I moved from the styrofoam-and-fake-rock-facade suburbs of Fresno, California to my little piece of paradise on Valentine's Day, 2002. My friends and family thought I was nuts. Why would anyone want to trade a beautiful new home in an exclusive part of town for a leaky doublewide trailer surrounded by 5 acres of rattlesnakes, scorpions, tarantulas, and the occasional mountain lion? Good question. I could wax poetic about getting back to the land, enjoying the rhythms of nature, watching the raptors silently glide above my head in their quest for a meal, blah, blah, blah. But the simple answer is that I'm a country girl at heart. I'd rather make my own jam than buy it. I love wandering around my property with my burro close on my heels, rubbing his face on my back. I'd rather wear tye-dye t-shirts and steel-toe boots than business suits and heels. When I found my property after a lengthy search, I knew I'd found home.
In 2005, the publishing company I worked for closed its doors after 35 years in business and I found myself out of a job. Luckily, I had a little money saved and, combined with my unemployment benefits, I was able to live without going back to work immediately. Since I have no mortgage, no consumer debt, and no car payments I've been able to exist comfortably on almost nothing. Recently, though, I've been feeling like it's time to go back to work. But instead of toiling in another corporate cubbyhole, I've decided that I want to make a living right here, on Chez Doublewide Farm.
I'm going to use the do-what-you-love-and-the-money-will-follow model of business. I love junk, needlework, rasing fiber animals, and teaching people arts and crafts. I love old fabric, old sheetmusic, old jewelry and old people. I love to build things, work with bricks and rock, play the bass and garden. I love throwing parties, decorating and repurposing things. I figure somewhere in that mix my future income must be hiding.