Now that we're starting to actually do some things around here it's hit me that planning vs. doing is very different. Not in terms of doing being more difficult and planning being easier, but in terms of time management. I'm working remotely from home and it's a 7am to 6pm job. I'll usually take a 20-30 minute lunch with Sweetbreads somewhere in there, but that's it. That leaves very little time for me to actually do anything useful on the farm. Back in the city I could come home at dark and hit the books, make some phone calls, write emails, research different ideas, etc. I could get in a good 3-4 hours worth of 'work', no problem. Didn't matter if it was light or dark outside. Now I need the daylight to really get meaningful work done. That gives me about 30 min or an hour and I better make it count. I'm looking forward to the longer days of summer.
I can’t believe it’s already been a week. It feels like two days! Or, I should say, it feels that way when you step into our house. We’re not entirely living in a box maze, but about half of the house is still covered and stacked. With two special helpers here (thank you Pat and Catie Bug!) the first week, we decided it would be smartest to focus on outdoor muscle tasks like building Sophie’s run and a coop for her chickens. As a result, when our friends pulled away down the driveway Friday afternoon, Scrapple and I were still living in what closely resembled a storage facility. The kitchen, for necessity’s sake, was the only room that was fully functional and could be inhabited comfortably, albeit lined in layers of empty packing boxes. Although I’m sure we could have plugged on, camping in our house, for another week or two, with no other distractions on a Saturday night for once in weeks, beers with dinner turned into an all out house decorating party for 2. It’s amazing what a little clear floor space and wall art can do to make a space feel like your own! It may only be one room, but sitting here with Scrapple, all cozy in our living room with memories on the wall and stacks of our books on the shelves, typing away, I feel like we’ve settled in.
If you saw our last post or glanced at our Facebook page the past few days you probably noticed that we have a dog. Not just any dog though, she's a ~6 month old Maremma that we hope will one day become a primary protector of our livestock (and ourselves, if need be). Her name is Sophie and since she's our first animal on the farm we're pretty obsessed with her. She's also very special to us because she was a gift from a friend of ours in NY that breeds Maremma's and that we were a long-time customer of at the farmer's market. It brought tears to our eyes when he offered us a pup as a going away present.
We left the city last Saturday, a cold and dreary morning. As we pulled away, down into the Lincoln tunnel, nothing but misty grey could be seen in the rear view mirror. I had imagined giving a last loving gaze at one of my favorite buildings, the Chrysler, as I said goodbye, but she was cloaked in fog, and my last look was instead of some corner bodegas and shady sex shops. I think it was for the best. The waterworks had already started. When we drove by the corner in Hells Kitchen where Scrapple and I first met, I started to cry with the overwhelming sentimentality of it all. After weeks of living in a surreal cloud of dreamy anticipation and excitement, the reality of saying goodbye to a former version of myself and the city and circumstances that had transformed me into who I am now hit me and I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes my tears turn into smiling crying or even better (by better I mean creepier to bystanders) – laughing crying and this was one of those occasions. So happy to be leaving, yet so grateful for all that city gave me.