I have often pondered the journey of a girl from the midwest and how she ended up in the southwest. It is a long story with many ups and downs. From the age of twenty the ups far outweighed the downs. My post is about how the farm began so I will skip the long story and just share how the farm began.
It began because I was making an autumn wreath. I wanted to add some buffalo gourds on the wreath. We took a drive looking for the gourds and ended up about 15 miles from the house we were temporarily renting while getting to know our new state. After a year or two in the rental, I was ready to be a bit more remote, even though the "city" we were living in had a population of about 35,000.
Bill and I took a drive on one of our typical dates, meaning we spent time together without spending anything. The views added such an ambience to our date.
On a lonely road with much overgrowth on the side of the road, I asked Bill to stop as I saw the buffalo plant growing amongst the mesquite. Once he stopped, I got out and began collecting a good number because my crafty mind was thinking of other things I could make with the dried gourds. I made a pocket with the bottom on my shirt which we call a rock shirt when doing this. I loaded the gourds up and began walking to the open door of the truck. Bill was listening to music while I was gathering the gourds. He did have an idea that made him smile, an idea he thought of the moment I got out the of the truck. As I reached the truck and went to grab the door handle to climb in, he pulled forward about 2 feet, laughing. I tried once again, and he, of course, pulled forward. He was laughing quite hard which was infectious and I began laughing while saying, "Stop!"
He granted my wish, but I was moving forward and ended up dropping all the gourds. They rolled under the truck and well, everywhere. He stopped and climbed out to help me gather the gourds,
I bent over and then as I looked up, we both seemed to see the For Sale sign at the same time. The sign was tucked up a road that was not maintained by the county, and it was overgrown with so much mesquite. Bill suggested we drive up this road to see the house. The mesquite scraped the truck on both sides but we continued on. We saw the house and I knew at that moment I wanted to live here. We parked in a very mesquite overgrown area and began to walk around the house, I faced the mountains, took a deep breath and thought yes.
We walked around the house only able to see in one window and Bill was calling the agent. It was absolutely in need of work, but the views, the size, and most importantly, the price was right. The price was barely low enough that we could afford it. And the name came pretty soon after we closed as we were left with almost nothing to obtain the place. We barely had two nickels to rub together and voila the name was given by the totality of the situation! We truly went on rations to have this remote dream and we haven't looked back.
The Double Nickel Farm began on a piece of scrub desert in a double wide trailer with barely any money and oh what a difference it has made...
All because two people fell in love.
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