Farm living is the life for me

Ok so it’s not a REAL farm. I believe the term du jour refers to our two acres as a “hobby farm”.

We have 7 hens that provide us with the most tasty and beautifully colored eggs. And a puffed up little banti cochin of a rooster named Birchy.



Birchy & the girls.



Our family of goats were just increased by two last Sunday when Patches gave birth to twins. So that brings the four legged population up to five.



Captain Awesome & Harry Potter



And what’s a farm without a garden of which I started today.
I don’t think that the title “hobby farm” hits home here at our house. Over the past three years since we left downtown for the woods and hills, what Ben and I have tried to reacquaint ourselves with seems less like an extravagant hobby but a slow deliberate return to a more conscious way of living.
There that was very pious and puffed up sounding wasn’t it. But I don’t deny the fact that I truly long for the knowledge of my grandparents. How they knew how to make the land work with them. My parents held the knowledge too but they seemed like most of the baby boomer generation and went in search what they felt was something better.
And I don’t blame them. I would not be where I am today if they hadn’t. But I do feel like some of that knowledge was lost for a while to my generation. My goal is to try to get it back.



Pickles



Yes farm is a label that makes it sound a lot more together than what we have here and I some times feel the term “self sufficient” has been beat into the ground. But farm works just fine for us. Gives us something to live up to.



Kids & kids with Patches & Rip the parentals.



But maybe in truth we are just a glorified petting zoo.
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