“Oh by the way, I was wrong.”
“About the rent, I was wrong. Our place is for rent for….”
The ground moves a little beneath my feet while that childish giddiness and unreasonable excitement wells up in my gut. It is five hundred dollars less than he had previously quoted. The perfect homestead was now in my grasp. My friend will rent me the perfect homestead.
We drive over there (fifteen minutes from our house, ten miles from our shop, and in Elbert county) and pull into the large gate and up a little hill past the garage and to the house. The view of Pikes Peak and the mountain range stretches out before us like a long lost oasis. Its beauty is breathtaking, as is the land. The topography of the place is different in each area. Forty acres of play land. Twenty of rocks, thick forests filled with birds, and hiking, twenty of farmland and pasture. A nine-thousand square foot barn begs for Farm to Table dinners and animals, a goat shed, an old riding arena slash huge garden (think of all that old composted horse manure!).
The house itself is not the prettiest thing we ever saw. A circa 1980’s tri-level….enough said? The kitchen cabinets are dark wood, depressing and…..dark, the bathroom fixtures are bluebird blue. Blue. Blue toilet, sink, bathtub that won’t fit me. The blue kind of intrigues me. Four bedrooms. Two and a half baths. A view of Pikes Peak and the mountains from every large window. And here is the beauty; a separate area, the lowest level has a door keeping the cats out of it, and contains a bedroom big enough for a small family, a toilet, a living area, and a separate entrance. A place for Bret and Emily and Maryjane sans allergies. I am certain I can make it look like a sprawling adobe. It just needs several ristras, rugs, and paintings. My own touch of New Mexico. Heck, I am going to Santa Fe in two weeks for my birthday. By the time I am done, this house will think it is in New Mexico!
I start to worry. Oh, worry is a farmgirl’s nemesis. What if the electric bill is too high? (only electric heat) What if the kids don’t come out there? What if we get snowed in the dirt roads? What if I hate the old appliances? What if Bumble falls down the hill and hurts himself?…..Yeah, and that’s when it starts to get ridiculous with the what if’s.
Perhaps facing my utmost dream of being self sufficient, a farmer, and having animals is daunting. Maybe it is easy to sit here in town and sigh and wish I had a goat and a larger garden patch and a well. Now, folks, I’m gonna have to work! I have a farm to create, and animals to care for, and a farmgirl oath to carry. This is the big time!
I want this blog to become a book. My stories and experiences transferred into paper pages to entertain and make life easier for new homesteaders. To transport city folk to the country if even for a chapter. This is the next chapter, a real farm. I still need Doug to give the final yes. It’s a pain moving.
I picture a long table with red tablecloths, glasses of wine clinking, fresh food being shuttled in, friends around the table in the barn. Chickens pecking for crumbs dropped. The day is sweet with pine. The old cow that comes with the property that likes to be scritched gets visited as guests mull around the grounds. The stars are so bright you can reach out and grab one, just like this dream possibly coming true.
Emily points over by the barn, “And that’s where we can put Maryjane’s miniature pony.” This is going to be fun!