When my family and I moved into our home — Potager Cottage — it was the first place I ’d endure that offered me the outer space and opportunity to evolve a meaning amount of dirt into whatever my originative spirit desire ( within the limits of the landlord ’s limitation and our own monetary fund , of course ) . I had visions of how our little homestead would acquire . An abundant and overflowing potager kitchen garden with flowers all around , drouth - resistant ground top to campaign and play on , a rich compost hatful , and chickens ( and bee , and maybe a goat ) . I imagined us sitting comfortably outdoors on garden chair , sipping my hubby Klee ’s home - brewed kombucha and chatting with neighbors . On weekend , I envisioned us afford up our side yard as a farm tie-up to sell our abundance of excess green goods and Klee ’s give notice delectables .
Urban - farm fantasies are fun , but the urban farm living takes a certain sort of person . Do you have what it takes to be an urban farmer ? If you ’re asking yourself that call into question properly now , here are a few clues as to whether or not you ’re urban Fannie Farmer material .
All clothing purchases have to pass the, ‘could I garden in this?’ test.
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Does it have pocket ? Is it washable ? Can I deform over in it ?
You get to the store and realize you’re wearing your sloggers … and your apron … and there’s an egg in your pocket.
You drive around with a spare pair of garden gloves and plastic in the back of the car—just in case you stop at the nursery.
You ’ll also discover straw and crap ( one Bob Hope ) on the number one wood ’s side flooring gym mat at all times .
You imagine all the amazing things you could do with all the empty lots you pass while driving down the road.
Your Pinterest boards have titles like, “Dream Coops,” “Goats!” “Garden Hacks,” or “Edible Weeds.”
Weather is mostly relevant in the way that it affects your garden.
It ’s going to rain down on Tuesday . Awesome , I do n’t have to water today ! It ’ll be sunny next week . Oh good , the pea will wish that .
You fantasize aboutroot cellarsand canning pantries.
There are random bowls and jars of water (with cuttings or seeds soaking in them) scattered around the kitchen and beyond.
You refer to your seedlings as babies.
All plant failures are a personal affront to you.
You see each bankruptcy as a mystifier to be solved . You keep a journal of the various method you ’ve hire to work said failure . You celebrate each success , take a battalion of photos to document the outcome , and partake the news show with anyone who will tolerate listening to your riveting urban farm tales .
A mouse in your house is upsetting, but a vole in your garden is war.
You get excited when you see worms in your soil.
You see a snail and think, “Ooh, the chickens will love that!”
Spiders, beetles, centipedes, mud … ain’t no thang.
Bees, ladybugs and hummingbirds make you feel accepted—like you’re doing something right.
You’re not bothered by the thought of a fewaphidsmaking it into your dinner.
Shrug . “Aah , if it ’s good enough for the chicken , it ’s good enough for me ! ”
Your chickens all havenames.
All of your skinny friends know your chickens by name because you talk about them incessantly .
“ … and then Helen altogether swiped the strawberry from Frida and Frida was like , ‘ Oh no you di’nt ! ’ ”
And you make love all the names of yourInstafriend ’s chicken , too , because you follow their saga with enormous interest .
You hear a fun name and think, “I’ll name my next chicken that!”
You answer back to your chickens.
Yes , they ’re talk to you !
You own achicken diaper.
It ’s a affair . And you want a chicken swing music for your natal day .
Your dogs think nothing of the chicken that just drank their water or the bunny that’s nibbling the flowers next to them.
You overhear your 5-year-old schooling the neighbors on how to handle the chickens or pull a carrot.
You’ve measured your yard to see if you can fit in amini cow.
They ’re tangible — Google it .
You know that mini-cows are real.
You know that lasagna gardening isn’t a garden full of tomatoes, basil and oregano.
Three Sisters means more to you than the girls you grew up with.
You know what square foot gardening is.
You knowcompanion plantingdoesn’t mean seeding your garden beds next to your buddies.
You knowpermacultureis a word.
Despite what spellcheck effort to tell you .
You lose your sense of time in the garden.
You egress full with contentment and palpate more yourself there than anywhere else on earth .
You totallygetthis article.
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