It is one of those mornings that I love. A Saturday in the mountains. I can always count on a soft, low hanging, lazy fog. A sun that is just getting warmed up. Dew drops blanket the greenhouse windows, and the birds are already busy, probably have been for hours.
No one is awake but me. I can kiss two rosy cheeked sleepers that have both magically managed to find their way between me and my husband during the night. I can then slowly tiptoe to the front door and sneak outside. Always barefoot. Mornings like this, barefoot is a requirement. My little greenhouse always smells the best in the morning. I can close the foggy glass door and just have a few quiet moments.
Wild Lane Acre.
We live nestled in a small community high in the Sierras. Our property is just perfect at an acre and a half. If you know which dirt lane to turn down you will probably be greeted by our two dogs wagging hellos. A four year old running through the pines, sometimes sans clothing. His little brother, who is just one, usually laughing not far away in his play yard. Our home has always been a little wild. Which will never be a complaint.
We have goals for this little piece of heaven. Goals that are just starting to take shape. My husband and I crave a lifestyle that is less reliant on the grocery store and more comprised of the sweat, hard work, and tears of our own creation. There is something to be said about a fresh homegrown tomato from your own garden. Knowing where our food comes from, choosing to live in a more sustainable, organic way. That is our goal. We have the space, we have the willpower. Cheers to that.
Now as I stand in my greenhouse, over sized coffee mug steaming that amazing aroma, I can see that my little starts have grown since yesterday. Today maybe some of them can be moved into the garden. I love Saturdays.
Welcome to the journey that is Wild Lane.
wild lane acre 