La vida rural en Oregon

Trees, large gusts of wind, green green grass, moss, mulch, ocean, snowy plovers: a few of the things I've enjoyed today. I've recently inherited a 1/4 acre of prime garden space next door to my house. One day, as my knees pulsed together with untapped energy, I got up from studying macroeconomic theory and went to meet my neighbors. One by one, I found out that Becky grows tomatoes, Megan is raising six chicks in her bedroom, Susana and Martín lost their squash sprouts to slugs, and Rachel and Jeffrey have a secret garden. This secret garden is now my sanctuary. Four large raised beds, a greenhouse, many pounds of wonderfully decomposed organic matter, fruit trees galore (e.g. apple, pear, cherry, fig), various tool sheds filled with tools!, a peaceful gazebo, and a crank compost device are all at my disposal. My neighbors have some physical ailments that keep them from gardening, but are happy to let me have a go at it. With the help of Wes, Doug, and Connie, one bed is now de-weeded after many years of disuse and filled with two varieties of large bulbous onions and red chard.

So, moral of the story, I may never leave here. Here as in the west coast, the pacific northwest most likely, maybe even Tunison Avenue. Doug and I will be able to feed ourselves and many others from this garden and learn so much in the process. Before moving to Oregon I had never grown anything. Y todo de repente, I have six basil plants, a few tomatoes and chili peppers, chives, and cilantro on my windowsill, a rain barrel with great potential, two lovely chickens that are battling death right now (wish them luck or pray or do what you think is appropriate: they could use your support right now), and a large plot of land to do whatever I want with. Is this serendipity or what? My only looming concern is if karmic forces are in check, then will this garden discovery mean failure or loss somewhere else? I wonder if the chickens are somehow involved...