How Did I Get Here?

Ok, let's be really honest. When you think of someone who wants to grow their own food, make their own clothes, raise animals, bake bread, live a little closer to the land, Las Vegas is definitely not the first place that comes to mind. When I first knew I was moving to Vegas I started hopelessly googling, "What can you grown in Vegas?" The answers I got? Cactus, and rocks. Great... I mean we all know the story of stone soup, but as I recall the moral was more along the lines of "together we can make great things happen," and less, "mmmmm rocks sure are tasty." So you (and even I) might wonder how I came to start a homestead blog and even more so how I have created a space that I can call my homestead.

This story has no clear beginning, but maybe it has lots of beginnings. Just like a puzzle, let me start with the corners, the edges, and big sections to make a complete picture. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I grew up in Wyoming. My family hunted, my mother sewed, and we grew what we could in our back yard. Let me take a moment to clarify, we were not living some wild west lifestyle in a cabin 20 miles from town. My parent's are both highly educated, we lived in the middle of town, and my father taught at the University. We had a moderate sized backyard, but I also had a swing set that was used to "age" deer and antelope every fall. I knew where my food came from, how to run a sewing machine, and that potatoes actually grow IN the ground. Also, as mentioned before, I was more or less obsessed with the Laura Ingalls Wilder Little House on the Prairie books. Anyone else? Just me? Cool.

Fast forward (many years) and I found myself still living in Las Vegas after having completed my graduate program. I have gardened in Wyoming, Montana, California, and Washington (more about that in a later post?) But I was starting to feel the itch again, that itch to grow something. To plant seeds, watch them sprout, taste that first leaf of spinach, lettuce, chard, and feel like an absolute god! I also really wanted chickens because...duh, Chickens! Now, wants and dreams are great, but the story is only good (and Hallmark worthy) if there is some catalyst. Wanna guess my catalyst? Yep, heart break. Big old fiancé walks out, starts seeing someone else, proposes to them 4 months later sort of heart break. Small town girl, moves to big city, gets heart broken, decides to return to her small town ways while still living in said big city. Anyone else vomit a little bit there? It's cliche, but it's also pretty much what happened. Except my version has far more swear words, middle fingers, and personal effects being consumed by fire! But the one big take away? It's time to live my life for me, the way I want to live my life. No one else's rules, no one else's opinions, just me. (And my dog.)

So, a few short months later I find myself sitting in the office of a mortgage lender. What gave me the nerve to actually make that call and show up, I still don't know short of an act of God. People talk about getting cold sweats? Yeah, I'm sitting in her office and found myself actually getting physically sick, sweating, the whole thing. Saying, "yes... I can come up with those numbers of money." As my internal voice is going, what? Are those real numbers? But here's the defining moment in that conversation. She looks at me and goes, so what are you looking for in a home? Two, maybe three bedrooms? Fireplace? Yard? and what comes out of my mouth? "Chickens." She stared at my for a moment...chickens? Once I unglued my tongue from the roof of my mouth, released my grip on the chair a little bit, and took a breath I repeated, "chickens, I want a place where I can have chickens. That is my priority." She chuckled a little bit (can't even imagine what was going on in her head) and said, ok, chickens. My entire home search was based around whether or not I could have chickens at the property, no lies friends. It was the driving factor, and everyone knew it! Well, it obviously worked out in the end, because I have a place with chickens. I also have some delightful cacti and rocks!

Want to hear more about my crazy-ass chickens and why I ended up with an Egyptian Heritage breed? Check in next week for all the details, and a great story about yours truly running through the chicken yard in heels and a dress, late for church while the dog stared at me like I had lost my mind!