Pick Your Poison

The Bonsall Landfill

As much as the Wrangler and I love it here on the avocado farm--or, actually, because of how much we love it here on the avocado farm--we've started shopping for a farm of our own. Our time here always was intended to be part of a brief, nine-month experiment in country living. We've learned a lot about what we want: a place for animals (all kinds of animals) is our top priority, with views, quiet, and lots of open space coming in second, third, and fourth. Planned "equestrian communities" are out. Before moving in here we thought that a nice, not-too-rural planned equestrian community would be perfect for us, but it turns out that it's just a little too planned for our tastes. Bring on the rural!

But even a good hour out of expensive Orange County, it's hard to find acreage at a reasonable price. There are so many of us Southern Californians, and very little desirable land. I'm particularly dismayed to discover the lack of farmhouse-style dwellings. There are plenty of 1990s-style two-stories ('80s and '90-era builders sure loved their prominently featured garages), Spanish-style, Mediterranean-style, and eyesore no-style houses. All new construction is ranch-style ("all one level for our aging population"). It's clear that compromises must be made, and we're searching far and wide. If nothing satisfactory turns up nearby, we'll consider buying a farm or ranch somewhere else for use as a vacation property.

Our search has in fact revealed a few properties that seem to be exactly what we're looking for--acreage, a barn, fenced pastures, beautiful views, semi-charming farmhouse (reasonably updated with potential), and priced to sell! We couldn't believe our luck. But my lawyer-side always is looking for the "catch" and, so far, there has been one--and a real doozy, at that--every time.

Case number one: the Little Farm in the Valley. Priced so low that it initially fell outside my search parameters, this house seemed to be made for us. We drove about 10 minutes from our current house and turned down a lovely, winding road. On the right were gentle hills dotted with chaparral. On the left was a large open space--acres and acres (122 acres to be exact). Oddly, it was mowed and had an extensive irrigation system. "Must be growing something there," the Wrangler remarked. I didn't agree. "I don't see anything growing, the irrigation system seems to be diverting water away from the land, and what's with the massive fence?" Strands of electrical fencing ran along the top of a 12-ft. high chain-linked fence. "Whatever is going on in there, someone sure wants to keep people out." We continued down the road about a quarter of a mile, entering a valley of storybook beauty. When we stopped the car in front of the farmhouse, we were delighted to see a small stream running through the property.

Fast-forward. I needed to know more about that strange parcel of fenced grass. Literally an hour prior to meeting our realtor to sign our offer, I found the catch. The strange parcel is an unused landfill--a dump! It operated from 1968 to 1985 (which means it was unlined because no one thought about contamination in those days), and currently is the subject of considerable controversy due to numerous violations. It has contaminated the drinking water in nearby wells and is leaching toxic substances into the storm water drainage system. I couldn't stop thinking about that little stream that runs through the property. "Maybe the chemical soup would make my lavender grow sky-high." I tried to be optimistic, but I knew that we'd never be comfortable living a quarter mile downstream from the landfill.

I'll spare you the extensive details about the other two places, but let me just say that the move-in ready, four-acre gentleman's farm with barn and pasture is...12 miles from a nuclear power plant, which has sent cancer rates soaring in the neighboring towns. And the 50-acre Christmas tree farm (yes! a Christmas tree farm--how amazingly perfect!) comes with not only Christmas trees but...a family cemetery. Yes, unfortunately, plenty of people live within close proximity to nuclear power plants, landfills, or other environmental nightmares. But perhaps my brother summed it up best: If we buy near one, then there's really no point in adopting an organic lifestyle anymore. Granted, there's nothing really dangerous (I don't think) about having one's own cemetery. If push comes to shove, I could probably get on board with that one.

Can you just see us on that HGTV show House Hunters? "Will they take the pastoral farm near the landfill; the move-in ready hobby farm near the nuclear reactor; or the amazing Christmas tree farm with its own cemetery?"