Bittersweet

Except for one year in paradise and one in purgatory, I have lived my entire life in New York. That much time, that many memories, make for many mixed feelings about the move. There is much I will miss and some things I am glad to leave behind.

I will not miss our sad excuse for soil..

I will not miss the weather.

And certainly not the taxes.

But there are more things I will miss.

The scenery.

Our clawfoot bathrub.

Friends (and our new library).

And family.

Mis-bee-havin'

Our bees were the last of our critters that needed new homes. I called an experienced local beekeeper, Skip. He came with his own supers as I wanted to keep my equipment. He came at night so the bees would be home and settled.

Only these bees weren't anywhere near settled.

The hive was jampacked (it's been a great spring for bees) and almost ready to swarm. They didn't take kindly to being transferred into a new hive. They didn't take kindly to someone trying to get them all inside. They didn't take kindly to Skip. He decided to leave them overnight and come the next night, well after dark, to take them away.

Next night after dark. The crickets are chirping, the bats are flying, the fireflies are twinkling, and the bees have decided to flaunt millenia of evolution and stay up all night. The front and bottom of the hive are covered with bees as is poor Skip. No amount of sweet talk or waiting is going to see these bees inside. Skip takes yet another 20 or so stings and throws in the towel. We agree I'll get up early and staple shut the opening.

I'm at the hive at 5:30am. There are still at least 20 bees around the opening but I can brush them aside and secur the opening. Only I discover that the staple gun is packed somewhere in the middle of a zillion boxes already in my truck. I succeed in blocking the hole by putting a brick over it. It will have to do.

Skip makes his third trip out to our place. He finally gets the handtruck with the hive down the hill to his truck. I notice the bottom is covered with yet more rogue bees. At least this time he only gets stung twice. And finally drives away with my bees.

As Skip so sagely noted, bees keep you on your toes.

TEOTHWAWKI

Years ago we had a friend named Bill.

Bill paid only in cash, didn't register his car, didn't eat processed foods, was convinced WWIII was nigh, stockpiled food and supplies, and talked endlessly about conspiracies and disasters.

We'd never met anyone like him and thought he was a complete nutjob.

Today he'd be called an extreme prepper and have his own reality show.

Regardless of the extreme survivalists and paranoiacs, more and more regular people have reached the conclusion that planning and preparing for tough times makes sense. That we should take responsibility for our own safety and survival in tough times, that we cannot rely on government programs or private charities when calamities occur. Maybe we won't experience the zombie apocalypse but we may very well have to live through floods or hurricanes, job loss or health problems. 

And really, every single night is The End of the World as We Know It. Tomorrow is not only another day but another world. Little changes, the you-can't-step-in-the-same-stream-twice differences insure we can't return, we can't go home again.

Even if it doesn't hit the fan, if the future brings nothing but rainbows and puppies, it's still change. And change is stress. Being at least a little prepared will keep those zombies at bay. 

Ephemeroptera

Standing on my front porch last evening, I glanced up into the sky and saw a swarm of mayflies dancing. They'll live a few days at most; the adults exist only to reproduce and they don't even have a working digestive system.


If I were deep I'd write something philosophical comparing their brief lives to our human lot, man born of woman is but a few days, out out brief candle, etc.


But we're not mayflies, I'm not deep, and I just enjoyed watching them fly and hump in midair.

Dear future Indiana friends and neighbors



Chenango County, NY


Dear future Indiana friends and neighbors,

We are moving here from New York. And we've heard that you're worried we'll suffer from culture shock, miss the hustle and bustle and bright lights of the Big Apple.

We are from New York...UPSTATE New York. A very different beast than the City.

We're from a county with more cows than people, our "town" has a population of about 700. Our county seat is the only city in the county and has a population of not quite 7,000. The nearest grocery store is 15 miles away, the nearest mall 40.

A night on the town means going to the fire station's spaghetti supper fund raiser or the nearby motorcycle bar (snowmobiles in the winter). Traffic jams are deer or cows or the occasional escaped goat crossing the road.


We tell people we're an hour from everything--the "big" cities of Binghamton or Syracuse, an interstate highway, a Starbucks. There are no art museums, ethnic restaurants (does Italian count?), or major league sports within spittin' distance. Heck, we can't even get cable.

We can see the Milky Way at night, hear the crickets and coyotes, watch fireflies.

We're moving to Washington County, Indiana--rural farm country. The county seat has a population of just over 6,000. We've been warned there are coyotes around our place and the deer wander into the yard. There are no streetlights on our road which is mostly gravel and we're about 2 miles from the volunteer fire department which holds ham dinners.

Culture shock? We think we'll fit right in.

