Thanks! We have 15 acres set in the middle of several thousand acres of grassland, most of which belong to our neighbor. He sold off this small parcel to a relative many moons ago, and then they sold it to us. It's definitely quiet out here, except when the motorcycles go roaring by on their way to Sturgis every summer.
We have well water, too (well, OBVIOUSLY...), but ours is softer. It took me a long time to get used to it - it tasted like there was baking soda in it, ick. But now it tastes normal to me and it doesn't leave spots and chunks all over everything, which is nice. When we lived in Central Oregon, we had the best tasting water, but it was hard.
Me, too, on the hay thing. We're lucky to have the best hay guy in the world (and I've been buying hay here and back in Oregon for over 40 years now, so I have some experience), but he charges for his high quality. I don't mind, though because it's guaranteed. If I find ONE flake in one of the large squares that has the least bit of musty or moldy smell to it, he'll replace the entire bale. Same if I find a weed. But unless it's like a third or more of a bale that's "contaminated," I won't tell him. I don't think it's fair for him to bring another 800 pounds of hay just for one or two bad flakes. Our water, and our hay guy, are the main reasons we stay here. And the expense. And we're too old to move... I guess there's a lot of reasons we don't get the hell out of here. It IS beautiful here.
I be a gurl. Feisty redhead to be exact. Born and raised in Portland, Oregon but left in 1995 to go to Redmond (OR) so I could dry out a little bit. Too much rain for my likes in Portland, and I was SO much happier in Redmond. We'd still be there (me and the hubs) except for the influx of out of staters that drove the prices up so high so fast. And just the whole attitude in general. We were living out of time. Out here, it's just like Oregon used to be back in the 60s.
And of course there's the whole farm thing. I was a "professional" back in Portland (office manager type), and did the whole dress/nylons/high heels thing every day. Now I don't own a dress or nylons, and although I kept a couple pair of cute high-heeled boots, I never wear them. Now I have milk cows and chickens and dogs and cats and nobody cares what I wear. I love my cows, absolutely LOVE them. I had horses most of my life, and we still have the last one out in the pasture eating hay and tearassing around the place when he thinks he heard something (he's an Arab gelding, gorgeous boy), but he's not saddle broke and I don't have the time or the round pen to work with him, so he's just decoration.
He still takes my breath away when he dances...
Oh, and I'm an old fart, sorta. I'm going to be 62 in December, and Rich, my husband will be <GASP> 71 in February. He doesn't do much around here anymore, which is why I don't have a lot of time on the computer. I'm doing most everything now.
I did have time to look at those fall fashions for chickens, though. OMG. So funny. I can tell you, though, that chickens don't NEED sweaters, people need to make them and then play dress-up with the chickens. LOL! Some of our chickens go through a South Dakota winter with no feathers on their backs (we have too many roosters) and they're fine. I do think I need a little bonnet for our house chicken, though. Her name is Chicklet, how original, eh? We found her abandoned one evening about 4 years ago now, and couldn't find her mama, so we brought her in the house so she wouldn't die. And she stayed. Now she has a cage in the living room, near the window, and I take care of her as if she was a parrot, but she's quieter than a parrot. And she laid an egg every day for me for a couple years, but she's getting old now, too, so no more eggs. She just eats and poops, but she's very friendly and personable. And don't think it's just dogs and cats that beg while you're eating dinner. She could give LESSONS in begging, LOL! It's a good thing she's in her cage, because otherwise I'm sure she'd fly right up into my plate while I'm eating.
So there, that's me.