I stood in my pink gumboots staring at this field, my dream field, my field of dreams. How can dirt and creepy crawlies bring me such peace and satisfaction? Have I romanticized "farming" in my own mind? Is it really as rewarding and enjoyable as I imagine?
My dream = two acres of land, close to town so I can ride my bike to get groceries and coffee, that's all. I don't need a big fancy house, I prefer a small cottage with a greenhouse, a chicken coop and a bee hive, maybe even a llama. Who would have thought 20 years ago when I was 15 that this would be my dream? I was too concerned about my hair and fashion to look outside myself and what I thought everyone was saying about me. I'm sad to say that I'm still worried about what other's say about me, but I'm beginning to care less as I get older. Perhaps when I'm 40 I won't give a shit, won't that be great!
My life is fantastic no matter how I look at it and the choices that are before me now are incredible, I'm so lucky to have choices in my life when so many people don't. I wonder, can I have all my choices in my life? Maybe that's too greedy and I should be satisfied with my small urban plot, my one degree, and my single and ~*fabulous*~ lifestyle. A girl can dream though, can't she?
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