Getting serious about moving

No magnets on the fridge!

Or if you're British, no more whinging

Okay, okay. Enough moaning about money and waiting, etc. Time to screw my courage to the sticking place, take action and actually DO SOMETHING.


Um, er...like what?

Well, I can't plant anything, too early to pack much, can't look for new animals or build stuff. That only leaves...


...the Internet!


One of the best uses for the computer is connecting people (and photos of adorable cats). Here in NY, there is a great Facebook group for buying and selling and trading agricultural products. I haven't found a counterpart for southern Indiana, so I've decided to start one.


So, welcome one and all to the Southern Indiana Agricultural Facebook page .

This is purely selfish on my part; I hope by the time we move the group will have grown and I'll find all sorts of wonderful deals for our homestead.

Let's see, we'll need some chickens and barn cats and fruit trees and goats and...

Life is for learning

I'm a child of the 1960s, a Baby Boomer. Come of age during the Vietnam War, flower power, and make love not war.

Whenever I hear "Woodstock" by Crosby, Stills, and Nash, I get teary. Not because of nostalgia, not because I went to Woodstock (I didn't even know it was happening) but because my generation blew it.

We were going to change the world. We knew so much more than the establishment, knew sending young men to war was a crime, knew the environment was in danger, knew politicians weren't to be trusted.

And what did we do with that knowledge?

We grew up to be the people who send soldiers to war in foreign lands, grew up to invent more ways to pollute the earth, grew up to support the good ol' boys in both parties.

I never marched for peace and justice, I am not an activist, not political, not one to rally to a cause. But I am ashamed of my generation, saddened by the lost opportunities.

"We are stardust, we are golden,
We are caught in the devil's bargain.
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden."

Between

"Let's go. Yes, let's go. (They do not move)."
- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

And that is just about how I feel at this point.

We are in limbo, dangling between New York and Indiana and nowhere at all. We have cleaned and repaired our current house, now we wait, hoping someone is intrigued enough by the ads to come and look, and hopefully to buy. All of the work is waiting for us in Indiana while we wait here.

No one has ever accused me of being a patient person; I'm not good at waiting.

I make lists, I draw up plans. But still I'm here and the future is there.

Limbo, neither here nor there, in-between, oblivion, left field, Uncertainville, suspended between the northeast and the heartland.

Waiting.

Planning the homestead



Illustration: Dorling Kindersley


It used to drive me nuts. I'd pick up a country living book and there would be a plan for laying out your one or two acre homestead. A nice big square where everything fit wonderfully, never any obstructions (or septic field, well, or driveway for that matter), land raring to drown you in bounty.


Woodchuck Acres wasn't even close. The tax map showed a strange trapezoid shape; the boundaries were obviously laid out by a drunk surveyor after a night on the town. The west half of the property is a hill sloping up to a steep bank down to the creek; there's what we call our oubliette (an old dry well?), deep and dangerous and surrounded by poison ivy. The leach field meanders under some of the best soil, and a huge Norway spruce is plopped square in the middle of the property. These idiosyncrasies pale when you consider the soil isn't soil but rocks, the southern area is shaded almost constantly by the neighboring woods, and we're smack in the middle of an established deer path.


So I was convinced that the live-well-on-one-acre layouts were a snare to entice unwary rubes to buy books.


Then I found Lick Skillet and almost fell off of my chair when I saw the map. A square, a perfect square! Not only that, the land is flat--no hills, no drop-offs, no squishy spots. I haven't had the soil tested but at least two people have told me it sits on good valley soil and the one shady spot protects the house from the western sun but doesn't reach the garden. There are a few established plantings that I'll want to move and a tumbledown shed we'll eventually relocate but that's just fun stuff. I don't even think there's an oubliette.


I guess I owe those homestead planners an apology.

But talk about starting over--this is virtually a blank slate. I keep trying to draw up a plan for fruit trees and animal pens and herbs and I freeze. I think I have homestead writers block. Even committing to paper seems an impossible task and we're only talking about 3 acres. Imagine the panic if I had 40! I'm hyperventilating at the thought.

What would you do first if you could land on the place of your dreams? What's your first, second, and third step?

Off to see the Wizard

L. Frank Baum was born in upstate New York. It's said that the Emerald City was a tribute to the verdant countryside of his youth.

We've enjoyed out time in Oz, but soon we'll click our heels and wake up in Indiana (hopefully not in black and white!).

Money. Again.

In my last post about money, Finding home, part 2 , I set myself up as some sort of financial guru, calm and at peace and having all the answers.

You didn't fall for that, did you?.


This move, like all life changes, is costing more than we thought, financially and emotionally.


We closed on our new place a few months back. I started planning the move.

