Tag: swimming pool

We Bought the Farm

In my last post, I announced that in spite of previous ambitions, I would never write my memoir.

One of the reasons I abandoned that project (for now) is that I prefer looking ahead these days, instead of backwards.

We just bought a property that will force me to look ahead daily into the dark recesses of the unknowable future. A 14 acre farm, no less.

A farm? Seriously? What I know about farming would fit into a thimble and still leave room for a book on domestic husbandry.

I am trying to temper my excitement with grave fears about my own sanity and the too-smiley reaction of friends in reaction to this new “project…..”

It is astonishing how clearly people can say “Are you out of your frickin’ mind?” without saying a single word out loud.

I am, however, starting to appreciate and nurture my burgeoning streak of insanity. I played along with society’s expectations for far too long and with less than middling results. Now it’s my turn to live and play by my own rules to build my own dream.

Now we have those 14 (not 40) acres in Central Florida near a sprawling 55+ retirement community and I’m looking for a mule. And chickens. And goats. A retired horse, perhaps.

The place comes with a macaw named Mariah who rules her aviary by pulling rank on a buncha tiny other domestic birdies. Budgies mostly.

I am at the “research” stage in learning how to live on and run a farm. Modest start. I have picked up a Mother Earth magazine on hobby farming. Another magazine title has articles on “living off grid.”

It all does seem a little crazy looking ahead but also has potential for a lot of fun and learning – two of my most favorite things.

I have always wanted to try solar power. The farm has two wells and a windmill so we can cut ourselves free of the municipal water supply. I may finally get my own onsite horse and start riding again.

There is a salt water swimming pool, a hot tub and a sauna. Of course, a sauna in central Florida (especially in a record breaking heat wave) is about as useful as taking coals to Newcastle.

Many outbuildings for various uses, including a houseboat floating on its own pond. Another pond teeming with colorful orange and black koi.

A beach volleyball court and a rundown but habitable fifth wheel RV. Unique decor based on the Seller’s fantasy of living by the seaside.

The potential is enormous and we have just started to scratch the surface of what we can do with the place. So I plan to post what I learn as I go along.

It is astonishing what can come out of certain people’s mouths when you announce you are in the market for goats. Or rabbits.

And in spite of my dear friends’ raised eyebrows and eye rolls, they plan to visit. Sheer curiosity driving them here, no doubt.

Looking forward to their visit this winter and to that of others who happen along to share our little piece of heaven.

At the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

.

A Home of One’s Own

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”

T.S. Eliot, Originally published 1943

Think about home. How does that word feel for you? Warm? Cozy? Messy? Bright? Gargantuan? Fun? Dingy? Safe? It’s a trigger word for some. It’s definitely a trigger word for me. I have been looking for “home” my whole life.

I envy those who can look back on their childhood with warm and fuzzy feelings. I wish I could. As soon as I was able, I set out to find my dream home. In my ignorance and haste, I made boneheaded mistakes. It didn’t quite work out as I expected. To start, I needed to believe I was capable of achieving stability. I wasn’t there yet.

The home I so desperately wanted when I was younger had to be created by me and me alone. “Me” wasn’t ready. “Me” moved around a lot. It took ages for this penny to drop. “Wherever I go, there I am.” Years of international travel taught me that packed with your luggage is all of your other baggage. To be sure, I traveled widely for years to study, to learn, to explore, and simply for adventure.

Underneath those goals was the unexpressed hope that by being somewhere else, I might BE someone else. Someone I actually liked and admired. Someone I could love and support. Someone I wanted to spend time with. I still cringe at the memory of adopting a British accent in London one summer. My Queen’s English was passable enough to chattily converse with a traffic bobby without raising suspicion that I was not a fellow citizen. Perhaps he was just a proper English gentleman.

What I hadn’t factored in when I headed off for foreign shores was that I needed to get rid of the mess in my own foundation first. You can try to build a house on quicksand, but it is going to fail. Before a house can be built, the foundation must be prepared and made solid. When one’s childhood is emotionally unstable, it can be difficult to know what is needed to stabilize that internal foundation. In my case, I moved around a lot. Every six months or so. For years.

The reason – though I didn’t know this as clearly when I was younger – was that staying in one place for too long allowed unwelcome feelings to come up that I didn’t know how to deal with. Eventually, legions of counselors over many years helped me excavate the muck in my psychic basement. Then one day the pile of muck is outside. The rot is drying in the sunlight. It finally desiccates down to dust and the wind blows it away.

How did I know I was well on the way to healing? I could talk about difficult events in my childhood without panicking or plummeting. I had searched for years for ways to feel normal. I didn’t want to be constantly nervous, or anxious, or terrified, or overwhelmed. That state of mind finally arrived when I could see and separate feeling like a bad person from a person who had many bad things happen to her. Such is the fate of the unprotected child.

I believe I am a good person because I continued to seek answers for why I didn’t feel like one. What a ride – and a long one at that. All that external and internal traveling has seen me finally disembark at a happy place. That dream home? Sure, it would be nice. But acquiring it is much lower on my list of life priorities these days. I am the home I always craved and needed. Welcome to me.