Almost a year. That’s how long it took us from the moment we first saw the property we fell in love with to the moment we signed the papers that made us its official new owners. Well, 11 months to be exact. Ten, maybe, if you count from the moment we decided we wanted to buy the place. No matter how you look at it, it has taken quite a while. We are partly at fault, because we wanted to cross all the T’s and dot all the I’s –
The story of how we ended up on this particular farm in Perth started when I was in high school and a new kid, Jesse, sat next to me during orchestra practice because our instruments – he played the viola and I played the cello – dictated it. Fifteen years or so later we’re still friends (orchestra was a bonding experience), and when we started organizing our around the world honeymoon with wwoofing planned along the way, I remembered Jesse’s family used to have an organic farm in Australia.
My mother always assumed that having a daughter was synonymous with dresses and playing princess. Then I showed up, and went through phases where only wore pants, came back from birthday parties covered in mud because I HAD to go out and play soccer with the boys, and secretly signed up for the baseball team. I don’t ever remember wanting to be a doctor or an astronaut, but I had a plan. I envisioned a big house with a lot of land. Chickens to give us eggs, cows for