The sun has been shining the last few days with a warmth that truly feels like spring. The snow has melted from our land, and today I spotted the first tender green shoots of grass—right before one of our turkey hens gobbled them up! Spring seems to be in her blood too, if the pale pink eggs she keeps leaving behind are any indication.
It’s hard to stay focused. My partner and I want to sit in the yard, soak up the sun, and dream about the land—even though the house isn’t finished yet.
Inside, things are nearly done, so it makes sense to get fresh air and start planning the outdoor spaces. Where will the gardens go? Which trees need clearing? Where should we plant fruit trees?
The land needs work—especially the soil. Speaking of soil, I found a source of manure for the garden.
There’s a neighbor who keeps cows and sheep, and when I saw him outside I called across the fence to ask about buying some manure. He invited me to see the farm and the manure pile, and I jumped at the chance. When he mentioned that he and his wife follow Joel Salatin’s principles for raising food, I felt a surge of excitement. Even up here in the mountains, it looks like we’ll have like-minded neighbors. I’m not a fan who follows everything religiously, but I do appreciate naturally raised food—and that’s what they do.
Walking around the neighbor’s place deepened my spring fever. The good news: we’re lined up to get some cow manure for our beds. The bad news: seeing all those little animals set my heart racing with ideas. That familiar itch is growing stronger.
I worry it’s going to happen again, like it does every spring. I get swept up in the excitement of new life and outdoor projects, and I tend to overplan and overcommit—until my partner reels me back in.
At first I dance around his attempts to calm me and chafe against the pause, but eventually I do slow down.
I’ve been wondering whether living on our own land makes that itch better or worse. I’m pretty sure the answer is worse. The pull to add more animals is stronger when everything is right outside your door.
That said, I know what’s at stake. We’re trying to be patient and set things up properly before bringing home too many animals. This land is wilder than where we used to live, with more predators to contend with, so we need smart systems in place or we risk serious losses.
So this year we’ll focus: finish the house (we’re currently laying flooring), develop the gardens, raise a batch of meat birds, clear select trees, and maybe install a root cellar.
Spring is in my blood—I can’t deny it, and I wouldn’t want to.