Dissension...

Most of my family (other than my kids and cousin, Rosie) don't really get this desire to homestead. Ma vehemently refuses to accept that I'm capable, determined, or even that I've thoroughly thought and planned this venture out very carefully. Pops had a small river cabin for vacations, and maintains that I'll get tired of small spaces after awhile...discounting the fact that I don't spend much time indoors Spring through Fall anyway. Honestly? I'd lived away from them for so long...only coming back for visits...that they really don't know me very well...even after living near them again for the past 6+ years.

Siblings want to know if I have the skills...like...sister asking, "Do you know how to use a chainsaw?"

Well...no, I don't, but already have my daughter's fiance set to teach me...as well as giving me input as to which wood tools to purchase. He's very skilled at using them having been raised in Alaska, and spending a tremendous amount of time chainsawing and chopping wood for the family home. chuckles...and he enjoys doing it, too.

Truth? I'm a graceless woman, and know that the use of power tools such as a chainsaw, or sharp chopping tools like axes...aren't meant for my hands on a regular basis. I'm dangerous with power, and sharp pointy tools! Ask my kids...they'll tell ya that for sure.

Then, she asks, "How are you going to move all that wood for winter heat?"

Well...I'm not. I'm not stoopid! I'll hire someone to do the majority of the work for me. Sheesh...I 'do' know my limits. I will, however, learn and practice the skills necessary...just in case I need them. I will load and stack the wood...work alongside whoever does the chainsawing/splitting for me.

She asks, "Do you know how to maintain a wood stove?" (Wood will be my heat source.)

As a matter of fact, yes, I do. I heated one of my homes in AZ with wood, and even cleaned the chimney pipe once a year or more. We bought our wood already chopped and split, and the boy split it further when needed. I know which woods to use that have less creosote build up, and which ones burn hotter...giving off more heat. I'm learning how to plant and manage a wood lot...not something I have direct experience doing, but...am certainly capable of growing things. I even know how to use wood ash for gardening, and how to dispose of it safely...with benefit to my soil.

And so on...throughout any given conversation with any of them.

I think part of the issue with my family having such difficulty accepting this move is that I've never shared this dream with anyone until I finally decided to actively pursue it. It was a dream...one that I hoped to attain one day, but still just a dream. Personal...and held very close to my heart. Oh...I spent hours reading, researching, gathering information, perfecting my gardening skills, learning other skills...composting, keeping my girls (hens), canning, dehydrating, storing what I'd grown, etc. But...I'd never shared with anyone (except my GrandBoy, Trystan) what I wanted to do with all these skill sets and mountains of information I'd gathered. I think a part of me knew they wouldn't understand the desire, the deeply held beliefs, or the need to root myself in a piece of land.

See...I've always been the odd ball in the family. At one time, I was the "black sheep"...deeply troubled, and falling off the edges of the earth. I found my way back...gratefully...and with a lot of help from friends...and have refined, and in some cases defined my life...ethics...morals...values...beliefs...spirituality...etc. I'm the loveable, eccentric "Auntie" to my nieces and nephews, and the fun "Granna" to my GrandBabies. The outspoken, blunt, opinionated sister to my siblings. The difficult child to my parents...seen that way even as an adult. I'm simply "Mom" to my kids. My daughter, Sunshine, sang a song to me with her best friend when I received my Masters'...Bette Midler's Wind Beneath My Wings. That's 'our' song, and the one that rings from my phone when she calls. These days? She's 'my' hero.

The song that plays when Tommy calls is Billy Joel's River of Dreams. He's my poet.

When my oldest son calls, I hear Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven. He's my lost child.

So...I don't try to explain any of this to them anymore. When they have things they want to say, I simply listen...nodding my head...validating their concerns...and go on with my plans. If they don't get it, they won't get it. And that's ok...they don't have to. I do, and that's all that matters.