken care!  We're seeing snakes and bugs that I've never seen before and we're taking it in our stride.  We're learning to think about the ground water and well management.  I guess we're starting to live with the land.  And the icing on the cake is that everyday I have to remind myself that I'm not on holiday, I get to live here, in this beautiful, tranquil, serene place.  I get to continue to live in harmony with the land, I get to watch it evolve as we make subtle changes in order to become self sufficient.  We get to look after the land as it looks after us.

We're jammin'

The big move is next Wednesday!!!!!!!  I hope you can gauge my anxiety by the excessive use of exclamation marks.  Actually, we're in pretty good shape as moving day approaches.  Everything except for beds and kitchen essentials is packed in a mountain of boxes.  It makes me feel both sad and liberated that our worldly possessions now fit into our garage.  It's strange to think that next time I write a blog post (hopefully a week on Friday), I will be a Farmer with my very own tractor and chickens.  It's amazing how quickly a transformation can happen.

Talking of transformation, I've just signed up for another workshop.  In keeping with my new lifestyle, I've registered for a Food Preservation Workshop.  That's right, cannin' and jammin'.  I'm thinking of taking my 13 year old daughter, Lauren, but I'm too afraid of her teenage mood swings to tell her yet.  I might post it on her Facebook page or Tweet her or something.  When I called to sign up this morning, I was told I need to bring "an apron, cutting board and a paring knife".  This evoked another "Oh f#*k" moment.  I don't own an apron, I do have a cutting board but it's marble and weighs about 1000 lbs and I had to Google paring knife.  Should go really well.

It's interesting though, when I talk about my newly acquired skills from various obscure workshops, it's met with mixed reaction.  My friends, the ones who know me really well, display reactions on a sliding scale...from smirk to uncontrollable outburst of hilarity. But others are excited, this lifestyle change doesn't appear to be as ludicrous as I feel when I talk about it.  There is a real change of attitudes out there.  The people who attend the same obscure workshops as me aren't what I thought (with the exception of well maintenance seminar where we were the youngest by 3 decades).  There's a real movement of late Generation Xer's and Y's out there recognizing the need for change.  The general feeling is that we need to preserve old fashioned skills and be equipped to provide for ourselves.  Of course, this group is peppered with some crazy.  I have listened to theories about the Zombie Apocalypse!  Oh well, whatever the future holds for humanity, I'll be ready with my excess jars of jam and canned tomatoes.  See you at my place!

The learning curve

As with any major life event, this move is an emotional one.  I've realised that my last post was a little anxiety-ridden.  Ian says I was unfairly hard on us and that I need to celebrate this brave new venture and give ourselves credit for what we've achieved so far.  He's right of course.  On reflection I see that we are not quite as unprepared for this challenge as it might have sounded.  Having said that, I'm usually a 'glass is half full' kinda girl but it's important that we are realistic, don't you think?  And this week has been a real example of how confidence can be boosted and knocked in an instant.

With regard to our specific learning curve (maybe a more accurate description is steep, rocky mountain pass with 200 ft. sheer drops on either side rather than a curve).  We never embark on anything without giving it careful consideration and in preparation for Farmageddon we have read, researched, listened, questioned, networked, become very familiar with YouTube, and attended workshops.  Some of the highlights have included a well maintenance seminar, an evening of 'looking after your septic system', permaculture lessons and, perhaps the most mind numbing, a chicken nutrition workshop.

We also have an existing skill base and strengths that will be useful.  Firstly, we are a great team.  Ian and I work well together and can get things done.  Ian is a great leader and organiser.  He is also knowledgeable in growing and has produced vegetables on a small plot for many years.  I believe I am the right type of person to manage animals.  I used to work with horses, often on farms, until I was 21.  I always care for and respect animals and make their welfare my primary concern.  If there is a hard decision to be made, for example, an animal to be sold or put to sleep, I can turn off my emotions and make that choice objectively.  So I felt entitled to begin my day yesterday quite well informed and confident.

The day began with cleaning Jessica's guinea pigs out.  Instead of the usual routine I decided to embrace our 'reduce, reuse, recycle' ethos and bring the old paddling pool out of retirement as an enclosure for them while I cleaned the cage.  I put it in the back yard and lovingly placed some toys and hay in there and was careful to ensure their safety.  All appeared fine as I wondered off to get clean bedding.  As I was on my way back to the yard I noticed a huge shadow zip over me and the realization hit.  This is Canada and my Britishness had made me complacent.  I forgot about threats from above!  There was a huge eagle circling above my yard surely believing this to be the eagle equivalent of Subway.  In my rush to save the Guinea Pigs I left the door open releasing our dog (a terrier cross, bred for catching rodents) into the yard.  Chaos ensued.  I had to dive for the dog and wrestle poor Baxter to the ground, knocking the plastic paddling pool into a spin.  Once the paddling pool regained stability, I became suddenly aware that all of us (me, the 2 G-pigs and Baxter the dog) were sprawled on the floor, silent and shaking.  On the bright side, at least that lesson has passed in my small backyard.  As caring as I claim to be, I would have never sprinted across 5 acres to save the damn rodents! Note to self: think predator.

