La Belle's Hobby Farm: There's No Place Like Home

I think all of us are always five years old in the presence and absence of our parents.

~ Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

W

hen I said I was going to share with you the story of my foray into hobby farming as it unfolds, I didn’t intend it to be a series of posts on the technical and practical aspects of gardening ~ although I knew that would figure into some of the telling.  Rather, I wanted to write personal essays of my story of starting a hobby farm while moving back with my aging parents.

And so far I’ve successfully avoided writing that part of the plot.

I feel like it would be easier if I were to write about this chapter of the story if it were about a fictional character.  But even fictional characters can annoy and disappoint you.  Just like real human beings.

Essentially, for all my extroverted ways, I am a very private person.  And since there are quite a few folks who know who Mikaela really is, it makes writing intimate personal essays a little sticky.  Yet if I can connect with just one person who is helped or comforted by my story, than perhaps shining a light into a few dark corners is worth it.  As a writer, I can’t really hide everything all the time.

So here I am, starting a hobby farm on the family property.  And to be honest, while the agony of deciding where to put the vegetable garden was due in large part to trying to figure out the best way to prepare the soil, it also came down to ~ how long will I be here? 

Translation: how long can I stand to be here?

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

To be continued….