Packing up this house and hashing out plans for our move has me feeling bone-tired and mentally fried. I am so ready to be done.
It isn't even that I'm just sick of all of the business of packing and making offers and counter-offers and all of that mess. I'm torn right down the middle about being thrilled out of my mind and scared to death about this move. I can't believe we're selling this house! I cannot believe that I'm leaving my garden, my baby apple tree and my gnarly little pond!
After eight years of piecemeal DIY projects and landscaping, we finally were able to get this house and yard pretty much where we wanted it to be - raised beds full of our own compost, bountiful blueberry bushes and now, a freshly-renovated upstairs bathroom. And now we're walking away from it. Remind me why again?
Oh yes, it was that whole farm thing. That's what touched off this whirlwind.
When I'm not maniacally packing boxes and painting walls into the wee hours, I'm daydreaming and scheming about our (hopefully, hopefully) soon-to-be new house. Our farm. I want turkeys and more chickens. I think I might even want a goat. I want to put in a good half acre or more of blueberries and maybe cranberries too. I want to raise red wrigglers for sale and start my own CSA. My mind is racing with possibilities, only limited by my going-going-gone energy and this painfully slow and complicated process of buying and selling houses simultaneously. Good Lord, what I would give to have this over already, and to be back tending a garden that I will actually still own when it begins to bear it's fruits.