Unintentional Tiny House Living

Last year I’d come fairly close to living my dream.  We were renting a big, 200 year-old farmhouse in the country on a few acres with a gorgeous view, a huge garden, and some very large, well-established grape vines.  It wasn’t perfect, but it had possibilities.  It was peaceful.

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Then some necessary but painful things happened and everything changed.  We moved a few hundred miles into the tiny house we are renting now.  Our home here is very small.  It’s not terribly cramped, but the quarters are tight.  We’ve had to make some sacrifices and pare down quite a bit.  None of these things are negatives, though.  “Stuff” is not what makes us who we are.  Living more simply is a good thing, and will prepare us for bigger and better things later.

The bills are cheap, which means I’ll be out of debt much sooner; quite likely by next spring.  There isn’t room (or decent soil) for a garden here, so mine is limited to containers.  For now, I have started some herbs in my kitchen and make due with what we have in exchange for the joy of the dreams that will come true in the future.

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