Sorry [not] about the title but.. This. A friend shared this post on Facebook.. and it couldn't be a more accurate representation of how I feel about what I'm doing in my life right now.
“I
never thought I’d come back to New York. I have a lot of bad memories
here. It can be an ugly place. My ex-husband lives here. On September
11th I was on the street below the second tower. So there are things
I’d just prefer not to remember. But recently my mother got sick and I
came home to take care of her. I was in a bit of a rut at the time. I’d
fallen away from my passions. I was just
working to pay the rent. And one evening I was walking by the river
and I passed a place called Hudson River Community Sailing. They
offered free sailing lessons. I don’t know why I stopped. I was
intellectually convinced that sailing was not for me. I was getting
older. I was out of shape. But I decided to give it a try. And I got
hooked on it. I got kinda obsessed with learning to sail. I remember
the first time I was out there alone. It felt amazing. I was in the
middle of the Hudson, the wind was blowing, I could see the whole city,
and my hand was on the tiller. It seemed like I was doing something
impossible. I’m not white. I’m not male. I don’t own a boat. I don’t
even have money. But I’m in New York City and I’m fucking sailing.”
Humans of New York
...
Life is a crazy ride. My entire life has been one of transience, whether by circumstance or by nature. I can't remember the longest span of time I've ever lived in any place in particular- I feel like 2.5 years has been my limit, with a year being my average. As a kid I remember being in a new school every couple years, one year [grade 7, lucky me] I was enrolled in four different schools in 4 different towns. After high school I held down a job at the same company for 11 years, 6 of which I had 'no fixed address'. I took leave often to travel.
Somewhere along the line, I became obsessed with an idea. My mind kept trying to equate a way, and my heart wouldn't let me leave it alone. I wanted to grow. Gardens, food, community structure- something sustainable for myself and abundant enough to share and even perhaps be profitable. I had an unstoppable desire to be some kind of farmer/gardener/homesteader. I was introduced to 'Permaculture' principles. It all felt so right...
But I'm a transient being. Ten years ago my circle grew to include the entire coast to coast span of the Northern portion of this massive continent. I set out with a backpack to wander Home the long way. I worked when I needed to, and found housing for the winters. In 2010 I started planting seeds. Guerilla gardening I believe it was called.. and then 'real' gardening behind people's houses. Mostly behind houses in which I did not live. I couldn't find a community where I fit so I tried building one. For my last couple years in Ontario, I was even fortunate enough to have a basement apartment and a back yard I could garden hard.
Sandy Shores Farm was born in that back yard. It was a gift to my mother that I never got to give. She passed away the day I put the last seeds into the ground- mammoth sunflowers. I kept the seeds and left that place. 4 years ago- I transitioned back to the rucksack life.
I needed time to process everything. BC became my hang. I don't know why I decided to stay. Usually when people move west to encounter housing crises, breaking the bank and generally not succeeding at their first or fifth attempt at making it work, they move back home to safety. I couldn't secure housing for the life of me. Two jobs couldn't afford me a place, and keeping jobs without housing became more than a challenge. How would I ever see my dreams come to fruition if I'm living in a tent?! I didn't know exactly. But the dream never died.
My breaking point finally surfaced.
Everything I owned [not much] was stashed in a 5x5 storage locker. I was staying in a tent and crashing a couch with a girl I was working with so I could shower and cook some nights. My credit had been decimated, I lost the truck I'd been living in, I lost touch with the few friends I had here whilst attempting to acclimate, and someone very close to me back home had just passed away. I was literally in the process of preparation to move back east when someone tapped me on the shoulder and said 'wait a minute'..
That someone was in the same situation and had the same dream. Maybe I wasn't crazy.
In January 2017 by some random chance, I found this little farm house cabin to rent. We planted a garden. A year later we were granted permission by our amazing neighbours to keep animals on their side of the property line. Almost two years, a couple dozen rabbits, two goats and a slough of chickens later... we have a farm.
We don't have any money. My credit is still destroyed. I never inherited a piece of land, and the chances of me ever affording some in this province are slim to nil. I had no idea how I'd ever find a place to call home.. it seems like I'm doing the impossible. I'm in the valley surrounded by mountains with a beautiful waterfront view, and I'm f*cking Farming!
Stay tuned.. this isn't over yet. ;)
