I sold this homestead in Georgia, The Habersham Hacienda, in 2019 after 14 years. I keep the page sorta active as a resume of sorts and to reference photos of the decade plus renovation and farming project. No Mow acreage, homesteading, pasture raised poultry and more stories are archived at ye olde blogspot
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After much road travel trying to find a new "downsized" home, I found I was priced out of everywhere in 2020 in the US, so I drove to Mexico to have an adventure with my old dog Brady. I tried #vanlife and loved the freedom for several months from Veracruz to Oaxaca.
In August 2021 on my way back to nowhere, I was broadsided and flipped a few times into a desert ditch in Sonora.
I walked away after being pulled from the vehicle the dogs ran away (and were found a day later) and any stuff that I hadn't given away before the journey was all over the highway. The van was totaled. Everything was broken. I knew no one and had never been to Sonora. The kindness of strangers, a ride, an odd temporary rental house in a fishing village, lots of paperwork and a new pair of flipflops, I was dropped off in a ghost town. I figured I'd be on my way in a week or two, gracias very much. You need to heal said the guy who drove me here. You need to come home said American friends.
I'm still here several months later...I still don't have a car or any means of transport out. It's complicated to buy a foreign car and even more complicated and expensive to get to "the other side" as they call it to purchase one. Surely there's a way to get out of here? Hello?
The Universe laughed. You're not going ANYWHERE, my child.
The town I ended up in has more stray dogs than people. Hundreds. Maybe more. Some are dead on the street. Some are poisoned. Many are pregnant. Holy shit, I said. Yes, it's a problem said one guy.
I waited for Mexican insurance to payout for my 16 year old totaled Toyota van. I sat on the porch in the desert heat and started pulling ticks out of the ears of all the doggo visitors to pass the time. Putting out food for the starved skin and bones dogs that limped by. Wrapping paws. Giving eye drops. Giving antibiotics from my tote bag. Walking until I found a tienda and a pharmacy in the "centro". I found and recycled plastic tubs for water bowls and foot soaks and soon I had a carpet of lonely,
sleepy dogs on my patio. 12? 20?
We'd all walk to the shore and back each day at dawn. No leashes, we'd see no one. The dogs were so happy, despite their plight. Swimming, splashing, finding fish heads---we're on the Sea of Cortez, rugged and gorgeous, but desolate.
This town is hard to get to, 3 hours away from the nearest city on a two lane potholed highway.
There is no animal vet here. There are very few, if any, services. A couple tiendas and a few taco carts.
I have been here for several months.
To follow our stories you can check out my social links below.
I have started a Patreon where you can subscribe to my weekly stories or you can sponsor a dog right here for spay or neuter or medical visits from our Mobile Vet Dr. Ramon Valenzuela. Unfortunately we don't have delivery or Amazon or any "mail" service here. Shipping is crazy expensive and no one services the area. It's a bummer.
paypal.me/TheHabershamHacienda
paypal my email michele.niesen@gmail.com
paypal@TheHabershamHacienda
or US mail for checks to my friend Howard in FL 12100 Seminole Blvd #316 Largo, FL 33778
.
********************************************************************************************************8
After much road travel trying to find a new "downsized" home, I found I was priced out of everywhere in 2020 in the US, so I drove to Mexico to have an adventure with my old dog Brady. I tried #vanlife and loved the freedom for several months from Veracruz to Oaxaca.
In August 2021 on my way back to nowhere, I was broadsided and flipped a few times into a desert ditch in Sonora.
I walked away after being pulled from the vehicle the dogs ran away (and were found a day later) and any stuff that I hadn't given away before the journey was all over the highway. The van was totaled. Everything was broken. I knew no one and had never been to Sonora. The kindness of strangers, a ride, an odd temporary rental house in a fishing village, lots of paperwork and a new pair of flipflops, I was dropped off in a ghost town. I figured I'd be on my way in a week or two, gracias very much. You need to heal said the guy who drove me here. You need to come home said American friends.
I'm still here several months later...I still don't have a car or any means of transport out. It's complicated to buy a foreign car and even more complicated and expensive to get to "the other side" as they call it to purchase one. Surely there's a way to get out of here? Hello?
The Universe laughed. You're not going ANYWHERE, my child.
The town I ended up in has more stray dogs than people. Hundreds. Maybe more. Some are dead on the street. Some are poisoned. Many are pregnant. Holy shit, I said. Yes, it's a problem said one guy.
I waited for Mexican insurance to payout for my 16 year old totaled Toyota van. I sat on the porch in the desert heat and started pulling ticks out of the ears of all the doggo visitors to pass the time. Putting out food for the starved skin and bones dogs that limped by. Wrapping paws. Giving eye drops. Giving antibiotics from my tote bag. Walking until I found a tienda and a pharmacy in the "centro". I found and recycled plastic tubs for water bowls and foot soaks and soon I had a carpet of lonely,
sleepy dogs on my patio. 12? 20?
We'd all walk to the shore and back each day at dawn. No leashes, we'd see no one. The dogs were so happy, despite their plight. Swimming, splashing, finding fish heads---we're on the Sea of Cortez, rugged and gorgeous, but desolate.
This town is hard to get to, 3 hours away from the nearest city on a two lane potholed highway.
There is no animal vet here. There are very few, if any, services. A couple tiendas and a few taco carts.
I have been here for several months.
To follow our stories you can check out my social links below.
