We were evicted from our farm. Four months later, and writing it here still feels like ripping the bandaid off a raw wound. I had such high hopes for it. I had, or thought I had, so many great ideas.
I could share the play by play. The Rise & Fall of Denise's Great or Not So Great Ideas.That was my intention when I say down at the keys. But ya know, now that I'm here I think I'd rather focus on what's next.
Here. Let's start with where we are. We are in a charming, little, town in Maine. Specifically, in the 14+ room farmhouse, that my grandmother and her partner gutted and rehabbed until every inch reflected their tastes and every nook served their precise needs. It is a gorgeous house. It is a huge house. It is just almost exactly, sort of close to, but nothing at all like, anything I would ever look for in a house. It is more than adequate for our family. There is ample room for my children, for my adult son who was my grandmother's care taker in her final days, and all of our interests. There is a handyman's dream of a workshop, furnished with every wood-working tool you could shave a stick with. My partner will be able to use that space as not only its intend purpose but also as a studio for his leather work and other artistic endeavors. There's a hay loft that in time will be converted to an in-law apartment, should my adult children decide they want to make Maine their long term residence or for visits from friends. There are three living rooms, yes three. One will become the school room for our home-schooling, one may become my sewing and reading nook and one will remain a living room in the traditional sense. There's an art studio. There's a bench seat and a lounge in the upstairs bath. It is a dream home. My grandmother's dream, not mine.
As gorgeous as the house is, as much room as it has, right now it is just not conducive to any of the things I thought I would be spending the next few years doing. It sits on an acre of land, shaped like a piece of pie, wedged between two streets, on a steep hill, surrounded by giant pine trees in the suburbs. Not exactly prime real estate for raising geese, turkey or our horse. It is not garden-friendly. It offers little out-of-doors privacy.
But I have some ideas. My mantra for the moment is: grow where you're planted. The yard would lend itself well to container gardening. There was once an intensely planted albeit small herb garden, I can revamp it. The time I am not spending tending livestock can now be applied to learning more about wild foraging. An interest I have had for a long time. I've already learned to identify a half a dozen new-to-me plants. I imagine long winters of heavy snow will be a great time to write long posts here, and to undertake cool projects with the Gelfs.
My To Do List didn't include any of this, but I'm confident that we can make it work.
I could share the play by play. The Rise & Fall of Denise's Great or Not So Great Ideas.That was my intention when I say down at the keys. But ya know, now that I'm here I think I'd rather focus on what's next.
Here. Let's start with where we are. We are in a charming, little, town in Maine. Specifically, in the 14+ room farmhouse, that my grandmother and her partner gutted and rehabbed until every inch reflected their tastes and every nook served their precise needs. It is a gorgeous house. It is a huge house. It is just almost exactly, sort of close to, but nothing at all like, anything I would ever look for in a house. It is more than adequate for our family. There is ample room for my children, for my adult son who was my grandmother's care taker in her final days, and all of our interests. There is a handyman's dream of a workshop, furnished with every wood-working tool you could shave a stick with. My partner will be able to use that space as not only its intend purpose but also as a studio for his leather work and other artistic endeavors. There's a hay loft that in time will be converted to an in-law apartment, should my adult children decide they want to make Maine their long term residence or for visits from friends. There are three living rooms, yes three. One will become the school room for our home-schooling, one may become my sewing and reading nook and one will remain a living room in the traditional sense. There's an art studio. There's a bench seat and a lounge in the upstairs bath. It is a dream home. My grandmother's dream, not mine.
As gorgeous as the house is, as much room as it has, right now it is just not conducive to any of the things I thought I would be spending the next few years doing. It sits on an acre of land, shaped like a piece of pie, wedged between two streets, on a steep hill, surrounded by giant pine trees in the suburbs. Not exactly prime real estate for raising geese, turkey or our horse. It is not garden-friendly. It offers little out-of-doors privacy.
But I have some ideas. My mantra for the moment is: grow where you're planted. The yard would lend itself well to container gardening. There was once an intensely planted albeit small herb garden, I can revamp it. The time I am not spending tending livestock can now be applied to learning more about wild foraging. An interest I have had for a long time. I've already learned to identify a half a dozen new-to-me plants. I imagine long winters of heavy snow will be a great time to write long posts here, and to undertake cool projects with the Gelfs.
My To Do List didn't include any of this, but I'm confident that we can make it work.
