Which you weren’t but I’ve been musing on for a while.
I used to thrive on controversy. Then I married Jay and that really must have mellowed me. I have made near-monumental efforts to avoid making waves, and have congratulated myself on how much I was maturing.
But now I wonder if part of such behavior isn’t some form of laziness, because if I don’t set myself up to be challenged I never have to think more than I want to; I never have to explain myself in opposition to anything else.
And now Jay and I are looking at starting a family farm.
As in, a small farm designed to make our little family of five as self-provided-for as our Alaskan environment will allow.
Which, as it turns out, is a lot if you plan properly.
To go back a step, my openness to this idea really flowered when a book encouraging healthy eating pointed out that planning for food never used to be optional. And not just in a night-before or weekly-menu way, but seasons in advance.
It’s not just possible, it used to be both normal and necessary. I don’t need to feel foolish considering such a thing.
The farm is something significant I can do to provide for my family.
The first square in the “then” category of this chart hit me hard when I first read it. The role of homekeeper isn’t devalued by our culture simply because some nebulous someone expects a paycheck to equal value. It’s devalued in a basic and capitalistic sense because it is no longer necessary.
I can be replaced by a McDonald’s/public school/TV combo.
Tell me that’s not demoralizing.
Enough to make me lazy & useless when I don’t feel like doing anything; after all, I don’t *really* have to.
And this is about controversy because the motivation for all this effort (other than I’ve always wanted to to the little-farm thing –- delighting in the learning curve as I do) is that my husband and I really feel our country (and world) is going to change significantly before our children are grown.
I’ve been thinking of homeschooling as “adult-training” as well as book learning, so to train them in self-sufficiency is to prepare them for their adult lives.
So we (mostly I, since it would be my responsibility as Jay continues to work a full-time job) are beginning research, to sign up for workshops and seeking out like-minded people. And the kids are right on the cusp of being able to fully understand what’s going on.
Here comes the next adventure, and I am energized at the prospect of repeating something my and Jay’s Grandparents (and our parents) did in their younger years: create a new life and identity together, wrapped around hard work and a vision.