I crave order.
In my perfect world, our entire homestead would be organized, ordered, and labeled. But it’s not.
Sometimes I like to drive through town and look at other people’s houses. Sometimes I think about how a lot of city folk live. Sometimes I marvel at the homes and lives where everything looks completely and totally in control…
- The cars parked in the paved driveways that are perfectly waxed and shiny.
- The lush, green lawns where all the mowing lines run in even, parallel stripes.
- The flower beds overflowing with bright, delicate annuals and adorable glass lawn ornaments.
- The plush living room carpets with not a trace of dog hair. They wouldn’t dream of allowing their life to be inconvenienced with animals.
- The perfectly organized pantry housing a couple boxes of food- no need to stock up, the store is only minutes away.
- The people who never really have dirty laundry. No poop. No sweat. No dirt. No grimy build up in the washing machine.
And then my mind drifts back to our chaotic homestead…
- The three crazy dogs who leave a cloud of dog hair everywhere they go.
- The kitchen floor that just isn’t clean. The paw prints and boot prints are perpetually present.
- The clumpy prairie grass, doing it’s best to be a lawn. The lawn mower gets a work out from all the bumps and holes.
- The empty deck- I have yet to attempt deck furniture in 50 mile per hour winds. Maybe I could anchor it down?
- The pantries and closets crowded with bulky bags of beans and wheatberries. When you live 40 miles from the grocery store, you gotta stock up.
- The noisy goats and rooster who literally make it impossible to talk on the phone while in the barnyard.
- Manure. Everywhere. In the mudroom. In the vehicles. On the boots. In my hair
I’ve had more than one city person scoff at our lifestyle. They can’t think of a worse fate. No snow plows? No trash removal? No pizza delivery? Oh, the horror!
When I hear their comments, I just smile to myself. Because even though our home might not be as polished as theirs, they are the ones missing out on:
- The empowering satisfaction of harvesting, cutting up, and packaging your own meat.
- The thrill of welcoming a brand new, slimy, wet, baby goat into the world.
- The warm feeling you get when your happy dog roots against your hand asking for attention.
- The mentally cleansing effect of manual labor and sweat.
- The peaceful calm of early morning chores, before the day’s events begin.
- The joy of a hot shower after building fence in freezing temperatures all day.
- The intoxicating scents of a warm horse, freshly fallen rain, or an old barn.
- The sense of accomplishment you get after chopping ice, shoveling snow, and feeding hay all day- knowing that no matter how cold it gets during the night, all the animals are safe, watered, and happily eating.
- The sheer magnificence and raw power of a prairie thunderstorm that has settled directly overhead.
- The sense of life that comes from digging your bare hands deep into soil and planting seeds that will fill your table with nourishing food.
Nope, it’s not perfect. It’s a messy, out-of-control, hairy, learn-to-be-flexible, muddy, get-your-hands-dirty, chaotic, incredible adventure of a life. And I love it.
There is something so wholesome, so elemental, so raw, about raising and nurturing your own food, whether it be animals or plants.
I think God truly intended it to be this way. It just feels right.
So if those folks prefer their sterile, manicured life to mine, that’s fine. I suppose that is why television is so popular in our culture. Sadly, most Americans would rather watch life pass them by on television instead of taking the risks of experiencing it for themselves.
But as for me, I am determined to live it first hand, dog hair and all. 😉