Today we hosted my family for a mother's day brunch complete with my sister's hand made (and hand-hunted) feral hog breakfast sausage, savory and sweet crepes, and assorted adult beverages. Each savory crepe was topped with a bright fried egg, most from my own hens.
Flowers and herbs grown right outside the front door were centerpieces, and a walk to the garden ended the afternoon.
Someone mentioned the luck we have here- a sentiment I will never deny. A lot of what we have and where we are has to do with luck. But there's a little more to it than that.
The garden alone is the best representation of what this was before we grabbed our pitchforks and dug in, almost four years ago. Somewhere at the bottom of a box filled with notebooks, house plans, and cheese-making books is a folded up paper with our scribbled plans for the placement of gardens, goat pens, and a house. We've both got weaker backs (but stronger arms) for all the sweat put into this place. Jeremy spent the better part of Year 1 removing mesquite thorns from tractor tires.
There's a garden now in the spot where mesquite and cactus seemed impenetrable, where I broke down and cried more than a few times about our stupidity for sinking savings into what seemed like a hopeless pit of dry dirt, old glass, and rattlesnakes.
Now, there's a house standing on the very hill we were told was ridiculous to build upon.