I die. So it seems fitting that I've found myself living on a mini farm. We've got a lot of farm going on in our wee little city lot, with rabbits and chickens and ducks and a couple of dogs. Oh, and worms. We're plotting vegetables and flowers and herbs all around, and digging up here, there and everywhere. It's been pretty fun so far. How did we get here?
I am a country girl at heart. I grew up on the same bazillion acre farm from birth to when I skipped off to college. But. I also spent the last fifteen-ish years of my life living within a few miles of shops, bars, movie theatres and all the rest of the trappings of an urban or town life. I like both. Wide open spaces and cramped city coffeeshops both trip my trigger.
We chose Wilmington for its beaches and vibrant downtown, and settled into a cute little neighborhood. Until Chris decided we needed chickens, and I protested that chickens were not a rental house project. And then our landlord informed us she intended to sell our house. So, after a briefly entertaining the idea of buying our rental (it needed a LOT of work) we started looking around at places to buy. Within a few weeks, we found our house. It was all ready for us, with tons of work put into it by the previous owners. There was a chicken coop, big shed and workshop and an established garden. Luckily for us, city farming is a thing. It's trendy, and you know we're nothing if not on top of that shit (wink, wink). Wait, what, not everybody you know has chickens and kale growing out back? Clearly you're running with the wrong crowd.
|No kale? Man, we feel sorry for you.|
But it feels in a way like I've found that ever tenuous happy balance. Yes, I can walk to a fantastic library or a great pub. I can catch a music show or a comedy act or poke around in cute boutiques. But most free hours I find myself daydreaming about bulbs and seeds, dirt and weeds, with a shovel in my hand. And that feels really good.
|Rabbits of many colors|
|One of the girls...silver laced red Wyandotte, if you're curious.|