The Progressive Homesteader

Listening to the Knowing

Rediscovering simplicity is not just a dream. It is a pursuit that more of us are striving toward. In a world filled with distractions, many feel a pull toward a slower, more intentional way of living—one that is rooted in nature, connection, and self-sufficiency. I’ve recently embarked on a journey to rediscover the magic of outdoor living that defined my childhood, and I’m determined to bring that same connection to nature into my family’s suburban life.

The Backstory

My brothers and I primarily played outside, or at least that’s how I remember it. What really matters is that I recall those outdoor adventures as some of the happiest times of my life. It was outside where all the important building blocks of our childhood happened. It is where we teamed up to play make believe on the mountain (the dirt pile that my dad used to fill in uneven spots in the yard), we discovered details about insects and flowers that can only be learned from being there, where we played in the rain and watched crawfish make they muddy towers, and where we skinned our knees and watched the blood seep through the wrinkly skin, deciding if it was worth crying over or standing up and finishing the game.

I grew up in Acadiana, the part of South Louisiana settled by Acadians expelled from Nova Scotia in the mid-1700s, in a town called St. Gabriel, named after the small catholic church parish it housed. Within a very short drive from our house you could be at one of two state penitentiaries, the swamp, the Mississippi River, a cow pasture, or a field of sugar cane or soy beans.

We lived on an acre of a subdivision that was never completed, so our house was surrounded on two sides by hay fields. My dad grew a huge organic vegetable garden. There were pecan, plum, and pear trees, and our neighbors planted a fig tree on our mutual property line to share.

We watched the honeybees fly from clover to clover and asked our mom why and where and how. We tried building anything out of scrap wood and lawn-chairs, which would fail most of the time, and that scrap wood then became a ramp to jump our bikes. All the learning was happening without even trying, just from being outside.

A few decades later, I know to my core that for me I need to rediscover what made this rural life so magical, even if I have to do it from the suburbs. I need to be outside. I need my hands and body in commune with the real world, the living world. And I want my children to experience this life too. Maybe they will grow up and decide it is not for them. But I would like them to make that choice knowing a spectrum of what could be.

The Knowing

I few months ago, I felt a knowing. Life was so loud, and my arms were so full. Work, mom, wife, house, fashion, health…HELP. My body cried out for mercy. What was wrong? I did not know, but I knew the only way I could get closer to finding out was to get quiet. I deleted my social media apps and started writing. What would an ideal life look like? I asked myself.

In this life I am home with my kids every day. I cook meals that are healthy and wholesome, and enjoy it. I am outside as much as possible, three or more hours a day. I am potentially able to homeschool; my kids are present and connected to the earth, learning in a more self-motivated way, and everyone is off screens. We have a huge garden and probably some chickens, so we can produce as much of our own food as possible. In this life, I move more slowly and mindfully, my choices are not driven by convenience, and I am not chasing the next big thing. My hands are dirty and I know which birds sing first in the fall months and I have time to make anything I want for supper. In time this life leads us to a house with more land and less wires. And by then I will know what to do with that.

I looked back on this response, and thought to myself, Let’s do it.

I can do it. I can create this life. It won’t be easy, but I have done a lot that has not been easy. It will take time, but I have done a lot that has taken time. I can work hard and be patient. I can enjoy the sweat and invest in my dream.