A-farming we will go...

I haven't played pinball in years. Are those machines still around or have they all been snapped up and squirreled away in wood paneled rec-rooms in the 'burbs? Picture it, though: a silver ball pinging its way around a sloped surface, lights popping and bells jangling as it ricochets back and forth between flapping paddles and spring-loaded pylons, valiantly trying to avoid its inevitable descent into that little black pit at the bottom of the play surface. That's us in our effort to figure out where we want to live as July 15, the closing date on our increasingly attractive Kits duplex, looms closer.  It would be generous to describe our decision making process as non-linear.  Non-functional would be more apt.  

In the space of two weeks I have been absolutely certain that we should: 

1. live on Saltspring Island and run a B&B/organic farm
   
2. build a house on a small acreage in Metchosin (see the posting about the wind)
   
3. buy a property that required extensive excavation and the installation of drain tiles to deal with a swamp (or try rice farming)
   
4. rent an old, drafty farmhouse on an organic farm and embrace communal living, and;
   
5. buy a level, one-acre property in Metchosin with a perfectly serviceable house and start with micro-farming while we also attempt to line up some contract work.  After all, the financial returns on farming are poor at the best of times.  Living off of micro-farming may by a little, shall we say, thin???
   

I love Saltspring Island.  Truly, I do.  It's got a great "mediterranean-like" climate and no one looks at you twice if you wear something tie-dyed.  But those ferries.  You can only miss so many sailings and have to kill a couple of extra hours with two small kids in a crowded BC Ferries terminal before you think twice about signing on for the long term.

Building on a small acreage?  Or, more accurately, building in a wind tunnel?  Nope.

Excavation and drain tiles? Ka-ching, ka-ching.  And it wasn't even clear it could be done.  And a protected zone around a nearby creek ate into the property.  And the house smelled of dogs (Bull Mastiffs, specifically) and needed all new flooring - and there was a lot of floor!  More ka-ching, ka-ching.  Though I do like rice...

The old, drafty farmhouse option would have been like going to summer camp. This was no mono-culture operation.  Instead, it was an absolutely idyllic collection of gently sloping fields covered, seemingly randomly, in herbs, flowers, fruits and vegetables. As we walked through the fields with Mary, the farm owner, I brushed up against lush foliage warmed by the mid-afternoon sun and the scents of earthy sage, warm tarragon and lemon thyme, and countless others I couldn't place, engulfed me. Not a single mechanical sound could be heard over the chatter of birds and the steady hum of pollinators.  Mike could have done an apprenticeship with Mary. I could have learned how to make cheese. And Liam and Kai?  They would have had the best playground going chasing after the chickens. One catch:  the farmhouse is currently being used for daily communal lunches by the handful of apprentices working on the farm and Mary wanted to continue the tradition with us as participants. This involves a rotating schedule amongst the apprentices of cooking, serving lunch and cleaning up. So, daily, someone would be occupying the kitchen for several hours. And there was some minor issue about the apprentices accessing the high speed internet connection in the house.  And the laundry facilities. But, living there would have been an experience that stretched us and forced us outside of the warm cocoon of our independent, anonymous lives.  We would have learned so much about the practical aspects of farming. (I'm sure there was a precise order to those fields, even if it wasn't readily apparent to me.)  We decided to go for it; we were ready to throw open the kitchen door and embrace the farm, communal lunches and all.  Mike placed the call to Mary to finalize arrangements. In passing he mentioned that we have a cat.  Mary's response? An enthusiastic "Oh good, we have rats!"  Rats? Now, a little communal living is one thing. Communing with rats is quite another.  Mary confessed that they have taken up residence in the walls and between the floors of the house.  Sorry, can't do it.  At least not with Liam and Kai.  So the rat house is out.

Which leads us to option five: the smaller parcel of land with a very liveable house for quite a comfortable price.  Enough room to practice some very small scale farming but close enough to Victoria to establish some other, more financially rewarding options. So Mike went off by himself to Metchosin today to view the house.  Yes, I may be signing on for a house that I have never actually laid eyes on. This is either a sign of abject desperation or faith that Mike and I are on a superior plane of communication so that we fully understand each others dreams and desires.

Okay, we're desperate.

We made an offer today. Maybe by this time tomorrow we'll be homeowners. And today is only the 6th of June.  We've still got 39 days to spare.