Co-Homesteading and Urban Farms

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I am a writer. Beyond being a gardener, mom, grandma, wife, teacher, or anything else, I am a writer.  This means that all of my business and my family’s business is generally open for all to read.  If I had to keep it to myself, I would fall into the depths of despair or be too giddy with unspoken news.  Sometimes I may give too much information.  Sometimes the information changes daily as I know it.  Sometimes the reader may feel that they are on a rollercoaster if they don’t read the posts in order.  But I don’t mind sharing my life with you.  It is an extraordinary, ordinary life that most people can identify with.  Readers can identify with our losses, heartaches, successes, passions, and emotions.  We have so many cheerleaders out there.  I have been touched by all the letters, messages, and calls to help.  My friends send me Craigslist ads for rentals, folks have offered for us to stay with them, people are buying our things to help us out.  Thank you.

Our income was wrapped up in this farm.  The goats are gone.  I watched the sheep leave.  The chickens left yesterday and I cried and cried.  Our income right now is from selling off everything.  We needed a miracle.  I don’t want to jinx it, but it seems we may have gotten just such a miracle.

Kindred friends buying a piece of property.  A place longing to be an expansive urban farm created through Permaculture.  We see a chicken coop and duck coop rising up near a greenhouse, raised beds filled with delicious foods.  Outlines of perennials and herbs, of fruit trees, and bushes.  Wildlife is abundant in this little town.  We were surprised to see a raccoon walking by and noted to make a stronger coop after we heard of bears.  It is interesting to me that over the years I have written about co-homesteading, sharing the load, creating an oasis that benefits a group and a community.  The urban farming posts are numerous on my blog.  It is almost like I manifested where I am right now and that this was just a lovely, scenic stop on the way.  A way to make us appreciate a much smaller space, a way to make us handle cold better, and help make us appreciate little comforts.

We are long past being able to find a place that allows our animals, finding the money for a deposit, first month’s rent, transfer the cable and internet, hire a moving van, and hope we can stay there for awhile.  We are stepping out of the status quo and the norm and entering a community ideal that is quite different but that I have envisioned for a long time.  It is not a new idea though.  A place where expenses are shared and knowledge is shared and each person brings an important skill set to create such oasis.  A place where no one has to do it on their own anymore.  Where the chores are shared and the gardens are shared and building sustenance for all is shared.  This place is surrounded by really eclectic and talented urban homesteaders and farmers, Permaculture experts, and vibrant people.  Well, from the outside they are called hippies.  Sign me up.

So, here we go.  We are standing on a cliff, armed with my favorite cast iron frying pans, some clothes, and our cats, and are ready to jump off.  Are you with me?

Treasure Hunting and Magical Gardens

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The sidewalks stretched out across the landscape, endless walkways about the city.  Bits of glass glinted in the light.  The air smelled of beer and urine with a hint of marijuana outside the warehouses near the tracks.  We dropped our car off for repairs and began to walk towards the bustling south Broadway.  The familiarity of Denver streets and sidewalks made us reminiscent and oddly comfortable as if we had just put on a pair of comfortable old socks once again discovered.  The birds were singing, the trains and Lightrails were in full swing.  Hobos left their things by the road in borrowed grocery carts near restored small Victorians in the historic Baker district.  The houses were bunched together in an effort to fit more friends in and the yards were the size of my quaint kitchen, partially shaded.  We noted gardens and stopped at a large lot that had been converted into a community garden.  Each plot holding the personality of its occupant.  Creative trellises of t-posts and wire, lingering fingers of pumpkin vines slithering into walkways and a small child of perhaps three carrying a grocery bag whilst carefully placing tomatoes into it.  Her treasure held close to her chest.  Her blonde hair glistened in the morning sun as her mother removed weeds from the garden.

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We walked on towards the roar of traffic and the busy coffee shop that we were to meet my friend at.  I hadn’t seen Partha in at least seven years.  We had shared classes together in college and had quite a bit to catching up to do.  After a lovely visit Doug and I went to eat a Czech restaurant we had walked past.  We figured if we were gallivanting around the city we may as well try a new cuisine.  We sat on the patio but could not hear a word each other was saying for the massive decibel of the street.  We forgot how very noisy a city can be.

We continued on to the funky shops and specialty stores perusing books in old storefronts with massive stacks upon stacks and dusty corners.  A treasure hunt of sorts and I came away with several Beatrix Potter books to read to Maryjane.  Prized oil cloth was found at a fabric store.  A housewarming gift for Andrew and Megan at another charming store filled with glistening treasure-like tchotchkes and delights for the senses.  Five hours and several miles of walking went quickly by.  We had enjoyed our trip to Denver but we were ready for the comfort and rest of the country, our loud road in front of the house not so loud in our minds anymore.

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On our way back to the car shop we crisscrossed through the neighborhood and found unexpected minute pieces of farm.  A heavy laden plum in one scant front yard, herbs growing in the greenway by the street.  Yellow squash intermingled with large tufts of ornamental grass.  Pumpkins in corners and across sidewalks.  Wooden framed raised beds in the middle of a gravel parking lot near a warehouse.  Large leaves of chard and cabbage growing beautifully along with trellised green beans.  In front of a decrepit office building, quite near the tracks, surrounded by cement and street, in select sections tall stalks of corn waved proudly as if they were new forms of ornaments and at their base the beautiful pumpkins crowded out the unsightly ground and thrived, right there in the dusty, smelly city of cement.  Bits of farm making their way back to the urban field.  It was pleasing and exciting indeed to see the local gardening and food movement in unlikely places.  Seeds long to be planted.

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