Some weeks nothing much changes. You go about, doing your thing, kinda on track.
Then there are weeks when the tectonic plates shift. Know those ones? When everything moves forward in one swift southerly gust and things that might've seemed unlikely suddenly unfold easily, and things that might've seemed impossible are now possible.
We've had a totally awesome week, and photographed none of it.
We joined the ride which was three days of amazing Joel Salatin in Kiama, driven along by Milkwood Permaculture. We got to meet him, and ask questions, and be inspired, and think through our priorities, and take home a massive to-do list. We got to hand him our own pastured bacon and eggs for his breakfast. We got to hang out with the fabulous Milkwood crew, who we love, and feed them some delicious food too. So. Much. Fun.
We are twitching with activity. There's a new broiler shelter which rose out of the darkness tonight under lights in the hayshed. There's our most successful batch of broilers yet in their brooder pen, who represent some hard-won lessons. There's piglets in the paddock, and middle sized pigs too, and our very own bacon just back from the butcher. Thank you, pigs.
There's an Eliot Coleman-inspired market garden plan on the table next to trays and trays of pullet eggs which are all just about to tip over into full-sized, increasing our production. There's crates of handmade biscuits all sealed and bagged ready for Kiama Produce market this weekend.
There's rain on the windows and a vegie garden humming in the downpour. There's pickled radish and pickled cucumber in the fridge and the fiercely pruned back zucchini is now producing a staggering number of zukes. Who knew?!
The rocket has totally gone to seed but apparently the flowers make a wonderful tea.
We're figuring out the logistics of hosting Wwoofers, doing home readers with two school kids, talking about borrowing cattle to clip the pasture the chickens are all on, and meeting locally with friends to help nut out a herd share dairy.
It was just over two years ago that we quit jobs and quit Sydney and thought we might try and make a go of it here. If you want to be a farmer, you can. You can find a way. You can make a living out of it. You might forget to look in a mirror for a month at a time and discover mud all up your arm at school pick up, but a little patch of land can come alive because of you. Hello, destiny.