In 2009, Rory planted tomato, green pepper and basil seeds in
three pots on the porch of our apartment in Nebraska. I don't believe I would have
ever thought those little seeds would be magical, but looking back, they
sort of were. They set a new course for us. Because when we ate our own
food...our own tomatoes on our BLT's, our own basil on bruschetta, we got really excited. I mean, really
excited.
At the same time,
we had good friends who had just made a bold move to California to purchase
their own land with dreams of one day planting an olive orchard and maybe
raising some animals. We happened to be in the area when they were looking for
their new place and the hunt sort of got into our blood. Rory came home and
began looking at topographical maps of Minnesota and taking road trips to scope
out parts of the state.
It was all a far
off dream though. Nothing that was going to happen very quickly in our minds.
Just before we had
Ivar we moved back into our home on a tenth of an acre in Minneapolis and Rory began to draw up plans for his first garden. He spent the winter
reading books, working and reworking the garden grid, planting a few seeds as
starts in the window sill.
That winter he
decided to take the month of May off as a sabbatical of sorts. He would check
his email in the morning, but decided not to do any programming or computer
related projects for the month. He was tired of technology and excited to start digging
in the dirt.
He built his
raised beds, mixed the soil, planted his seeds and began to unwind a bit.
Taking the time away from his all-consuming company was a really, really good
move.
That first harvest
of veggies and berries was pure joy. Turns out Rory could grow things. And
build things. And I started stretching my own self...finding new recipes for
eggplants, canning tomatoes and making our own spaghetti sauce. This little
pastime was becoming a really fun lifestyle. And we loved being outside so
much.
Winter came and
Rory began to modify his garden plans, staked out a third plot for more produce
and suddenly half of our backyard was gardens.
Something began to
shift in me during this first year of gardening. And it had to do with my
husband. As Ivar and I sat out on a blanket watching Daddo, I saw Rory grow
happier as he was fully engaged in something that was life giving and disconnected
from his laptop. When you work for yourself it is quite easy to work all the
time. And when you work from home it is nearly impossible to "leave the
office." But this garden was helping.
Rory was
transforming into his best version. I loved it. He was less worried. Less
anxious. And he looked really good with a tan. Really good.
We continued to
look at different parts of Minnesota for property. But we really didn't think
the move would happen any time soon. Mostly I liked the romantic notion of a
Sunday afternoon drive while we looked for properties. They were lovely mini roadtrips, with soulful
conversation, dreaming together, wondering what our future would hold. Rory
nearly got mauled by a farm dog on one vacant lot he was scoping out (clearly I would have been great help, able to document his mauling with my camera if need be).
I had a picture in
my head of what rural home might work for us though. It was a picture of my Grandma
Bredberg's farm with the yellow house. It had a big garden, a nice grove of
trees with a long lane. Whenever I pictured this move, I imagined us moving
there. I even inquired to my uncle about us moving there...but it was sold long
ago, and the woman living there isn't moving anytime soon.
While in
California on our first Ivar-less vacation, we talked more about what we hoped
to get out of such a move. We started making dreams for our new life on a hobby
farm. And then we got practical and specific. We sat down and we each made a list of what exactly we were looking for in a future place. My list had to do with the house (an attached garage, a kitchen
that could fit a table, carpet in the living room, 3 bedrooms...) Rory's list
had to do with the property (how many acres, part wooded, part tillable...) I
added to my list that I would like neighbors close by and Rory tried once
again to explain to me what rural meant.
Eventually we
found the listing for this house. The pictures were few and left a lot out. But
the description nearly perfectly matched the lists we had just shared with
each other. Rory checked it
out and loved the property. But he didn't know what I'd think.
In absolutely no
hurry, he brought me to see the place five days later. And I kid you not, I was
sold before we even turned into the drive. The Oak Trees had me at Hello.
Theyhadmeathello.
I loved the town,
I loved that it was a dirt road with neighbors (neighbors!). I loved the
location to our families (we could have ended up a lot farther away) and I
loved the house: an old 1890's farm house that was kept in great
condition with lots of love and care. I loved everything about the
place.
As I saw each room
for the very first time I was already figuring out where to put our furniture,
deciding which room would be Ivar's, which room would be the nursery.
Forty eight hours
later, this house in the country was ours.
We moved out here
with no agenda. We're not going all organic. We're not going off-grid. We're
not building a bomb shelter. Our hope for this move was based around our kids wanting to raise our family with more room to run around. And we wanted a
bigger backyard to plant our garden.
It's a bigger back
yard, that's for sure.
So here we are. It has almost been six months and we continue to love our new life out here. And wait until you see Rory's sketches for his next garden. I believe we may have to get our hands on a tractor. I'll keep you posted.
