You know, every time my job starts really getting to me I start daydreaming about moving to Virginia somewhere and buying an old farm and starting a farm of my own. I want space where I can have chickens so I can have fresh eggs, and a big field for growing lots of veggies for canning, and a place to have an orchard of fruit trees. It seems to be the hip trend nowadays; You see it in magazines all the time; People in quaint little farmer's markets, selling baskets of speckled brown eggs and beautiful squashes and tomatoes. They give up their hectic jobs in the city to go live on the farm somewhere.
Ridiculous fantasy? Yes! Have I bought into it completely? YES!
Needless to say, they gloss over the backbreaking manual labor in the hot sun required for such an endeavor. The chicken shit, having to cleanout barns and deal with stinky diesel tractors & farm equipment. Insects, rabbits, deer, groundhogs, drought, disease. All the horsemen are represented. Well, maybe not War "officially" but perhaps the horseman of Marital Strife. And how many squash do you really have to sell to make a mortgage payment, anyway? Marc has been punching holes in my fantasy world left and right. Probably because he hates chickens.
Damn.
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This fantasy life debate goes on in our household as well. I did manage to get Jason hooked on the possibility of living in Ashville NC,(which is huge progress) It's rural enough for me, liberal, has a music scene, art scene, and a huge farm-to-table movement going. Now we just have to find jobs...
ReplyDeleteDammit...