Two Sides of the Fence

I apologize for not writing more recently. There is going to be a bluntness to this post you won't often get from me. I'm usually much more cerebral and intellectual in my posting, but reader, this time, I think the truth shows more about what this blog is about, what my life is about, and how my goals are colored though that lens. So bear with me as I bare my soul here a bit and please don't think differently of me if you enjoy my blog. It's still about homesteading and it will always be, but maybe with a different angle than you are used to.
The truth is I have bipolar disorder and have been battling an awful depression, something straight out of a greytoned commercial where all you do is look sad and sleep. Until today I think I could honestly say I could barely smile and felt I had little or nothing to look forward to in life at all. I'd cry at random if you looked at me sideways or sometimes even if you just said I did something wrong (just ask my poor boss). I was a hot mess, but I think that's finally lifting a bit. When I get in a funk like that it's hard to think let alone write intelligible sentences that might provoke thought or tug heartstrings. Hence my absence here. A friend of mine met me for dinner the other day and asked if I was quitting the blog because I hadn't written in so long. It was hard not to cry just at that. This blog is my life and writing is what I am. Anyone who has ever battled depression knows it is more than just being sad: it is all-encompassing. You feel like you are drowning and it is hard to remember to wake up and brush your teeth let alone be grateful for what you have and how well everything is going in your life.
It needs to be said that my life has been almost without drama and as normal as can be through my whole depressive episode, although we did lose a car and have to suddenly replace it. No one has gotten sick or died, we are all still employed (again, thank you to my very understanding new supervisor), my house is fine, all is well... just I wasn't and I couldn't help it.Really I couldn't, and for no good reason at all. Thanks you to my fabulous friends and family who have been helping me as I adjust to a new life with meds and learning to combat my stress when it starts before it gets too terribly bad and learning to adjust to sometimes rapid ups and downs my mind throws at me.

The upswing started Thanksgiving Day, when I awoke to my dog going crazy in the back yard after several hours of too much depressive sleep. I looked out the back window to find my neighbor's cow, Uncle Wiggly, staring back at me from next to the chicken coop, knee deep in the mud that is our yard when it's as rainy as it's been. He'd decided to take a Thanksgiving morning romp by himself outside his pasture and had busted out and wandered over to our yard.
Ordinarily I'd just walk over and have the neighbors help with the cow but they are currently in Russia for a month adopting some children so no one was home and I had no one to call about it. We stood there staring at each other for a few minutes and he tried to eat my daughter's pants until we began to walk back toward his pasture. Thankfully, he followed us and waited patiently until I figured out how to open the gate he had busted through wide enough for him to get back in and stayed there until we discovered how to latch it back up securely.
So that's how this wanna-be farmer spent her Thanksgiving, sweet talking cattle and taking Prozac. Some things around here might not look normal and I might be fighting  this uphill battle in my mind everyday until things get a little leveled out, my posts may be sporadic and make little sense sometimes, but deep down at the bottom of it all there's a lot of heart, a big part of me that just wants to provide as much for my family from these 2.5 acres that I can, that just wants to be happy with the simple things and leave the drama for some other folks. If it takes meditation and pharmaceuticals to make it happen, so be it. I'll be chasing after my dream with this bottle of pills by my side to keep me going.
My friends can't be available 24/7, so here's to hoping you don't think less of this homesteader for needing a little help to get by from some other source and that you'll keep listening to my ramblings whether I am a little down on my luck or grinning like a cow out of his pasture on Thanksgiving morning.

Saying Goodbye

The blog here has been quiet lately, mostly due to my beginning a new job and not having the time or energy to keep up with it as well as my freelance gigs. Things have been churning here at the Semi-Farm, and we've been busy nearly every day and relishing our downtime as soon as we are afforded it.
It all started with a casual hunt for a new career during my leave in betweeen times of weeding the garden. I was fortunate enough in this rough economy to impress someone with my resume and personality and was offered a job with a local bank where I'd work hours similar to my husband and, for the first time in my adult life, no evenings or weekends. The pay is much less than I made at my last job, but the trade-offs in scheduling and vacation benefits are well worth the little belt tightening we will have to endure. I just couldn't say no, so I turned in my notice and have been in training ever since, learning a whole new system and various policies and government regulations I never before thought I'd ever need to know. It's been invigorating, exhausting and stressful but fun.
In between commuting to Sandusky and Norwalk, each over an hour from home, for a month, we've managed to finish painting the chicken coop and now it only needs a shelf with some nest boxes, a perch and a chicken door and we are ready to go. We have decided to wait until spring to bring our girls home, as we can take our time with fencing and building a covered area for them to run in for the winter months. So our poultry adventures are stalled for the moment as the days grow shorter, cooler and, at the moment, more moist than we'd really like.
Yesterday we said our final farewell to our first garden which, for weeks now, we'd slowly been retiring to the compost bin as the last of our peppers and eggplants were harvested. I've learned a lot from that patch of land this year, including having  patience for the earth and myself and the ability to see mistakes as opportunities rather than failures. The earth is a grand teacher is we're observant enough to hear her over the hustle and bustle of our crowded and chaotic lives. When I feel like imploring, it's most often because I haven't made the time to spend outside, breathing in clean air and with the grass beneath my feet. Especially inside the shady woods, all my problems seem to drift away on the wind, hastened along by the soft rustling of leaves, whether overhead or underfoot. I'm reminded by the grace of the seasons that some times my greatest efforts are too much pushing and too forceful and if I step back and let go, magic will certainly follow. This is evidenced in last year's spontaneous tomatoes grown from playtime creativity and this year by the fully formed butternut squash that emerged from the brush that grew over last year's compost. When I try to hard and rush things, my impatience stunts my eventual progress. This is a lesson my over-caffienated life needs repeated, often and loudly.
Otherwise, life carries on here at a slower pace now that training is over and the garden laid to rest. I am knitting my first sock very slowly and deliberately and am enjoying the calm before the winter sets in, meeting new faces and adjusting to an autumn of ease and reflection.
As winter's cold chill threatens a forced rest indoors in a few short weeks, I'll be outside enjoying the leaves and the crisp fall air and remembering that,like careers and seasons, soon everything eventually changes.

