the littlest farmer

So part of the intention of writing this blog into the universe was to help manifest the merging of the new me, a full-time toddler mama, with my long-term identity as a biointensive grower. It has been so incredibly all-consuming to incubate, give birth, breastfeed, comfort, play, clean, and teach these past couple of years (not to mention kiss, cuddle, stare at cuteness, take pictures, stare at picture cuteness...) that I have had no time for sowing, digging, weeding, harvesting, or composting. At least, until a couple of months ago when I started my plot at the local community garden. Yay for that. A mix of cover crops is slowly making its way towards feeding my soil with newly fixed nitrogen...love that.

But what I really really want is to open my backdoor and step out into a mini-farm of our own. I want Sam to wake up in the morning and run outside in his barefeet and pj's and pick dew-covered strawberries for breakfast. This dream is so strong in me, more powerful than any dream has ever been. I must make this happen for our family.

So we've been househunting. I've seen 13 houses in the past three weeks, and many more before that. I always spend the most time looking at the yard, figuring out the exposure with my compass, tearing up the grass and laying out the beds in my mind, and getting that most important "feel" for the place. Still looking. This house will not be our dream farm yet, but it will be our little homestead and we will make a tiny farm out of it.