The Final Nail in the Coffin of my Civility.(Who’s Afraid of Little old me, Heather’s Version)

      Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved to go to her Great Aunts farm in the Missouri River Valley. I spent those days lounging in the garden, chasing chickens and picking strawberries. It seemed like a magical place to me and I cherish every single memory.

      My aunt was not chatty. I don't remember her ever being young. She was always stooped over and small in stature, lines on her face and tiny hands. She kept her hair in a high chignon, paired with a simple house dress and apron. Her style was practical and simple, but feminine. I was often told that my Uncle would not allow her to do the hard work of the farm, that labor was a mans duty. She was in her late 70's when I was born and worked harder than any person I knew. I often wondered what the men were doing out there in the pasture that was so difficult. She churned butter and made candied apples from scratch. Her home always smelled of  rising bread and brewed coffee. The hardwood floors creaked and groaned beneath my feet. There was a TV, but it was on only for the news.  She worked most days from sun up to sundown tending the garden and taking care of household chores.  In the evening she would sit in her chair in the kitchen and work on her tatting. I have so many of the little snowflakes that she sent out in her Christmas cards.  Her hands were never idle. 

     There were times when I went with her to her quilting guild meetings. I remember hiding under the quilt playing with some string while the women gossiped. One story that sticks in my brain vault told of a fat church parishioner who had accidently sat on her grandchild and gravely injured them. At the time it seemed like the most profane of accidents. I could not have been more than five or six and the thought of dying under a fat woman's ass was by far the most terrifying death I could imagine. 

     I was staying at the farm for a few days while my parents where going thru a rather nasty divorce and I think everyone agreed I did not need to see any of that. As it was I had seen far too much of their discord already. The farm provided a distraction and I appreciated the solitude and predictability of that kind of life. I can tell you that this made an impression on me at such a young age. I wish now more than anything that I could sit at the table with her and learn everything there is to know about all of the things she knew. It might have saved me a mistake or two... or perhaps five hundred, Did I mention that we have no idea what we are doing?  Yep, that's right, we are seeking a homestead life with zero homestead experience. There have been many tears and times of doubt. We sure are not the picture of perfection, but we are doing the very best that we can do to make this hot mess a home. 

     Our story begins with a time of unhappiness and despair. The universe had been telling me for a long time that I needed to make some moves and changes. I was fearful. As a Virgo I like to have my ducks in a row. I'm great at managing chaos when it happens to me but I'm not real good at the whole leap of faith thing. I like a plan, even if it doesn't go as I intended. Even in misery there is some comfort that I know what to expect. I'm not a religious person, but I am a spiritual person and I put a lot of stock in the still small voice. I waited while spirit worked out the kinks and helped me find bravery.

      It's crazy how you can work all your life to get what you think you want only to have that thing make you miserable and I was most definitely miserable. I enjoyed the work but not the environment. At home there were challenges as well.  I don't feel it appropriate to air my dirty laundry to the world, but I will tell you that the circumstances where in many ways heartbreaking. I found solace in digging in the dirt, even if I couldn't give enough time to a garden for it to flourish. I found myself walking around the block to gain my center.  If there was a such thing as a midlife crisis, at 39 I was sure feeling the clock tick in a way I never had before. I just knew, we had to take a leap. Within four weeks I was on  my way to Snyder Texas. 

     Snyder is a little town in the middle of nowhere west Texas. I had only been there twice before. Each time I visited it called to me and I knew that this little place was not done with me, nor I with  it.  I had been trying to figure out a way to get there for a few years but my in the box thinking kept me from it. I had this whole long list of things I thought I needed to make the move successful. I was living paycheck to paycheck and certainly there where times when the pay check didn't go as far as I needed it too. In the middle of a financial and personal struggle I could not fathom just picking up and moving like that. My life was already a pretty big mess.  I remember sitting at my computer at work while that still small voice said, hey, why don't you check to see how much is in your retirement account. I decided that if I had access to this money I could make this change. This small amount of permission led to a job search. The job search led to a 30 thousand dollar a year raise and the rest ...well, stick around its history in the making.  This little raggedy structure became the inspiration behind this adventure. When I looked at this house I felt a calling. I felt a stirring in my soul. There was a knowing in my bones as I walked thru it. Here is the first introduction to my bohemian farmhouse dreams. I do hope you enjoy the many tales me and this old girl have to tell.