I've long been allured by the idea of living off the land, or on a farm. I mean, what kind of girl gets chickens for her fifth birthday? Still, I also envied kids in suburban neighborhoods. They seemed to have more friends and more fun. Ryan seems to cherish his boyhood growing up in a close neighborhood filled with friends and mischief-making. Almost thirty years later, some of his best friends are still the guys who grew up right around the corner from him.
And yet, there was that romantic call of the Little House of the Prairie books, beckoning me to bigger spaces.
Anyway, for our various different reasons, the two of us are increasingly attracted to the idea of having more land and fewer neighbors.
Check this out: "off grid home comes complete with wind turbine, solar and gas generators and a wood burning stove" + twenty acres and a beautiful log cabin in Montana. For $250,000. I can't believe it. That kind of money can hardly buy you a studio in northern Virginia.
Or, for even more space to yourself, can you imagine this little fixer-upper on 29 acres in Kenai Peninsula County, Alaska?
If we lived there, we'd bring some of these:
Complete with local wildlife in the front yard. (Yes, bear photos were actually included with the real estate listing):
So, for Mr. Grizzly, we'd keep some of these Karelian Bear Dogs, bred and used by large game hunters and farmers in Finland and western Russia for centuries.
And arm the children with . . . well, some very large bore weapons.
Or can you imagine this? 1,200 acres selling for less than a million dollars. Over one thousand acres. I can't even wrap my mind around that. I'd feel like a queen of my own country.
In addition to the dogs, I'd really need a horse
to ride while surveying our property.
(Okay, I'm afraid of saying I want a horse without a practical reason for having a horse. I don't want to look like a crazy cat lady. You know horse people are crazy just like cat ladies. It's true.)
But I really want a horse . . .
If you had money, why spend it on a 90,000 square foot palace in south Florida. . .
|Queen of Versailles|
when you could practically buy your own National Park for a mere fraction of the price?
Who's the real queen here?
That would be me. Clearly.
Sigh. Now I just need to win the lottery. I could conceivably afford mortgages like those on my current salary if I kept working and working. But the whole point of moving westward would be to quit working in filthy hospitals, so hence my dilemma . . .