The hopeless homesteader

It’s the start of a brand new year and for me, the restart of a whole new lifestyle. After spending  over two decades in the company of the US Postal Service I decided a year ago that it was time for something new…but what? At 47 years of age with no specialized skills apart from being able to pick a banjo a little, my options were limited. My fiancé who is a nurse happens to own 5 beautiful acres in southern Oregon and one day I looked out over the rolling, tree covered landscape and thought, “Yep, I can do something with this land!”


And so the adventure had begun. Visions of cows and chickens and goats and ponds and lots and lots of beautiful vegetables, and thoughts such as “Oh, I can plant garlic over there and start a small gourmet garlic business” raced through my excited mind. One year later, I still can’t get up before 7 in the morning and have realized at least this much: What in the heck have I gotten myself into? Oh, I have managed to get a few things accomplished that I’m mighty proud of, being hopeless and all. A chicken coop in a large enclosure that I built myself, a hoop house, several raised beds for veggies, a pond in progress, over 100 lavender plants in the ground. But everything seems out of focus–as if I don’t have a cohesive plan. With the start of a new year however, I’ve resolved to bring to fruition a semi-functioning homestead, or fraction thereof. I might have to get up before 7 though…what the heck have I gotten myself into?