Ten Days in Seven

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Perhaps it stems from my active imagination.  Just last night I dreamt up a new business idea that spreads the love of farming to young children and would be very popular.  What if we had Farmgirl birthday parties?  I could bring a baby animal and farmgirl treats and as the farmgirl myself (little kids love my flowy dresses and aprons), I could have a little side job.  Add that to my list!

Or perhaps it was out of necessity as entrepreneurs before Doug went back to work that we had to make every idea and hobby a business of some sort because that is how we made it, a little here, a little there.

A homesteading school, a BIG farm (as Maryjane describes it) that can have camps and visitors and provide food for the community (and us), and…birthday parties…and, oh yea, my shop and my herbal school, and I should be able to fit in a cup of coffee and a shower on Tuesdays maybe.

I think I need a ten day week.  A ten day week would allow me to fulfill all my business ideas and have plenty of time to garden and read and watch my grandbaby.  I know I am not the only one out there with a shortage of time.  With too short of time we all really only have time to do what we really love.

With the empty canvas ahead of us, we are planning our farm, but what kind of farm?  We think our best farm was in Kiowa.  A large plot in a small town with a huge pumpkin patch on a main road, with chickens and goats in the back yard.  It was fun, it was easy.  What I am is a plant medicine healer.  My shop is the cornerstone of my existence, as is being a mother/grandmother/wife.  A homestead is our life, our breath, what we really, really want and naturally live as, but can just provide for us.  Outside of that I have room for one more thing.  Maybe finish more books or take longer walks.  Maybe I don’t need fifteen businesses.  Maybe I can just live within seven days.  And in the meantime, I will live for today….while secretly planning chicken breeds.

Citygirl School

 

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My long, layered skirts, aprons, and prairie style do not even invoke a second glance in Elizabeth.  The country knows me, as well as its occupants.  In the city, here in Parker, Lord, I am provoking full on gawks and stares!  I feel a bit like a fish out of water.

Yet, I sit near the large window looking out across rooftops and mountain ranges, a cup of coffee and a cat on the sill, and write.  I am also in my element here.  How odd how many versions of ourselves coexist.  Maybe not reinventing, but finding a way for all of the various selves to combine.

I am tired of my prairie dresses.  I am not on the prairie.  Nancy and I are no longer farmgirls.  There is no farm.  I sit in a coffee shop using the wifi and sipping tea.  The sun creeps from behind the building and splays across the pavement.  It will be a beautiful day.

I am not homesteading.  I am living the city life.  We booked our trip to see friends in San Diego for my birthday.  We have no charges to find a farm sitter for.  We walk here and there and listen to song birds and stop in for sushi.

Does anyone read this blog anymore?  The term Farmgirl School seems a bit deceiving.  Oh, there are plenty of years of articles to aid the newbie farmer here.  Indeed.  Yet, I seek myself among cars and shops.  Near community gardens and coffee shops.  Across windowsills and in more normal attire.  A clairvoyant healer walks into the city in flowing dresses and a desire for sheep and ends up in a jean jacket sipping tea in a crowded coffee shop.  Unidentifiable?

No, I am still noticeable and I have a great many adventures ahead of me.  A writer still must have an outlet even if the readers stop reading.  Or perhaps new ones will join.  Or perhaps many are still here.  Sit down and have a cup of tea with me.  It is almost spring.

 

 

The Country Spirit

This is the photo that came across my screen the other day!  Her mother caught her in a moment of history in the making.

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Maryjane has been in love with horses since birth.  If you have been following long you remember my friend, Nancy, who I had many farmgirl adventures with before she passed away.  Her daughter, Faleena, is like a niece to me.  And since very early in Miss Maryjane’s life she has seen Faleena with a horse.  And Faleena on a horse.  Standing on horses!

faleena

Maryjane, at the age of two, has aspirations of being rodeo queen already.  We may have moved to the city but we are a mere thirty minutes from our real home and the country doesn’t leave one’s spirit.  It is certainly embedded in my granddaughter (and in Faleena who had to moved to the city too) and we will work diligently to get that baby girl on a path to trick riding, sheep herding, or whatever else she wishes to do!