Homesteading

Sometimes, I wish I could go back in time.

To live on a farm, live off the land. Raise animals, grow vegetables and cook from scratch. Have a whole mess of kids and let them run wild.

I suppose I don’t really need a time-machine to do those things– to varying degrees my family is already doing them in our modest, suburban home.

This weekend we visited a family favorite: local treasure, Virginia City. A time capsule of an 1800’s mining town, it is ripe with history. We often bring out-of-state guests here.

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Oregonians: think Sisters on steroids
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the chamring candy shop, with hand-pulled taffy and sweets like Grandma used to chisel out of her crystal candy dish
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i heart rusty old cars… my late great-grandfather famously won a model T at the Nebraska State Fair which he then drove to Oregon to escape the dust bowl during the Great Depression

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Then yesterday, we took a field trip to the local museum here in town, which boasts a living history homestead (how I wish I could claim my own 160 acres for the $10 fee it cost to file the paperwork) where my dear friend/neighbor is employed this summer. She is a history teacher by trade, and rather than languish during the summer months, she is using her gifts (including renowned pie-making talent) to bless the community further.

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Most visitors seemed amused, even unnerved, by the lack of modern convenience in the old farmhouse , but I longed to take up permanent residence.

For now, this is the farm on our homestead…

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… looks like we have a way to go before we are ready for 160 acres.

Sighting

Boy Oh Boy

On the Move

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