I’m a country girl at heart. What was that? Noooo! There’s a difference between being a villager and being a country girl. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a villager… Sigh. This is quickly degenerating to a both-feet-in-her-mouth moment, isn’t it? Moving on swiftly. I have been told that I have the opposite of a green thumb. Apparently this would explain why I have had to cook my vegetables soon as I buy them or else they just wither and die.
But where does the country girl thing come in? You ask. I am tired of the city life and I’m toying with the idea of moving to the farm. Always loved the idea of living in a farm. I need practice though. That plus I need to convince mother I was made for the farm. She doesn’t believe I can survive a night alone in a farm. See, there’s this piece of arable land, that is right outside my bedroom window. I live on the ground floor. I suspect no one will let me room on any floor higher than the ground. Technically, this means that the tiny piece of land (3metres by 3metres) that has flowers belongs to me, no? I’ll just be claiming it anyway. Not grabbing, just claiming. What I’m I going to do with the flowers? I have an elaborate plan.
There was once I slept walked. Long story. I’m thinking of using the experience from that event to pull off a ‘flower mutilation’ plot. I wake up at exactly half midnight, start yelling, pull out flowers, stomp around a little and head back to bed. With the right theatrics, should take me exactly 7 minutes. Add 6 minutes for incidentals and one or two inspired ‘wing-it’ moments. In the morning, I wake up with the solemnest face ever (you have not seen that face my friends…) and profusely apologize. Offer to plant vegetables and water them daily in place of the flowers. See! No bloodshed necessary.
Should the vegetables, consisting mainly kales, a tomato or two and a smattering of onions (the land is not exactly a ranch) wither, then we can conclude, with finality, I have the opposite of a green thumb, and we can move on to rearing a cow and probably 2 chickens. I’m not sure how I’ll pull this one off, but my front yard is large enough. I just need to handle landlord issues. Perhaps offer him a quart of milk and an egg every morning? Convince the guy that livestock on any front yard gives the property a touch of life? BUT. Should success arise from the said farm, then I’ll have me a nice kitchen (technically bedroom) garden. I am intent on showing the world that I really I’m a country girl and I urgently need to own a piece of land that I can call mine. Wish me luck.