Home Sweet Home

When I was a little girl I dreamed I would grow up and live in a huge garage.  Wait.  What??  That can't be right.  But truth is stranger than fiction, no?  The truth is that as of a couple weeks ago I AM living in a huge garage.  I moved from my rented 1,300 square-foot brick home with a full basement, yard, shade trees and large garden plot to a 650 square-foot apartment that makes up 1/2 of a metal shop building complete with an over-sized garage door, OSB wooden sheet and metal walls, and unpainted concrete floors. There is no yard and very little southern exposure.  Despite what you may be thinking right now it was an easy decision to make.

BEFORE

AFTER...yes, these are labeled correctly

What seems like a fairly long time ago in a land not so far away my husband-to-be and I were getting married. It was May 2010.  The business of retail farming was well underway and Weldon was gearing up for his third full season of raising pastured chickens, pastured pork, all-grass beef, and pastured chicken eggs for sale at the Nashville Farmers Market and a few Nashvillian restaurants.  Since the retail inception of Emerald Glen Farm (EGF) in 2008, production and sales had grown exponentially. Though I didn't always work in the business I'd been around and supportive from the start.  As of 2010 I was going full-time as a partner and we were embarking on our joint homestead dreams.  By this time in the journey the meat inventory had outgrown the half a dozen chest freezers crammed in a former barn shed that was closed-in with a concrete floor and some walls. We'd also run out of space on his parents' counter for drying a hundred eggs each day and it was painfully obvious that our dynamic duo couldn't come close to covering all of the workload despite regular help from family and an occasional hired hand. Thus, the idea of building a Shop was born.

Just before our wedding we bought two acres of woods across the street from our soon-to-be-rented home and cleared enough land to build a multi-purpose building as the hub of operations. It would hold all the EGF stuff associated with product and sales, be big enough to park our insulated trailer inside, and give us room to work and pack orders. It would house an egg-washing station, cooler storage, multiple refrigerators and chest freezers, as well as the mother of all walk-in freezers (at least for a small farm).  Last, but certainly not least, it would sleep 1-3 farm interns in a 300 square-foot apartment complete with a kitchen/sitting area, bunk-beds in the bedroom, and a bathroom and washing machine.  The Shop was complete early in the 2010 season and our first full-time intern was happy to pick out an interior paint color and get to work with a roller.  The past two seasons have flown by and we've made great use of the work space in the Shop and housed a handful of interns in its apartment since. There's no telling how many hours have been spent in this building sorting inventory, packing orders, washing eggs, or unloading product from the burgeoning sales trailer just returned from a processor with thousands of pounds of meat. (Actually, my husband probably could tell you how many hours it's been, but I'll spare you the gory details.)  Thankfully, the Shop was well-built, well-insulated, and designed to be used and mildly abused.

However, when it rains it pours. The sales and processing trips, farm upkeep, raising of livestock, and workload of the business continued to exponentially grow and we've been forced to make some pretty hard and drastic decisions in the past ten months.  In a sense it all grew too much, too fast. It was with a mixed bag of relief and grief that Weldon and I announced early this spring that we'd be closing the direct-to-consumer retail sales avenues of our farm.  Because my husband was grappling with a debilitating chronic illness, it became imperative to forego the strain of catapulting the business through yet another sales and production bracket in favor of focusing on his health, our homestead, and the notion that we could start fresh on our farm and still make a living.  That said, we've spent the past six months selling most of our animals, frozen inventory and equipment; paying off all our debt; and reining in the momentum of our four-year massive undertaking to a slow and grinding halt. While we had an inkling last winter that something had to give in order for us to get a handle on our lives and his health, we never dreamed we'd shutter the business.  Despite the sense of loss, it felt right and we took one step at a time toward that end.  We made our last trip to Market on June 30th when another epiphany struck.

