Hi! I’m KC. For the past few years, I’ve been stealing moments of contentment any chance I get.
After many years of constant change – including serving as a caregiver for each of my parents in their battles with cancer, and moving between three states – I finally found a sense of belonging with my ‘chosen’ family.
While I live in an apartment, their nearby farm has become my sanctuary. Almost every day after work and on the weekends, I drive there to muck stalls, ride my horse, garden, and dream of not having to drive home.
Two years ago, I took a leap of faith and sent a handwritten letter to the people who own the farm next door to express my interest in buying their home. Several weeks ago, just days after my 30th birthday, they reached out to let me know that they’re ready to sell.
This will not be a typical first time home buying experience: the property is unique, and the situation is unconventional. But after initial meetings with realtors, attorneys, and mortgage lenders, the initial whirlwind has subsided. The contract is being finalized, the sellers are preparing their disclosures, and soon, I’ll officially be under contract to buy my dream farm, where I can build a homestead of my own.
Now that the only thing required of me is patience, I find doubt creeping in – the truth is, I feel wholly unprepared for what’s to come. I’ve been working towards this for my whole life, but to tackle this process alone is daunting. As I try to pull together the strength and confidence to be excited (rather than scared) about all of this, I have found myself thinking a lot about my dad and my grandpa.
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Though polar opposite in style, my father and my father’s father were both avid gardeners. My grandfather, a Polish refugee and childhood survivor of World War II, meticulously tended his small but tidy garden. For him, to grow a beautiful garden was to care for his land and take pride in his work – a way to communicate for an otherwise very quiet man.
Conversely, my dad’s garden was sprawling and prolific. Order was not his forte: his philosophy was to plant generously and trust that abundance would prevail. My dad didn’t care about the aesthetics – he wanted the results, and he wanted to provide. He would fill your arms and your passenger seat with vegetables if you dared to visit during the harvest season.
While I admired my grandfather’s pristine backyard oasis, I grew up in my father’s garden. I remember the day I helped plant radishes for the first time – and I also remember being barefoot in the garden, pulling one from the earth, biting in, expecting carrot-like sweetness and being sorely mistaken. I remember strolling through the garden in the summer sun, careful to step over the vining cucumber plants that sometimes (usually) (basically always) snuck across the paths. I remember learning to pluck beetles from the bean plants. I remember being terrified to tell my dad that our dog had stepped on one of his precious tomato plants, snapping it at the base; he calmly stripped the plant of its lower leaves and tucked the stalk into the earth, and promised that both halves of the plant would still produce, even if it took a little longer. He was right.
In 2017, my dad’s leukemia diagnosis forced me to leave my first post-grad job to serve as his caregiver. That winter, with medical bills piling up, it was hard enough to keep the lights on; there were days where I was only fed because I had what I had grown, and only warm because of firewood that I had split myself.
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In a sense, I’ve been dreaming of a self-reliant life since I was a little kid – I loved The Hatchet and My Side of the Mountain. But it wasn’t until that winter that I truly appreciated the satisfaction of self-sufficiency: the little rush of pride that comes when you get to enjoy something you made with your own two hands.
I know that by buying this property, I’ll be able to chase that feeling more often in my daily life. This journey will be long: our closing date isn’t until July, giving me plenty of time to prepare (and to continue to battle my doubts!) I’ll be sharing more about the property and the process along the way, from navigating the financing and renovation plans to the joys – and inevitable challenges – of becoming a solo woman homesteader in Connecticut.
My intention in sharing this process is twofold, depending on your perspective. Perhaps your goals are similar to mine, and thus you can live vicariously through me! Or, maybe you have already navigated parts of the homestead building process, in which case – please, please, share any advice you have for me.
Which are you – a fellow homestead dreamer, or a current homesteader? Tell me where you’re at in the process, share any advice if you have it, and please let me know if you have any questions.
Talk soon. 🙂
KC
P.S.: I posted a brief intro on TikTok, if you want a glimpse of my sanctuary.
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