Farm envy
I was just reading Pioneer Woman's blog. I really like her. Well, everyone who reads her blog does. But not all people who read her blog probably really covet the part of her life that I do. I really want a farm. With cows and pigs and hay and a few goats too. Actually, most important is chickens. I don't know why, but it's probably because I tend to covet lifestyles that are exactly opposite of mine, even if I like mine at the time. So, since we right now live on Chicago's near west side in a duplex with so little grass that I could basically stay in the middle of our yard with a lawnmower, turn in a circle, and then shut the thing off...I have farm envy.
I have these little flower boxes that I tend with great care, but I'm pretty sure that is different than what goes on at a farm.
I want to wear an apron like "Ma" from Little House on the Prairie, and I want my kids to play in a yard so big that I have to ring for them with a big giant dinner bell for them to come inside. I want my son to wear overalls that get all dusty, and I want my bed to be covered in a big quilt that I made at the quilting bee. I want a giant fire place made out of stone and I want my husband to get all ripped and tan and wear a white t-shirt while he goes out yonder in the field with the cows. I want my daughter and son and I to go gather eggs from the chickens and I want them to play in the fields on big hay bails. I want to grind grain into flour and make my own bread.
I want to wear an apron like "Ma" from Little House on the Prairie, and I want my kids to play in a yard so big that I have to ring for them with a big giant dinner bell for them to come inside. I want my son to wear overalls that get all dusty, and I want my bed to be covered in a big quilt that I made at the quilting bee. I want a giant fire place made out of stone and I want my husband to get all ripped and tan and wear a white t-shirt while he goes out yonder in the field with the cows. I want my daughter and son and I to go gather eggs from the chickens and I want them to play in the fields on big hay bails. I want to grind grain into flour and make my own bread.
So, maybe I don't really want to live on a farm. Maybe I want to be in a play about a person who lives on a farm. ;) Because I'm sure farm life is actually nothing like those things. But it will always remain that way in my fantasies.
For now, though, when we want to get outside and enjoy what God made, we're going to have to get in the car, drive east into the city, and drag a bunch of stuff out onto the beach at 31st street and Lakeshore Drive. At least that's what we did last week! I'll admit, it was one of the sweeter parts of our summer, and my husband is pretty darn good looking even without the dirty t-shirt, but it doesn't stop me from having farm envy.
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