Six Month Update

By the grace of God and every Divine thing, six months have passed. Six months of new beginnings and big changes.

Let me tell you, I work as a barista at a local coffee shop. I make drinks and chat with customers and have a great time. It barely pays rent, but state-sponsored insurance and food share have been keeping me alive. I am learning to live with less, trust the Divine, feel grateful and blessed, and recognize my own abundance. Making a living like this allows me to spend slow mornings in the sun and long afternoons on the land. With my time and my sanity–my prized possessions. Last month, I planted chamomile and lavender on the south side of the machine shed. Hot and sweaty and sunburned, my heartrate and breathing slowed. I ate dates and drank deeply from my water jug. It was lovely. It was in the middle of the day. I’ve learned the term “sweat equity”. I could have worked at a job for the money to hire a landscaper. Instead, I dirtied my fingernails and my jeans and did it myself. I found it quite pleasant, sweating under the sun, that I had fortified the southern entrance with the most calming and healing herbs I could think of. And that eventually, the first thing that you’ll see and smell are the fruits of my very hard labor.

I graduated from Farm Beginnings, a seven-week course for novice farmers. I spent hours learning alongside other newbies, constantly inspired by their generosity, creativity, and sincerity. We brainstormed products and services, mission statements and visions, profits and philanthropy. Besides the wealth of knowledge and resources, the class gave me time to get projects done. The ultimate hype-man of a cohort cheered me on at the completion of a mini greenhouse and the removal of a 30-year old school bus.

There are currently twelve chickens and two ducks residing in an old shed on the orchard. They each have a name, but my favorites are Cowboy, a yellow-bellied quacker; Steve Irwin, their khaki-colored counterpart; and Karen and Maple, the Buff Orpington twins. After leveling the previous chicken coop, we prematurely invited these youngsters to brood in a blue tote that was quickly outgrown, though thoroughly enjoyed. While lifting mats and rocks, looking for worms and slugs; I met several snakes and screamed with fright. I’ve enthusiastically welcomed Zappy to my home, an electric tennis racket made for swatting mosquitoes (Lord, come quickly), which make a tasty lil snack for the girls.

Jasper gave everyone a scare by dropping 15 pounds since our arrival. After several vet visits, his cheerful and energetic personality returned to him! I’m still not sure what did him so dirty, but it involved decreased appetite, loss of interest in tricks and treats, and more diarrhea than I’d have liked to witness and/or clean from the carpet. He’s had allergic reactions, the kind of bug bites that swell up the whole face, and more ticks than I can count. But, now he is nibbling and gnawing at a beef bone with very little reservation and very much gusto. {I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the kind soul who anonymously paid our vet bill after I had requested some sort of payment plan–there is abundance here.}

On a damp and drizzly morning, we slogged through tall and wet grass to plant fifteen sprouted oaks on the west border of the property. There live cows who are both noisy and stinky. Future Lynette sends her gratitude for the smell and sound barrier. We surrounded the silo with daffodils, the barn with tulips. All who enter the driveway will be greeted by twin peonies. The south border has lilacs and roses. The pump house is lined with rhubarb (Rhubarbara for long) and peonies. The apple trees are enjoying their enclosed protection from the nibbly deer. Potatoes and squash and beans and luffas are keeping the apple trees company, as well as a few flowers for good measure. There’s an onion patch behind the machine shed that would make Shrek proud, along with several peppers, squash, and tomatoes. Several more oaks and maples will be planted this weekend, and we start prep work for the new coop tomorrow. Maybe it’s frivolous to start with the flowers and pretty things, but I like them. And that’s enough of a reason for me.

We drafted a forest management plan, and are set to submit it this week. How quickly it will be that we harvest trees and mill lumber for a home in the woods. And inoculate mushroom spores in the timber. And build beehives out of the lumber, and tiny houses and machine shed/pumphouse restorations.

Tons and tons of garbage and scrap metal have been removed–you remember tales of a 30 year old bus, ya? Gone. Aluminum cans? Gone.

Listen, six months ago, I didn’t have a website or an LLC or a blog or a job. Truly, by the grace of God, these dreams are unfolding. I’ve learned to do a headstand and gotten stronger. I opened a business bank account (that I still haven’t used) and put product in a storefront. I re-learned how to crochet and made several stuffies and washcloths. I’ve made and eaten a thousand hearty soups. Made several new friends and connections. Ate both cheese and bread. Killed several houseplants, planted several more. Weaned Jasper off of sleeping in my bed. Read a couple books.

I say “we” a lot in this entry. “We” is me and Jasper and my brother and my dad. “We” is my mom and my cousins and the multitude of angels that have come before me and follow behind me. “We” is every version and evolution of myself, including but not limited to Little Lynette, every wounded portion of my soul, my highest self, Lynette in the deep dark dreaming of a better day, baby Lynnie who was born on the land and future Lynnie who will be laid to final rest on the land. “We” is a thousand bug bites and a million ticks.

“We” is me and John, in the wee hours and the late-at-night. He’s trudged through garbage and rubble, chopped grass and hauled trees, woke up early and stayed out late. Maybe this would all be possible without his presence and influence, but it sure has been sweeter with him by my side at each step. My sincerest and deepest gratitude is for this man. God has been gracious to me through him.

We still have mountains of work ahead of us, but also mountains behind us as well. There are bills to pay, oral surgery to be had, a barn to restore, house to build, forest to harvest, animals to raise, storm shelter to construct, traditions to establish, permits and regulations to learn and honor. But for now, I raise an Ebenezer, a rock of hope to mark with gratitude how far we’ve come.