I'm Good With Suburbia...

Now...don't get me wrong.  My Preacher and I have been doing a version of "urban homesteading" for many years now. We plant (small) gardens.  We've planted berry bushes - they didn't make it.  We are trying again.  We have an apple tree.  Well, it is our neighbor's apple tree, but trust me...it's ours.  The beauty of suburban living at its best, see.  You get to know your neighbors and actually love them.  You end up sharing apple trees and hydrangea blossoms.  We have a tiny fish pond.  We burn outdoor fires in our firepit almost twelve months of the year.  Our outdoor square footing on our porches and decks equals the square footing inside our house. 

We expand the garden a little each year.  We even drive a truck, now.  We also have friends with totally suburban acreage (a couple after my own heart!  They are far more involved with people than vegetables or animals, though they do own several dogs) they grow an incredible garden, right in the middle of a subdivision...and they have very, very green thumbs.  We can grow stuff there, if we had to, if we needed even more space - and then swim in their pool.  They live minutes away.

But we don't need to do that yet.  I want to experiment with suburban gardening - the kind that weaves the vegetables in with the flowers and landscaping...whole books written about this, and there's big possibilities here yet to be explored. 

We are considering building a cute, tiny coop and run for three laying hens...just for fun and grandkids.  Our pastor friend Bo from Virginia has some way cool breeds and has offered us chicks and his decades of expertise for free.  We may even get one nanny goat.  Same reason.  Fun and grandchildren.  Same way...free from a friend.

We might.  We might not.

One thing is for sure.  As you can tell, we are good...really good...with suburban living.  See, we value time.  Time for people. 

My good friend Wendy, over at Hope Springs, and I were talking about the whole yuppie farming/simple living movement that has been going on for YEARS.  (In other words, this is nothing new.  This post isn't a reaction to anyone who just so happens to have suddenly taken up farming...home schoolers have migrated to the countryside and taken up farming for decades now.  I know a bunch of 'em.)

She said something I thought was so wise.  She said, "There's many ways to live simply.  I don't want to get up and have to tend chickens every day.  It is simpler for me to go to Food City and get free range eggs for three bucks."  Like me, she has pretty much rejected the idea that you must live in the country to be earthy, wise, or even to eat "from farm to table".  

We already live beautifully and simply, we eat healthily, and we enjoy not smelling the poop. 

God bless Mary Jane Butters...but I don't want to live like her.  I can take and adapt some of her ideas, making them work for me right where I live...because I am content to live in what's known as a neighborhood, and I tend to think a modicum of neighborly dealings is necessary and even healthy for our emotional and spiritual balance.  The teenage boys who live on this street have challenged our patience and even our Christian faith.  We've had to take strong stands instead of move to the country.  Single dad Bobby, Eric and Darlene (who sold us the truck), our precious Earl, Foxy and his ...er...amazing wife, my other neighbors, and sweet Nanny down the way - these are real people who keep me well rounded and grounded.

It's a very simple and satisfying life, mine.  My lettuces will get planted in a few weeks, and I can make a killer chicken soup from the thighs of free ranged chickens bought cheap.  Not a big deal.

I don't need views or solitude or chickens to feel creative.  I see the same sunrise and sunset, the same cloud formations, and constellations.  Don't need the busy-ness of poultry or pastures to be busy doing what is most important in the Kingdom of God.  I'm glad for those Real Farmers (like the Voskamps over at Holy Experience) who can integrate their country life with a life of missions and outreach.  But for this Preacher's Wife, more than three chickens, and I might look like an older version of that picture up there.  Gah. 

Besides.  I sort of like putting on yoga pants, a cute T-shirt, and blinding white tennis shoes when I decide to take a walk.  No dungarees and boots, thanks.