Big dreams, little hope.

I've been dreaming big dreams as of late.

Dreams of a home. Dreams of a mild sort of self sustainability. Dreams of bees, chickens, fresh fruit and vegetables. Dreams laced with the scent of tomato vines, fresh rich compost and setting my table with the work of my own hands.

We're looking at homes, and I find myself attracted to these huge plots. Some of them are acres large. One of them has 100 pistachio trees already on property. What do I know about growing anything other then children? Not one thing. I know if you put seeds in god dirt and give them water occasionally they can grow. I know that a tomato given an unlikely home (like the one that grew in the window well of our old house after a storm knocked the seedling over) will thrive and produce delightful tomatoes that make lovely soups and salads. I know that both my girls liked having a few plants to water.

And yet here I am considering an all out dive into the deep end of self sustainability. I'm doing in depth research on bee keeping, because I like honey. I like the happy sound of bees at work. I like pollinators for a garden. I dig bees. I'm not terrifically fond of being stung and can count on half a hand the number of times it's happened to me. I know I'm not allergic, but it still hurts. And yet here I am thinking about taking on my own little swarm of pets that is sure to inflict stings on me. How odd.

Here I am considering MADNESS!

And it makes me feel bone deep contentment. A certain kind of happiness that feels right. I don't know if I have much hope of getting these things all at once. I believe my husband would prefer something slightly more suburban for our family. And I suppose a closeness to other people would help turn my hermit ways into more social niceness.

And yet,

The idea of bees and happy clucking chickens. Of the smell of well loved earth. The idea of walking through my gardens and feeling that bone deep sense of right...

It is a nice big dream.