Here Comes The New Wall

It might have been the notion of independence flashing through our subconscious, but right after July 4th, Weldon and I realized that our financial freedom would get a huge boost if we expanded the existing apartment and moved into our now underutilized Shop.  While it meant leaving our older and nostalgic honeymoon house (formerly his grandparents' home), we'd be living rent-free on land we already own with far less maintenance inside and nothing to mow outside. As Forrest Gump would aptly say, "One less thang." Moving would also buy us unlimited time until we are ready to build our dream cabiny-cottage on our forty acres down the road (literally and figuratively).  It took the rest of July to be certain, start packing our house, sell or clean up the vestiges of sales and business items that were strewn around the building, and head off on vacation just to make it all the more impressive that we started construction (albeit minor) on August 14th and completely moved in by August 25th -- thank you family, friends, and frozen organic pizza. In that time I was measuring walls, furniture, cabinets and sketching what would go where and how this or that would look or be organized.  Quite a bit of my waking (and sleeping) moments were spent in interior design.  Note to self: Do some measuring and planning, but skip the agonizing details...it will look right and make the best sense when things get into the space and start shuffling!

Painting Up A Storm

Since the beginning of this month I've been settling in to my itty-bitty paradise, thankful to have a sizable storage space for wiggle room.  I miss my dining table, bathtub, numerous windows, and upright player piano, but truth be told I love everything else about where we live.  Even the particle wooden walls have become a background of texture and character...one that hides a misplaced nail hole or other aberration. The storage room is perfect for our canning pantry, chest freezers, extra fridge, laundry drying, seasonal clothing, and long-term storage items awaiting their final destination.  The newly constructed living/utility room is narrow but spacious like I picture the inside of an urban brownstone to be. The back corner of the room will even house a wood stove (yet to be installed) that will easily heat our homey habitation. The existing kitchen/sitting area is now a full-size cottage kitchen with large new-to-us cabinets, gobs of counter space, a central table, and almost everything within arms reach.  While our bedroom is smaller and has no closet, it's extremely comfortable and our furniture shockingly better fits its dimensions than the previous.  Even the windowless bathroom/laundry area has grown on me now that it's dressed with quirky curtains and my vintage finds.  Throughout, the looming 10-foot ceilings balance the pint-sized square footage -- I wouldn't trade them!

Quirky Curtains and Vintage Finds

Not So Bitty Living

While I don't know any Joneses that would salivate over my new home, especially from the outside, the appeal of the entire set-up is that its rustic and artistic, cozy, functional, and OURS!  It's the perfect haven for us to bunker down, re-evaluate the course and pursue other homestead ideas we've been previously without time or energy to accommodate. It also puts us in a position to wait for the right phase to break ground on the next housing project and at the same time SAVE MONEY.

Now THAT'S a Work Space

Though frugality is often associated with being cheap, stingy, cobbled-together or second-rate, I prefer to think of it as being intentional, resourceful, original, and creative.  I value each of these more than fitting in snugly with the Joneses or imposing pressure on myself to purchase or maintain what I or others initially deem it "should be" (even if I'm financially capable of the IT).  The fact that I choose to instead of "have to" makes all the difference in the world.  While there are variables in this building that I cannot change, I intend to feel as or more comfortable, taken care of, and at peace than I did in my previous house. I've already discovered that this sense comes in spite of living in an unconventional space with unconventional building materials. I can thrive as long as I'm surrounded by things I love and am inspired by (including my husband). It also greatly helps to keep things simple and relatively organized. Sometimes letting go of the norm or the expected allows relief and rejuvenation.  Sometimes letting go of some of the "given" variables makes room for unforeseen opportunities, a re-creation, and a fresh perspective.  I refuse to look at where I live as a sacrifice or a holding tank, though initially I expected I would count down the days to our new house. In a mere few weeks it's become an answer to prayer, a laid back refuge, an educational stepping stone, and a fun, creative experiment.  Who doesn't want to bang a few nails in the wall only to remove them and never see the hole!