Those rumors you've heard about Southern hospitality? All true.
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Before settling on the little brick house, we walked through dozens of others, including a charming historical home with a stunning organic garden. For the record, I'd have made an offer on a spot if it hadn't been zoned "residential." Darn laws! The home's owner was incredibly gracious. She asked us to come back and collect several transplants, and invited us to a party where she introduced us to several local beekeepers, farmers, and homeschooling families. We took all that we could from her perennial bed, including berries, a three-year-old asparagus bush and several varieties of wildflowers. The cosmos and bee balm are still in bloom.
We also purchased our first five chickens from her son. He was upgrading to heritage breeds. That's what I call raisin'em up right. Because we didn't yet have a house of our own, Nate rigged up a makeshift chicken coup with a couple of found pallets and our bicycle trailer.
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Another generous friend, Mike, offered his home to us while his family was away for the summer. So we filled his yard with buckets of plants and started sprouting seeds in rain gutters on his back porch. Unfortunately, the bulk of our plants were lost one late tornado night, but we still had tomatoes, peppers, soy beans, peas, bush beans, collards, sorghum, corn, butternut squash, cucumbers, and watermelon ready for a permanent piece of dirt when we moved.
Thinking back, Nate adds, "The leeks and celery would've done great if they hadn't blown away in the wind!" Pros and cons of the sunny South.
