About us
I'm not sure when we truly appreciated the significance
of our move to the country. It could have been when the moving truck
drove away and we found ourselves alone, in the middle of nowhere,
surrounded by acres of woodland, hay fields and a trillion crickets.
Or perhaps it was when we harvested our first egg from our new brood
of hens. Then again, maybe it was the arrival of the donkeys. Yep,
it must have been the donkeys.
Like many people, we'd yearned to kiss the city life goodbye and trade our suburban lot for greener pastures.
We'd spend hours talking about moving to the country and the ways we'd simplify our lives. We'd reduce our dependency on cheap oil, spend less and live more.
We wanted to grow and preserve more of our own food, heat our home with wood, experiment with solar and wind energy and tend some animals for milk and wool.
Most importantly, we wanted to raise our kids, ages four and six, in a place filled with fresh air, sunshine and small-town congeniality.
It was about slowing down and getting away from the hectic pace of life we found ourselves in. We wanted to live within limits.
So, in July 2008 we said goodbye to our 150-year-old semi-detached home in the suburbs and traded our minivan for a pick-up truck.
There were times early on when we wondered if we were in over our heads. We were supposed to be farmers, but I couldn't tell the difference between a forage harvester and a cultivator.
Yet I already knew how a mid-morning walk through the woods soothed the soul, how incredible a home-grown tomato tastes and that nothing could replace the looks of sheer joy on my kids' faces as they explored the four corners of our farm.
Our bookcases are now filled with titles on raising chickens, donkeys, sheep and dairy goats; sustainable woodlot practices; organic fruit and vegetable production; composting; pest management and strategies for simpler living.
And yet we've still got a lot to learn, but that's OK. Things don't happen quickly in the country, and it's not like we're going anywhere.
We've only been here four months, but it feels much longer than that. Things that were once extraordinary -- felling trees, handling chickens, tending a woodstove -- are now part of our ordinary. We've fallen into a comfortable routine of rural existence. As busy and full as this life is, it's the only one that makes sense to us now.
(Abridged excerpt from "Simpler Living" by Fiona Wagner: first published November 12/08 on Bankrate Canada. Copyright protected.)
Like many people, we'd yearned to kiss the city life goodbye and trade our suburban lot for greener pastures.
We'd spend hours talking about moving to the country and the ways we'd simplify our lives. We'd reduce our dependency on cheap oil, spend less and live more.
We wanted to grow and preserve more of our own food, heat our home with wood, experiment with solar and wind energy and tend some animals for milk and wool.
Most importantly, we wanted to raise our kids, ages four and six, in a place filled with fresh air, sunshine and small-town congeniality.
It was about slowing down and getting away from the hectic pace of life we found ourselves in. We wanted to live within limits.
So, in July 2008 we said goodbye to our 150-year-old semi-detached home in the suburbs and traded our minivan for a pick-up truck.
There were times early on when we wondered if we were in over our heads. We were supposed to be farmers, but I couldn't tell the difference between a forage harvester and a cultivator.
Yet I already knew how a mid-morning walk through the woods soothed the soul, how incredible a home-grown tomato tastes and that nothing could replace the looks of sheer joy on my kids' faces as they explored the four corners of our farm.
Our bookcases are now filled with titles on raising chickens, donkeys, sheep and dairy goats; sustainable woodlot practices; organic fruit and vegetable production; composting; pest management and strategies for simpler living.
And yet we've still got a lot to learn, but that's OK. Things don't happen quickly in the country, and it's not like we're going anywhere.
We've only been here four months, but it feels much longer than that. Things that were once extraordinary -- felling trees, handling chickens, tending a woodstove -- are now part of our ordinary. We've fallen into a comfortable routine of rural existence. As busy and full as this life is, it's the only one that makes sense to us now.
(Abridged excerpt from "Simpler Living" by Fiona Wagner: first published November 12/08 on Bankrate Canada. Copyright protected.)
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