Fat Bunny

  • Just wait till spring…

    Everything is either grey or mud at the moment, especially all the bits of ground that have had heavy machinery all over them for weeks. The deciduous trees are basically sticks, the grass that hasn’t been run over or buried is barely hanging in there.

    Today the tiny house was moved to its final location, which is looking very bare and uninviting right now, but once again it’s going to be a wait till spring situation. Decks, planters, sale shades and lighting will make it a magical place to be again.

    It’s going to be a busy winter of making paths and preparation for spring planting and turf being laid. This winter I’m betting a lot of my mental health on spring being spectacular, and on me being in a position to enjoy it.

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  • Boxing Day…

    It was an infrastructure day at the farm. The area that was being cleared for water tanks suffered from an attack of me having a Plan B moment. So instead of the impractical placement of tanks I decided this empty space was a better place for storage.

    Shipping container storage to be precise.

    Financially it makes sense, and will allow me to stop paying for storage in town. My unreliable maths says they will pay for themselves in 13 months, maybe faster if having easy access to the things I need to sort/restore/sell removes some of the friction in that area.

    One seemed like not quite enough so I decided to play it safe and get two. Which is a risky move because junk expands to fill available space, so I will need to put a deadline on converting one from storage to a workshop space within 12 months.

    In a rare attack of forward planning I had them placed 3m apart so I could put a sail shade between them to provide some extra parking for trailers etc. I will also get the driveway extended down here eventually, but that’s not in this years budget.

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  • Time takes a cigarette…

    I was really making some progress three years ago. I was just out of short and poorly thought out relationship, I was on a serious organization kick, and I was on a self managed therapy program.

    Two years ago I was still grieving the loss of my father, desperately trying to come to terms with changes to family, and struggling to keep my health from failing completely.

    One year ago my health was as low as it was when I ended up in hospital for months, my mental health had taken a backseat to absolutely everything else, and my only relationships were surface level and fleeting, or baggage laden.

    And now?

    I’m still grieving, I am on yet another round of hard to pronounce medications that will hopefully help, I am still struggling to put my own needs in front of even the smallest of other peoples needs. I haven’t even attempted anything resembling self care in months, all my helpful therapy books are collecting dust and it’s only valium that has kept me from drinking again.

    I should add here that’s it’s not all doom and gloom and not just because I am as incapable of feeling despair as I am of feeling joy at the moment. However I can see the positive stuff like renovation progress, children becoming who they are meant to be, and the cat definitely seems fairly chonky and content.

    I’m also fairly confident that I won’t be completely broke when the cabin is done enough to move into. If the new meds work I may even be able to get enough done to move before the credit cards hit the limit, which would be great since apparently I already have the maximum amount of credit available that’s possible.

    I have a shipping container delivery tomorrow, if it doesn’t rain, which is the next step in getting out in front of costs. Paying for storage was justifiable when I was making money from selling restored furniture, but all my available energy has been farm related for years and probably will be for another year. Shipping containers will pay for themselves in a year, maybe less if I can sell some items as I swap from rented storage to my own. There are a bunch of other things that need attention soon but I am trying to concentrate on the one step at a time mantra.

    Someone reminded me that it will all be worth it when I am on the veranda with a cup of coffee…

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  • Breaking Eggs…

    Hopefully it makes a tasty omelette eventually, because at the moment it’s just a big scrambled mess.

    On top of all the carnage caused previously by tree removal, and now by heavy equipment reshaping the landscape, it is also late autumn so the trees are bare. It is definitely making it look like I have too far clearing things, even I am starting to worry.

    I’m reminding myself that most of what has been removed was pines at the end of their lifespan, diseased trees, and over crowded saplings that were strangling each other. Some trees that I was sad to loose were just too close to the house or powerlines etc. and also a bushfire hazard.

    With the new drainage system the driveway into the property should now be usable in all weather, and stop washing away the bases of the trees that remain. There is a lot more landscaping and gardening to come, and I am placing a lot of faith in next spring being a good one.

