This blog is supposed to be about our family’s adventure in urban farming. It’s meant to entertain by letting us make fools of ourselves as we milk a goat for the first time and try to figure out which of our baby chicks are girls and which are boys. It’s supposed to make you think “aw . . . how sweet!” when I post a photo of my two year-old with a basket full of eggs she collected.
That would be great. But we have no goats, no chickens, and this year . . . maybe not even a garden. We’re stuck. At least that’s how it feels.
We are usually presented with the idea that we can’t accomplish much in our suburban lots, but it’s not true. Did you know that the average farmer only has about 1-2 acres? That’s a global average, of course. (I really wish I could find the source for that fact. I think I read it in The Omnivore’s Dilemma, but I have misplaced my copy. I KNOW the average farmer has less than 5 acres, but I think it is only 1-2).
In the U.S. the average farm is 449 acres.
In time, more and more people are going reclaim their traditional lawns for something more useful, more purposeful. It won’t be easy, though. Years of soil abuse using pesticides and synthetic fertilizers can’t be undone overnight. That’s one of the biggest reasons our family wants to start our 2-3 acre urban farm. We know not everyone will have as much land as we hope to have, but through trial and error on different sections of the property we hope to find the most efficient methods for bringing health and vitality back to the soil. As more and more people start planting gardens and keeping a few laying hens, we want to have useful information to share with them about being incredibly productive on small parcels of land.
So that’s what we want. We pray every day that God will somehow give us the property we have our hearts set on (or change our hearts, our vision, or something!). It’s more than we can afford right now. We have crunched the numbers enough times to know that. It is so unlike me to want something I can’t have. Usually, if I can’t easily afford it, I don’t want it. I don’t have a huge diamond wedding ring, a brand new car, or designer clothes. I am sometimes baffled by how much I want this property. It literally seems like a more impossible situation each day, and yet I still want it.
I guess I could write about putting our house the market. But seriously, who would take the time to read that?
What is that when I could be documenting my first attempt to make cheese?