Do you remember the childhood story about the town mouse and the country mouse? The idea is that each belongs where he belongs, and trying to fit in somewhere else is just a plain bad idea. I’ve lived in the city for my whole adult life, and half my childhood. And while I’ve done a pretty good job of blending in, the truth is that I’m more a country mouse than a town mouse. This summer we made a lifelong dream come true with the purchase of our very own farm. It’s a beaut..have a look.
The house is a century home, built like they used to make them when they meant it. The previous owner did marvellous things to the house. He fixed it all up to make it a comfortable family home, but was kind enough to leave all of the good farmy stuff. I’ll give you the tour of the inside another day.
The big barn is original to the property, we think. It’s basically full of poo at the moment, but it’s got some real possibilities! The smaller outbuilding (we call it the crappy shed) also happens to be filled with poo (this is a recurring theme at the farm), but one day it’s going to be a gardening shed for me. Later, in my dreamland, it’s going to be reborn as a fabulous bunkie.
The merits of the front yard are in the eye of the beholder. I LOVE the front yard. It’s got that romantic driveway and so much space to run around. It is filled with wildflowers (weeds) in the summer. My husband, the farm workhorse, has a less straightforward relationship with the front yard as he is the one that cuts the grass. We’ll save the discussion of the fall leaves for another day….
Behind the house is many acres of farm land. And, at the back, a secret (well only in my imagination) forest.
This blog is really a journal for me. It’s the story of what I believe will be a life-long love affair with this place. It’s quiet, beautiful, productive and the possibilities are endless.