  • Making Myself Sad…

    I’m still recovering from todays endo and colonoscopy, they rummaged around quite a bit apparently. It certainly feels like they did and any food I put in is making a quicker than normal journey through. From the still slightly buzzed chat with the surgeon I have an exciting new regimen of drugs to look forward to when I see him in a couple of weeks. So that seems fun.

    I decided some pain killers and some good TV were in order. The new Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman motorcycle adventure LONG WAY HOME was released today which seemed fortuitous since I had enjoyed the previous ones. Turns out that one of the main things I enjoyed about the show was watching and discussing them with my father. My father was a far more of a rider than I ever was, I only rode because he did.

    Now watching just reminds me of trips and adventures that won’t happen, and of time that got away from us both as life threw a few too many curveballs at us. I have also got that feeling of time getting away again as life is springing leaks a little faster than I can patch them at the moment. So I definitely need to get a few wins on the board soon because my motivation is taking a hell of a beating right now.

    The farm is currently both my reason to keep going and a constant reminder of lost opportunities. I better get back to work this week, once food stops going through me like a dose of salts through a short grandmother.

  • I Still Care…

    When I tick the carer box on just about every form I fill out these days I still feel like it’s not a real thing. 20+ years of primary care for two ASD children, plus an ex who is definitely on the spectrum but I still feel like I would be judged to be more useful by the world if I was mucking out cow yards or selling realestate. I know I would probably be less tired loading manure everyday than I am from just keeping a household functioning and appointments kept.

    I also thought that there was a pretty good chance I would also have been caring for my father at some point, and now that that isn’t going to happen, and also that there is small chance one or both of the kids will be able to function in the world without as much help as in the past, I am starting to dread my freedom.

    If you have spent your whole life caring for people you get very used to putting yourself second, or third, or etc etc. but it also helps you justify why you’re not doing anything for yourself. Now I am starting to feel like I have done nothing with my life, and I have no idea how to deal with that. I don’t want to volunteer as I have done my time and I don’t think I can give up any more of myself than I already have. I also don’t have any thing I feel like I can enjoy anymore. I have had depression so long that it feels normal to not be able to experience joy or peace anymore.

    At the moment I am trying to convince myself that the peacefulness of the farm will help, and that removing the renovation and running two houses stress will solve all my problems, it won’t but I need something to keep me going. At the moment I really need that as I have a pile of medical shenanigans going on, children in need of unwavering support, and a grab bag of guilt randomly thrown in for good measure.

    I am throwing the on breaks, dropping anchors etc until the end of next week. Depending on what tests show, how assessments go, and how the wind blows it will be either a bad month, or a terrible one.

    Good and easy doesn’t seem to be an option at the moment.

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  • Laws of Subtraction…

    Not being able to see the forest for the trees is not always a metaphor. I could literally not see the forest that surrounds the cabin because there were trees (and junk) in the way. There was a definite claustrophobia to the property that kept it dark and damp and even foreboding at times. Unhealthy trees crowded and strangling each other, the forest floors starved for light under the years of leaf litter. Even after much of the junk was gone it still felt dead.

    Sometimes you just have prune things back hard, and in some cases remove them all together to let the sun and air in. I know people’s instinct is to save all the trees, but in this case the trees were harming each other and the health of the building. There are probably only half the trees in the area surrounding the house now, and the sunlight and airflow has dried out the house and allowed the ground to drain and start supporting growth again.

    This is now as “bare” as it will be. New specimen trees will be planted, and formal garden areas will be created around the cabin. Which will be set against the background of the mostly untouched forest on 3 sides and the creek frontage on the other.

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  • It Seems Longer…

    In a week from now it will be one year since I started working in earnest on the farm. Before that it was mostly just rearranging rusty deckchairs on a tree covered titanic. It meant that maybe a I was getting a day of work done, which was mostly making sure the weeds didn’t get too out of control, and some of junk was leaving occasionally. The first 18 months were pretty much grief, massive probate delays tying up everything, grief, massive feeling of being overwhelmed by the task, grief, and not even being sure I wanted to keep it. Throw in this health ‘hiccups’, some family troubles, and a cost of living crisis and it really did take almost two years to get to swinging a sledgehammer stage. In march last year the demolition of the cabin interior had not even started. I was still clearing the last of my father’s possessions at that point after basically not being able to be inside for more than 20mins before the PTSD would hit.