Second lesson of the day: chicken ordering.  Again, much research into breeds and careful consideration had been put into this decision and yesterday I confidently presented myself at the hatchery clutching my order form only to have Emily (chicken Mother extraordinaire) look at me and declare it wasn't really a good time to hatch these particular breeds.  And so there I was again.  In the desolate emotional wasteland of feeling like a novice.  I did come away having placed an order after Emily had guided me through other options in her best Kindergarten teacher voice.

The day wasn't over.  I mentioned my love of animals, but as with everything, there is a limit and I have very clearly defined boundaries.  My tolerance ends when creatures have less than 2 legs or more than 4 legs.  So when I found a slug on my hand last night while I was tending my beautiful veggie patch, I lost my cool.  The slug was sent orbiting and I ran to wash my hand omitting various "eeeewwwww' noises and some choice words.

I feel like there might be a lot more choice words on the horizon.

Groan!

The journey, the plan, the objective.

As I start this blog post I am sitting in my 5 bedroom house on my 3000 sq. ft. lot in the 'burbs surrounded by packed cardboard boxes and rolls of bubble wrap. You see, it appears we've gone slightly mad.  Here's how it all began:

First, a little bit of context to help you understand this journey.  We are British Ex-pats, we moved to B.C. in October 2009.  We have 2 daughters, Jessica aged 5 and Lauren, 13.  Life had been busy and emigrating had been hard on us but we had jobs, the kids were in school, we'd made friends, settled in and had no debt outside of our mortgage.  Life was generally good.

But then 2 years ago my husband Ian sailed closer to the threshold of divorce than he had ever done before.  For my 33rd birthday he gave me a book.  After faking delight in front of the kids about "The Back to Basics Handbook: A Guide to Buying and Working Land, Raising Livestock, Enjoying Your Harvest, Household Skills and Crafts, and More", I promptly confronted Ian at the first available opportunity.  I felt shocked and bemused that we had gone from growing a few veggies in the yard to homesteading without any warning.  I felt that this gift represented a void in how we envisaged our future. I was particularly perturbed by the chapter on how to raise, kill, skin your own rabbits and then make them into moccasins (I kid you not).  I saw a future of home grown veggies and he appeared to picture me wearing gingham and rabbit moccasins selling jam to the city folk.

I'm not sure how the idea evolved from that point, perhaps he won me over, maybe he wore me down.  Life has thrown us some challenges and I definitely believe I have had some attitudinal changes as a result.  We have 2 daughters and their superficial outlook on life sometimes causes us concern.  There are some societal motivators; we both feel uncomfortable with the mass consumerism, must-have attitudes of today.  We have serious concerns about food sovereignty and environmental impact.  But whatever the reasons, I sit here in my bare house 2 weeks away from our move....to a 1000 sq. ft. log cabin on 5 acres of land in South Langley.

I feel excited, I've willing walked away from a career in Social Work and Non-Profit and I'm ready for a new and very different challenge.  I'm anxious, the mortgage is huge, there's tractor loans, the land needs completely re-working and I have no idea what I'm doing.  But the plan, arrh the plan, is for Ian to continue to work while I will run the farm.  Even I'm shaking my head in disbelief as I type so I can imagine what reaction this idea evokes in you, the reader.  Other than that, there is no plan!  There have been plans....many, many ever changing plans from vine yards to shooting ranges to growing pot, but right now, we don't really have a clue.  There will be some sort of produce, there has to be an income from the land otherwise we could be homeless by next year!  The only certainty is a desired outcome for self-sufficiency.

There is one other thing, the objective.  We have made a commitment to be mortgage free by the time I'm 50, whilst maintaining a certain lifestyle.  That gives us 15 years and 5 months from when we move.  I plan to record the changes, challenges and successes - warts and all.  I don't want to give up my lifestyle totally and become some crazy eco-hippy recluse.  I am prepared to make sacrifices and change my attitude and approach for the greater good, but there's a limit, right?

And so, let's call it a learning curve, shall we?  Let's see what happens, approach this huge goal with no clear plan and just see how it goes.  I expect to have to work hard (physically and emotionally), laugh a little, cry a bit, drink a lot and try to adapt and survive.  Wish me luck!

I Have Moved!

I am no longer writing new content for Pampers and Pinot (obviously).  Never you fear!  You can now find me at my new blog, Love and Blasphemy.

Look at it.

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