On Fool Hill
That’s what I call my homestead. (Well, Fool Hill Farm–think of the Beatles song. Heed the lyrics …)
Not much of a farm, but who’s comparing? It’s mine, and I and my animals and the wildlife and my herbs, hops and weeds, patch of woods and subsurface creek … we all love it.
It’s mine, and I’m going to die on it–unless someone I partner with has or wants to buy me a “nicer” one. It’s my third one.