    12 months after the cabin renovation started I am not as far along as I would wish to be because it’s still easier to work outside. It’s amazing how distracting it can be to have acres of trees and plants to tidy up after decades of neglect. Somedays it just felt like I had a job mowing lawns all day instead of making cabin progress, especially over spring and summer.

    I am pinning my hopes on autumn allowing me to get the cabin bathroom and bedroom finished so I can move in. Autumn weather is more conducive to working inside and once all the leaves drop there isn’t much to do in the gardens for months.

    There is also the fact that I underestimated how long it would take to learn how to do building stuff, my previous renovation DIY projects were all mostly cosmetic and not structural. Replacing joists, reframing walls, leveling floors etc is all “proper” building stuff that requires knowing what you are doing, and for me that meant trial and error, getting advice from professionals, and watching many many YouTube tutorials for each new skill. Something that will be happening again multiple times as I tile bathrooms, lay wood floors, install a kitchen, etc.

    The design faze also taken a while, partly because I don’t have the budget to do things twice, so all the design decisions I make I will be living with till I die. Window in the wrong place? Tough. Door widths too narrow for future needs? Tough. And so on and so on for a 1000 other decisions that have seen the blank slate stage last a bit longer than expected.

    I don’t want to jinx it but I feel like there will be a moderate leap forward before winter comes.

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  • Interesting Times…

    Damn it’s easy to let things slip away, especially if you’re living in interesting times. Due to mix of personal and worldwide issues over the last few years I seem to have let doing stuff slide, or at least doing stuff I enjoyed slide. That whole divorce, raising kids with ‘requirements’, covid lockdowns, sudden death of my father, and a grab bag of health issues has really put the hand break on enjoying life vs just LIVING.

    No more aimless drives in the countryside because there is farm stuff to be done. No more weekends away because money needs to be spent wisely. No more time with friends because I no longer have a personality I only have a long list of stuff I need to do to talk about. No cafes, no bars, no dates, no life.

    When the dust settled after my father died I was almost sure I was going to sell the farm because I didn’t want fixing it to consume the rest of my life. But to sell it I at least needed to clear the decades of neglect and clutter and job that was far larger than I expected. I would like to say that during that clearing period I came to love and want to stay, but it is closer to the truth to say that the world went nuts, housing went crazy, and people turned on each other. So turning the farm into a peaceful retreat with trees and no bills suddenly became very attractive.

    So I have poured 1000s of hours and a couple of vertebrae into a blank and mostly structurally sound canvas. I have now lived with the place long enough to know where things need to be, and I have gained the skills required to put those things in those places. So even with foot dragging and my inability to ask for help I will be living in a half finished cabin by July, and a completely finished modernist box by Christmas.

    Then comes the tricky bit, going and living my life again and not spending my days hiding away in the woods till someone hasn’t heard from me for a few weeks and decides to check and finds me dead in a fashionable but now haunted midcentury chair.

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  • The Great Reset …

    Well, maybe great is overselling it, how about “The lets turn this period of turmoil into something positive with the energy and resources we have available at the moment”. Now that may not roll off the tongue, but it is a probably a great deal more accurate.

    The elder child is leaving the nest and it is 100% the right choice at this point. It will also be the first time he has not been living with me in 21 years. And although I have zero doubt I will be seeing him multiple times a week, there is definitely a big change in the feel of the house tonight.

    So I don’t go for a walk down any maudlin paths because of the partially empty nest I have chosen to make this week a deep clean week. A pantry that no longer needs to cater to the tastes of three is fair game for some serious purging. Same with bathroom products under the sink and in the vanity. And I am sure I will find plenty of other things scattered around the house that were mostly for the older child’s benefit, and the younger child and I wouldn’t miss.

    It makes sense to carry on the purging to include mine and the younger child’s stuff as well. In three months (four at the outside) I NEED to be living at the farm, in whatever shape that has to be. It would be nice if it was in a finished cabin with hot and cold running everything, but it will still happen if it’s a single finished room with half a bathroom and a toaster.

    Hopefully the elder can flourish and the younger and I can buckle down and do our own thriving.