An attempt to define the indefinable;
that urge that starts deep in the gut and isn’t helped by burping, or
chocolate, or anything but digging your bare toes into Mother Earth. The
impulse to answer the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
with something other than an acceptable occupation like Butcher or Baker
or Candlestick Maker-
Of course the above
is a very basic and unemotional definition. It’s from a dictionary - it’s
supposed to be boring.
In the last few
years, my family and I have had the good fortune to travel and meet a
number of folks who share our homesteading dreams and visions.
Some of these
homesteaders have had the graciousness and good humor to fill out a survey
I sent to them in search of The Real True Homesteaders - people who for all
intents and purposes look absolutely (mostly) normal to society most of
the time, but whose hearts beat with the rhythm of the seasons and whose
fingernails are never quite clean.
These are the
surveys and their answers.
These are their
photos and stories.
At the end of each
survey, I’ve added my own comments and observations - most telling, and
what seems an integral facet of the homesteaders’ character, is the
tendency to downplay their actual accomplishments.
One of the things I
hear most from people who have an interest in this lifestyle is, “Well, we
aren’t REAL homesteaders - we live in the city.”