One Mans Trash...

Is another man's trash.

So many decisions on where to start.  Start here, start there, start anywhere.  After countless hours trying to decide where to build, it was decided that clearing the trash and the underbrush should be the first step.  Of course, clearing is easier said that done.  Previous owners and years of neglect have turned this land into a rubbish bin. But don't worry, good money was paid for that rubbish. Hopefully, some of this material can be reused in the future.

The problem with this trash is that it just can't be thrown into the trashcan.  There was lumber 20'+ long, a pallet of shingles, broken saltillo tiles, shrimping nets, multiple bundles of composite decking, rusted pipes, a refrigerator, 30' cattle panels, multiple bicycle parts, and the ever popular worn-out tires. Once sorted, it needed to be properly discarded.

How is that gonna be accomplished? If it was easy to throw away trash of this nature, this collection of rubbish wouldn't have accumulated in the first place. Since paying to discard of bulky materials is so expensive, people are dumping it along roadsides, empty lots, and vacant fields nationwide. Once the debris gets to be hazardous, local officials are forced to remove it at the cost of the tax paying citizens.  If the taxpayers could just discard their trash at the waste management facility for free, this burden could be reduced.  Yes, reduced not eliminated, cause let's face it, nothing works perfectly.

Seriously, are the tile pieces supposed to be thrown away one at a time so that the local waste management crew will not notice they are mixed in with the household approved garbage? Does the same go for the shingles, rusted piping, and bicycle parts? Are there going to be late night raids to local dumpsters? Or do we resort to the rental of a contractors dumpster and dispose of the materials correctly?

So you ask, what was done with the rubbish? Some were stored for later re-purposing, and the rest was piled into a neatly compiled trash corner for a decision at a later date and time.  Right now there are things more important than the trash that has been collecting for over 50 years. Who knows, maybe the garbage fairy will come.

Not Your Average American Family

I guess you are wondering how we got here to Plan473.  That is a story 20 years in the making.  For as long as I can remember I have wanted chickens and a garden.  Growing up in a city of a million people, chickens were not gonna happen.  At least in my neighborhood.  There was a garden but all it every produced was cucumbers, okra, and tomatoes.  The dream never went away, it simply was pushed aside for the "what's expected".

After graduating college in 2003, we lived in a small 600sf home.  Rent was exchanged for maintenance work.  The house was two story, long and skinny, with a great porch downstairs and a deck upstairs.  Sure there nothing keeping the outside elements from coming inside except the clapboard siding. There was no heat/no AC but it did come fully furnished with plenty of yard space for a garden. It was so dammed cold the first winter water would freeze in a glass on the counter.  By summer, ice cold showers were our best friend. Living there was like camping every day.  The downstairs window was missing a screen so it was left open for the cats to come and go as they wished.  One morning we woke to the cats hissing at a critter on the kitchen counter.  At 4:30 in the morning, hard to tell if was raccoon or possum.  Just glad it wasn't a skunk.  The next day, the cats got the permanent boot outside.

 

After 6months of looking for a house to call our own between working full-time and me going to graduate school at night, we moved into suburbia Texas in February 2005.  The two bedroom, one bath was 1100sf of gold shag carpet covering up hardwood floors, dingy white walls and dark brown paneling on a 1/3 acre of yard with pecan trees.  There was still no heat/no ac and no ceiling fans but it was ours.  We were well on our way to the "expected". And hey, we weren't camping anymore.

By summer 2007, life was as it should be for the "expected".  There was a forty by sixty garden in the back yard, two full-time jobs, two student loans, a mortgage, a truck payment, and a baby on the way.  All that was missing was the chickens.  So why were we so unsettled?

One thing led to another and by summer 2009 we had sold our house and moved into a borrowed travel trailer on rented tarmac at the in-laws business where we worked on a refurbishing our own 1968 Airstream. This classic piece of America had been sitting in a field for too many years to remember.  The frame and floor board were rotted, insulation and bedding were infested with a multitude of carcasses and feces, windows leaked, electrical wiring destroyed, and it was ours for a few hundred bucks.

Living in a travel trailer was once again like camping full-time. Been there, done that.  No adjustment needed.  And that was life for the next year.  A full-time job, a full-time renovation, and a small bucket garden.

