Well ... so much for our pumpkins.
The ducks and chickens have demolished our blueberry bushes, made dirt baths out of our potted sage and thyme, and happily ate their fill of our beans. And now, just to make sure they've got all of the major food groups represented (or at least the ones they like), they've eaten all of the leaves off the fairytale pumpkins.
We've tried everything: fencing, replacing, sitting potted plants up high, putting them in hard to reach places, threatening the ducks with no dinner and a time out. Free-ranging can be a royal pain in the ass.
Now it looks like FF is hard at work to try and get more fencing so that, just maybe we can move the incredible, edible egg layers to another part of the farmette - far away from any growing things that we might actually - you know - want to eat.
When it comes to farming (or homesteading or large-scale gardening or whatever your chosen designation), seed is king. Starting with the proper seeds and taking care of the proper seeds can mean the difference between a beautifully healthy crop, and a very pissed off, angry shopper in the produce department at Kroger. Believe me, I've been there.
I have a real problem with patience.
Today I fried up some good old-fashioned green tomatoes. Not entirely because I was hungry (which I was), but because I'm having a really hard time keeping my hands off the tomato plants.
When you move out to the country, you don't always realize how much the little things will change. We certainly didn't. We knew about the obvious - a longer drive to get to the nearest grocery store, an obvious lack of movie theaters, craft beer not even existing within 20 miles.
But here's a few tips to the things that we didn't expect. Hope they help you a little before (or maybe even during) your move to rural life.
I feel like this happens to everyone, but it doesn't make it any easier.
One of my proudest moments was when I first grew a vegetable. A tomato. That I could actually eat. I wouldn't, of course, because tomatoes are gross and almost a vegetable and my mom is always trying to make me eat stuff I don't want to eat and who does she think she is anyway? Ok, so I was 11 and #middleschoolproblems .
The point is, I felt confident. I felt capable. Because now that I knew the secret, I could grow anything. (I also felt certain I would never grow another tomato again. Prepubescent me was DAMN sure growin' vegetables was just the parental agenda trying to enforce a dictatorship's rules. Down with the man! I set out to become the world's foremost authority on growing Cheezits and those little candy dots that came on long strips of paper.)
I'm the wife of a Fledgling Farmer(FF) and mom to Fledgling Farmer Boy(FFB) and Fledgling Farmer Girl(FFG).