The Grass is Always Greener...

I've been spending a noticable amount of time lately in a dream world. And while I enjoy daydreaming, it usually means I'm slipping into a low grade depression. I'm no doctor and this is certainly not a clinical diagnosis. I just know that whenever I've been down in the dumps for a period of time it has been preceeded by a period of uncontentment and daydreaming.

I've been vicariously living the agrarian lifestyle with the aid of the blogosphere. Homesteading families across the country are striking out on their own, raising houses, barns, crops, animals and kids. I read intently about the abundance their efforts have produced, the hours spent gardening, canning vegetables and putting up the fruit harvest. I've watched the videos of as transplants from the city are learning the lost art of farming. These families are learning to separate the chaff from the wheat and kill chickens for dinner, sometimes with comical results. But they are doing it! Some keep diary cows or goats to make butter, cheese, and soaps that support the small homegrown businesses keeping their families afloat. Bailing hay, milking goats...doesn't that sound like fun? I think it is until I remember how much work it entails.

I grew up in the suburbs, almost inner-city, but had an unusual upbringing by most suburbian standards. We gardened and canned, and hung our clothes out on the line. Dad replaced transmissions, changed the oil and did all the work on our vehicles himself. Every bicycle I ever had, except one second-hand bike I got from an older cousin was pieced together from parts found in other people's trash. Even though I was an only child, most of my clothes were hand-me-downs and many others were hand-made by my mom. Don't think I'm complaining, I'm not. I wouldn't have it any other way. But I also remember how much work it was for my parents, especially when it was something they didn't particularly enjoy, like working on the cars. I was just telling OKCousin a few weeks ago why I hated hanging out the clothes as a kid, not to mention how I hated standing up to my knees in itchy, scratchy beans in the sweaty, 90 degree heat, swatting at mosquitoes.

The grass certainly does look greener on the other side. Unless of course they are suffering through a drought like this past summer brought. When I really think about it, I'm not so sure I'd like to trade my fairly cushy life for that of the agarian any time soon. And besides, you never get to go on vacation when you've got animals to take care of.

Still those seemingly uncomplicated days, that end with a glass of lemonade on the front porch, the children gathered around your feet as the sun sets in a magnificent display of orange and purple and pink, sure do sound nice. And wouldn't Daddy be sexy in an old straw hat driving his tractor across the pasture? Yeah, I think his tractor's sexy. :)