A Song for Your Sunday

video from here

Coop De Grace

Perfectly Flawed

The days are getting shorter and cooler. The garden is dwindling but still blessing us with a few tomatoes and beans. Thoughts of future weekends spent digging potatoes are dancing through my head like sugarplums and I am happy, content here on my little bit of land where we farm the half-assed way only we can around our health issues and full time jobs. I am at peace with our perfect imperfections and wouldn't have this any other way.

After a little paint and a few finishing touches like chicken doors it will be finished. My chicken coop, one year in the making, will finally be done.

All I can say is that it has been a blessing to spend this much time united for a common goal with my parents and even though there was a lot of swearing involved and he swears it isn't up to par, I have loved spending this time with my dad.

Pictures will be coming soon when I bundle up to go back outside. It's not exactly level or perfect but I love it even more for all it's flaws.

Hope you and your family are enjoying this preview of fall together as much as I'm enjoying mine.

Changing Seasons, Changing Roles

Here at the SemiFarm, autumn is changing leaves already and changing lives. Only a week into September, we are already gearing up toward colder weather, shorter days and the end of the growing season. This next weekend I plan to harvest the rest of the chard and put in some broccoli and start some lettuce in a few pots now that it won't bolt. It's time to rotate the guard, so to speak, and get some cooler weather crops in yet if we can.

Our garden this year isn't the only thing that is changing. In less than a week I'll be starting a new job, my daughter will have a new sitter (one of the neighbor kids), and my whole life will have to settle into a new, hopefully easier routine without the swing shifts of retail. I'll be working a normal 9-5 (really 8-4ish) for the first time in my adult life. Makes me a little nervous, really, but I think it will be great for this writer and aspiring farmer to find some routine amongst the chaos. I'm sure it is there, somewhere, just waiting for me, the ease of a regular job with people and new responsibilities. Like my watermelons are hiding among the weeds, good things are just lurking where I can't see them clearly yet is all, but very soon we will see the sun again and all the craziness will ebb as we adjust to our new routines.
We've all been busy growing and planning to get in our new roles and finish up old projects like the coop, which is nearly done. This weekend if the weather holds I plan to paint the door and build some nest boxes for the inside unless my dad plans on finishing the exterior. Then maybe we can get some fencingng in. Hubs brought home a rabbit hutch for free from  a co-worker that needs a little love too and then we will have rabbits and chickens here on the SemiFarm.
Stay tuned for more updates as we establish our little flock this fall.

I'll Get Back to You Someday Soon You Will See

Thanks for this Fleet Foxes...thanks. That is all.

Helplessness Blues
I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see
And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be
A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me

But I don't, I don't know what that will be
I'll get back to you someday soon you will see

What's my name, what's my station, oh, just tell me what I should do
I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you
Or bow down and be grateful and say "sure, take all that you see"
To the men who move only in dimly-lit halls and determine my future for me

And I don't, I don't know who to believe
I'll get back to you someday soon you will see

If I know only one thing, it's that everything that I see
Of the world outside is so inconceivable often I barely can speak
Yeah I'm tongue-tied and dizzy and I can't keep it to myself
What good is it to sing helplessness blues, why should I wait for anyone else?

And I know, I know you will keep me on the shelf
I'll come back to you someday soon myself

If I had an orchard, I'd work till I'm raw
If I had an orchard, I'd work till I'm sore
And you would wait tables and soon run the store

Gold hair in the sunlight, my light in the dawn
If I had an orchard, I'd work till I'm sore
If I had an orchard, I'd work till I'm sore
Someday I'll be like the man on the screen