Fill the propane tank. Ka-ching!
The only highspeed internet will be satellite. Ka-ching!
No washer at the new house. Ka-ching!
Rent a uhaul-type truck. Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching!


I have tinnitus from an imaginary cash register.


We knew these expenses were coming but I'm always shocked at how much things cost. Part of the problem in living so long is that sticker shock is a constant companion. As a kid we saw movies for $.35 ($.50 if it was a Disney flick). Popsicles at the mom and pop grocery were a nickle, a fudgie set you back $.07. We bought our first house for $11,500. I remember being shocked when gas rose from $.35 to $.50 per gallon. My brain knows it's 2012 but my wallet thinks it's 1970.


Or as my husband says, inflation has no problem keeping up with us.


So the next few years will be a struggle even though we scrimped and saved for a time like this. We've got a death grip on those pennies. I can only hope it doesn't get as bad as the poorest time in our lives when I crocheted our shoelaces instead of buying them. Top that bit of frugality if you can!

And if you do have any great hints for stretching, saving, doing without, share them. I'm sure we're not the only ones who could use some new ideas.

Oh, the horror!

It's been a month since we sold the hens and I just used the last fresh egg.

I have 2 dozen frozen and then--gulp!-- I'll have to buy eggs.

A sad day that will be.

What's in a name

Our new homestead is on Lick Skillet Road. Really.

The name alone conjures up all sorts of possibilities. I'm already enjoying people's reactions.

Not sure if the name is in any way related to these guys; it'll be fun finding out.



The Skillet Lickers, an old-time band from Georgia. Signed to Columbia in 1924, they created the label's earliest so-called "hillbilly" recording.



Stuff

Our NY home is 960 square feet. A great incentive not to accumulate too much stuff inside. My entire wardrobe can be packed in a 40 gallon tub. Our Christmas decorations are in a small box, we own one set of dishes which is not even a complete setting for 8, four bath towels, you get the gist. The pantry and food preservation equipment will take the most boxes.

Outside is another matter.

Goats stuff: milking stand, milking pail, hoof trimmer, clippers, kid bottle, various and sundry veterinarian supplies, very good fence that is negotiable in the house sale.

Chicken stuff: feeder, waterer, heat lamp, grit, more vet supplies.

Bee stuff (the smallest critters need the most equipment): two hives consisting of 3 supers each with frames, bottom board, inside cover, outside cover, feeder, queen excluder, pollen patties, hive tool, smoker, smoker fuel, bee brush, hat with veil, extractor, two strainers, uncapping knife, honey pail--I'm sure I've forgotten something.

Gardening stuff: rakes, shovels, forks, hoes, wheelbarrows, trowels and other weeders, pots in all shapes and sizes, watering can, sprayer, trimmers and clippers, buckets, growlights and stand, kneelers, wall o' waters, fence pounder--my head's starting to hurt.

Not to mention the snowblower, lawnmower, live traps, ax, maul, sledgehammer, table saw, dolly, chainsaw, tools, tools, and tools.

This is the simple life?

The power of three

First, the stove stopped working.

Second, the washing machine broke down.

Third, the rear bumper fell off of my truck.

I am going to hope very, very hard to avoid another trio of mishaps! At least before we move.

Finding home, part 2

Mugger: (pointing gun at Jack Benny) "Your money or your life?"

(pause)

Mugger: "I said, 'Your money or your life?'"

Jack Benny: "I'm thinking it o-ver!"

Money.

There, I've said it. The "M" word. Moolah, loot, coin of the realm, filthy lucre.

That which without, we don't reach our dreams.

In other words, it's gonna take some dough to get your homestead.

I'm a retired librarian, my husband is a musician. This does not put us with the 1%. Or even the top 95%. But we've paid off one home and managed the downpayment on another.

How did we do it?

We don't buy stuff. Yup, it's as easy as that.

Oh, you wanted more concrete, financial advise? Go to the library (first tip, do not buy finance books on Amazon or Ebay, the library is free. Cherish that institution) and get YOUR MONEY OR YOUR LIFE by Vicki Robin. And maybe a book by Dave Ramsey. Ignore most books about investing and especially about getting rich. If anyone could get rich by reading a book, we'd all be rich. Duh.

Second tip, decide what you need to survive. Everything else, yes everything  is negotiable. Do you really want your place in the country? Do you want it more than coffee from Starbucks? More than cable? More than the newest cellphone or iPad? More than new clothes, makeup, a haircut? Unless you're truly destitute, you can put some money away. Disposable income can only be disposed of once. The price of one song download won't buy an acre of land but it will buy a packet of seeds to plant on that acre. Budget your dream, not everyone else's.

