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So last night I came up with my list of chores for today. And it was a nice list, too. And I really would’ve done those things (and I will get them done, but stealthily, speed-gardener style, this upcoming week) but when I was out and about, I recognized a distinct odor in the air. Oh, yes, spring’s coming to this valley.

How did that happen? Where did the winter go? With so much left on my to do list, and winter running out, there was clearly only one thing to do.

Take the girls to see (and play in snow) for the first time in their lives. Lately, I’ve been reminded that it’s not just winter that’s too short. My oldest child is starting kindergarten this fall, my youngest is flirting with the idea of potty training. Forget winter — where have their babyhoods gone?


Isn’t it funny how time gets away from you? There you are, minding your own business, just kind of getting through life and the next thing you know, six months have gone by.

Um, oops. What can I say? I’ve been busy.

So anyway, there’s been all sorts of brouhaha lately because it seems like some people got a little bit confused as to whether they invented a certain term. Now, I’m not going to name names. Far be it from me to call anyone out by name, or sling mud. I won’t even sling compost.

But I do need to say one thing: I am an urban homesteader. Got that? Urban homesteader. I may not be as effective or competent at it as others are, but the fact remains that as I do not live on acreage, and I do garden, can, keep chickens, etc and so forth, well, then I guess I’m an urban homesteader.

Trademark that.

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