This is Not Green Acres

I suppose I’ve gone and worn myself out since today I’m feeling under the weather. So instead of being miserable trying to be witty and educational (I said ‘trying’ =P ) I thought I’d share one of my favorite posts from my own blog.  These are a few things that keep me doing the things I do. What about you? What prompts you to live your life?

We bought our house four years ago. We were returning to my husband’s rural hometown after 10 years of living in town. I always had this mental image of “Green Acres” when I thought of the transition, but alas I have none of the elegance nor grace of Ms. Gabor.

In reality I learned about country living from my paternal grandparents who lived on the outskirts of a small, Indiana town. The small farmhouse they lived in holds more places in my memory than any other place I lived. I helped my grandmother can tomatoes and pickle beets (all of which she stored in the cellar), we snapped green beans, picked apples, and grew strawberries. Days passed by watching the clouds take shape, playing cards, and pretending to drive the tractors all while listening to the neighbor’s roosters crow. So much for a life of diamonds and pearls.

I’ve always liked getting my hands dirty.

Moving to the country was a bit like finally having the space to practice all the things my grandparents taught me while giving us the ability teach our daughter those very same skills. My husband, having lived an even more rural existance, has his share of skills to pass on; riding motorcyles, raising chickens and horses, cutting hay, using farm equipment, fixing cars, and otherwise creating something from nothing.

A dichotomy exists in both of our lives, however. The Artists. Half of both our families are crafters, artists, scientists, or explorers. His predecessors were among the first barnstormers and hangliders around here. They travelled the world, spelunked and made art. Mine too. They were the crafters and artists, the needlepointers and knitters, oil painters and potters. My maternal grandparents lived in England for some time after my mother was born. Oh the stories of teas, scones, and bland food! The stories of culture and new experiences!

It only makes sense, then, that a scientist and an artist would bring their daughter to live out in the country. It only makes sense that her favorite food would be eel sushi and that she knows just when a persimmon is best picked; she can identify the differences between a phillips head and a standard while dressed up as a princess and drinking tea; she can spend hours drawing and cutting or just exploring the garage or the woods behind our house.

What, if anything, do we intend to teach our daughter? Well, everything of course! She is the reason we finally made the move back to the country. For the land, the garden, the hard work. So far it’s been worth every blister and back ache, the miles spent travelling to the city, the space, the dark skies and bright stars.

The quiet.

You can also find me over at my blog: Unearthing This Life.