I have started a Patreon where you can subscribe to my weekly stories or you can sponsor a dog right here for spay or neuter or medical visits from our Mobile Vet Dr. Ramon Valenzuela. Unfortunately we don't have delivery or Amazon or any "mail" service here. Shipping is crazy expensive and no one services the area. It's a bummer.
paypal.me/TheHabershamHacienda
paypal my email michele.niesen@gmail.com
paypal@TheHabershamHacienda
or US mail for checks to my friend Howard in FL 12100 Seminole Blvd #316 Largo, FL 33778
.
Casa Verde Street Dog Rehab
River, the dog who got rescued twice. Riding here with Jorge who saved us all after our van flipped and we were alone in the desert.
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The fishing village with more dogs than people. Breakfast for 10.
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River the Rescue Dog, Day 2
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River's first trip to the beach. Weee! Playa Alvarado, Veracruz, MX
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A brief but luxurious stay in Boca del Rio at the Hotel Rivoli. Pet friendly with top service and Gulf views it was a fabulous stay. Brady REALLY likes our luxe hotel stops.
Brady taking the beach view in pretending to be a Mexican roof dog in the coastal Santa Cruz in Nayarit
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The original Hacienda blog is here and there's some good stuff in there back to the farming days, Big Chicken, gentlewoman farming and how (not) to go broke. The first two books in my Decade of Dish series are available on Apple and Blurb below.
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Goodbye to the Grand Dame,
2005-2019 the longest relationship I've ever had was with a house. Mt. Airy, Georgia
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Cooking class with my work buddy sidekick Juanito aka Mowgli the Man Cub featured in my 2009 Essay 'How to Save 89cents' winner of the non fiction prize in New Southerner magazine.
HOW DID I GET HERE? (TLDR, but if you're curious...)
In 2007 I sold a couple of restaurants in Decatur, GA and got a wild hair (hare?) idea to move out to the country and start my own farm. It'll be fun, they said. It'll be rejuvenating, I thought.
Actually no one said that. Most of my friends and coworkers said, "What?! Why??" but away I went. I was pulled to the country lifestyle and peaceful days. Swapping the Atlanta traffic for pastoral mountain views of Northeast Georgia. Harvesting my own organic vegetables and trimming the tops off my ever replenishing sprouting cilantro. My mind conjured up all kinds of narrative about my flock of hens and their bounty of eggs with tangerine colored yolks. Fresh air. The soft pastures underfoot. I'd start a farmer's market in that front field near the entrance. Enjoy the small town chat at the feed store and slowly renovate a big old house and slowly add guest suites, a big central kitchen where I'd harvest my wild herbs and make tinctures and old timey remedies. The stress of being chef owner of 2 busy restaurants had taken its toll on my lifestyle (hello 30s, goodbye 30s) and my health. I needed radical change.
I got it. It just wasn't how I had played it out in my head.
It was not always an easy transition, this bucolic life. But over a decade of many trials (and many errors), I finally got the Habersham Hacienda up and running to the sustainable, magical vision I had always dreamed of. The guest suites, the loft apartment, the cooking classes, the rain gardens, the Apothecary, the wild meadows, the pollinator organic gardens, the wild harvested herbs, the chickens, the rotational grazing pastures, the compost, the soil and eco systems finally balanced. The songbirds, bats, beetles. Snakes, hawks and bees. I had the right crew to help me build, create and carry out my visions. A neighborhood family of endless brothers and cousins from Guatemala headed by Antonio, my work buddy for over 7 years. Juanito, Victor, Pedro, Calixto, Esteban. And one Mexican, my genius friend and muse, Fernando. Everything was coming together.
And then, I ran out of money.
In 2007 I sold a couple of restaurants in Decatur, GA and got a wild hair (hare?) idea to move out to the country and start my own farm. It'll be fun, they said. It'll be rejuvenating, I thought.
Actually no one said that. Most of my friends and coworkers said, "What?! Why??" but away I went. I was pulled to the country lifestyle and peaceful days. Swapping the Atlanta traffic for pastoral mountain views of Northeast Georgia. Harvesting my own organic vegetables and trimming the tops off my ever replenishing sprouting cilantro. My mind conjured up all kinds of narrative about my flock of hens and their bounty of eggs with tangerine colored yolks. Fresh air. The soft pastures underfoot. I'd start a farmer's market in that front field near the entrance. Enjoy the small town chat at the feed store and slowly renovate a big old house and slowly add guest suites, a big central kitchen where I'd harvest my wild herbs and make tinctures and old timey remedies. The stress of being chef owner of 2 busy restaurants had taken its toll on my lifestyle (hello 30s, goodbye 30s) and my health. I needed radical change.
I got it. It just wasn't how I had played it out in my head.
It was not always an easy transition, this bucolic life. But over a decade of many trials (and many errors), I finally got the Habersham Hacienda up and running to the sustainable, magical vision I had always dreamed of. The guest suites, the loft apartment, the cooking classes, the rain gardens, the Apothecary, the wild meadows, the pollinator organic gardens, the wild harvested herbs, the chickens, the rotational grazing pastures, the compost, the soil and eco systems finally balanced. The songbirds, bats, beetles. Snakes, hawks and bees. I had the right crew to help me build, create and carry out my visions. A neighborhood family of endless brothers and cousins from Guatemala headed by Antonio, my work buddy for over 7 years. Juanito, Victor, Pedro, Calixto, Esteban. And one Mexican, my genius friend and muse, Fernando. Everything was coming together.
And then, I ran out of money.
my wild front yard. I cut paths into the native growth over the years to add depth to the postage stamp of the previous flat lawns.
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the carpet of December. Each year the Japanese Maples dropped the firecracker leaves. Magnificent trees on this property, a specimen tree nursery in the 1950s
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