Aspiring to live in a van by the river

It's not just for weirdos anymore

When we bought our house and little "urban farm" four years ago, many of our friends thought we were a bit crazy. "You're getting chickens?" turned into "you're getting goats?" which turned into "you're getting MORE goats?" which then turned into "you're living off your farm . . . for a year?!?! Why?"

The contrast in our lives seemed stark, especially for friends who knew me when I lived in a downtown highrise and had a collection of dresses always ready for black tie. They couldn't imagine the me who would tie myself down to daily chores, hard physical labor, heartbreak, injury, and being constantly dirty. I smell like goats now every single day. And I love it.

It's happening more and more - people who were once skeptical of our choices tell me that after the last few years get it now - they know why we decided to buy a little urban farm. I don't know if it's the pandemic, the state of politics and discourse, our economy, or the general malaise that seems right below the surface, but people want to get out of their rut. There appears to be a society-wide existential "what are we all doing here?" crisis that makes everyone ready to escape.

This last weekend I saw some old friends/extended family members - sisters, who reminded me of this trend. Maybe you have these kinds of family members too - they're my brother-in-law's daughters - women I genuinely enjoy but only occasionally see at family events. They're "family," but every time I see them, I think, "even if I didn't see you here, I would want to be friends with you in real life."

I need to follow up with them this time. Every time I see them, I think, "This is finally the occasion I will follow up and send a message. We will hang out and be friends outside of family events." Then, something always comes up. This time, my (human) kid managed to puke up a wall, defying the laws of physics in spectacular fashion, like a nightmare fountain. Once again, the messages somehow never got sent.

Anyway, one of the sisters is an attorney, and the more she and I drink, the more we make pedantic (and hilarious) jokes about English Common Law. It's fun, the kind of weird fun that only comes from nerds drinking together. I love her. Because I didn't ask her permission to write this, I'll call her "M."

This last weekend, M mentioned that she finally "got it," and understood why we moved to a small-acre urban farm. She even confessed that she spends part of her days looking at real estate listings for larger properties. "I'm ready to take the husband and the kids and move to a van down by the river. Really," she said.

I get it.

It's nice and a little sad to get all this validation of my life choices. It seems like I was just a few years ahead of my time. Everyone wants out now.

Work often allows more people to do more remotely than ever before, and "remote" is a concept people are taking literally. They're moving out in droves.

It's funny that my grandparents used to escape the "rural" life for the big city, and now everyone is trying to escape city life to taste something rural. It's a great exodus. There's something in our bones - that tingle in our spine that cries for the dirt, the gritty, and the tangible.

I thought about that gravity drawing us toward the rural life earlier this week after a huge rainstorm hit Colorado and left perfect dew drops on all our plants. I was that creepy woman staring at the tiny crystal droplets clinging to leaves and blades of grass, thinking about nothing and everything while trying to ignore the screaming children in my house.

By the way, you still have to milk goats, even when it’s raining, there are no breaks allotted for the weather.

There is something about this point in time that is making people pause and take stock of their lives. It's a time for reprioritization, for contemplation, for new directions.

We weren't the first who decided to change our lifestyle drastically, and we certainly won't be the last, but that van down by the river calls to us more and more all the time - the city will be there when you get back - but you might not want to return.

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