Oh, we’re in trouble.

Unexpectedly, a vision has been growing in my mind over the last few months.  I don’t know how it even began- just a little sprout of an idea.  How nice it would be to have a few chickens.  Such an innocent beginning.  Little did I know, I was opening Pandora’s box.  Indulging and nurturing this stray thought may have been was definitely a mistake.  My husband suspects this, but after this post, he will know the truth of it.  Be afraid, Honey.  Be very afraid.  Remember the vows you made… for better or worse.

Because now, I want goats. (they do eat poison ivy, after all.)

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And rabbits.  (for the meat, I’ll be honest.  Not as pets.)

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I didn’t pick the cute ones.  I’m gonna have to concentrate on those weird pink eyes if I want to actually go through with the eating plan.

And my fully functioning garden of course, both summer and winter.  Oh, and the herbs.  And fruit trees, absolutely!!  Blueberry bushes and dewberries.  (This probably means we need a greenhouse.  Just sayin’)

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Don’t forget the butterfly garden.  Because… um…

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Anyway.

So, the butterfly garden is sure to attract bees, as well.  And wouldn’t it be nice to have honey?  (Of course, being terrified of bees presents a problem.)

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See- I couldn’t even post a real picture.  It has to be a cute bee for me to handle it.  It has to smile at me.

And then, at this point, if I can get past the bees, then I really deserve the horses.  Right after we put up the barn and fence in the pasture land.

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Forget ever doing anything else, ever.  This is it.  I just want to do these things  I want to have all these animals and plants, and I want to feed them and know them, and take pictures of them, and write about them.  You can come see them if you want.  And me- you can see me, too.  But I don’t think I’ll be able to leave.  Ever.

I want to homestead while the rest of the world goes by.  I want my own farm name, I want a bell to ring when it’s supper time.  I want dusty, sweaty boys who know how to herd goats, and gather eggs.  I want early morning weeding in the garden with slightly complainy kids.  I want sweet watermelon in the summer, right out of the patch.  I want farm life, farm problems, farm rewards.

All because of a few chickens.  They did it.  So be careful.  Don’t think about how fun that might be.  Don’t think how enjoyable it is to eat fresh eggs.  Don’t think of the benefit to your children’s education and character it would present.  Don’t think about the entertainment of a few biddies in a small, understated coop in the backyard.  Don’t.  And whatever you do, do NOT look at adorable pictures of chicks in hats.  There is just no turning back at that point.

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One more.  Oh help us all.

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See?

Trouble.

 

PS.  This.

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