About Us - A city woman wants to homestead?

Why would any woman in her right mind want to give up the luxuries of fancy cars, malls, fashionable clothes, fast food restaurants, nail salons, etc. and move to the country?  Why would she want to get dirt under her nails, clean poop laden livestock stalls, rise before the sun to feed bawling cows, chop wood, or cook from scratch? How could any female be happy living in temporary, drafty, leaky, squeaky, often times dirty housing for a year or more till the permanent building is complete?  Why would she want to hit her thumb sixteen times a day with a hammer, saw wood by hand, bend, lift, tote, carry, push, pull, sweat and labor to build her own house?  How could anyone live with out electricity, water, sewer, telephone or heat?

Well, I can, and I will!  It is often times with mixed emotions that I think about all that will be given up moving to our land.  I frequently state that I will never live without a dishwasher again.  But then I get up each morning, going to work at a job that I hate.  Where there are no rewards for hard work except more work.  Where after 20 years you are tossed aside like disposable meat, and where each day is just like the rest.  Nothing changes.  Monday is like Wednesday, and Friday is the same as Tuesday.  What day is it?  Who cares, they are all the same.  Burned out?  Bitter? Fed up?  Yes, I am all of these.  A dishwasher?  That’s such a small sacrifice to my way of thinking. 

When I travel to the land where I grew up, back to the Ozarks, I change inside.  I was born outside of St. Louis, Mo.  Had relatives in Arkansas and Missouri and spent every available moment in the Ozarks with my parents and sister.  Each trip we took brought a greater love of the area.  When I close my eyes I can smell the clean mountain air, feel the red dirt pulsing in my hands, hear the multitude of birds calling to each other, and a peace settles within my heart.  A place where the pace is slower, the people are friendlier, and the life is simpler.  Tears spring to my eyes (as they are right now while I write.)  This is the land that I love.

Even now, each trip takes my breath away.  I can hardly contain my excitement once we get past Springfield.  When the roads begin to climb high, twisting and turning, the rocky walls are striped with red, each bend in the road provides a view of forest that stretches as far as you can see, and only then does my heart swell.  And for a moment or two I can’t breathe.  Then a peace settles inside me, a smile lights my face, and I am home again.

I grew up as a homebody.  I was content to stay at home helping my mother in the kitchen.  I worked in the garden along side my father.  I learned to sew and knit, take care of a home, even fix a car.  I dreamed of a small house with a white picket fence, a couple of children and a loving husband all in Missouri. But as I grew older, my life seemed to take me farther and farther from that dream.  I married, had a son, lived in a house (no picket fence), went to work and existed, not in Missouri.

I always felt something was missing, but was never sure what that was.  Vacation time would roll around and we would head to the Ozarks for our annual fishing or camping trip.  Then I was truly happy.  But the week ended and depression would always creep up for a short time.  I chalked it up to the end of vacation blues and forgot about it.  What I now realize was that leaving the land that holds my heart was the cause of those feelings.  Every time I had to leave it was like loosing a loved one.  I mourned. 

As I grew up, our family moved every few years as my father’s job dictated.  My mother, sister and I adjusted to each new location.  We built new lives, made new friends became members of a new church, and continued on.  We were a solid, loving family.  But many times when I would sit and talk with my father the conversation always went back to the Ozarks.  He dreamed of moving back.  It never happened for him.  Oh he gave it a try when he and mom bought land on Tablerock Lake.  It would be for their retirement.  But as most things do, the land was sold before he could ever realize his dream.  He passed away a few years ago, after living a very good life, but never did he obtain that final quest.  Maybe that is why I am so determined to make this happen.  No, I am not trying to live out his dream, but rather I share his love for this land.  I don’t want to end my days with this final desire never fulfilled.

My life has changed these past few years.  I am no longer married to the father of my son.  I have a new job, live in a new city, and face new challenges and many changes.  But through out it all, the one constant has been my desire to go back home.  Back to nature, back to my roots, back to a life that focuses on what is good and fruitful.

I am a fortunate woman to have met a man that shares my dreams.  He too has dreamt of moving to a rural area, being self sufficient, and living off the land.  His focus was in a different part of the country, but when I introduced him to the Missouri Ozarks, he rapidly reversed direction.  He has been the driving force behind finding the right piece of property, keeping me motivated, and generally making this dream happen.  Without him, I would still be sitting at my desk, lamenting my misfortune that I will never live where I truly want to be.  He is my rock!  There are many mistakes ahead, many trials and many successes, but all will be done with a love of the land, and love in our hearts.  Together we will make both our dreams come true.

When we sit back and watch each day go by, never trying to achieve that which is dearest in our heart, a small piece of our soul dies.  As the days turn into months, then years, there isn’t much of your soul left.  It is never too late. 

And so begins the Mini Farm Homestead. (Or what ever he decides to finally name our homestead)  Our quest will be realized.  We will succeed.  It will happen.  And I will be a truly happy woman living in the country!

Ozarkguysgal 

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