Hello, awesome readers!
Once upon a long time ago, I wanted goats. So what did I do? I came home with goats. My ex was not amused. Neither were my suburbanite neighbours and eventually I had to give Tom and Jerry away to a petting zoo. It was a sad day but also a happy one because the family that owned the pettying zoo promised that they wouldn’t change my goats’ names.
Fast-forward 15 years (Holy crap! Has it been that long?)
Now I live in farm country – the perfect setting for goats. Also cows, horses, chickens, and cornfields. I’m surrounded by farms and can’t look out a single window without seeing fields and distant barns and other farmy things. Sometimes I even hear cows.
(Quick question: Dogs bark. Cats meow. What sound do cows make? That’s not a trick question, y’all. I really don’t know.)
So here I am in the middle of nowhere (with my two BIG dogs, in case you’re a serial killer) and while the middle of nowhere may invoke a sense of “lost” it’s actually the best place to find yourself.
I get to drive in my bare feet.
The sound of traffic is just a tractor from a nearby field.
Sun, rain, or dusk, the view is always awe-inspiring.
Admittedly, I don’t own a single farmy thing. I just get to appreciate them in my surroundings.
Rewind one year ago (And sorry if I’m making your head spin with all this time travelling.)
When I first moved to my little piece of paradise, I thought that for sure I would get SOMETHING farmy. I thought maybe a horse.
By the way, I’m slightly related to my father because when I was a kid, living in the city, my father came home once with a horse that he bought just for me. His name was Bozo (the horse, not my dad).
Admittedly, I have a thing for horses. Everything about them is beautiful. The way they stand, so strong and elegant. The way they smell, like hay and horse sweat and freedom. The way they look at you, quietly and without judgement, when you wave to them as you drive by.
So here I am living in farm country now, where I can legitimately own a horse – if I want to.
Three reasons to prove I COULD own a horse:
1. I have the space.
2. Without knowing them, I can vouch that my neighbours would never complain.
3. Having a horse eating grass all day long would take hours off my lawn tractor.
Regardless of all these great reasons why I should own a horse, I do not feel the need to own one. And you know what? Suddenly I realize that there’s something liberating about not having to own everything you love. I think it has something to do with growing up.
Younger me: When I grow up I’m going to live in a castle.
Older me: Oh no, no, no! Who would clean it???
Younger me: When I grow up I’m going to eat chocolate for supper. Every day.
Older me: Wine and Triscuits. That’s the way to go.
Younger me: When I grow up I’ll never get “old”.
Older me: Yeah, I still kinda believe this one.
So I’m noticing a trend. When you’re younger, life is about an earnest need for acquiring.
As you get older, the sigh of contentment is triggered by simplicity. Greetings from the sun as it peeks in through the corner of an east-facing window. Listening to the tap-tap-tap of raindrops on your tin roof. The smell of freshly cut grass.
It seems I must be growing up because I don’t – can’t – own any of these and yet they are a part of my every day existence.
And you know what? I’m good with that.
Disclaimer: The opinions on this post may change without notice. Although I’m pretty sure that there isn’t a horse in my future.