Limbo. A basement studio apartment graciously rented to us by our friend. A shop trying to pick up steam. A man working so hard. What do we do now?
We have always had plans. Dreams. Goals. I need a homestead. I don’t mind if it’s in town or not. A goat, some chickens, a gardened front yard. Clothes flicking in the wind on a clothes line. The windows steamy from canning tomatoes. Doug’s goal is financial security. Once and for all. When we spoke our wedding vows, for richer for poorer, we thought we’d get both! Done with the poorer, he says. His dream, his goal, his manifesting is security and to pay a light bill without wondering how to pay for groceries. Mine is to do the same but in a little homestead. With lace curtains in the windows, cats by the fire, fresh rolls baking in the oven. Home sweet home.
Homestead, here we come.