What are we doing? Glad you asked. Even gladder that I have an answer. In this crazy whacked out unpredictable year where we were going to study permaculture, no - go to Canada, no - go to Vermont, no - sell our house and buy a new one, no - ah, yes, study permaculture, I am not surprised at the confusion.

We have cleared a generous quarter acre of land for blueberries, figs, apples, roses, herbs, vegetables, chickens, and a frog pond. We are pondering the meaning of permaculture. We are finding that while it took enormous courage to cut down perfectly lovely trees, the open space is intoxicating. The blank slate is inspiring. And the anticipation of our plants, a delightful feeling akin to pregnancy. Like pregnant people, we are also scared and nervous. We question ourselves. We fear mistakes. We spend money we don't have.

And we are thrilled, excited, in a hurry for every ripe moment to hasten, and steeped in possibilities. I hope to eventually try bees with a top-bar hive. I can't wait for my children to harvest dinner, gather the warm eggs, nestle roses in a vase on the table. We will add a tool area at one end of the chicken coop and a large shed roof to cover both. We have 600 gallons of water collection and storage planned to fit under that roof. We hope hope hope we've chosen the site wisely. And I have to sit on my hands to keep from ordering four Adirondack chairs (two in light blue and two in white) for placing just so. There won't be much time for sitting, now will there?

Pressing questions: which kinds of chickens, do we need a cover crop right away, is there enough light, and finally, will we be finished paying off our credit card before the economy tanks?

Pull up a chair and sit awhile. Watch with us as we grow.