You may not have realized this (or cared), but for the past few weeks I’ve experienced an inner turmoil: if I could, would I choose the country or the city?
We’ve recently experienced both extremes in backing our country/city trips up like we did. The entire time we were in the country (I have to use this word when I write because, as Craig likes to point out, I cannot properly pronounce the word “rural”), I was thinking about everything I loved about it, while still looking forward to what was to come in Chicago. Then, while in Chicago, I was thinking about everything I loved about it while still thinking about the country.
The ideal? A little patch of land on which I can keep my own chickens and develop my gardening skills inside the Loop of Chicago. Because land like that is soooo available inside the Loop of Chicago.
Really, I’m torn. I LOVE both. But I may be more in love with the ideas of both.
I do want to have my own chickens now more than ever. I wanted them when we lived in Colorado, but there was something about living in a neighborhood with a zoning ordinance that prevented this from ever happening (that and the fact that Craig doubled over in laughter every time I mentioned it; he does do that sometimes, you know – double over in laughter).
I kind of lost my desire for chickens when we lived on the seminary campus (which I’m sure all the folks there would be relieved to know), but after visiting our friends the Gillmans a couple of weeks ago and seeing their land with chickens, goats, and horse, and taking organic living a little more seriously now, I have some serious chicken envy. I assured Craig that I didn’t want any goats or horses; just chickens. And possibly a cow. *wink*
But a week in Chicago made me really love that existence as well – being right in the middle of everything with good public transportation so easily accessible (and affordable). I realize I have a much greater chance of seeing the chicken dream come true than the downtown Chicago dream, and I’m okay with that. The next best thing would be to have a bit of land to do the green-living thing and be a five hour drive from high-living city action (because you know I did the high-living city action thing all last week running around Chicago with four young children).
Of course, all of this is just dreaming, as we’re in no position to make a move in either direction. I’m pretty sure our landlord isn’t going to sanction a chicken coop in our backyard, just as I am equally pretty sure our neighbors don’t want to hear any crowing in the morning.
But I have to decide for the sake of deciding. As of today, the country wins.