I fell in love with a goat about 5 years ago. It was at the Michigan State Fair. It was hot, late August. She was a pretty dairy goat. (Note: goat in picture is not said dairy goat. I just happen to have lots of pictures of me with goats. What?) I stopped to scratch her head for a few minutes, and then I walked away. But she called out to me in goatspeak- *meh, mehh, meh*- so I did what anyone would do- I turned around to go scratch her head some more. Her expression changed. The look on her face was, "Oh gosh, it worked! I get more scratches!" It completely stopped me in my tracks. Right then, I knew I had to be a farmer.
Reality: City girl. City job. No yard, no land. Haven't even had a pet in, oh, 20 years. But still, pretty good with houseplants. A decent cook. I sew, I weave. Still- HELLO, reality.
Fast forward a couple of years. I've married a saint. A saint with a condo. He wants me to move in to it. It has a huge deck. That first Spring, I suggest a growing tomato plant, maybe some herbs. Just basic stuff, you know, like lettuce. I have no idea what I'm doing, but still, the tomatoes turn red, the lettuce is delicious.
Never one to go half-way with, oh, anything, I start searching the web. Container gardening. How about that, there's a name for it. You can grow lots of different vegetables. I start planning the next season's garden.
So, what the heck, now I'm a GARDENER?
Ok, now I want to compost, because the next garden has to be organic. How can I compost without a yard, though? One word- red worms. Saint-husband is somewhat less sure of this. Eww. Worms. Won't it stink?
I get a worm bin and a pound of worms that fall. There is definately a learning curve, but I persevere. Not too many stinky days in the bin.
The next year, I plant the container garden of my dreams. Three kinds of tomatoes, spinach, chard, kale, Genovese basil, Raven zucchini, yellow squash, chives, tomatillos, lettuce. A giant pot of Cramer's Celosia, my new favorite flower-- I know nothing about flowers, but this is the flower for me. Suddenly I see hummingbirds on my deck, in freaking downtown Detroit. And honey bees. And cabbage moths, which I learn about the hard way (as in, "Ooh, look at the pretty white butterflies!"). So what, live and learn. And Saint-husband loves the fresh produce. We don't buy grocery-store vegetables for 6 months.
At some point in the middle of all this gardening stuff, I get a couple of rabbits. A school nearby that keeps rabbits has had an accidental litter- would I take a couple of them? How can I POSSIBLY say no to baby rabbits? Come on, have you SEEN baby rabbits? Ok, great, now my maternal insticts are awake. And after I've done such a good job at supressing them, too.
Discover about a year into living with house buns and worms that worms REALLY love rabbit poop. In fact, they go together like PB & J.
How about a bigger bin? Could I also reduce the waste stream, say, of a nearby restaurant? Or my neighbors? Saint-husband has long since stopped questioning any of my desires.
So, I find a bigger bin on-line. The Worm Wigwam. It needs to start with 20 pounds of worms.
This is how it happens, folks.