There are some that are content with flowers in a pot. There are those who are perfectly happy turning on a switch to make the fire come to life (the gas flame is rather pretty). A package of this food or that blended with another to make “homemade” food. Our society has a different view of homemaking these days. But I, well I used to think I had the homesteading bug. A bug that I wondered would pass once we entered the city. Would I miss canning? It is tedious work. Would I miss hand washing dishes and clothes lines, and the smell of firewood setting aflame while a pot of beans is set on the wood stove to percolate?
I guess you know the answer.
City life can be rather easy. My friend cleans my apartment once a week. I leave for work with everyone else and work very, very hard all week long. So does Doug. We come home and fix supper or head out to eat. We switch on the fire. And a movie. We feed the cats. I do laundry. It is quick, even though our clothes are a bit shrunk from the dryer…or the lifestyle.
We long for chores and the cool breeze as we run to the chicken coop to let the ladies out. We miss the sight of dozens of jewel colored jars cooling on the counters waiting for the larder (I did get several dozen things put up, but we’ll be out by next month). I miss the sound of the dehydrator and the smell of drying tomatoes. The sound of crackling from the first log that catches in the wood stove. I miss the extensive gardens to water and the music blaring from my earphones as I dance and water at the same time, entertaining the neighbors. I miss pointing out what we grew on the plate (sometimes all of it). I miss falling into bed exhausted with a huge smile of completion on my face. Planning the winter rests of learning to knit and weave and spin and the books I’ll catch up on. Only to be planning the next year’s gardens and pouring over seed catalogues instead.
We wondered if we would get over the homesteading bug when set into a life of a bit more ease. But, no, it turns out, it was homesteading blood. Not a bug. We are a few of those folks that could go back to 1890 with ease. Playing the fiddle or working as we please. To step out of normal society is a plus. Yes, on a mini-farm and homestead you will find us.
I look forward to donning my apron again. The one that swaddled new born goats and chicks. The one my granddaughter can hide under. To wipe my hands on after chopping a zillion vegetables or to wipe my brow after crawling on my hands and knees to plant tiny seeds that will become life and infuse our life with…life.
Some of us just have homesteading in our blood.