Eat, Pray, Cluck: Our 1 Year Anniversary

We are nearing the first anniversary of living on this land and homestead. We arrived at Ojo Conejo right before Halloween in 2022, right before winter hit and our property was covered in ice and frozen water for five months. We had no idea what our property even looked like or what the land would show us in the Spring. We arrived when the season of death was close and the ravens were loud. We arrived when the leaves were shivering off the trees and the sun was setting early. It felt like an ominous beginning — our eagerness to plant food in the ground had to wait. We were veiled in winter, the wood stove urging us to sit by her and wait.

I remember how innocent I was when I first arrived on our property. I looked around and thought that maybe there were just a few projects we needed to do, but not many. Maybe a few doorknobs to replace and a window or two to clean but in my naiveté, I thought our property was in good shape. Heathar and I had looked at SO MANY properties that needed far more work than this one. This would be easy, simple.

I am currently sitting outside one of our structures (yes, it is still nice enough to sit outside and write) and in front of me are close to fifty empty cardboard boxes, pieces of drywall, old 2 X 4’s, carpet that we have ripped out and broken tiles. All of it sits in a pile in front of me waiting to go to the dump. Inside the structure, the floor is slowly being remodeled — replacing old carpet with shiny, red Saltillo tile. Yes, we are laying it ourselves and no, I have no idea what I am doing. To say I lack the skill of researching projects before I start them is an understatement. I am much more of a figure it out in the moment kind of girl. The only problem with this is that halfway through the Saltillo tile job, I realized that by watching one simple YouTube video, I could saved myself hours of ripping out tile that was placed incorrectly and scraping dried cement off the floor. The point is, each of our three structures is under construction and everything is in process — cleaning the windows has been the least of our concerns.

After a year, our new chicken coop (which most people think is far too deluxe for a chicken coop) is almost ready for our birds. We tore down the old, rotting bird aviary and have replaced it with a brick red and turquoise bird sanctuary complete with the words, EAT, PRAY, CLUCK painted over the entrance. Nothing has been simple, everything has taken longer than expected and last week, we noticed that when we run the washer, it backs up into the bathtub. Cool. Yay for old plumbing that also needs to be fixed. But finding these things out is less stressful than it used to be for me. I no longer feel like I am trying to keep a lid on a pot that is boiling over. I expect the pot to boil over and when it does, I know we can figure it out. Resiliency is key here.

We have done a lot in a year and I’m not just saying that to try and make myself feel better. We have thinned the forest around our home, created fire breaks (and by we I mean Heathar and Jack), we have learned to lay tile, sanded the outside of buildings (twice), put in new showers, ripped up and replaced flooring, made raised beds and grown food in those raised beds (35 jalapeños to be exact and 6 rows of arugula that doesn’t seem to die), created an entirely new chicken coop, raised 26 laying hens and 2 feisty roosters, brought 4 pigs up into adulthood (still figuring out how and who is going to butcher them) and raised 45 meat chickens and processed them. We have had one fire scare and our first successful farm to table dinner, we have built rich and meaningful community and we have gotten rid of three rattlesnakes that were living underneath our porch.

And most importantly (wait for it), we have built a farm family — something that I was not expecting either. Since April, we have had Jack living with us on the property and since August, we have had our friend Andrea living with us. Together, the four of us make a pretty solid team. We each have different skills (thank the sweet earth) and continue to encourage one another to play to our strengths. Jack has become the head builder on the property, creating an incredibly professional wood shed for us. Andrea has become the expert on the pigs, tending them every day, as well as become an expert tiler (mostly cheering me on when I am crying and sweating and want to tear each tile up and start over). Heathar is of course the main chef and currently, there are four different grills in our front yard, all of which Heathar is learning to cook on in new ways. And me, well I am documenting our experience here on the farm as well as overseeing the construction of all three of our structures. I am also in charge of watching over our flock of 28 chickens and mucking their coop every morning.

After our days on the farm, we all come together for dinner and sit around the table. We share about our day, the frustrations we faced, the celebrations, the words in Spanish that we learned and, we eat. As Heathar and I were sitting around the fire the other night, after everyone else had gone to bed, she looked at me and said, “It feels like a family.” And I agree — it does. There is a simplicity to our rhythm together. There is a comfort, an ease, a shared vision together and a shared lifestyle. I never want to try and do this alone. It does take a village. It does take a family.

After not having a stable home for so many years, after moving over 60 times in my life, not only do we have a home, but we’re creating a family.

Thank you to all who have been part of our first year here at Ojo Conejo. To our parents and siblings, to our neighbors, to our community, to our friends who have visited and been to this land — it means a lot to us. Thank you for reading this blog and staying connected to our adventure here. Much more to come in the next year.