This summer was strange. And hot, and somehow fast, but ultimately – odd.
I had mentally prepared for my first summer without being in school. I anticipated a calm, easy summer with most days spent tending the garden.
Instead I spent June helping my parents get their house ready to sell, July helping them move, and August settling in to sharing my tiny farmhouse with my parents and searching for land.
We still don’t know if we will buy the farm. There are too many hands in the pot, so to say. Getting four people to agree is tough, tougher than I thought it would be. We have been looking for land but once again, there are too many hands in the pot. The idea was to find a place where I could build a little cottage or cabin and help my parents in their old age whilst building a farm, but finding land that suits all of us and isn’t overpriced has been hard. Near impossible, actually, which led to another option.
I looked for land in the suburbs. Realistically all the things I wanted to do with land were only possible if my parents were onsite in the early years to help get things established, and since that wasn’t looking likely I adapted my vision. I have the tools to be happy anywhere, and I reasoned that I could volunteer at a local urban farm to fulfill my need to grow things.
I very nearly made an offer. Had one drafted, actually, and then I looked at the numbers and realized I didn’t want to do it. I have never wanted to live in the suburbs. None of the yards were big enough, or if they were the kitchen was practically useless. I would have been in an HOA, which goes against every bone in my body.
But what put me over the top was the idea of paying $400 a month in taxes just to have a tiny little yard and a house I didn’t actually want because I adapted my dreams to what I can afford and manage at the present time.
So I am staying, for now at least. Maybe the three of us will find the perfect living situation, but I am definitely continuing to rent the farm for as long as they will let me.