Home, Sweet Homestead

In the past year, our lives have changed in countless ways, and we owe it all to a boxy brown house on a modest parcel of land, "south of the river" in Grundy County. We're just two kids from the suburbs who've slowly, but steadily made our way west, and I am certain that we wouldn't change a thing. As a child, teen, young wife, I never had a grand plan of what my grown up home would look like, but I'm certain I never could have envisioned what we have now. Our home is modest, needs updating and will be in various stages of renovation forever, and I'm completely comfortable with that. It has a wood-burning stove that has a tendency to run HOT, and it's surrounded by a cringe-worthy rock walled fireplace. The bathrooms are quirky, and nearly every fixture and cabinet is slightly off center or askew. The laundry "room" is an itty, bitty closet, and the house featured wallpaper in nearly every room. The light fixtures, switch plates and wood paneling, complete with deer grazing and geese flying, are an overt homage to the 80's. The kids' bedrooms have funky, yet lovely wood planked ceilings that you'd have to see to appreciate. The best part is that despite these quirks and oddities, this house makes my heart swell with happiness because it quickly became our home...full of love, comfort and hope.

Kevin and I spent our first year of marriage in a one-bedroom, ground-level apartment in Alsip, soaking up movies and Thursday pizza nights with friends; we had no yard to speak of, and friends gained entry by hopping the balcony railing. We then moved to a two-bedroom townhouse in Manhattan which featured nearby walking trails and the best daycare center I could dream of; this is the place we brought our babies home to, so a part of my heart still lives on Shannon Drive. Many nights were spent on that 10 x 10 patio pondering our inevitable move to Morris. In 2013 we took the risk and rented the cutest, little Georgian style house on Washington St. in Morris; I adored the character of the old wooden built-in cabinets and beautiful staircase. There was a tiny sliver of a yard that allowed room enough for our raised-bed garden, but the lack of yard didn't bother me one bit because the adorable front porch was where our memories were made while porch sitting on spring, summer and fall nights. All of these places had their own charm, though I think Kevin would say that the townhouse was far from his favorite. All of these places helped define certain chapters of our lives and helped us become the people and parents we are now. When we decided it was time to see what country living was all about to say I was apprehensive was an understatement, but in true Sarah Bogard fashion, when we visited this boxy brown house on a snowy February day, I was smitten. I married my first love, bought the first wedding dress I tried on, bought the first townhouse we looked at, rented the first rental we visited and bought the very first, and only house we looked at.

Today, we celebrate a year in the house we hope to spend the rest of our days in, and this house is almost less about the house and more about the land. The plot is tiny in relation to our neighbors, but massive in the lives of these former suburban kids. Ask Connor what his favorite part of this house is, and his answer will always be "the yard" because this yard has given him the freedom to roam, to climb, to dig and to explore. He has a few favorite climbing trees, a "secret" digging spot that anyone can find, a basketball hoop and all the space a boy needs to kick a soccer ball. Faith is not exactly a nature lover, but she definitely can appreciate the sunsets (and sunrises as she waits for the bus), the tire swing and cuddles from her barn cats. The kids aren't the only ones enjoying the elbow room and big sky. In fact, I'm willing to wager that Kevin and I have found a satisfaction here that we didn't know we were missing. We're all finding joy in the mundane and ordinary like we've never done before. Connor can find his in the climbing trees; Faith's can be found while nuzzling up to her favorite cat; Kevin's joy often comes while riding the tractor or mower; Mine comes from a basket of subtly colored eggs.

I think we've learned more in the past year that we've ever learned.

On gardening...When we first starting tilling the space for our garden last spring, one neighbor shook her head in doubt and implied that we were biting off more that we could chew...turns out we made it work pretty well, thank you very much. We were overrun by Swiss chard, volunteer butternut squash, hundreds of cherry tomatoes and pepper plants that refused to die until after the 3rd hard frost. I think it's fair to say we figured it out. Heck, two kids from Midlothian and Posen even grew corn!

On chickens...We've managed to keep eight hens alive, protected and productive for a few days over a year. We bought eight chicks because the internet promised we'd lose a chick or two along the way. Well, all eight of those girls seem to be thriving. Along the way, I've learned how to help a chick with "pasty butt" (yes, that's a thing). Kevin and I (mostly Kevin) have turned a dirty, old dog run/chicken coop into one we can be proud of. And, because we're crazy, we've just moved eight more chicks out to the coop to get to know the hens...because if eight hens is working, we might as well have double that, right?

On barn cats...I'm allergic to cats, but I adore our three barn cats who definitely earn their dinner by keeping the vermin (and occasional finches) at bay. They're sweet, lovable and always ready to pounce on the next tiny, living creature that crosses their path. Faith has adopted these cats and cares for them daily. It's an odd thing, keeping barn cats. They stay close to the house, but love to trek back along the tree line for adventures, and are always back home for dinner.

On Jack...Puppies are so hard. He's sweet, energetic and beginning to listen well. He's slowly losing a few bad puppy habits, only for him to remind us that he's only 7 months old by eating a shoelace, a blanket or a boot. Kevin has caved and allowed Jack to sleep in our bed; I am not a fan, but Jack's sweet brown eyes convince me it's okay, night after night.

On mowing...One day I'll ask Kevin to write a Guest Post about mowing the lawn; he'll likely turn me down, but he knows mowing a lot better than I do. His lines are straight and crisp. Mine wave and bend. He always knows what he's doing, and he has never gotten the mower stuck in the neighbor's corn field, like I may have done. What I know most about mowing is that Kevin can't wait for the grass to start growing again. I think it clears his mind and is good for his soul.

On projects...They will never, ever end. As long as Kevin has a chain saw, there will be a tree to be cut down. As long as there is wallpaper in this house, we'll need to peel it bit by bit. For every lovely textured ceiling, there will be drywall work ahead. A new set of chicks means at least one more nesting box. The garden will be bigger this year, and that means new fencing. The list could go on and on and on.

I have no doubt that we've still got a ton of learning yet to do, but in a year's time I'm pretty amazed at how far we've come. This simple life makes me happier than I can explain, and I wouldn't trade this boxy brown house for anything.