Skip to main content

Feng Shui on my Farm

When I tell folks that I live on three acres out in the countryside in an old farm house surrounded by miles and miles of farmland, they get all starry-eyed and moon-faced.  They are picturing Tara or the Ponderosa and not listening closely to what I said.   

One, the miles and miles of farmland belong to our neighbor; we own three acres that form an odd puzzle piece in the bottom right hand of that expanse.

Two, when I say I live in an old farm house, it is exactly that, nothing more.  I. Live. In. An. Old. Farm.  House. Picture this: sturdy, rectangular box; partially rusted, metal roof; shingle-siding that was once blue and is now an indescribable color.

I pictured my Del Webb days in a city condo or in a cute little bedroom community garden home. Not this.  

There are five buildings on this Garden of Eden and none of them match.  Remember I am a city girl.  When we buy a home, we go to Home Depot and buy the matching backyard shed.  We coordinate our surroundings – the decking matches the house trim; the yard ornaments accent the flora. 

On these three acres, there are two large metal shop buildings where my husband houses his lucrative, woodworking business, an unsightly bird loft where HoneyBunch raises pigeons (don’t ask), and two houses – ours and a rental that is presently unoccupied.

In a stretch the two metal buildings could sub for urban backyard sheds, and the bird loft (molting feathers and all) and an old truck that one of the kids abandoned on the premises could sub for yard ornaments, but only if EVERYTHING got a good coat of paint. Maybe two.

Why do I live here?

I moved here almost six years ago because it is what is inside that makes up for the lack of outdoor Feng Shui.  He is 5’8”, smiles a lot, and calls me Goddess, and every time he walks inside to grab a cup of coffee and a kiss, I know I am home.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Finding My Muse

1)Because my muse has a wicked sense of humor and visits me at odd times and in inconvenient places, I have learned to record inspirations/ideas immediately before I forget them or they dissolve into nothing. I carry small notebooks, own a digital recorder, and have been known to text messages home. I will scribble on anything – old napkins I find in my glove compartment or old receipts. I even pop out of bed in the middle of the night to jot things on sticky pads. 2)Calendars are great places to find topics. I use important dates, seasons, and upcoming holidays to plan blog posts. I can also go back into my work calendar to refresh my memory about meetings, conferences, or books I have read that might be worth sharing with others.   3)I will sit with a good cup of coffee, pen and paper ready, and read the newspaper searching for topics, interesting characters, or modern trends.  News channels and other newsfeeds are just as good.   4)I love to read the TV and movie guides for titles and…

The Girl Who Eats Canned Spinach

I went to a Catholic elementary school run by strict Belgian nuns, and we could not leave the cafeteria until we ate everything served on our food tray. Once a week, they served warmed, canned spinach with our meal. The spinach tasted nothing like the way my grandmother made it, but I ate it. I gulped it down in three or four bites and it amazed my table mates. I told them we ate it at home so I was used to the taste. Now, my real problem began the day I ate the spinach off my friends’ trays so we could go play outside. As soon as the nun monitoring the cafeteria turned her back, my friends ate something off my tray I didn’t want, and I ate their serving of spinach. I only did it for two of my table mates, but the word spread. On the next Spinach Day, kids followed me to my table.I was suddenly very popular, and as soon as the nun marched off to the other end of the cafeteria, my friends and an army of others who only knew me as The Girl Who Eats Spinach, begged me to take their servin…

Facing My Fear of Guns

With the ownership of firearms comes responsibility, so I had asked HoneyBunch several times to teach me how to shoot and to help me get my License to Carry. I got my wish two weeks ago. HB and I signed up to take a LTC class. He bought me a gun, one similar to his, that would be the type we needed to show shooting proficiency, and for one whole week he tried to get me to become familiar with it, but I was hesitant. I read the booklet that came with the gun. I practiced loading and shooting it in what is called dry shooting (no bullets), and since the flyer said I would have to shoot thirty shots at different distances, I finally tried with it loaded. I was a nervous wreck. The class of twelve turned out to be close to forty people. We were of all ages, colors, and genders, and I was glad I wasn’t the only woman my age. The shooting test came first, and we were separated into two groups. Those who were proficient (or thought they were) would shoot first, and those who were novices wou…