Deep Rooted Women

 

Have you ever wanted to explain something, but cannot find the words to sufficiently describe what it is you want to tell?  Well, that’s me right now.  I wanted to do this long blog piece on how Alex and I got to the point we are right now (mostly because we have had a lot of people ask us), but I have so much to say that I completely stumble over exactly what it is that I want to say.  So, I guess I can start by saying that anyone can fall into a more simplistic lifestyle, but how you get there is something that is entirely your own journey.  Our journey began as children. 

Alex’s childhood was filled with fond memories of playing outside, sports, and visiting his grandmother in Floyd County, Virginia.  All these things shaped Alex into a young man who loved to be outside and was independent in his actions and in his viewpoints.  He was a thinker and a problem solver (and still is).  As Alex grew older, he began to realize the impact of spending time with his grandmother and hearing her stories.  Sharing in her laughter and having time with her was his most treasured gift.  Her gift of knowledge was passed onto him on many occasions when he would visit her.  She would spend hours on the front porch talking to him (and later to both of us).  She shared so many memories and stories from that side of Alex’s family.  It really took hold of him and only strengthened his yearning to get back to where he came from.

Alex combined all that knowledge with all the experiences he had learned about planting and hard work from both his parents.  That nagging feeling of farming and getting back to the land never left Alex.  Once Alex and I had kids, his feelings to get back to the land and live that simpler lifestyle really began to nag at him.  It was something he couldn’t really let go of.  He asked me if I would be interested in living a simpler life when we were first married and then again soon after we had our first child.  I laughed and rolled my eyes.  He knew I wasn’t ready, so he patiently waited until I was, all the while, never giving up on his dream.

Like Alex, I grew up playing outside.  I did sports and was heavily involved in my community.  My parents instilled a sense of respect for the land in me as well.  And again, like Alex, I spent quite a bit of time with my grandmother.  She had this impact on me that was deep.  As a child, I spent a lot of time with her in her mountain holler home.  She was an Appalachian-American from eastern Kentucky and damn proud of it.

We spent so much time on her front porch listening to songs sung in the swing (mostly by my talented sister, not me), or the night bugs serenading us, or just talking about the days that have gone by and the people who left us too soon.  I loved to watch her make her famous biscuits and gravy…her flour bin under the sink was always full and her grease tin was never lacking.  She always had food for her guests, and she never went without fresh coffee ready on the counter at any point during the day.  At night, I would sleep with her in her bed.  She would snuggle up and talk to me until I fell asleep.  She would fuss at me when I came in from playing outside with my cousins.  My feet were black from all the coal dust, and she would send me straight to the tub.  She would make me get my own switch when I got too sassy, and boy would she get mad if I brought back a twig that was less than a foot long.  If my Uncle Boyd was there, he would sneak and break her switch in the kitchen windowsill.  One time, he took a whipping for me.  He and I ran around Grannie’s house while that short little woman chased me and him.  In the end, Grannie was laughing, Boyd was laughing, and I had gotten out of a butt whipping.  I miss that.  I miss those moments where we could get mad at each other and then turn it into something so fun.  I miss my Grannie.  I miss my Uncle Boyd.  Both are now gone.  I wish they were here.  I would tell them both what an impact they had on me.  I would tell them both that all those little moments spent at Grannie’s house helped to shape me.  What my Grannie gave me (and in essence, my Uncle Boyd) was so valuable.   Her gift is something that I unwrap every day.  I use it in those moments outside when our pigs are giving birth, or I am scooping poop, or I am planting a garden, or canning the food we grew.  My grandmother’s gift is the same gift that Alex’s grandmother gave him.   Grannie passed on a gift that wasn’t wrapped or even appreciated at the time.  She gave me a gift that I couldn’t fully appreciate until I became an adult: her love and her knowledge.  There is no better gift to give.

When Alex’s grandmother died a few years back, a flood of memories came back.  I remembered all the times we spent at his grandma’s house and the times I shared with my Grannie before she passed away.  It was heart-wrenching and eye-opening.  It was then, I realized that Alex’s need to get back to the land was the same feeling I had been wrestling with for a long time.  He just figured it out faster.  Our path was set from the very beginning, and we didn’t even realize it.  Alex and I have always liked to take the harder path, most of the time, it wasn’t because we wanted to, it was more because we were too naïve or gullible to see what was directly in front of us.  After a few hard knocks and eye-opening experiences, it was time. 

Grandma (Alex’s grandmother) died in March 2015.  After her funeral, I looked at Alex and I said, “Let’s do it.”  He lit up like a Christmas tree. He had waited eleven years for me to come around and even consider homesteading like our grandparents did.  At that point, we began researching everything and talking about our dreams and where we wanted our little homestead to go. We wanted self-sufficiency and we wanted our children to learn the things we didn’t necessarily get to experience hands-on.  By May of that year, everything started to line up. We found a piece of land and our house sold quickly.  We scrambled to figure out where to live with four small children and be able to pay off our bills.  We thought about renting, living in a tiny house, and even living in a tent on our land.  When it was all said and done, we chose to live in a RV.

We made a plan and we stuck to it.  We had rules and we made sure we followed them no matter what.  We were not going to put our children in public school.  We were going to get out of our massive debt.  We were going to block out all the negativity we would get from those who didn’t understand.  We were going to lean only on each other.  We were going to focus on our goal. 

Those three years of living in that RV shaped us.  Our marriage was tested.  Our parenting was tested.  Our relationships with other people were tested.  Our morals and our ethics were tested.   There were times when I wanted to walk away.  Alex and I fought so hard, and not necessarily with each other.  We fought for each other and never stopped leaning on each other.  We wanted to strengthen our life together.  We wanted our kids to know that their parents were not going to give up on their dreams no matter what.  Our trials and experiences only helped us to grow and shaped us into what we needed to be in order to get to the point we are now. 

Alex never gave up.  I almost did.  We lived in an RV during one of the coldest winters in recent years. I wanted to quit.  We lived on a muddy piece of land that wouldn’t perk and held water for days after a heavy rain.  I wanted to quit.  We had very little water to use due to our shallow well and had to use rain barrels and jugs of water from the store in order to fill our RV’s water tank.  I wanted to quit. We had to empty black water in frigid temperatures from a frozen and leaky hose.  I wanted to quit.  Alex worked all the time, at least 60 hours a week. We were in a strange place, and I didn’t really know or trust anyone.  I wanted to quit.  Our kids were dealing with a new lifestyle where everything they loved was packed up and the anxiety was too much.  I wanted to quit.  It was hard. The whole time, Alex never wavered.  He was the one who pushed me (and all of us) to never give up.  His fighting spirit got us through.  We had to experience all that we did in order to get to the point we are today. 

It was all necessary.  We had to reconnect to who we were meant to be.  Somewhere along the way, I forgot that.  I don’t think Alex ever did.  He got us here.  Our grandmothers put this idea and dream in our hearts and Alex carried it through.  There is no possible way we could’ve gotten through it if we had not listened and learned from these incredibly strong women.  We give all the credit to them and hope we can do half the things they were able to do.  We hope we are making them proud.