In which one year ends, another begins, and we respond to the predictions of impending doom...

...by saying in a loud and calm voice, "No, Virginia, the world is not coming to an end." Because, and where I live this is an unpopular opinion, it isn't. There will be no great shift in the way the whole world is, how we live our lives, or the choices we make, alas. It would be nice to think it will happen, but it won't.

How was 2011?

That's a great question. For the most part? It was incredible. I did many new things, learned so much, and made many new friends. I found another place where I'm accepted and valued, and where, if I so decide, I could easily settle down as a productive member of the community. Unfortunately, just as the lack of an impending armageddon leaves things more complicated than they might otherwise be, so too does my inability to say for certain that this is the place I want to be. It would be easier to commit to this place if there was a clear path toward the vision I have for my life, but I just can't see it, despite having looked long and hard for it.

So I have tough choices to make in the weeks ahead. I'm applying for a number of jobs, since I don't really feel I can continue along on the path of labor exchanged for knowledge(not that there is anything wrong with that path; in fact, it's probably the most valuable method of learning the skills in the fields in which jobs are hard to come by), and I need to find a position where I'm learning new, valuable skills, but also getting paid for it. I would be perfectly happy to continue doing what I'm doing if I thought it would lead to me finding a farm, but I just can't see it. So I'm going to find work, doing something I care about in a place where I think I might be happy, and if it means leaving the peninsula behind, then I have no choice.

The other possible benefit of being forced away from this place I've come to love is the possibility of discovering that I have to come back, or learning that there might be other places which will provide the same sense of friendship and community that I've found here. It is also possible, that in my searching, the next few weeks that I'll find a way to stay where I am, maybe I'll find the perfect piece of property for sale, and I'll just need to find a way to pay for it, or perhaps I'll meet the farmer who is looking for the next generation to take over from her, and to run the farm into the future.

What kind of farm do I want? Well, and this is pretty amorphous, since it all depends on where I end up, but since I do have such a strong affinity for the PacNorWe it seems safe to assume that this would all work wherever. I'd like a medium-sized small farm, but if there was a way for me to buy a larger one, or expand as the years go by, I'd be perfectly happy with that. Twenty, forty acres, more or less, I want an orchard, a big one, with big fruit and nut trees. I'd like to keep livestock, pigs and ducks, goats and sheep, maybe a cow or three. I'd like a big old barn, but accept the fact that I may need to settle for a big new barn. I'd like to live in a place where I'm not so far away from a major metropolitan are that day trips are ruled out. I'd like to live in a place with a vibrant enough culture that tourism is a factor, since what I really want, more than anything else, is to have a place like Rockhouse, where people come, and bring their children, who can then come with their children when they get older. I'd like to be able to establish that sort of continuity, and to give people that opportunity to see what it is to live on a farm, and to have a real community of people who rely upon you, and upon whom you rely.

That's the most important thing. It's something I always felt was missing, living in the burbs, and one of the reasons I am so anti-suburbia now(that's a whole 'nother rant, though, one I'll be happy to share with you if you're interested). I'd like a large enough farm in a successful enough community that U can invite some of the incredible people whom I've met in the last few years to join me. To give them the opportunity to do the things that will make them happy, and which will enable whatever farm I'm given the responsibility to care for more vibrant and successful. Would I like to have a restaurant, either country or fancy? I would. Do I want to be able to run a bed and breakfast or a hostel for young people interested in farming? Absolutely. Do I want to do everything I can to come up with systems which will enable me and mine to do this in ways that don't leave us exhausted and broken? I'm going to have to.

None of those things can happen, though, until I find a farm, and make it into the place that I'm envisioning. It will take more hard work than I can even imagine. I know it, but I can't wait for it. I want to be doing it now. I'd like to be out in the cool grey mist pruning apple trees, slopping pigs, and killing a goose for dinner. I know the life I'm looking for is not for everyone, but I do think that in building it for myself I'll be able to enrich the lives of so many others, so that when my nieces and nephews are obnoxious teenagers my cousins will have someplace to send them in the summertime where I can work them to the point of exhaustion and give them the opportunity to learn a few life lessons that aren't always available if you grow up in the city or the 'burbs. A place where we can come together as a family, and enjoy the fruit of the land, and each other.

We'll see what the future holds. I'm not scared of the end of the world, because for me the world is constantly beginning anew. It's one of the irrefutable lessons of the farmer. Life and death, and life again.