Buckets and fencing were free.  All that was needed was some dirt, seeds, and a couple of plants.  Besides I had a toddler who was willing to help, so why not?

In August of 2010 with a fully restored Airstream, we set off for our next adventure.  Living full time in a 7x18 space took a few weeks adjusting.  This was full time camping, but in style.  Other travel trailers envied our shiny trailer. Little did they know that the windows still leaked even after new seals, interior lights had not been completely installed, and there was bare electrical cords hanging from wall waiting for 12volt applications such as fans.  Sure the space is over 100sf but that includes all the furnishings, a toddler almost three feet tall, two full size adults, and one dog.  Life's space was cramped.  We traveled for a few months visiting family and friends all across the great state of Texas. We lived in the trailer for almost two years at the coast before coming back to the tarmac parking lot.

It was a this stage of our adventure where what was "expected" was once again challenged.  This was the first time since college that I did not have a paying job.  I became a stay-at-home mom. With so much free time, I started Edible Buckets.  Living in an industrial park requires a different state of mind. The surroundings are loud and busy, the tarmac is dusty and dirty, and the scenery is desolate.  So Edible Buckets was my way of making it home.  The buckets and fencing were in storage from last time, so once again, all that was needed were some seeds, a few plants, and a guard dog who kept drinking my collected rain water.

It was during this time that one of my closet friends was having back surgery and needed a full-time, live in nanny.  So kid and I, the dog (not the one pictured above, the one pictured below), and our edible buckets left the husband and trailer and moved into their uber nice, white collar neighborhood for the duration of the summer. Notice the lovely green grass between the back yard deck? Living with them was a whole new experience.  They had green grass, a sand box, a tree fort, and a play structure.

By the time school started for her children, we had ditched the trailer at a family's house and took off once again on our next adventure. With a no formalized travel plans, we left the great state of Texas. Yes, you read right.  We left the great state of Texas.

For three weeks we camped out of the back of our truck.  We saw alligators in Louisiana.  White sands of the Gulf of Mexico in Mississippi. White sand, not the brown, dark sand of Texas shores.  White sand!  What a difference it was.

Meet Candanian George, who full-timed in his van camper in Tennessee and ended up in Asheville, North Carolina.  The weather was beautiful and the mountains breathtaking.  We high tailed it home, packed up our gear, picked up our trailer, and said goodbye to Texas in the fall of 2012.

We lived for several months during the winter in our trailer.  And let me tell you, for a girl from south Texas, it was cold, cold, cold. While the Airstream had an AC that would hang meat it got so cold, there was no heat.  Yes, I know what you are thinking, we never have any heat.

Asheville is full of misfits like ourselves and we easily settled into a grove.  In the spring of 2013 we moved out of the trailer and into a rental.  This was the first time the kid had his own real bed and room to play Legos without having to put them away before bed.  It was great. Better yet, the landlord let us have chickens!!!!  12 chickens to be exact.  There was no garden but she has wild strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries in her yard.

At that was life for two years.  Work, hiking on the Appalachian Trail, taking long mountain drives, and enjoying the non-hot weather.  Living life according to the "expected".  It must be a summer thing because by the summer of 2014, I was getting homesick for Texas and the heat. I had not worn flip-flops or shorts in two years.  While I have always been fair complected, I was turning ghostly white and in some desperate need of dark, brown sand.  So we said goodbye to all the things we loved about Asheville, NC and came home to Texas.

Did you know that the closest Whataburger to Asheville, NC is eight hours away in Alabama?  Yes, we ate there on the way home.  And then again at the first Whataburger after crossing back into Texas.  I had never eaten there and I might never get the chance to again.  So, why not?  And then again every week since being back.  Good grief how I missed Whataburger.  Bojangles has nothing on Whataburger.  We moved back to same coastal town we left two years ago and starting our life over again in our now much too small Airstream.

The dream of owning chickens and a garden were still strong so we stated looking for land immediately.  Now we have the land and are working towards fulfilling the dream.  But as in all things done in the past seven years, we will not have the standard two-bedroom, two bath 2000sf home.  We will not have the "expected".  Nope we will have one of these:

Yes, that's right.  We are going to live a modified shipping container.  Like I said, we are not your average American family. We are Plan473.