question for those that want to live a self-sufficient life | General Homesteading Discussion | Forums

Let me preface everything I say with this:  I adore my wife and I would marry her all over again given the choice. She is my best friend and a wonderful mother to my kids.

...but a homesteader she is not.  My wife is an intellectual.  She loves books, philosophy, music, plays the cello, and has a degree in physics specializing in string theory.  My father in law is as outdoors as you can get, but none of that rubbed off on my wife. 

When I first started prepping (i hate that word, but it is what it is) my wife regarded my new hobby with a little amusement.  She didn't mind my dalliances as long as I didn't use too much money.  We had an intense discussion one day when she told me if I moved to the country, eventually, she wouldn't be coming with me. I ended up moping around for a few days staring longingly at john seymour's book, imagining my 10 acre farm slipping away.  I decided that I would do what I could, where I was, because this wasn't something I was looking to divorce over.

I started by planting a garden, just a couple of 4x8 raised beds, and canning or freezing whatever was left over. My wife was a little miffed by the amount of money I spent on seeds, garden tools, books, canning supplies and a new FoodSaver.  The next year I planted 12 4x8 beds and had a couple of berry patches.   I ended up running a small CSA of sorts that year when we had extra produce and a few of my wife's friends were willing to pay for it. When I showed her the "books" that year, it was pretty evident we had saved a ton of money, especially on greens, herbs, and berries, and the CSA had covered all of my gardening expenses of the previous year.

I started what would be considered prepping late that same summer.  I put together a couple of 5 gallon pails of survival food, socked away some TP, other paper goods, a couple of 5 gallon jugs of water, flashlights, batteries, and powdered formula for our 4 month old-just the basics.  My wife's uncle helped me refurbish an old generator and he threw in a couple of quarts of oil and an old jerry can of gas. My wife would constantly roll her eyes when I gave her the business about raiding the toilet paper stash or any of the other sundries I had stored instead of going to the store for more.  I felt pretty vindicated when we had a january ice storm that pretty much shut down our city for five days.  We had a warm house, happy kids, and hot food in the crockpot.  The only thing I had to venture out for was more gas for the generator. This past December we had two other families stay with us for a week when the same thing happened.

As my definition of self sufficiency evolved I felt like we needed to be financially free, not just prepared for the zombie apocalypse. We moved to a new house on the other side of town, an old four square foreclosure with a double lot and a green house that we paid cash for.  With the extra monthly money we started knocking off debts and actually putting something in the roth IRA. The floors here creak, the walls don't have insulation, and the windows are drafty.  But I've learned a ton of new skills while renovating this old house and eventually the insulation will be R-whatever, the windows will be double hung and easy to clean, but as far as I'm concerned, the floors can still creak.  It'll help me keep track of my 3 daughters (with a 4th on the way).

I still plan on owning a rural property.  I dream of a market garden, a few animals, and woods to hunt in, but in reality I'll probably end up with something everyone call's "the proprety" or "the cabin" that I go to on the weekends and for hunting seasons.  I'm OK with that, though.  I have to admit, I still feel self sufficient when I doff my carharts after I split a facecord of wood for the fireplace, or bring a basket of food in from the garden. I have this 80 foot white pine in my yard, and when the wind is blowing through the needles and there's no sirens wailing in the distance, for a moment I can close my eyes and imagine i'm on my 10 acre farm. Until the trash guy pulls up and dumps my curbie.