Garden Gnome Ecosystems

Creating a sustainable system for gnomes to play in.

Mountain Farming

1 Comment

A couple months ago, when I could hardly stand to think about another 5 years of university, a job posting showed up on my Facebook newsfeed. And on a whim, I applied, thinking that this job might be a great way to find out if the farmer’s life is a life for me.

Next thing I knew I was on a train. I slept through the trek across the prairies, and woke up just in time to watch all the trees go by on our way through the mountains.

Jasper train station

I got to stretch my legs in Jasper. Nice, after 15 hours on a train.

fishing

The train stopped in the middle of the bridge over lake something-something (I was sleepy, and it was hard to remember all the lakes we passed). The guy fishing on a board must have had incredible balance.

Now I’ve been in the mountains for a week, living in a renovated bus and pulling weeds.

In the evenings and early mornings I eat wild strawberries and try to get to know the wildflowers.

IMG_1495 IMG_1496 IMG_1494 IMG_1493 wild rose IMG_1491 tiger lily

This morning I helped two spiders out of the bus – one before breakfast, one right after. At night I listen to the wind tear around the stove-pipe and rattle the doors.

Every morning I eat a big bowl of oats with nuts and seeds and fresh strawberries on top. And then I pull weeds, and top-dress plants, and pick strawberries, and pick rocks. I’m not sure yet, but the farmer’s life might be the life for me.

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Author: Ruth

I'm a cat feeder and box-cleaner. I'm a cook, a wife, a student, an (occasional) crafter, and a small-town child turned city lover. Most of all, I'm an urban vegetable gardener in a province with bitter cold winters, hot dry summers, and backwards food policy.

One thought on “Mountain Farming

  1. What an amazing adventure…life is the most precious gift we have; live every moment. Love the bus, the strawberries, the wonderful flowers as they bloom; wrap your arms around all of it and hug it for all it is worth.

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