Third tip. Buy now! We've gone the conventional route of buying property with a conventional mortgage. If you can possibly do this, grab that low interest rate. Sellers are desperate (have I mentioned we have property for sale?*) and there are deals out there that won't last. And take it from this 60 year old--you ain't getting any younger.

Fourth tip, ignore most other people's advice, including mine IF it doesn't fit. There are many, many ways to get back to the land. Conventional loans are one way but there are miriad others--a short time on a search engine should give you some options.

It's your money AND your life, spend both living the life you want.

* http://bit.ly/IgHjgb

Finding home, part 1

There has been much written about finding your place in the country. How to research an area, what questions to ask, legwork that needs to be done. Often the reality of your personal situation twists that advice about.

Location

Most people have a dream of what they want and a list of what they need. But they also have jobs or family or other committments that narrow where they can go.

When we started our search, we knew we wanted to be no more than 6 driving hours from our grandchildren. So we took a map and drew a circle with them as the center. Unfortunately, they live in a western Chicago suburb. This eliminated everything due East. North was out also--having lived most of our lives in New York, we weren't anxious to be colder.

West was a possibility, and South. Finally, we decided to investigate southern Indiana and it was a good fit.

What's your geocenter? Do you have a locus to your search or are you one of the few who can truly settle anywhere?

Familiarity

Some people are truly adventurous and relish new and strange experiences. We like to think that we are open to change but a touch of the familiar can help the transition.

Our new location has much in common with our old: very rural, rolling hills and trees, small town within 15 miles, temperate climate, low-key lifestyle. We feel comfortable with these basics and can look forward to the differences (6a hardiness zone instead of 5a--wahoo!).

Could you go from your location to a completely different setting, culture, language? If so, great! If not, look for similiarities so you can feel comfortable embracing the rest.

Ask the Hard Questions

What those are depends on your values, on what is important to you. Having lived most of my life in New York, I found out the hard way in a disastrous move to North Carolina that the little things you take for granted may be done differently elsewhere.

So thsi time I pestered my realtor with questions:

Where's the dump? Why don't more places have well water? Tornados? TORNADOES? Local farm stands, markets? Explain property taxes to me IN DETAIL. Zoning laws? Flooding? Is this road plowed in winter? Does this state have a use tax? Are there bears here? Which direction does the house face? Where's the nearest library? What are those bumpy rocks in everyone's garden?

The internet will help tremendously here, but you have to know enough to know what to ask. And some things can only be found out in person.

To be continued.

2 of the reasons we're moving to Indiana

Why Woodchuck Acres?

Our current homestead came with an abundance of rodents: mice, red squirrels, chipmunks, grey squirrels, voles, moles.


But the worse were the woodchucks.


Big, arrogant, bullies. They ate my vegetables, they moved in under the house. They even stood on their stubby hind legs and ate the branches of the dwarf cherry trees.


It was war.


We fenced and tried scaring them away, even threw rocks.


The chubby groundhogs laughed.


We got live traps and did catch a few.


But the real turnaround came when we got Atwell.

In no time at all, the yard was rodent free. This tiger in a cat's body even faced down a raccoon (the coon was three times her size so I intervened).


After we found out that local schoolkids derogatorily call McDonough-ites "woodchucks", we couldn't resist slapping the name on our place, trusting Atwell to make sure 'chucks were there in name only.


Atwell was an outside cat and one day went walk-about and never returned. We've had two other cats since but none had the spirit of that yellow tabby.


We're cat-less at present but the very first animal we'll get at our new place will be feline to insure there won't be a Woodchuck Acres II.

The ballad of Woodchuck Acres

I've wanted a place in the country since the 1970s. I devoured the old Mother Earth News, the originals, back when it was raw and scrappy.


I wanted a place in the country. But my husband didn't.


And there were jobs and college and a baby and more college and mid-life crises (yes, plural) and even more college and a career.


Until finally it fell into place and in 2002 we moved to McDonough and started to turn our 2 acres in a homestead.


We gardened, dug up rocks, got chickens, dug up more rocks, built sheds, installed a woodstove, got goats and bees. And did I mention the rocks?


Neighbors brought us venison, the worm guy stopped to introduce himself, we helped open a local library branch, went to fire station spaghetti suppers. Tom established his guitar studio and got a great church job. I even ran a small csa from the produce I grew. We loved it here.


But all things end. And it's time to move on. The prospect of starting over is exciting, scary, and will add grey hairs to my head. The cons probably outweigh the pros. Not a smart move, risky in uncertain times, irresponsible.


I can't wait!!

Hope

Emily Dickinson wrote "Hope is the thing with feathers..."

I find much more hope in a sprouted seed.