The Apartment Farmer

19 06 2012

We live in a very… uh. How do I say this. Flimsy, overpriced apartment. It looks nice, but I can hear my neighbor going pee right now………………………………………………. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t wash his hands.

Now that I have your attention, let me tell you about my daughter. And then I’ll talk about farmin’.

Bean has discovered a new way to vocalize. She is now fluent in “scream” in at least 3 languages, but I’m pretty sure it will be five languages by bedtime tomorrow. It is SO. LOUD! And she doesn’t save it for when she’s mad. She screams in delight. In frustration. In every emotion her little body goes through each day. And that’s a lot of different emotions.

I wonder what my neighbors think about my little screamer? She’s cleared out the pool on more than one occasion by screaming. She does it at the grocery store. She does it in the car. She screams in the bathtub. I know it will pass, but its just new and different and fun and exciting, and ooh look at the way it gets mommy to react!!!111!!1!!

Everything really cranks up to 11 when she’s screaming, hanging from my dreads and trying to pick my piercing off all at the same time. I’m going to have the piercing removed next week. Then she’ll probably starting picking at my tattoos. Oh well. That’s being a parent.  It’s all kind of cute, I am just going to have to learn sign language if she doesn’t stop screaming right into my earmeat. She’s been asleep for half an hour already and my head is still ringing.

So. I keep saying I wanna be a farmer, I wanna be a farmer. I have made some pretty pathetic, half-hearted attempts at farming in the past. To give myself a little slack though, I WAS pregnant last year when I was trying to put all that effort into farming. And then I went and had a kid, and burned myself out. Then I threw my hands up in the air and said “I quit! I quit goats, I quit chickens. I hate that fucking garden full of bindweed, nettles, blackberries and slugs. I am sick of this cold, wet, dismal, grey state. I’m moving. Fuck this.”

And I did. I moved. Now I live in a human habitat with wafer cookies for walls. But its better. It really is. It has heat! It is so nice not spending my last bit of energy and strength trying to stay warm on top of everything else. I never got out of bed at the old place. It was boring. And exhausting, physically and emotionally.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I am a farmer at heart. I am such a farmer. I love livestock, animals in general. I love knowing WHO my food came from, and WHERE it came from and WHEN it came from. I am more conscientious about my body when I think about the things that feed both it and my soul. Food is just more meaningful when I am involved in how it gets to my plate and not just what’s on my plate.

And it is even more than that. Getting good food while living in an apartment is a pain in the ass. And expensive to boot. And most of the people that live around me won’t care. But some of them might become customers…

So with that being said. I am putting together a coop (after days and days of head scratching, and reams of graph paper I finally settled on a design), I ordered heritage ducks eggs to hatch, and heritage laying hens (although they will be chicks when they arrive of course.) I am going to brood them on our porch balcony until they get big enough to take to the farm. And then they will live on pasture and produce delicious eggs. And in exchange for their hard work, I will reward them with excellent care, GMO-free soy-free food, bugs to eat, and a compassionate death when their productive life is over. And if I get lucky, I will even make money while doing all of that.

So thats it. Pretty boring really.

How ’bout a picture?

Bean and friend at Solstice Festival 2012

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One response

10 07 2012
A friend

Glad you are blogging again. I always have enjoyed reading your posts. Hope you and the bean have a great Summer!

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