This is a page from a book called America At Home, a collection of photographs of people in their own environment. This page caught my attention--and though I couldn't read the details, I could get an idea of this Thoreau-like existence. It called to mind Angie's excitement over moving into a smaller home in the Twin Cities this past winter; the idea to live a contained life, one that doesn't sprawl to not only clutter up, but also absorb too many resources, appeals to me.
After going to the garden shop, Ryan took me up the bluffs to look at these brand new, absolutely huge houses. I marveled at the view, at the yards with towering trees, at the wrap around porches, but it wasn't the size of the houses (or that sterile, plastic-y feel new houses seem to have). I love the idea of living in the woods with a sprawling yard. A yard to sprawl, not the contained walls. The pit-in-my-stomach jealousy was over the greenery, the mature trees, not the brick and mortar.
I always wondered why my paternal grandparents didn't live somewhere larger. They had the money, and they built a house on a lake, but the house was normal--three bedroom, two bath sort of affair. But that's all they needed--enough for them, for our family to come and stay too. A peaceful life on a lake overlooking the woods. I can see the reason in that.
Also interesting: One Local Summer. This lines up with the CSA we recently joined and the 100 mile diet (and, similarly, the 100 foot diet) also recently discovered.
PS: Two weekend mornings, up before 8am.
7 hours ago